Witch Is The New Black (Paris, Texas Romance Book 3)

by Dakota Cassidy

  His cock was rock-hard against her thigh, prompting her to explore his every inch with her hands. She roamed them over his wide back, moving with ease over each muscle, then changing direction and skimming his chest, planting her palms over his nipples.

  Lower and lower, she trailed her hands down until they wrapped around his cock, smooth, lightly veined.

  Ridge’s groan made her smile against his mouth, encouraged her to roll him to his back and kiss her way down the lines of his abs, relishing the taste of his skin on her tongue.

  Bernie hovered for only a moment, her breath against his shaft making him buck, before she flicked her tongue over his entire length then enveloped him between her lips. The slide downward was slow and easy while she twisted her tongue, letting her teeth lightly graze as she went.

  Ridge wrapped her hair in his hand and lifted his thigh, driving into her mouth again and again with a long moan then pulling away and gripping her shoulders, lifting her upward until their skin met once more.

  She hissed as their flesh connected, raising her leg, allowing Ridge to set her on top of him. When she straddled his hips, Bernie sighed, falling forward on his chest and letting her cheek rest there. His heart beat strong against her ear as she melted into him.

  Eyes closed, she savored the length of him, relished their hot blend of skin.

  In that moment, she discovered she’d never felt quite like this with anyone else. There hadn’t been many lovers in her lifetime, and none of them evoked this kind of contentment in her quite the way her body connected with Ridge’s did.

  His strong arms went up around her back, his chin to the top of her head, and despite their clear need, they lie that way for a moment, absorbing each other, breathing in time together.

  But the press of his cock against her abdomen was insistent, prompting her to sit up and lift her hips using her knees. Bernie didn’t stop to think about anything but wanting him inside her—now.

  Grasping his cock, Ridge settled at her entry then eased her down along his shaft. It pulsed inside her, making her plant a hand on his chest to keep steady, the pleasure was so intense.

  Rolling her hips, Bernie adjusted to his width as Ridge stretched her deliciously and then the first pang of heightening desire hit her, low and slow, wending its way between her legs.

  Ridge cupped her breast while the rhythm of his hips matched hers, easy but increasing with each thrust until their gasps mingled.

  Her nipples tightened when Ridge used his thumb to spread her flesh and skim her clit. She kneaded his chest with desperate hands as he stoked her inside and out.

  Ridge’s muscles began to tighten beneath her, his thrusts growing more urgent. But when he reached around her and gripped her ass, grinding her against him, the tickle of crisp pubic hair coupled with his cock deeply imbedded inside drove her right over the edge.

  A pulsing, electric wave of sharp pleasure made her head fall back on her shoulders and her eyes roll back in her head, and with one of Ridge’s wide hands braced lightly against her throat and the other clenching her ass, they came.

  Hard, long, with hot moans of satisfaction.

  His muscled arms enveloped her, urged her closer as he took his last thrust, his lips pressing a sizzling kiss against hers.

  Bernie collapsed then, boneless and sated, burying her face in the strong column of his neck, listening to him catch his breath.

  Giving her a light nudge, he asked, “Phew. Was that the new eggshell-less Bernie?”

  Laughter spilled from her mouth. “Yes.”

  “I vote eggshell-free for life,” he murmured into her ear with a chuckle.

  Yeah. She was good with that, too.

  * * * *

  Ridge poured them each a glass of wine, handing her one that she accepted with gratitude. He’d set them up on the bed in his deep-burgundy and forest-green bedroom, heating the very cold pizza in the oven and serving it up on paper plates.

  He huddled under the covers with her, propping the pillows up behind them and keeping her close.

  As she took a sip of the wine, her eyes widened in appreciation, making her lick her lips. “That’s so good. It’s been a long time since I’ve had wine.”

  “It should be good; it’s been down in the storm cellar fermenting forever. I dug it out especially for tonight.”

  “Is the storm cellar those doors beside the barn that look like a place where a serial killers locks up his victims?”

  Ridge laughed, the ripple of muscles in his abs making her shiver. “That’s the one. Technically, it’s an underground storm shelter for tornadoes. But through the years, we’ve mostly used it to store things that aren’t bodies. Promise.”

  She giggled as she took a quick look around and wondered out loud, “So you grew up in this house?”

  He gave her a bite of pizza, catching the cheese escaping her mouth by capturing it between his lips. “I did. My parents bought it back in the late eighteen-hundreds, and we’ve been here ever since.”

  She shook her head with an ironic smile. “I keep forgetting how old you are.”

  “Your file from Baba Yaga said you’re thirty. You’ve got some catching up with me to do.”

  “My file?”

  “Don’t get bent out of shape,” he teased, planting a kiss on her lips. “It has minimal information. Your set of work skills, your age, any special health needs and so on. All the stuff a boss needs to know about his parolees.”

  She snorted into her wine glass. “Sorry. I’m still a sensitive ex-con. So let’s talk family. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  His face darkened a bit at the mention of siblings. “One brother. Finn. He’s the one responsible for the stash of expensive wine in the storm cellar. He’s actually why I’m here in Paris.”

  “So this isn’t voluntary, being on the farm?”

  “Yes and no. After my parents died, Finn was handling the farm, or so I thought. About six months ago, I got a call from Nash, telling me he’d jumped ship. No one’s heard from him since.”

  Bernie set her pizza down on her paper plate and gripped his fingers. “I’m sorry. Were you close?”

  “We were, but in recent years, he’d kind of gone off the rails. Wouldn’t talk to me or even my folks. But I never expected to come home to this.”

  “He left you in a mess, I take it?”

  She watched the tic in his sharp jaw bounce. “The damn place is falling apart, and we can’t use magic on the farm. My father wouldn’t allow it. He wanted us to know what hard work really was, so he put some kind of spell on it. Which means all of the repairs became my responsibility when Finn up and took off.”

  And she’d set his barn on fire, adding to his misery. “And I really helped by burning down your barn.”

  He dropped another kiss on the end of her nose before taking a healthy bite of his slice of pizza. “You didn’t burn it down, Snuggle Puff, you just gave it that smoky, toasted-marshmallow feel. It’s all okay. I’ll just add it to the list of renovations.”

  An idea began to form, one she planned to organize if at all possible. “Glenda-Jo said your mom loved the barn.”

  Ridge smiled. Obviously the memory evoked warmth. “She did. Sort of like you do. She loved the horses just like you, too.”

  “I’ve heard a lot about her from the seniors. They have great respect for her memory.”

  “She was an amazing lady. My dad was a good guy, too. Strict, but a great teacher, provider and lover of all things nature. What about your parents?”

  Bernie sipped at her wine and sighed, trying not to let her grief ruin this moment. “Well, there’s the obvious witch question mark, but aside from that, they were pretty normal. Both school teachers, both loved by our small community. I miss them. I have so many questions I want to ask them now.”

  “Have you given more thought to going back to Boston to give their stuff in storage another hard look?”

  “I have. I mean, I have to, right? I can’t just let this all
go, Ridge. I need to know if they knew, and if they did, why they’d keep it from me.”

  “Any word on where Baba is and if she’s going to listen to reason and let you off?”

  Her eyes rolled upward. “That woman’s like Carmen Sandiego. No one knows where in the world she is.”

  “Baba is known to just take off on a whim. You could be here a while.”

  “What about you? What do you do in Dallas?”

  “I own a securities consulting firm.”

  He owned a company? Why would he abandon that to run a farm? Her heart sank. “So being here is really mucking things up, I’ll bet.”

  He shrugged, his broad shoulders gleaming in the dim light. “Not so much. I have a partner who keeps things moving pretty smoothly.”

  “In the interest of ‘just saying it’, do you plan to go back to Dallas once the farm’s on the mend?”

  He stared into her eyes, brushing his fingers through her hair. “You know, I’ve been back for six months now, and I almost can’t remember what Dallas was like. I don’t think I realized how much I missed farming, the small-town mentality, until I was forced to remember. So no. I don’t think I’m going back. Besides, it’s going to take a hundred years to get this place back up and running. Which leads us to you—if you go to Boston to look through your parents’ things, will you stay?”

  The thought of going back to virtually nothing opened back up that hole in her chest again. “There’s nothing in Boston for me now. I have no family, no friends. I love Boston. I love the fall—the cooler weather. I love the Celtics, but I was also very isolated there. Now I’m here with people who are like me, and just that alone is huge. I like Paris. I love the seniors. I think it might be time for me to reconfigure my logistics.”

  Grinning, he moved her paper plate of pizza and pulled her close to him again. “Wanna reconfigure together?”

  “I think I might.”

  “Then that’ll give us something to do while we get to know each other better. But first—do you really watch The Housewives?”

  “And if I do?” she asked with mock outrage.

  “I’m loaning you my DVR.”

  Bernie giggled just before Ridge took her lips once more, and then she allowed herself to forget everything but his lovemaking.

  Chapter 13

  As walks of shame went, she was surely a strong contender for first runner up. It was three in the morning as she headed back to Winnie’s with a grin on her face, recalling the most amazing night she’d had in more years than she cared to remember.

  “Bernieee, what are you doing? It is ze left onto Pecked Hen Lane. You make ze right! Turn around. You must turn around!”

  Bernie refocused at Jacques’ urgent tone, realizing she’d made a wrong turn with her daydreaming. “Sorry, Jacques—I was distracted.”

  “Oui-oui, Bernieee. You must stop zinking of zee handsome farmer and pay attention. Hands on ze wheel, eyes on ze road at all times!”

  She chuckled at the green light of the GPS and nodded, pulling to the side of the dirt road. “Right. So where do I go from here?”

  Where was “here”? She hadn’t spent a lot of time on the back roads that led to several farms neighboring Ridge’s and Nash’s, but this didn’t even look like the same landscape.

  “You must turn around, and turn back onto ze Pecked Hen Lane, Bernieee.”

  “Got it, turning around.” She tried to put the Pacer in reverse, but the gear wouldn’t budge. “What the hell?”

  “Bernieee, you must turn around now! Please do as Jacques says and turn around!”

  She reached out to the GPS, running her fingers over the buttons to soothe him. “Calm down, Jacques. I’d turn around if I could get the car in gear, but it won’t budge. I haven’t been able to afford a cell phone yet, so I can’t call. Also, I’m sort of just learning the transportation spells, so I’m not sure I can manage zapping us back to Winnie’s without taking out a few houses. So just relax. I’m going to figure out where we are and walk back to Winnie’s to get help. You wait here, okay?”

  “No-no, Bernieee! Please, you must stay in ze car. Please do not exit ze vehicle!”

  Bernie rolled her eyes—was every talking device and animal in the witch world so damn dramatic? “I’ve walked to Winnie’s a million times, Jacques, it’ll be fine. Now sit tight.”

  She popped the door open to the tune of Jacques’ protests and climbed out, unable to get her bearings as she looked around.

  Where the hell was she? Surveying the landscape, she tried to squint into the dark. The stars had suddenly disappeared, making the horizon look like a black hole.

  Huh.

  “Bernie?”

  She whipped around at the voice, calling her from the deep velvet of the night.

  A chill skittered up her spine as the form attached to the voice pushed its way out of the night like an entity seeping from fabric. “Who are you?”

  “It’s Doris, Bernie. You remember me, right?”

  Her stomach dropped to her toes as the pretty blonde spilled out of the darkness and approached her. “What are you doing here, Doris? And where have you been?”

  As Doris’ curvy body grew clearer, Bernie began to back away, bumping into the car’s front end. Maybe she should try to zap herself out of here. But she was struggling to remember the spell.

  “I’m here to talk to you—about Eddie,” she said, her sugary-sweet tone sitting wrong in Bernie’s ears.

  She lifted her chin. “Fuck Eddie.”

  Doris giggled, the sound echoing around her head. “Yeahhhh. Did that.”

  Point for Doris. “So what does that have to do with me? Why would you be here? To brag about the notch on your belt?”

  Doris moved in closer, her face looming in front of Bernie’s. “It has everything to do with you, Bernie.”

  Rather than fearful, now she was just plain annoyed that Doris was intruding on her perfectly awesome end of an evening. “Go back to Boston, Doris. I don’t give a rat’s ass about Eddie anymore. He let me rot in a prison cell for ten months. I have nothing to talk to you about.” As she turned to get back into the car, Doris grabbed her arm.

  Bernie reacted by attempting to shrug her off, but Doris gripped her even harder. “You don’t want to do that, Bernie.”

  “Get the hell off me, Doris!” she bellowed, yanking her arm away just as the feeling Ridge had taught her to identify began to swell. The feeling that something horrible was going to happen if she didn’t take control.

  The only problem was, she had no time to take control before someone else said, “Bernie, my favorite felon. How’s tricks, baby girl?”

  Just before she saw a flash of magic—magic she could now identify as shady magic, one that forced her into a deep vortex of nothing.

  * * * *

  “Mornin’, Winnie. I’ve come calling for Bernie. She around?”

  Winnie grinned at Ridge and clapped her hands before pulling him inside the house. The seniors were gathered at the table with Calla, Lola, Greta, and Fee, studying a chart of some plant or another.

  “I’m so excited!” she said, tucking his arm under hers and propelling him toward the group. “Look who’s here, ladies and gents! It’s the man of the hour!”

  Everyone yelled “Hey, Ridge” with knowing smiles on their faces until Greta blew her whistle.

  “Y’all dirty birds be respectful. It ain’t nobody’s business but Ridge and Bernie’s if they did the do!”

  Ridge fought a snicker. Had Bernie already told them about last night? That didn’t seem like her. It was more likely Joellen Landry had gotten to chattering with Flora. She lived just down the road from Winnie, and it wasn’t unlikely she’d seen Bernie pull up at three in the morning during one of what she called her “episodes”. Not much went unnoticed in Paris. He should know that by now.

  Gus grunted into his Styrofoam cup of coffee. “Humph. Stole my girl, didja? What do you have that I don’t?”

  “Abs?” Glenda-
Jo said with a fluttery giggle.

  “Muscles comin’ out your ears?” Flora chimed in with a laugh.

  “A tight butt!” Joellen said on a scream of giggles.

  “Bah!” Gus groused, though his expression was teasing. “Can’t believe she’d want a muscle-head farmer when she could have debonair and witty me.”

  Ridge laughed, holding out a hand to Gus. “Best man wins, friend?”

  Gus rolled his eyes, but took Ridge’s hand. “Yeah, yeah. I guess if it couldn’t be me, I’d pick you, too. With all those muscles and abs and all,” he drawled begrudgingly, giving Glenda-Jo and Flora the eye.

  He scanned the room, looking for Bernie. “So where’s she at? Thought I might see if she’d like a little late breakfast over at Sweetie’s Diner.”

  He’d awakened early for morning chores today, but he didn’t feel at all tired. He felt invigorated, happy—really happy. Bernie was something he hadn’t expected or even wanted at this point in his life, but after last night, he knew he wanted more.

  The ease of their conversations once Bernie wasn’t playing cautious astounded him. The intenseness of their lovemaking had plain knocked his socks off.

  He wanted to watch her wake up in the morning, fall asleep next to him at night. Laugh when she made a cow disappear instead of a bale of hay. Sit on the front porch with her and watch the world go by as they shared a beer and ate cheesy puffs from a bag.

  He wanted to get to know her, to replace the losses of her past and fill them up with the promise of a future.

  Fee was the first to speak up, his tail with the pink bow swizzling in the air. “Wait. If you’re here, and she’s not with you—where is she?”

  A small alarm bell sounded in his brain. But it was still vague. “She’s not here? Maybe she took a walk? She said she liked walking most in the mornings because the sun didn’t set her head on fire…”

  Fee began to pace the length of the table, his voice frantic. “I thought she was with you! She never came home last night, Ridge!”

  Now the bell in his brain was louder, more insistent. “Are you sure, Fee? She left my house at three in the morning. I walked her out to the car myself.”