Psychic Storm: Ten Dangerously Sexy Tales of Psychic Witches, Vampires, Mediums, Empaths and Seers

by Deanna Chase

  I shiver at the erotic picture we make of him fully clothed and me almost nude. When my heels touch down, I look into his passion-filled gaze.

  “Got to work this tight little ass of yours if I’m going to get back in any time soon,” he whispers softly, plunging his finger in and out.

  He knows I love anal play. It takes a lot of preparation on my end because of his size. Sometimes, I think the warm-up for the event is just as much fun. Thankfully, so does he. It took me nearly a decade to discover he would enjoy the same sensations I do, and boy, has that been fun to explore.

  He hunches around my body to watch his finger go deep into my bottom. I’m on tiptoes in my heels and lean into him as the feelings of fullness start to overwhelm me. My hips move back and forth on their own volition. His left hand leaves my side to journey to my front, and two fingers plunge deep inside my pussy. Not to be outdone, I grab his cock it in a firm grasp to pleasure him as well.

  Rafe sucks in his breath, pulling his hips back, successfully breaking free from my grip.

  “Not yet,” he says.

  My response is a whimper. The sensations of being entered from front and back are so intense, molten lava brews inside me. The pressure builds again. More.

  I need your cock inside me.

  Rafe responds by pulling his hands away then sweeping an arm across the workbench, clearing the top. Tools scatter haphazardly to the concrete, clattering as they land. I’m seized roughly by my waist and slammed onto the dirty, waist-high table. Something digs into my back and my head feels wedged against the steel vise. The moment he presses against my wet, hot center, I cease to care.

  I raise my legs straight up to rest against his chest. His left arm wraps around my thighs to hold them together while the other drags me across the bench toward him. My ass hangs off the edge, giving him the best position to thrust.

  I growl, “Hard, I want it hard.”

  Rafe grunts, his body reacting with a steady rhythm. The pressure increases with each plunge as he slams into me with increasing strength. His movements cause the workbench to creak under the strain.

  “More!” I bark out harshly. Going to come… come with me… Now!

  Rafe’s hips piston with a last burst of energy. My back arches as I throw my head back, flailing blindly for his chest. I grab hold of both his nipples and twist while I crest. Wave after wave of release crashes over me, tightening my inner walls with each pulse.

  The scream building in my throat works its way out as my vision clouds and goes black. It seems like the moans from Rafe come from a great distance. He’s reached his peak too, but I’m so far gone, I can’t tell much of the details. In a moment, I feel his soft caress cupping my head.

  God, Viv, that was good. I needed it.

  I can’t help but laugh. That’s my husband, master of the obvious.

  Chapter Five

  When our glow wears off, Rafe flicks on the worktable light. My kind, gentle lover peels the tools off my back. The items became slightly embedded in my flesh when he changed our position for the spectacular ending.

  Ah… there’s nothing like a good rogering from your husband to make you feel special and push away the cares of the day.

  “Okay, sweet cheeks, jump on down. You look fine.” He punctuates this with a slap to my hip.

  My indignant look falls on his unaware expression. He whistles softly in his happiness. I’m a non-whistler. Those who like to whistle, and aren’t very good, like Rafe, can be difficult to suffer through.

  I decide not to let anything bring my mood down, especially after I have supped so sweetly from my mate’s neck. A girl can forgive a lot after fornicating, two great orgasms, and a blood chaser. Never taking more than a taste allows me to indulge more frequently. A lap of my tongue and the enzymes from my saliva repair any damage to leave Rafe unblemished. At my age, I don’t need much sustenance to survive. Under normal circumstances, I could go weeks after a full feeding if I really had to, which isn’t an issue with Rafe on hand.

  Never one to let an opportunity to tease slip by, I jump down gracefully and stare into Rafe’s baby blues. He towers over me by seven inches, but the fuck-me-heels put us a little closer. I drop my lids and recall the way my body felt when I came that last time. I push out a bit and watch his pupils dilate with passion.

  Want to go again? His voice rumbles in my mind.

  I turn and step away, hesitating before looking over my shoulder. The corner of my mouth turns up in a delicious little grin.

  “Later,” I say aloud. “Can you keep up, baby?”

  He smiles, reaching out to smack my ass. I prance away with a little burst of speed so his fingers miss me, but barely. I spread my legs in a wide stance before bending from the waist to pick up my discarded dress. His quick intake of breath indicates the only answer I need. Oh yes, he’ll be ready to play later.

  Dress in hand, I stride away without looking back. “Come have coffee with me. I need to discuss our new guests and see what you think.” I walk up the stairs, with my naked butt jiggling in the breeze, the dress draped over my arm. And who happens to be standing at the top of the stairs …

  Jonathan. Damn! Caught almost nude with blatant physical evidence I’ve recently made love. I can do this. I can pretend I always traipse around like this.

  “Umm,” I raise an eyebrow then look down at my watch, “you’re a bit early. It’s only 7:30.”

  Jonathan, a sturdy man of medium height, stands not much taller than me. He’s dressed as usual: jeans and layers of thermal with a plaid flannel shirt. His good-old-boy style screams lumberjack, and it helps him blend in well with the locals. The scents coating him contain elements of the outdoors with hints of animal musk. His broad chest supports his crossed arms, which are corded with muscle under his bulky clothes.

  He could’ve made an excellent wrestler, but picturing him rolling around in a tight leotard may not be a good idea right now. His quick smile adds to his natural aura of confidence, making him a great choice to handle dealings in town.

  Jonathan inhales deeply, which triggers a low-pitched rumble in his chest. That bastard scents my recent releases and is enjoying it! Arrogant prick.

  “Down, boy,” I say with as much nonchalance as I can muster. “Let me get a robe on.”

  I walk toward the bedroom as gracefully as possible in my semi-naked state. I’m not going to cover up with my hands, acting embarrassed. It would show weakness to a predator, which is exactly what this werewolf is, something I will never allow myself to forget.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” I add.

  His eyes follow me as I walk away. He sniggers, “Nice hammer imprint on your shoulder blade.”

  Rising above his school-aged amusement, I ignore him and keep moving. Rafe ascends the stairs as I cross into our closet for a robe. I grab the closest one, an emerald silk number, before hustling out.

  “Watcha doing here, Wolfman?” Rafe’s voice holds a deadly edge. “Like to listen in to what you’ll never get?”

  Uh-oh. Danger, Will Robinson, danger! I sprint down the hall projecting calm happy thoughts into their minds before inserting myself between the two. Catching them as Jonathan’s eyes brighten to gold and he straightens to launch himself at Rafe.

  “Now, now, let’s play nice. Rafe, you must know why I’ve called Jon here.”

  Jonathan’s the only werewolf on our compound. He left his pack in Canada about seven years ago when he didn’t want to challenge his Alpha for dominance. In my eyes, it made him an honorable man for doing so. Two powerful male alpha wolves can’t stay in the same pack for long, or a fight to the death would occur. Rafe stares at the shorter but still powerful man.

  “The whole ‘dead body in the shed’ thing,” I remind Rafe. He comes back to himself and meets my eyes with a fond smile. He loves baiting Jon, much to my dismay.

  “What are you talking about, Viv?” Jon looks like he’s almost back to his normal laid-back self. His hazel eyes darken from the lig
hter golden brown of his wolf form. Rafe loses interest in poking at him and sits at the kitchen table. I fill in Jonathan on everything we know so far, including the location of the body in the shed, finishing up with the question he never did answer.

  “Why are you here early? That’s not like you.”

  Jonathan doesn’t avoid the main building—he’s just busier outside. In addition to being head groundskeeper, he cares for a huge pack of thirty Alaskan Malamute-wolf crossbreeds, which he employs to patrol the property. Jon does visit when we ask him, but it isn’t a habit of his to hang out and mingle at the bar. He’s a bit of a loner and it’s fine by me. Once I started feeding from him seven years ago, Rafe hasn’t been overly friendly toward him. Jonathan made his intentions clear: he wants to be my bonded mate, which will never happen.

  The simple fact remains that Were blood carries more potency than a human’s. I need more blood than can safely be taken from Rafe in order to stay up around the clock during the long darkness, which is not normal vampire behavior. He’s never cared in the past when I had to feed from some of the employees out of necessity, but when Jonathan entered the picture, things changed.

  Jon’s blood makes me temporarily stronger. Let’s face a hard fact: with so many powerful vamps on site, it wouldn’t pay to be weak. Nor does it help that this wolf is arrogant and makes a play for me whenever he thinks he can get away with it.

  On principal, Rafe understands. He’s secure in our relationship and trusts me, but he doesn’t like Jon. The cold reality exists that through these feedings, Jon became my servant. He wants to please, protect, and provide for me. All the things a servant should want after a dual exchange of blood. This relationship, with all its complications, leads Rafe to tweak Jon at every turn. He wants to put the Were firmly in his place and suffers no qualms about being cruel to do it.

  Other monogamous, mated couples who need servants may not choose a Were for the job, with good reason. Weres are desirable as hell by nature; it’s a pheromone they put off. Jon’s blood smells like dark chocolate, which makes feeding from him akin to drinking hot cocoa spiked with adrenaline. The mate bond allows Rafe to experience firsthand the delectable taste of Jon’s blood, and the werewolf’s powerful sexual pheromones. That’s a hard lump for any man to swallow—he also desires the wolf his wife feeds from on a regular basis.

  Jon finally answers my question about why he arrived early. “There’s an unknown vampire on the property.”

  “What? I don’t understand,” I say, recoiling in shock. “Could you have confused the scent with someone here on vacation?”

  “No,” Jon snorts. “I don’t make simple mistakes. Besides, I double-checked outside all the cabins and all the entrances to the hotel. The trace isn’t from a guest nor is it someone who’s ever stayed here before.”

  “Hmm,” Rafe says, “which means it might have something to do with John Pierre’s dead body in room six.”

  That’s the real Rafe: he loves to tease me, but he’s not some sharp-tongued, witty detective either. I don’t voice my snide observation of his obvious addition, having learned enough over the years to keep such thoughts in.

  “Is it possible, Viv,” he continues, “that you missed the scent of another vamp?”

  Okay, now he has a valid point, dammit.

  I think back to the moment. The smell of the blood overwhelmed everything. So yes, I could have missed another vamp’s scent. And to be honest, I did not think to walk around the room like a damn bloodhound. While awkward in my dress, it might have revealed information.

  “Yes, it’s a possibility.” I turn to Jon. “I don’t have time now, but do you want to check out the room later with me? If it is a match, we should both get familiar with the scent.”

  “Yeah, I’ll head up whenever you’re ready. Have you thought to question the other guests?”

  Is that condescension in Jon’s voice? I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I do know enough to question people.

  “I’m not an idiot. I will ask them. It’s only been,” I check my watch, “about two and a half hours since we discovered the corpse. I’ve had other things to do, you know… Business to run, guests to see to… things like that.”

  “You left off ‘husband to shag’,” Rafe says with a grin.

  “Yes, well, no need to point out the obvious now, is there?” I reply with some heat.

  “Uh-um,” Jon clears his throat. “I came by early to report my news, but why did you call me here?”

  Jon knows why I called him; he just wants to hear me say it.

  “It’s time for me to take a full feeding again. It’s been a few weeks so I knew you’d be able.” I try to keep my tone light and neutral.

  Projecting my need, I let the hunger envelope him so he knows what to expect. It’s not a rip-your-throat-out kind of feel, more of a topping-off-the-tank one. I don’t ever get truly famished with Rafe around. The recent killing prompts me to play it safe and be at my best when I know it may be needed.

  Jon’s face lights up like he’s anticipating this could be the moment he’s dreamed about. “Finally decided to dump that human you’ve shackled yourself to and mate with the stronger man?” He grins and I know it’s partly to hide his own feelings of self-doubt.

  Rafe snorts while walking away from the table. “Anytime you want to see who the stronger man is, Jon, you let me know.” He gives Jon his back, a clear sign he doesn’t consider the Were a real threat. The blood bond between us has made Rafe as fast as a vamp and as strong. My husband doesn’t need to prove his point or fear Jon in any way, and he knows it.

  “Done yet, you two?” I ask as bland as I can. Silence. “Okay then. Jon, come into the office with me.”

  I head toward the bedroom then make a left into the office Rafe and I share. Jon follows, settling on the couch with an eager look on his face. A vampire bite transforms every experience, making it more detailed. The vampire controls the donor’s mind, removing any pain associated with the bite, and can turn the experience into passion. It’s common practice to let the donor experience an orgasm during the feeding. Since I have no desire to leave Jon hot and bothered every month, nor will I give him pleasure, I’ve had to alter the feelings he would normally get to something he really wants and needs. He doesn’t know I’ve read his deepest desire—to have a pack of his own.

  We have given him that here, to an extent, with all his half-wolves and us. Some day, I’ll find him a female Were and all will be good. Until then, I do my best to not hurt him. Sitting on the couch next to him, I feel the excitement come off him in waves. He’s hopeful this time I will make it sexual, but sadly that will never happen. I angle my body toward him while he turns to face me.

  He gazes deep into my emerald eyes with a sigh. “God, Viv, you’re so beautiful. You know, you ever get tired of him, you just have to call.”

  Ignoring the comment, I smile while deepening my look to project calm feelings of home and acceptance, security and love. These are the key components in a pack, which I’m able to help him feel when he’s by my side.

  I send aromas of the forest along with animal scents found in a wolf den. His shoulders relax, allowing him to sink into the couch. Tension drains from his body as his earlier anticipation of a romp is replaced by the warm cocooning feel of the pack. He breaks our eye contact and drops his head to the cushion behind him while breathing in the scents he thinks are engulfing him.

  Leaning in, I don’t allow my body to touch his. The delicate spell takes care to weave, which means I need to concentrate not to break it. Cool lips graze his warm neck while I test his skin with my teeth. My canines elongate and sharpen, eager to pierce his flesh. I broadcast more of the same sensations, and place my mouth firmly over his pounding artery. The smell of him intoxicates me. A combination of rich chocolate and warm male makes my own pulse pound in response.

  The blood rushes under his skin through the vein. This moment of control differentiates a young vamp from an experience
d one. It would be so easy to rip into him and take more than I need. The desire to do the unthinkable is hard to contain, but one I always must.

  I allow one sharp fang to puncture the surface, causing my mouth to fill. I drink his life source as it flows over my tongue. The flavors assailing my senses are delicious. It’s possible to read all of him in this moment if I choose. Every secret, every desire, every thought. Nothing is hidden from nosferatu when they feed.

  To hold myself apart from him, to protect his heart, I block the images flooding my mind.

  Jonathan sighs, closing his eyes in contentment. The mood wraps around him like a hug, both comforting and protective. He will soon fall asleep, letting the peace complete its loving embrace.

  The warmth of his blood fills my body. I’m naturally on the cold side, so being infused with a lot at one time makes me almost feverish. Even though I project calm and peace, I feel a flame burn from within. It never fails to turn me on when feeding, but what I do with that arousal is what counts.

  Enjoying your dinner, love? I sense the power coursing through you. You’re feeling a bit warm in all my favorite places.

  I work the wound open to pull more deeply from Jon’s neck. Instinctively, I know exactly how much to take. Almost done. No matter, he tastes so damn good I want to keep going. I can’t. It’s easy to see why some vampires become addicted to Were blood. Having supped from very few wolves in my lifetime, one thing is clear; they are all damn yummy.

  Yes, I respond to Rafe, it’s like licking chocolate off mister stiffy with a blood chaser at the end.

  Rafe’s sharp bark of laughter sounds from the next room. At least the furball’s good for something.

  Lapping at the small wound, I seal it beneath my tongue. Jon has drifted off to sleep. I rise from the couch then lift his legs onto the cushions. I cover his slumbering form with a wool blanket. He’ll be out for an hour and it’s the least I can do to make him comfortable.