Casual Hex

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Right away he noticed that Chevalier’s rental car hadn’t been moved from its parking spot in front of the Hob Knobian. Maybe the Frenchman was inside having a brewski. A guy who couldn’t bring himself to buy his own condoms probably needed some Dutch courage before he attempted the deed.

  What a wimp; but then again, he was a professor of some dorky subject like botany. Hardly a stud. Hardly any real competition, either, but Leo couldn’t take chances. His penis would be served.

  After checking through the Big Knobian’s windows, Leo had to conclude that Chevalier wasn’t in there, after all. He might be with Gwendolyn, softening her up with a nice meal. It wasn’t six yet, so they could be over at the Hob Knob.

  That was fine with Leo, because he didn’t think a meal by itself would be enough to convince Gwendolyn to go to bed with a wuss like Chevalier. She’d need several glasses of wine, and the Hob Knob didn’t serve booze. Leo had checked that out when he was in there this afternoon, because he’d thought of ordering a beer with lunch.

  As things had turned out, he hadn’t ordered lunch at all. Sylvia had fed him cold pizza in bed, thinking maybe hunger had kept him from getting it up. He’d been willing to believe that, too.

  But the cold pizza hadn’t worked. The cold beer hadn’t been any help, either. He’d even tried dipping her nipples in it to make them taste better. They’d definitely tasted better flavored, but sucking on them had done nothing to pump life into his buddy.

  Nipples had always been a mainstay of his routine. Gwendolyn’s had been a real treat, one he was eager to have again. If she was eating dinner with Chevalier at the Hob Knob, he’d follow them to wherever they went afterward. Chevalier was not getting a chance to use those condoms. No way.

  But Gwendolyn wasn’t at the Hob Knob, and neither was the Frenchman. Leo hated to think of them alone in the cottage, but he took heart in knowing that Chevalier hadn’t been man enough to buy the condoms himself. His seduction techniques probably sucked the big one, too.

  Soft lights glowed from the cottage windows, but no smoke rose from the chimney. Ha. Maybe Gwendolyn didn’t think enough of this schmuck to build a cozy fire for him.

  She might be tearing her hair out trying to entertain this boring dude with something deadly dull like Scrabble. She probably had no idea Chevalier was packing condoms. Maybe she was tolerating him to be polite, doing her bit for international relations.

  Leo put his wings on hover speed and peeked in the kitchen window. Nobody was there, but somebody had been there. He saw a wine opener lying on the counter, along with part of a loaf of French bread and a cheese wrapper.

  Okay, so they were having happy hour in the living room. That didn’t mean they were happy. Enough wine, though, and they might get that way.

  Leo didn’t think for a minute that Gwendolyn would go to bed with this loser when she was stone-cold sober. But no telling what she might do when she was blitzed. Chevalier might be a dweeb, but he was smart.

  Putting his wings back into zoom mode, Leo rounded the house and managed to find an opening in the living room curtains. The room was empty. A sick feeling settled over him. There was only one other place to check. Maybe he wasn’t too late.

  The bedroom curtains were drawn tight, but Leo didn’t have to see inside to fear the worst. His fairy hearing picked up on the noises within the room. He knew how Gwendolyn cried out when she was nearing a climax because he’d made it happen often enough.

  Finally he found a spot where the curtains didn’t quite meet. Peering through the tiny slit, he could see just enough to make him yell in outrage. When he was this size, it came out as a squeak.

  That was one of two reasons he didn’t like going the miniaturized route. Squeaking wasn’t manly. The other reason had to do with his penis. He was always afraid when he went back to full size, he’d lose something in the transition.

  The slice of the bedroom available for viewing included Gwendolyn’s creamy thighs. The Frenchman’s head was buried between them, and she sounded way too happy about that. No fair. Leo could do that little maneuver for her better than Chevalier. Way better.

  He just . . . hadn’t. The satisfaction of burying his cock in her had been so fulfilling that he’d sort of bypassed the frills. Now he realized that might have been a serious omission.

  The Frenchman seemed to be all about the frills. He kissed her everywhere, including the spot that nearly made her levitate. Then Leo had a cheery thought. Maybe Chevalier had the same humiliating problem with Gwendolyn that Leo had experienced today with Sylvia. Maybe that was why Chevalier was spending so much time with the peripheral stuff.

  Ha. That could be it. The poor slob was compensating for his ED, as they said on the TV commercials. Eventually Gwendolyn would pick up on that and send him straight back where he came from.

  Ambrose could buy condoms until the cows came home, but they were useless if there was nothing solid to put them on. So much for the efforts of those meddling matchmakers. Leo would emerge the victor.

  He had half a mind to wait here until Gwendolyn figured out she was in bed with Mr. Impotent. She would hate that, and he’d love watching her kick Chevalier to the curb. Then Leo would . . .

  Wait a minute. The kissing and nuzzling had stopped. Was this the moment Leo had been waiting for, when Gwendolyn asked for more than her bed partner was able to give?

  The Frenchman reached toward the bedside table. Whatever he was after, Leo had a bad feeling that he didn’t want to know. His view wouldn’t allow him to get a good look at Chevalier’s movements, but when the guy assumed the missionary position, Leo wanted to break something.

  If only he had a fairy trick to stop this! One probably existed, but he hadn’t paid much attention to his royal tutors. Once he’d learned to fly and minimize himself, he hadn’t bothered with much else until puberty, when he’d learned sperm evaporation and the technique to invade a woman’s dreams.

  Gwen wasn’t exactly dreaming. No, she was wide awake, moaning loudly, and lifting her hips to meet the Frenchman’s thrusts. Leo didn’t want to think she was more vocal now than when he’d been in that position, but he feared it was true. He also feared that when a woman consented to sex in real life, she was more involved than when she consented to dream sex. Shit.

  As he listened to their enthusiastic horizontal chacha, he kept hoping for a miracle. Premature ejaculation would be good. If one or both of them could bang their head on the headboard, that could put a crimp in the proceedings. Maybe the Frenchman would throw his back out.

  Sad to say, the episode continued without a hitch. Chevalier outlasted Gwendolyn, for which Leo gave him grudging respect. He knew how difficult that could be with a woman so lush and responsive.

  Leo’s wings began to wobble. He’d been hovering a long time, and his mental state wasn’t the best, either. Rather than fall into one of the large snowdrifts under the window, he chose to fly over to the swing on Gwendolyn’s back porch.

  He still could hear the sounds from the bedroom, but not as clearly, which helped some. Finally it was quiet, which meant they were cuddling in the aftermath. He’d wanted to do that with her. Hades, but he was depressed.

  As he sat with his chin in his hands, he reviewed his options. On the positive side, he’d completed his assignment. Gwen’s self-confidence seemed more than fine, and Leo was prepared to take all the credit.

  The Frenchman had come in on the tail end of the project and was currently reaping the rewards. In any case, Queen Beryl would be over the moon about her son’s accomplishments. Leo would look selfless as hell. He could go home to Atwood and assume the throne.

  Except, and this was a really big except, he’d developed a thing for Gwendolyn. That could be why his dick would only respond to her. After all these years, it had decided to be faithful. What rotten timing.

  Gwendolyn wasn’t faithful, but he could hardly blame her. He’d created himself as a figment of her imagination. Although he’d hoped that seeing him in the flesh
would gladden her heart, it had produced the opposite effect. He’d freaked her out.

  She’d probably put it down to weird coincidence—dreaming of him and then running into a man who looked so similar. He needed to talk with her and convince her that she wasn’t crazy. Her dream lover was real and very willing to have sex with her when she was awake.

  Once she realized that, she’d ditch the Frenchman. And then . . . this was the part that had only just come to him . . . he would take her back to Atwood to be his queen.

  Yes, it was unusual, a human becoming the wife of a fairy, especially a fairy prince. But he’d known of at least two cases where a human and a fairy had married and had children. Some of the children had inherited fairy traits and some had not.

  Producing an heir had seemed like such a boring project, but it wouldn’t be boring if Gwendolyn was involved. If the first few children had no fairy leanings, they’d just keep trying. He got hard thinking about that, which illustrated why this was the only answer. His penis must be served.

  As he was working all that out, he heard Gwendolyn and Chevalier again. This time they were having an actual conversation instead of the primitive moans and groans he’d been subjected to earlier. His wings had rested enough that he could fly back to the window and hover while they talked.

  “I am going to drive back to Evansville tonight,” the Frenchman said in his irritating accent.

  Yes! Leo jabbed a fist in the air. Get outta town, loser. Make way for the first string!

  “That’s silly,” Gwendolyn said. “Please stay with me. I love having you in my bed.”

  Leo’s wings lost a beat. He definitely didn’t need to hear that.

  “I love being in your bed,” the Frenchman said.

  Leo made gagging noises. What a suck-up.

  “Then stay.” Gwendolyn lowered her voice to a sexy purr. “You know I don’t care what people say. Let them talk.”

  Leo ground a few millimeters off his back molars.

  “I care,” the Frenchman said in such a sickeningly compassionate voice that Leo gagged again.

  “Stay. Please, please, stay.”

  Was she begging? What was wrong with that chick? Guys like Chevalier were a dime a dozen. Fairy princes, on the other hand, weren’t all that thick on the ground. Clearly she needed to be educated about the possibilities, and he was just the fairy to do it.

  “I must go,” the Frenchman said.

  So leave, already.

  “What about the plants?” Gwendolyn asked. “Didn’t you want to go into the forest tonight and see whether Dorcas and Ambrose have been covering them?”

  Leo had noticed the stupid plants and now he understood. The matchmaking duo had stuck them there to attract this genius, hoping to hook him up with Gwen. Leo would take pleasure in messing with that program.

  “I am convinced Dorcas and Ambrose created the entire plant scheme to bring us together,” the Frenchman said. “We do not need to tramp out in the woods at night in below-freezing temperatures to prove it.”

  “I think you’re right,” Gwendolyn said. “I was only looking for a way to keep you here.”

  “I will be back in the morning,” the Frenchman said.

  “Your last day.” Gwendolyn sounded really sad.

  Leo, on the other hand, was tickled shitless. Good riddance.

  “Tomorrow will not be the last time I see you,” the Frenchman said, globs of sincerity oozing from his words like jam from a sandwich.

  Oh, yes, it will. If Leo had anything to say about it, tomorrow would be the last time anyone in Big Knob would see Gwendolyn. He would have her as his fairy queen.

  Chapter 20

  Wearing her terry robe and nothing else, Gwen closed the front door behind Marc and leaned against it. She listened for a soft knock and his voice saying he’d changed his mind and would stay with her tonight.

  Instead she heard his footsteps crunching through the snow on her unshoveled path as he walked toward the square and his rental car. He’d promised to call her when he’d arrived at the Holiday Inn in Evansville. She wasn’t crazy about him driving on icy roads with little sleep.

  But he’d insisted this was the right way to do things. Too bad he was so damned noble. Then again, that was something she cherished about him.

  She might even love it about him, but she was a little nervous about throwing the love word around so soon. Even counting their online relationship, they’d known each other a very short time.

  Walking back to the bedroom to pick up the empty wine bottle, the glasses and the bread basket, she thought of how important he’d become to her in that short time. How strange that her parents didn’t even know of his existence. She’d decided not to tell them, in case the whole visit became a fiasco.

  She should tell them now, especially because she wondered if he could be the future father of her children, her mate for life. He had so many qualities she admired—focus, intelligence, humor, compassion. On top of all that, he was French. Her dad would love that.

  Marc’s Frenchness was part of his appeal, but she was well aware it could also be a stumbling block. She had told him how much she liked all things French. She hadn’t told him that she also loved all things Big Knob. Both the town and her flower shop suited her. She didn’t want to give up either.

  She hadn’t realized how much they suited her until he’d talked about Paris tonight, in between making incredible love to her. He’d painted a vivid picture of bustle and sophistication, possibly to pique her interest. He obviously loved it there. Although she could handle a large city for brief visits, a permanent move was out of the question.

  Would he consider living in Big Knob? She found that hard to imagine. He seemed to relish his teaching job at the Sorbonne and his trips to exotic places in search of rare plants. Paris provided a world-class university and an international airport. Big Knob had neither.

  Returning to her kitchen, Gwen rinsed the wine bottle and decided to save it. No matter how things turned out, she’d want a souvenir of this night, a night when she’d felt like the most beautiful woman in the world, even when she wasn’t wearing the pendant or the bracelet. She didn’t need either of those things when she was in Marc’s arms and he loved the living daylights out of her.

  But he wasn’t here, and without the adrenaline rush of being near him, she realized how tired she was. She hadn’t slept much at all the night before. Neither had he. She decided to get ready for bed so that once he’d called to let her know he was safe, she could get some rest.

  The phone rang as she slipped on one of her silk nightgowns. She picked up the bedside cordless with the ridiculous hope that he’d tell her he was on his way back, that he couldn’t bear to be apart from her.

  “I am in Evansville,” he said without preamble.

  “And they gave away your hotel room. What a shame. You’ll have to come back.”

  “Ah, non, cherie. They have plenty of rooms. It is not busy this time of year. Let me give you the number in case you need me.”

  “I need you. Come back.”

  “I wish I could, cherie.”

  “Then do it. Sneak into town. We’ll find a way to hide your car in the woods behind my house.”

  He laughed. “And then?”

  “We’ll pick a good time midmorning to transfer it into my driveway.”

  “People would notice us driving a car out of the woods behind your house. Even in the short time I have been there, I can see how everyone keeps track of things. It is a small miracle that no one saw us having sex in the forest.”

  “Unless you’re planning to hotfoot it back here, you’d best not be reminding me of sex in the forest. A girl can only take so much frustration, you know.”

  “What are you wearing?”

  She glanced down at her ivory nightgown. Two could play this game. “Nothing whatsoever.”

  “I do not believe you. You are not the kind of woman who walks around naked for no reason.”

  “I wa
sn’t before, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t changed.”

  His voice grew husky. “You have definitely changed. I love . . .”

  Her breath caught. Not on the phone. Don’t say it on the phone.

  “. . . your boldness,” he finished.

  She let her breath out slowly, so he wouldn’t be able to tell she’d been holding it. “And I love . . .” She hesitated deliberately. “. . . your cock.”

  His surprised bark of laughter gratified her. She’d managed to shock him, this sophisticated Parisian, a little. He cleared his throat. “That is good to know, but I hope you realize the condition you have created. I will be taking a cold shower tonight, thanks to you.”

  “I won’t be taking a cold shower.” She’d never felt so sexually powerful in her life. “I’ll be soaking in a warm tub. I might even make use of that handheld shower to have a little fun, seeing as how you’re not here.”

  “Gwen.”

  “Then I plan to sleep naked. And you won’t be here to enjoy that, because you’re in Evansville, watching out for my reputation.”

  He groaned. “You are killing me.”

  “That’s the idea. Are you driving back over here or not?”

  There was a long pause followed by a deep sigh. “No, I am not. Let me give you the number for my room.”

  “The room number? There’s a thought. I could drive there!”

  “You would be missed, you know this. Here is the phone number.” He said it slowly.

  “You’re absolutely no fun.” She wrote it down on a pad of paper next to the kitchen phone. “Maybe I’ll crank call you.”

  “I know you do not agree with me. But you will thank me later.”

  “I doubt it. I’ll bet nobody even noticed you leave town.”

  “Oh, oui, they did. When I went to pick up my car Monsieur and Madame Loudermilk were coming out of the bar. We talked about Monsieur Loudermilk’s new prototype, and I also told them I was driving to Evansville. As I drove away, I looked in the rearview mirror, and they watched to make sure I was headed in the correct direction.”