Life's a Witch

by Val St. Crowe

  She swallowed. Her nightshirt seemed so thin. She felt exposed and vulnerable, and yet fiercely charged.

  His hands moved. He propped himself up with one hand. He looked down at her. His other hand found her hip bone. His touch seemed burning hot through her thin shirt. “You,” he murmured. “I’ve never… You don’t understand. Where I’m from, there aren’t… I’ve never known anyone like you.”

  She reached up to touch his face. She traced his jaw, his chin. Her fingers wandered up to his lips.

  He kissed her fingertips. “I don’t know why I’m here. I shouldn’t be here.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “But you didn’t tell me to leave.”

  She bit down on her lip. “Why did you say you weren’t a good man?”

  He rested his forehead against hers, shutting his eyes. His hand moved, spanning the dip in her waist, making her breath catch. His voice was quiet. “I told myself I didn’t need this. I told myself that chasing vengeance would be enough. But—”

  “Vengeance?” she said. “Vengeance against who? Against what?”

  “I didn’t know how soft a woman’s body could be.”

  She licked her lips. “Haven’t you ever…?”

  He opened his eyes. He shook his head. “No.”

  She felt… she wasn’t sure how she felt. She thought that maybe she needed to feel a little worried. What kind of man made it to Fox’s age a virgin, especially when he was as attractive as he was? But at the same time, there was a sweetness that swept through her. It made her feel safe and protected. That he should wait so long and choose her…

  She kissed him. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m not… I could count on my hand the amount of times…” And none of them had been very memorable, which was why she’d never tried very hard to make it happen more often.

  His fingers crept higher, exploring her curves.

  She gasped, her back arching.

  His mouth at the place where her neck met her chest, trailing kisses down to the collar of her shirt. “I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you. It’s making me insane.”

  “I know,” she breathed.

  “So, maybe if we… if we do this,” he said, his voice thick, “maybe it’ll ease the urge, maybe it’ll put out the fire.”

  “Yes,” she said. That seemed like a brilliant idea to her at that moment. Maybe it was all about sex. After all, every other man she’d been with, and there had only been two, had been much less interesting to her after she’d slept with them. Partly because the sex itself had been rote and mechanical and sort of boring. When she thought of it, she remembered mild bits of pleasure, but mostly being indifferent and counting cracks in the ceiling while it went on and on and on.

  Maybe this time, with Fox, the sex would actually be good. She had a feeling it might be.

  The thought made her bold, and she reached down to pull up her nightshirt.

  But Fox’s body was in the way and she only managed to get it up around her hips before she ran into the place where his body and hers met.

  “Oh,” he said, realizing what she was doing. He moved back, so that he was settled on his knees between her thighs. He gazed down at her.

  Now, she felt shy because of the way he was staring at her. She pushed the nightshirt back down.

  “No, please,” he breathed. “I want to see you.”

  She sucked in a shaky breath. His words went through her like a desert wind, making her feel taut and pleased.

  “Would it be better if I…” He tugged his own shirt over his head, baring his chest. He was nicely put together. He wasn’t incredibly musclebound, like some kind of body builder, but she didn’t like that, anyway. He was slim and wiry and his chest was smooth. His pecks were defined, his stomach flat. She wanted to touch him. She sat up to do that, to put her hands on him.

  Oh.

  His skin was so warm and silky. A layer of soft over the hardness beneath.

  They kissed again. The kiss was so, so sweet.

  His fingers were inside her shirt, gathering it, pushing it up over her body.

  She broke the kiss to allow him to pull it over her head.

  He sucked in a hissing breath when he saw her. Gently, he pushed her back onto the bed.

  Now, she was on display for him. She liked that. She liked the greedy way he was drinking her in.

  And then he was touching her, stroking his fingertips over her body.

  She shut her eyes, letting out little breathy moans when he touched her someplace sensitive.

  He seemed to enjoy wrenching the sounds from her. Soon his touches were concentrated in those places.

  She began to feel a wild pleasure building inside her. It was hers—she knew the feeling and had occasionally coaxed such things from herself before, even though she rarely felt it was worth the effort—but it felt as if it was coming into her body from outside her. It was as if he was pulling all the tangling vines and flowers from the woods and they were curling and crawling their way into her body, to wrap tightly around her pleasure centers and tease them into… into…

  Oh, it was too good. She wanted more.

  She was touching him again. She opened her eyes and found his fly. She unbuttoned him, unzipped him. Freed him.

  He let out a choked noise, his hands falling away from her body. He was thick and stiff.

  She stroked the length of him. Squeezed.

  He grunted. Sputtered. He moved her hand. “Stop,” he managed.

  “Sorry.” What had she done? “Did I? Did it hurt? Was it… wrong?”

  He panted, seeming lost, unable to speak. “That… You… Intense…” Suddenly, he seized her hand and put it back. And his hand went back to where he’d been touching her before. And they kissed.

  The world was bliss. Bright wondrous bliss, like being trapped in a gushing sunset, the colors too vibrant to describe, too vibrant to even see. It was unreal what she was feeling. She moaned into it, rocked her hips, writhed and undulated to some undercurrent of it all, to the wildness and sweetness.

  And then, before she was quite sure of what happening, he was shifting, positioning them, pushing—

  Inside.

  Her eyes snapped open. “We— you can’t—”

  “What?” His eyes were open too.

  They were joined. He was in her body, and this was…

  “Protection. We need a condom or—”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I can’t… You wouldn’t… I’ve taken care of it with a magic spell.”

  “Oh,” she whispered. “I don’t know that spell.”

  “I could teach you.” His voice was different now. It was deeper, and it was more tender, and she liked the way he sounded when they were together this way. When they were… making love. “Not now, obviously. I’m a bit preoccupied.”

  She laughed a little.

  He smiled at her. He made a shallow thrust.

  It was wonderful. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

  “Oh, Estelle, you are so, so…”

  “You too,” she breathed.

  The world was bliss again.

  They rocked against each other, and she was back in that world of wild, fierce, goodness, where the colors were too bright. They moved with each other, touched each other, got lost in each other.

  It was so nice that Estelle found herself feeling as though she was possibly the happiest she’d ever been in her life. It was amazing, and she wanted to stay right in this moment, lying beneath him, speared and filled and riding the edge of her climax.

  Which came for her eventually, a crashing burst of brightness, erupting and exploding and engulfing her in goodness.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Estelle

  She awoke, and it was still dark outside, but the dawn wasn’t far off. It wasn’t the scant bit of light at her window that woke her, but rather the absence of Fox’s body against hers, because they’d fallen asleep wrapped around each other.

  Now, he wa
s sitting at the foot of the bed, tugging on his socks. She wasn’t even sure when they’d taken off his socks. So much of what they’d done was a blurry jolt of pleasure. She sat up in bed.

  He turned to her. “Oh, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “You were just going to leave? Without even saying goodbye?” She was hurt.

  “I…” He was still naked, and so was she.

  She thought of reaching for him again, finding him there between his legs, making him hard again, and making him stay. She wanted him to stay.

  He bent down and snatched his pants up off the floor. “I need to go home. I can’t be seen leaving your apartment in the middle of the morning. Besides, I have to prepare. To teach. You might understand that, since you’ll need to be in class later?”

  She felt an inky black feeling in the pit of her stomach. He was right. She’d be in class later, watching him lecture about crafting spells, and all she’d be able to think about the entire time was the way his hands had felt on her naked skin or what he was hiding inside his pants and— She buried her face in her hands.

  When she looked back up, he was buttoning his pants. Now, she felt exposed. She grabbed the covers and pulled them up to cover herself. “This was a mistake,” she said in a tiny voice.

  “Probably,” he said. “I thought it might make it easier, but it’s worse now, knowing how sweet and soft you are. Nothing could make me stop wanting you now. I’ll lie awake at night every night thinking about…” He stood up.

  That little speech confused her even more. It made her feel a little weak, and it made her want him again. At least to kiss him. At least… She scrambled out from under the covers and went to him. She didn’t care about being exposed anymore. She pressed her body against his. His chest was bare, and the sensation of their bare skin against each other was a revelation. She kissed him.

  He groaned into her mouth, but he held her and kissed her back.

  They kissed for a long time.

  “Fox,” she whispered. “Stay a little longer.”

  He kissed her forehead. “I can’t.”

  “Then say you’ll come back,” she said. “Tonight. Late. Or I’ll come to your place, because Reid might be here tonight and—”

  “No, Estelle, we can’t do this again.”

  She gazed up at his face. “I think we could. If we were careful, no one would know about us. We could keep it a secret.”

  “It’s about more than the fact I’m your professor,” he said.

  Which reminded her that he hadn’t really explained to her why he’d said he wasn’t a good man. “Because you’re not a good man? Because you’re chasing vengeance?”

  He rubbed his forehead. “I shouldn’t have even said that to you.”

  “Why not? Are you afraid that I’ll reject you? Because I don’t think I could right now. I’ve never felt so close to another human being—”

  “You don’t know me,” he said in a firm, quiet voice. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “So, tell me,” she said. “Just tell me and—”

  A noise.

  The front door to the apartment opening.

  She froze.

  Yes, that was unmistakably Reid. Drunk Reid, stumbling through the front hallway.

  “Your brother?” whispered Fox.

  She nodded.

  “Damn it.” He massaged the bridge of his nose.

  “He’ll probably just go to his room and pass out,” she whispered.

  But instead, Reid stopped in the kitchen and she heard the refrigerator door open.

  She shut her eyes in annoyance. Of course he was going to want a snack before bed. He always ate after drinking too much. When she opened her eyes, she heard the microwave coming on. The way that the apartment was set up, there was no way that Fox could sneak out without being seen by someone in the kitchen. The hallway to the door opened directly onto the kitchen. Fox was stuck.

  “What is he doing?” Fox whispered.

  “He’s heating himself something up to eat,” she whispered back. “He always does that when he comes back from the bar.”

  “Bar? What bar is open at this time of the morning?”

  Estelle shrugged. “I don’t know. Lately, Reid finds places to keep drinking. He’s… there’s this thing with this girl.” But why was she getting into this? It wasn’t the time to be talking about anything complicated.

  Reid’s voice, from outside the door. “Estelle, is that you? Or are we haunted by whispering ghosts?”

  Estelle cringed. She looked around on the floor for her nightshirt and snatched it up. “Uh, it’s me,” she called.

  “Well, why are you whispering?” And her bedroom door opened.

  She clutched her nightshirt to her chest. “What the fuck, Reid?”

  Reid took in his naked sister and half-naked Fox and slammed the door shut.

  For a moment, no one moved.

  Then Reid spoke. “Jesus Christ,” he said in a hoarse voice.

  Fox shook his head. “This is bad.”

  Estelle shrugged into her nightshirt and found herself a pair of pajama pants for good measure. She stepped into them. “Let me talk to him, okay? Just stay here.”

  Fox let out a bitter laugh and spread his hands. “Where would I go?”

  Estelle let herself out into the hallway.

  Reid was standing just outside her door. He looked disheveled, his clothes rumpled and his hair sticking up on one side, as if he’d been sleeping and then awakened.

  “Are you okay?” said Estelle. “Where have you been?”

  “I feel asleep at Barley and Bells in the balcony, and no one saw me, and they closed down, and I had to climb out of a window, okay?” said Reid. “Not the point. Is that your spellcraft professor?”

  “You obviously know who he is,” said Estelle, folding her arms over her chest.

  “What is going on, Estelle?”

  “I would think that was fairly obvious too.” She glared at him.

  “Well…” Reid folded his arms over his chest too. “Well, fuck.”

  Estelle was quiet.

  “Why is he hiding in your room?” said Reid. “Is he afraid of me? Can’t face me? Why, because he’s taking advantage of my sister?” He raised his voice at the end, calling into Estelle’s room.

  Fox yanked the door open and stepped into the hallway. He was fully dressed now. He looked Reid over. “Hi there, Reid.”

  “That’s what you have to say for yourself? ‘Hi there’?” Reid was aghast.

  “I’m leaving,” said Fox. He turned to Estelle. “I’d say we could speak later, but it’s obviously a bad idea for us to be alone together, so I’m afraid…” He shook himself. “Goodbye.” He started for the door.

  “No, wait a second,” said Reid, grabbing Fox by the arm. “You don’t just run away from me. You need to explain yourself, and… and…”

  Fox raised his eyebrows. “And what?”

  “She’s my sister,” said Reid. “You can’t—”

  “Reid,” said Estelle. “This is none of your business.” She turned to Fox. “We do need to talk. Maybe over the phone if it’s too much to be in each other’s physical presence, but we can’t leave things like this.”

  “I think we have to,” said Fox. “This can’t happen again.”

  “Damned right it can’t,” said Reid. Then he looked confused. “Wait. What?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Fox. He leaned close for a moment, but he only planted a kiss on the top of her head. And then he strode down the hallway to the door and opened it.

  “Wait,” whispered Estelle.

  Fox didn’t. He left, shutting the door behind him.

  Estelle felt like her chest had been crushed.

  “What the hell is going on, Estelle?” said Reid.

  “God damn it, why did you have to come home right then?” she said. She felt like crying. She took several deep
breaths, unsure of what to do with herself, and then she flung herself inside her room and shut the door.

  *

  Reid was pacing in my dorm room, his face red and his hands clenched in fists. He’d said he wanted to call a meeting amongst the whole gang and requested everyone come to his apartment, but Logan had told him that I wasn’t supposed to leave campus, and suggested we all meet in my dorm room. Which was why everyone was crammed inside my living room.

  It was early. It was before 8:00 in the morning, and I was in a bad mood. Everyone was, even Estelle, who was usually chipper in the mornings. But she didn’t look as though she’d even showered. She and I were sitting on the couch, along with Logan, who’d been kind enough to stop in the dining hall and pick up coffee and breakfast sandwiches for everyone on his way up to my room.

  I clutched the coffee, but I wasn’t drinking it yet. I was just absorbing its warmth and smelling it and hoping that would wake me up.

  “Okay, Reid, we’re all here,” said Logan. “What’s the emergency?”

  “Look,” said Estelle, “maybe I should explain, because there’s really no problem. Everything is over and done with, and last night was just a lapse in judgment for both of us, so—”

  “Both of you, who?” said Tatum’s voice, scratchy with sleep.

  We all turned to see her coming out of her bedroom.

  Reid saw her and stopped short. “Tatum,” he said in a wooden voice.

  “I heard ‘emergency,’” she said. “I guess I don’t get called in if there’s an emergency anymore? Only if Norwood wants to see me?”

  I got off the couch and went over to her. “Tatum, we want you to be part of what’s going on with us, but you—”

  “Back off,” she said, holding up a hand to stop me.

  “I can’t even stand next to you?” I said.

  She sighed. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to be called in, actually. Just leave me out of this shit.” She went back into her room and shut the door.

  Reid stared at the closed door, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen so much agony all over his face. I wanted to give him a hug. But then I thought of the way that Logan had been last night in the car, and I decided not to. I just took a drink of my coffee and went back to the couch to sit down.