by Lily Luchesi
His hands went from my lap, up to my breasts. Through my clothes, he kneaded them gently.
I let out a whisper of a moan.
One by one, he slipped the buttons on my shirt undone and pushed it aside.
I glanced at Connor and Riley, but they seemed intent on the movie.
Declan drew my attention back by slipping a hand inside my bra and palming my nipple. I felt him getting hard against my rear.
Wanting to tease him, I wriggled a little, until he emitted a soft moan in my ear.
One of his hands touched my back and my bra popped open. He pushed it down and kneaded them again with both hands. I closed my eyes and savoured the sensation.
"I want you," Declan whispered.
"Maybe we should go somewhere more private," I suggested.
"Oh, no need for that," Riley said brightly.
My eyes shot open and I turned to see him and Connor sitting around, facing us. Both looked amused.
And aroused.
I had never been so turned on in my life.
Without thinking further, I sat up, slipped out of my shirt and bra and turned to face Declan.
He wore a smile on the edges of his mouth.
I helped him out of his shirt and threw it aside.
He pushed me back gently and kissed his way up my body. Tiny kisses here, tiny kisses there, until he reached my breasts. He licked his way around them, then caught a nipple between his lips. He sucked and nibbled for a while, then moved on to the other one.
One hand snaked down to rub the apex between my legs, which was still covered by my jeans. I ground against him, already so close to tipping point.
He smiled and unfastened my jeans. I raised my hips to help him slide them down my legs, and my panties with them.
A glance to the side showed Connor and Riley were still watching. Both had their jeans unzipped, but not pushed down yet.
I helped Declan out of his pants and boxers and dropped them on the floor beside me. Now it was my turn to push him back and straddle his lap.
He gave me a heated look and resumed massaging my breasts while I lowered myself onto his erection. At first, I just took in his tip, but after a moment I lowered myself until he was inside me to his balls.
He groaned.
Encouraged, I rode him, slowly at first. I angled myself so my clit rubbed against his stomach with each movement.
A moan slipped from Riley's mouth. He'd pushed his jeans down far enough to free his cock, which was gripped not in his hand, but in Connor's. He was fumbling with Connor's zipper while the pair exchanged a heated kiss.
I gritted my teeth and tried to hold back, but an intense orgasm washed over me the moment Connor closed his mouth around Riley's cock.
Declan grunted a moment later and started bucking hard and fast, his hands on my waist, fingers clenched as he came.
I flopped onto him. We panted in unison. His arms encircled me, holding me close.
I closed my eyes and sighed. Amidst the sighs from the other guys, my guys, I felt safe, protected, wanted.
Could it be love?
I wasn't sure yet, but I looked forward to finding out.
Thanks for reading! If you loved this collection, please leave a review. And check out the Academy of Modern Magic, a reverse harem series set in the same world as Wild Magic. https://books2read.com/AMM
About the author
Maggie Alabaster lives in NSW Australia with her husband, two daughters, dog and countless birds. She writes paranormal romance and reverse harem.
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MORGANA’S REVENGE
A Coven Series Prequel
By Lily Luchesi
About Morgana’s Revenge
Morgana Le Fay, known as the Princess of Poison, wants nothing more than to graduate school and become a potioneer, alongside her love, Guinevere.
When Camelot’s king, Uther Pendragon, is poisoned to death, his son Arthur gives the Coven an ultimatum: renounce magic and join Camelot, or die.
Now split between traitors and witches, Morgan must figure out how to stop the teenage king from destroying her home, especially since he now has Guinevere and Merlin at his side.
Chapter One
“Miss Le Fay, might I ask that you pay attention to the lesson at hand?”
Morgan glanced up from the part of the textbook she was reading to cast her cold, black gaze on the instructor.
“I completed this lesson a week ago. Was merely holding onto my work until such time as you would ask for it.”
The instructor arched his eyebrows and a few people giggled behind their hands.
Morgan tucked her long black hair behind her ears and continued, “Might I suggest you continue the lesson for those who might be falling behind, as opposed to antagonising me, sir?”
Lips pinched, the instructor pointed to the doorway. “Out, Miss Le Fay. And in addition to the homework you have already completed, I would like one scroll on the importance of following rules.”
Morgan smirked as she stood up and gathered her books. “I would not hold your breath for that, sir.” She left the classroom and entered the castle corridor, glad to be out of that oppressive little space. Always one who loved learning, she disliked school itself. With half an hour until the next class began, she wondered if she had time to get to the library.
In the hall, she spotted two Elders and the Coven Queen all huddled together, whispering in hushed tones. She wondered what would be worse: hiding to eavesdrop and glean a few words here and there, or walking by to hear more and possibly being reprimanded.
It turned out, she needed to do neither. From the other end of the corridor came Merlin Emrys, the student every Elder adored. Morgan was certain that he would be the Coven King one of these days. The two were the same age and had gone through schooling together, but they were not friends, not since they were around ten or so. Not even close.
“My Queen, Elders,” Merlin greeted with a brief bow. “What troubles you?”
The three looked at him, then at each other, debating internally in a way that the younger set could never understand.
“There has been some potentially troubling news from the mortal kingdom,” Queen Artiza said finally. “There is nothing to tell, because nothing further is known. Now, go on with your lessons, Mr. Emrys.”
Merlin pursed his lips and nodded. “Certainly. Good afternoon.” He turned, the sour lemon look still gracing his features. He was so lost in thought he nearly knocked Morgan over as he turned the corner.
There was a snap of magic between the two; Morgan shuddered as if experiencing electric shock. So did he.
“Walk much lately, Emrys?” she scolded as she steaded herself on the wall.
“I apologise,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes.
“So … what was all that about?” she wondered, crossing her arms as she held her books. “And why aren’t you in class?”
“Free period,” he replied. “I am not sure. Did it not sound … odd to you? Troubling news from the Pendragons is not something to take lightly these days. King Uther swore to wipe out all magical creatures, especially us.”
Morgan nodded. “I do not like that family. Never have, even when they tried to be kind.”
“That was when we were but infants,” Merlin scoffed. “I like to believe the best in people, but unless we receive a formal apology, we should stay as far from the Pendragons as possible.”
“For once, Emrys, you and I agree on something. And we were five years of age, not infants.”
“Oh, I cannot be too certain that Emrys here is not an infant currently.” Accolon Payne popped up behind the duo, hand-in-hand with Morgan’s closest friend, Fiona Guilfoyle.
While such a public display might have been frowned upon in the human world, the magical community had bigger evidence of decorum than whom one was romantic with and where.
“Amusing,”
Merlin said dryly. “As opposed to you, who are seventeen yet behave as if you were still in the Coven’s nursery class?”
Oh, Emrys has a bite to him, Morgan thought.
Fiona tittered behind her free hand. “Accy, be careful. You can’t be insulted by the Coven’s weakest witch.” Her Irish brogue made even the teasing words sound lovely. “So, what is it you were discussing?” She glanced at Morgan for a response.
“Humans,” Morgan replied.
“Oh! Did you hear?” Fiona asked, perking up. “Uther Pendragon has fallen ill.”
Morgan and Merlin’s eyes met. So that was what the Queen had got wind of. Were he to perish, his son, Arthur, would take over. A year their senior, he would be far from the youngest ruler, but his and his father’s hatred of witches was legendary. But unlike his father, Arthur had no restraint. The last thing the Coven needed was to deal with a bunch of mortals on a literal witch hunt.
“What’s the malady?” Morgan asked.
“No one knows,” she whispered. “Rumour has it, multiple of his royal aides have already perished or are set to do so any day now.”
“Could it perhaps be part of the Justinian Plague? Last anyone heard from the European Covens, it came to Germany, but has not been predicted to hit our borders,” Merlin said.
Morgan went to reply when there came a loud and deliberate clearing of a throat nearby. One of the current Elders stood there, her arms crossed over her chest.
“I do believe you children have lessons to attend?”
“Yes, ma’am, apologies,” Fiona said, giving a smile that typically disarmed any and all authority figures.
Except Accolon, the group had Brewing and Medicinal Magic next, so they exited the hall and went to the castle dungeons. Brewing and Medicinal Magic was best held underground, where it was always kept at a decent temperature naturally, not requiring much magic to keep the rot from getting at the delicate ingredients.
Most students were put in pairs to keep each other accountable for the brews, which could easily turn volatile were they left unattended or improperly brewed for whatever reason.
A few others were already in class, and Morgan made a beeline for Guinevere, who kept her books placed on the seat of the bench next to her to prevent anyone from sitting there.
“Hello,” she said, leaning over her shoulder.
Gwen looked up with clear blue eyes and they lit up like candle flames. “Morgana! You were so late, I worried you had received a reprimand again.” She moved the books between her feet, freeing up the seat.
Morgan adjusted her long black cloak under her and grinned sheepishly. “I did, but that is not why I’m late.”
Gwen giggled softly, the sound sending Morgan’s heartbeat into overdrive. “Do you constantly have the need to sass our instructors?”
“I don’t mean to,” Morgan protested. “It … happens.”
Gwen laughed again. “My dear Morgana, whatever shall I do with you?”
Morgan wanted to smoothly say, “I have some ideas;” however, what came out was a stuttered, “Whatever you wish,” while her fair face blushed furiously.
No one called her Morgana except for Gwen. She found her full first name pretentious, but not when said from those pretty pink lips.
Before either of them could speak further, the Elder giving the lesson cleared his throat to gain the students’ attention. This was Morgan’s favourite lesson; she excelled in potion making, and while it was frowned upon, created a few innovative brews herself.
The only other person allowed to do that wantonly was Merlin.
Except where he created healing elixirs, Morgan preferred poisons. She wanted to experiment with hallucinogens, unicorn blood, shifter fur, faerie wings, things that could subtly creep within human veins and twist their senses slowly, gradually. To make a marked change within their physiology without them ever realising it until it was too late.
“Miss Le Fay, please use the appropriate method of crushing cashew shells,” the instructor scolded.
The preferred method was using a mortar and pestle. Morgan found it faster and finer to use the bottom of the stone bowl, as it had a natural curve that was less pronounced than the pestle’s.
“Looks fine to me,” Merlin spoke up, then clamped his mouth shut before the instructor could see who spoke.
Gwen nudged Morgan. “Stop. You can’t fail this lesson merely because it pleases you to be a rebel.”
It took her reasoning to make Morgan work properly, despite the fact that she knew her way was superior. One had to know when to be diplomatic.
They did not get much further into the lesson when the door to the dungeon burst open, and another Elder appeared, breathless and wide-eyed.
“King Uther of Camelot is dead. Half his court has been poisoned!”
Chapter Two
The Coven was abuzz with the news that someone murdered the human king.
“What do you think it was?” Morgan asked her friends at teatime. “Belladonna is easy to obtain, even for humans. Or perhaps hemlock? Could someone have had the foresight to procure strychnine from Asia?”
“You are far too excited about this topic, love,” Gwen said gently, patting Morgan’s shoulder.
Fiona scoffed. “Then that means you had to have done it, Poison Princess. No one else has access to your little lab.”
“It is exciting,” Gwen interrupted. “Mysterious. And perhaps now his son will give up trying to destroy anything non-human.”
“How old is Arthur again?” Accolon asked.
“A year our senior, or thereabouts,” Morgan replied.
“And they allow him to be king?” Gwen commented. “Imagine if Aritza chose one of us as her successor and then retired in a year’s time. No self-respecting Coven would accept a teenage ruler.”
“Greece has had younger,” Merlin spoke up.
“We are not Greece,” Gwen snapped. “And no one was speaking to you, Emrys.”
His shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly and Morgan was torn between comforting him ― as she had for most of their childhood ― or admonishing Gwen. In the end, she did neither as he walked away to eat at another table, most likely alone. The same place Morgan would be if her friends had not brought her into their group four years prior.
Was it guilt or nostalgia that ate at her the rest of the afternoon?
* * *
That weekend, once lessons were done and Morgan completed some of her current research, she invited Guinevere on a moonlit picnic. They could have alone time while their crystals charged beside them under the full moon.
Morgan set out bread, dried meats, cheese, and elderberry wine she made herself, along with magically lit candles.
Gwen arrived moments after Morgan finished setting it up and gasped in pleasure. “Oh, how cute!” She gracefully knelt down on the blanket and kissed Morgan softly.
Morgan’s stomach fluttered at the feeling and the sight of her happy blue eyes. It had been difficult to assimilate into Gwen’s friend group, and when the beautiful witch had kissed her last year outside Household Charms class, she thought her heart might explode from happiness, having been interested in her since she was thirteen.
She felt like she was always trying to catch up with the others, and now seemed to finally be on equal footing.
They ate, talked, and kissed under the light of the moon. Eventually, Guinevere laid her head in Morgan’s lap and they sat like that, comfortable and as in love as two teenagers could be.
“What do you want to do when we finally are done with lessons?” Gwen asked.
“Probably stay on or go to Europe and apprentice under a potioneer, if any will have me,” Morgan replied. “You?”
“Rule the world,” Gwen said.
Morgan laughed. “Seriously.”
“Who said I was joking?” Gwen grinned and nuzzled against Morgan’s hand that had been playing in her honey blonde hair.
Morgan leaned down and placed a playful kiss to the tip of G
wen’s nose.
In the distance, there came the sound of galloping hooves.
“You hear that?” Morgan asked, cocking her head.
“What? Oh. Sometimes I believe you have supernatural hearing. That’s far away,” Gwen commented. “Is it coming from the direction of Camelot?”
“I believe so.” Morgan moved to stand, which made Gwen have to get up, too.
“Do we warn the Queen? Or the Guard?” Gwen wondered.
“The Guard. Go on, I will stay, so they do not get too close to the castle,” Morgan decided.
The Guards were faster than whomever was coming, and their presence alerted other Coven members. Soon, the castle courtyard was filled with witches of all ages. Queen Aritza stood, flanked by Guards, front and centre.
“What is going on?” Merlin asked Morgan, startling her at his quiet approach.
“I am unsure,” she replied. “But I have a bad feeling.” Gwen came on her other side and took her hand as everyone waited to see if it was friend or foe.
In a way, it turned out to be neither.
A lone herald riding a steed came into view. He carried a rolled up scroll under one arm and dismounted. Morgan thought he was younger than she, perhaps only fifteen.
“Halt!” one of the Guards said. “Who are you and what is your business here?”
“My name is of no importance. I come with a note from King Arthur Pendragon, ruler of Camelot, for the entirety of the Coven of Avalon.” He cleared his throat and tried to sound authoritative as he began to read from the scroll.
“‘I, Arthur Pendragon, hereby extend the following offer to all members of the royal Coven.
“‘My father, the late Uther Pendragon, once vowed to eradicate all witches from Avalon. I, however, am of a more genial disposition, and wish for camaraderie. If, in a fortnight’s time, the Coven members choose to renounce their magic and join the kingdom of Camelot, I will spare them.
“Those who do not will face my army’s wrath as my father intended, to eradicate the world of unGodly creatures.
