The Darker Side of Love (A Dark Erotica Boxed Set)

by Tara Crescent

  “Quiet. Everyone back to work. Heather, in the office. Now.” Marguerite turned and walked into the back, and Heather followed. When she was inside she shut the door, wanting to block out the gathering of Pritchetts that had suddenly found a reason to go into the stock room.

  “Aunt Marguerite.” Heather crossed her arms and leaned against the door. It was the second time in two days she’d been trapped in this office with a control-freak aunt. Only this time it was the head control-freak aunt.

  “So you told him you’re a witch?” Marguerite arched an eyebrow.

  “It just came out. He obviously doesn’t care, and it won’t be a problem soon enough.” Heather was staring at the floor.

  “I want to make something clear, Heather.” Marguerite crossed her legs as she sat on the edge of the desk. Her neat suit made her look like she’d fallen out of some high-end executive clothing catalogue. “You will go out on a date with that man, you will be whatever he wants, you will flirt, you will kiss him, you will convince him to go home with you. There, you will offer to give him a massage, you will light the candles, you will draw the rune in oil on his skin, and you will take him to bed. Then you will call for our benefactor, she will come, and the rite will be over. After that, I don’t care what you do. Kick him out, let him sleep in your bed, make him breakfast in the morning to assuage your guilt. I. Don’t. Care. But if you fuck this up again, if you refuse to complete the rite again?”

  Heather couldn’t look at Marguerite as she felt a heavy feeling settle in her stomach. She was a butterfly pinned to a board, nothing more than a plaything, a chess piece on a board to her aunt.

  “I will not let it go this time. I will take you with me on the night of the new moon, and I will bleed you out in the woods, and offer you up to the great Valkyrie who made this family what it is. You and your pathetic, weak-willed tendencies will not destroy this family. Do you understand?” Marguerite stared at her, and Heather’s mouth went dry. It was the first time anyone in the family had said it clearly. Had threatened her with no pretty language to hide exactly what they meant. There was no sugar-coating, no pleading, no cajoling. Just a clear threat, and the earnest willingness to follow through on it.

  Heather had no doubt that Marguerite would drag her into the woods, maybe have Jenny brainwash her, or Katy or Carol levitate her so she couldn’t fight, and then her aunt would slit her throat and offer up her blood to Herja.

  “I understand, Aunt Marguerite,” Heather whispered.

  “Good. Finish your shift. Make sure you don’t leave the kit Carol painstakingly put together for you, and enjoy your evening. He’s attractive; he looks strong, like he has some stamina. You’ll enjoy yourself.” Marguerite grabbed her purse off the desk and stood. Heather felt a tremor move through her muscles. She was frozen as her aunt took a step towards the door she was leaning against.

  “I’m sure I will.”

  “Don’t disappoint me, Heather. I don’t want to have to tell Patrice she’s lost a daughter.” Marguerite went to touch her shoulder to move her, but Heather jerked out of the way to avoid it. For a moment Marguerite just stared at her, but then she pulled her hand back and opened the office door. When she was gone Heather slid to the floor, but she didn’t cry this time. She didn’t have anything left in her.

  Chapter Five

  A few hours later, and a few pre-game shots of vodka with Theresa, and Heather was in Marley’s Pub, sitting next to a very attractive, very funny Neil. They had ordered a few appetizers and were snacking between drinks. She’d learned that Neil liked to play flag football on the weekends, that he’d gotten so used to seeing weird shit in foster care and in the army that nothing really fazed him anymore. That was why he didn’t care that magic was real. It was just one more weird thing on the list.

  She’d told him that her life consisted of working at the shop, dealing with family drama, and whenever she remembered to go for a run, she usually did. Or she ate a bowl of popcorn. It was a toss-up. They had laughed, and ordered more drinks, and he had held her hand for the last thirty minutes as they talked. His thumb rhythmically moved across the back of her hand in a hypnotizing pattern.

  “I’m sorry again about today. My family is… intense.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, and shrugged. She didn’t know why she kept trying to apologize for them.

  “I told you it wasn’t going to scare me off, and it didn’t. In fact, you’re only more interesting because of it. Also, you’re absolutely gorgeous, and that gives you a lot of lee-way on the crazy family front.” He smiled at her and she smiled back, and then he leaned forward and he kissed her. For a moment she was surprised, but his lips were warm, and he smelled really good, and he kissed even better. His hand slid into her hair and he tilted her head so he could deepen the kiss. His tongue found hers and she tasted the rum and coke he’d been drinking. It was sweet, and then he nipped her bottom lip as he pulled back. That wasn’t sweet. That had a lot of promise in it, and she shifted on the seat as arousal flared inside her.

  “We should leave,” she whispered, still very close to his mouth. The white noise of the bar made her feel like they were cocooned, able to hear only each other. He grinned at her, his bravado returning, but she liked it. She liked confident guys, she liked the way they took charge.

  “My place or yours?” Like that.

  “I remember you describing your apartment as shitty, so let’s go to mine. It’s a step above that.” Heather laughed and he smiled before turning and waving down the bartender to pay. His excitement to leave with her filled her with heat. She wanted to kiss him again, she wanted to climb onto his lap and straddle him. Feel his lips move over her skin. When she tuned back in to reality he had paid, and he was snatching her coat off the back of the stool.

  “Let’s go.”

  Neither one of them was fit to drive, so they grabbed a cab. They spent the whole ride to her apartment making out like teenagers in the back. Heather’s coat was unbuttoned, Neil’s hand was under her shirt, stroking her waist, and inching higher to brush the cup of her bra. His lips practically never left hers unless they needed to gasp for breath. Each nip of his teeth on her lip had her moaning softly and he picked up on it. His touches grew firmer, his fingers digging into her hip to pull her towards him. His fingers in her hair tightened until she whimpered against his mouth, and Neil just smiled.

  When they stumbled into her apartment, they dropped their bags on the floor. Neil carried an old, worn, leather backpack like some kind of European traveler. She had the same messenger bag she carried every day. He pressed his lips against hers again before he shrugged his coat off, leaving it by the door, and reached for hers. Heather stumbled and ended up against the back of the couch. His body was flush against hers in an instant as he leaned her back, his hands on either side of her face, and he was hard against her stomach. He wanted her. She wanted to go for the button of his pants, but everything she needed for the rite was in the messenger bag. She broke the kiss and regrettably pushed his hips back from her. For a moment his grip on her face tightened, and she saw something in his eyes. It made her swallow, her eyebrows pulling together as she tried to figure out what the strange look on his face meant. Was he angry that she’d pushed him away? Should she try to explain? It was an expression she hadn’t seen on him in the few hours she’d been around him. But then it was gone, and he was smiling again.

  “Sorry, you’re just kind of irresistible.” Neil laughed and stepped back from her. “How about I pour us a drink? Do you have anything?” He turned to look at her kitchen and she cleared her throat and nodded, straightening her shirt.

  “Yeah, there’s a bottle of Pinot Noir in the fridge, should be enough left for a glass each. I’m, um, going to put some stuff away. Glasses are above the stove.” She smiled and he nodded. She grabbed her messenger bag from the floor and escaped to her bedroom. She’d picked it up that morning, hid anything personal, and made the bed. She opened the kit Carol had made, put the seven candles aroun
d the room, and set the glass bottle of oil on the bedside table. Then she folded the comforter down to leave the sheets bare. There was a note in the bag with a drawing in ink of the rune. As if every Pritchett didn’t have that rune memorized. Below that was her Aunt Carol’s handwriting:

  We all love you, Heather. We always have. I know this isn’t what you wanted, but this is who you are, who you were meant to be, and we can’t wait to see what you will do. Be strong for all of us, we’ll be here to catch you. — Carol

  Heather crumpled up the note and shoved it in the top drawer of her dresser just as Neil stepped into the doorway. His hair was a rumpled mess from having her hands in it, his smile was devilish, and he looked incredible. The sweater he was in fit him well, and it hinted at the firm chest she’d been pressed against on the cab ride home. Even better, he had two glasses of wine. “You have a nice place.”

  “Thanks.” She took the glass he offered her and took a sip. The wine was off and she wrinkled her nose. “Sorry about the wine, I think I let it sit in the fridge too long.”

  “It tastes fine.” He smiled and sat down on the edge of her bed. He’d taken his shoes off, and she had to admit he looked good on her bed, his dimples showing as he looked her up and down. “But, you’re still wearing your coat, and a lot of other things I don’t think you need.”

  Heather took another big drink from her glass before she set it down and pulled her coat off her shoulders. Having Neil watching her from the bed felt odd and she froze.

  “Take it off, Heather.” His voice had an edge to it that reminded her of Rick’s dominance. She shoved the thought of Rick away, but couldn’t deny the way heat pooled inside her when he commanded her. Her coat came off and she folded it, putting it on the little chair in the corner of her room. “Shirt too,” he added.

  “Am I going to be the only one shirtless?” Heather smiled and he gritted his teeth for a moment, way too serious, before he smiled again and took a drink of his wine. Neil held the glass between his legs as he pulled the sweater over his head. She didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was checking him out. His arms were strong. Muscular. The same as his chest, and his abs. Heather thought about writing a thank you note to the army.

  “Your turn.” He dropped the sweater on the floor and grabbed his wine again. She took a sip of hers as well, going for liquid courage. Then she pulled her shirt off, and he returned the favor of checking her out. “Jeans, Heather.” His voice was a sensual growl as he guided her to undress. She nodded, the intensity of his stare ramping up her heart rate and making her skin buzz with excitement. As usual, when a guy got all dominant she struggled to communicate. Her jeans came off with her shoes and her socks, and she was left in the matching bra and panties she had selected just for this moment. The black, lacy fabric of both looked good on her, lifted her breasts, and it seemed Neil liked what he saw. He stood to move towards her and she held up a hand. Her aunts’ voices were echoing in her head - she couldn’t screw this up.

  “How about I give you a massage?” Her smile was brittle, her muscles jumping with the eagerness to feel him against her. But she wasn’t ready yet. She had to get the rune on his skin. Neil glanced at the bedside table, seeing the glass bottle and he sat his wine next to it.

  “I could give you one?” He turned back to her.

  “Me first. Lie down? I promise I’m good at this.” Heather stepped between his knees and leaned down to kiss him. He stiffened and for a second he didn’t return the kiss. It made her stomach turn; she wasn’t being convincing enough. She wasn’t flirting enough. His lips were frozen against hers - he wasn’t going to kiss her back? She was about to pull away, but then he kissed her with fervor. His hands wrapped to the back of her neck, his tongue moving against hers. It was good, it made her moan softly against his mouth. Neil groaned and then he pulled back from her, his blue eyes boring into hers. She pushed at his shoulders and he laughed as he lay out on her bed on his stomach.

  “I’d much rather be doing something else.” Neil’s bravado was making an appearance again.

  “Haven’t you ever heard of foreplay? Enjoy it.” Heather bit her lip as she climbed onto the bed, straddling his upper thighs. When she did she realized she was wet, really wet, and he felt really good underneath her. With a breath she fought the urge to rock her hips against him, to flip him over, yank his pants down and climb on top. Instead she leaned over and grabbed the bottle of oil, her breasts pressing against his back. His arms were folded under his head, but he looked back at her and raised an eyebrow.

  “Are you teasing me on purpose?”

  She laughed, “No. Just grabbing the oil.” She uncorked the bottle and poured some into her hand, the scent of herbs rising up until she closed the bottle off again and set it aside. Before she lost her nerve Heather dipped a finger in the oil and quickly traced the rune across his back. The clean lines glistened in the light.

  She had done it. No going back now.

  Heather shook her head, pushing down the guilt as she rubbed her hands together and started the massage. His muscles were tense, locked up hard, but she kept going. Her hands were confident. She actually did know how to give a decent massage, and she watched as his ribs expanded with a breath as he started to relax.

  “You’re good at this, Heather.” He groaned as she dug her hands in, tracing along his spine, his muscles shifting under her hands. Her skin was hot, and the pulse between her thighs was getting hard to ignore. She wanted him. She wanted him now. “Heather?”

  Neil leaned up, twisting at his waist to look at her. He started to turn over and she lifted up onto her knees to give him room. When he finished turning she realized how shallow her breaths were, how all she had to do was inch forward a bit and she could rub against his erection. Why was she so turned on? Was this what all her cousins had felt? This urge to conquer? Why hadn’t she felt it with Isaiah? “You had some tension in your back,” Heather mumbled.

  “Well, now that you’ve had your hands on me, what about my turn?” Neil slid his hands up her thighs, her waist, her ribs, until he was cupping her breasts through her bra. He sat up, his chest close to hers as his fingers unhooked her bra, and he pulled it down her arms. Then he kissed her again as his hands found her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hard nipples. His touch was static electricity over her skin, coiling a tension between her thighs until she found herself rocking against the erection still trapped in his pants.

  “I want you.” Heather whimpered against his mouth, her fingers digging into his upper arms, trying to pull him closer. She needed him closer, she needed him inside her.

  “I know you do.” Neil’s voice was serious. His hands dropped to her waist and he lifted her from him pretty easily, depositing her back on the bed. “Stay.” He pointed at her as he got up and walked out of her bedroom. She obeyed. Heather was panting, her skin damp with perspiration as the heat inside her spread over her body. She was too tense, taut, everything focused between her thighs. She couldn’t take it. She slid her hand under the edge of her panties and found herself soaked. Her hips lifted when she brushed her clit and she moaned. Neil’s voice interrupted her, “Trying to start without me, Heather?”

  She pulled her hand away, blushing furiously. What was wrong with her? “I’m just wound up.” She confessed, the blood in her cheeks scalding her. He just smiled at her, lifting his backpack and setting it on the end of the bed.

  “I think I’ve got a solution for your wandering hands.” He pulled a pair of handcuffs out of the bag and a rush of excitement thrummed through her. “Ever been tied up?”

  “Yeah, I have, I’ve played before.” Heather’s heart hammered in her chest.

  He moved closer to her at the side of the bed, holding out one of the cuffs. “These are safety cuffs, see the safety latch?” He showed her how they worked, ratcheting them closed, pulling the latch, and opening them again. “But they’re fun, if you’re willing. Might bruise a bit if you pull hard.” Everything he was saying on
ly turned her on further. Her brain was fuzzy with lust. She just wanted him.

  “I’m good with it, I promise.” She licked her lips and he leaned down to kiss her hard, his other hand sliding up the inside of her thighs as she spread them for him. She wanted him to touch her, to fuck her, to ease the tension inside her, but he pulled his hand back with a slight spank to the inside of her thigh. She moaned, but bit her lip to cut it off.

  “Great. Lie back, put your hands up by the headboard.” He was digging around in the bag again, pulling out long pieces of white cloth, and then the handcuffs were in his hands again. Neil leaned over her, his eyes tracing her body as he guided her hands up. She felt the cool metal against her skin, the ratcheting sound as one cuff closed. He fed the cuff through the headboard and then cuffed her other wrist.

  Her immediate instinct was to tug at the cuffs, to test her range of motion, but he pressed her arms down and kissed her. She moaned into his mouth, and he bit her lower lip sharply. It hurt and she gasped, but he was smiling at her. Neil definitely wanted to play.

  “We’re going to play a game.” He climbed onto the bed, straddling her to pin her hips so she couldn’t squirm anymore. “I ask you questions, you answer honestly. If you don’t answer honestly, you get punished. Deal?” His fingers trailed over her skin, her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breast. He moved down her stomach and she tried to arch her back, but she had very little give in her position.

  “Sure, deal. Okay.” Every brush of his hand was making her shudder. She felt like she was edging toward an orgasm and he hadn’t even really touched her. Her heart rate was skyrocketing impossibly fast; she wanted him. She needed him.

  “Heather, can you get out of those cuffs?”

  She laughed, making herself focus, “Yeah, I know how to do it.” He leaned over her, his hands braced on either side of her head as her fingers traced the metal where the release mechanism should have been.