Wickedly Good (Hex Appeal)

by Anya Breton

  Was this was some dominant thing?

  Concerns about his motivation soon fizzled in the heat of his kiss. Gemma melted into him when his tongue slipped between her lips. He tasted of her—of salt and sex.

  One of Aston’s hands left her cheek and grazed along her side. She angled into him, hurrying the next thrust within. He slipped his limb behind her, applying gentle pressure. On his next thrust, Aston hauled her fully into his lap.

  Up he hoisted her with a single arm until his cock nearly escaped her hot, needy passage. Gemma fought the grip so that she could drop right back down.

  He dragged his tongue from her mouth, gripping her cheek tight so he could quietly chide, “Slow, Gemma.”

  A small whimper escaped her. His light-blue eyes bore down on her, scolding every bit as much as his voice had. It shouldn’t have sent a zing of desire up her spine, but it did. She’d seen that look on his face so many times. Had he been imagining this?

  Aston’s mouth devoured hers, mimicking the powerful motion of his next thrust. She’d have fallen if not for his arms supporting her weight and his cock nailing her to the spot. Gemma gave over during the next wave of desire that raced across her body.

  She’d gladly submit to him if this was what she got out of the deal. Gemma only hoped he didn’t make her speak the words.

  Aston felt the shift in her—the subtle relaxing of the muscles along her back and thighs. Though her eyes often fluttered shut, she no longer tried to hide them from him. Was this submission? Or fatigue?

  He’d not realized how badly he wanted her to yield until now. Whatever the case, he wouldn’t stop to ask.

  He was close. And from the way her inner muscles crowded his dick, she was too. She easily slid up his length with little effort on his part. Down he brought her, groaning as her pussy enfolded him in velvety heat.

  She gave her mouth willingly, and he took it with greed. Aston battled the urge to increase his pace. Slow and steady was how this would go. He’d fantasized about taking her this way too many times to screw it up now that he’d earned the chance.

  But when Gemma’s orgasm broke, when her muscles convulsed around him in a sinfully wicked massage, he gave up. Aston thrust once more with the speed and power she’d been craving. Her tremors brought his, milking every drop of cum he had in him.

  It wasn’t until his seed flooded her heat that he wondered if she was fertile. A fierce knot formed in his chest, constricting his breath and ability to think of anything but a very pregnant Gemma. She would damn well submit to him then.

  He would accept nothing less than all of her were she to conceive his child. But that was a problem for another day. Now his only concern was the cuddling he’d avoided the past two nights. And from her rapidly lifting chest and slick skin, Aston highly doubted she was in any state to rush out of bed.

  * * * * *

  Gemma found it nearly impossible to believe she’d slept. In bed. Beside Aston Haizea. His hands had rarely strayed from her belly all night. And his thigh had indeed been between hers exactly as he said it would be. He was nothing if not a man of his word.

  She liked that about him. If she was truthful with herself, she liked quite a bit about him. He’d always been a fair and just coven leader. Gemma rarely disagreed with his judgment in disputes between witches. When it came down to it, Gemma had admired him so much that she’d found him larger than life and thus a bit on the frightening side.

  But the man behind her wasn’t frightening, at least not in the ways she’d previously thought. Now he was a danger to her independence. He could, as her priest, demand things of her she wouldn’t be able to refuse. A pureblooded child was chief among them.

  Gemma thanked Aer she’d been fertile weeks before returning home. She was safe from conception. For now. But what if Aston didn’t grow tired of her before that changed?

  A baby would be an unfortunate burden, one she’d resent. It wouldn’t matter that Aston would offer compensation, as all male witches did in similar situations. Motherhood would make beginning her career difficult.

  But what if Aston did grow tired of her? Gemma didn’t want to think about that.

  “Mmm,” he rumbled against her neck. “You smell good.”

  The dive her heart took at contemplating him tiring of her did a credible job of recovering. Nonetheless, Gemma was unable to hide her breathlessness in her response. “I doubt that.”

  “You smell like the brook and sex, two of my favorite scents.”

  She swallowed down a laugh. “I’m hungry.”

  “Mmm.” Aston’s teeth snapped behind her ear. “I’m hungry for you.”

  “Gah, what a cliché.”

  He slipped back so he could gently roll her to face him. Gemma soon found herself looking into the lovely pale eyes of her too-hot coven priest.

  Aston’s lips curved to the left in a half-smile. “I’m old and out of practice. Go easy on me.” The expression didn’t reach his eyes. This was no joke. He truly believed he was old and out of practice.

  “I prefer to think of you as wise but too busy to bother with women.”

  Aston’s mouth flattened. A moment later he was smiling again. He adopted an oddly light tone that didn’t feel right. “I’m not too busy for you.”

  He’d soon return to work, and his time would be nonexistent. But he was already smarting from her last comment. Now wasn’t the time to argue. “Do they have room service in a place like this?” she asked.

  “No room service. We’ll need to dress so we can join the hostess in the dining room.” Aston leaned back—for what, she wasn’t certain. When he rolled forward, his lips were quirked in a mischievous grin. “You have twenty minutes until breakfast. Do you want to shower alone or with company?”

  “Twenty minutes? I’d better shower alone.”

  Aston chuckled and then nuzzled beneath her chin, tickling her with his moustache. “I can go fast.”

  Her temperature lifted when she recalled the instance against the car. Yes, he could go fast. But she needed a little time to process what had happened. “You can prove it after breakfast.”

  Though he made a grumpy noise against her throat, he replied, “Deal.”

  Gemma rolled off the bed as soon as he released her waist. And then she hurried to the bathroom before he changed his mind.

  Aston stared up at the plaster ceiling, listening to the water pounding against the fiberglass in the attached bathroom. It was a good morning. He’d woken to a warm, supple body curled against his. The scent had been exhilarating. And the knowledge of who it was made it even better. Gemma hadn’t left in the middle of the night as he’d feared.

  He’d spent the first hour alert and waiting for what he’d believed to be an inevitable altercation. Yet she’d remained beside him, quietly snoozing. He spent the second hour watching her.

  She was beautiful in slumber. The glow she hid during her wakeful hours was visible in her sleep. And the wariness he often spied was likewise stripped away, leaving only the witch he hoped to soon discover.

  He forced himself to dress. Though he was reduced to wearing yesterday’s slacks and shirt, the clothing the hotel attendant had procured for Gemma was still in the car. Aston hoped she’d be pleased with the fresh items.

  Concerned she’d slip away again, Aston rushed to the car and back before she stepped out of the shower. He stood awaiting her entrance, anticipating another peek at her sensual form.

  Though the water silenced and there was little movement in the bathroom, she failed to emerge. Aston watched the minutes tick by on the wall clock. Three were enough to towel off the beads of moisture, weren’t they? And then perhaps another to comb through her hair. He could even give an allowance for whatever it was women did in the bathroom without all their products.

  Six minutes passed and he grew concerned. Was there a window in the bathroom for her to escape through? Had he said something to irritate her during the few brief times they’d been awake together?

&
nbsp; Aston nearly laughed aloud when she emerged fully clothed. Of course. She hadn’t known he had fresh items. The delay made perfect sense. He was simply being an alarmist.

  It was time to relax.

  Gemma found Aston standing guard at the door with a strange, startled expression on his handsome face. She nearly asked him to explain it before she recalled who he was. Witches simply didn’t ask their coven leaders to explain themselves.

  Aston lifted a hand out as if in offering. Atop his palm was a set of white garments she failed to recognize. “I asked for these for you at the last hotel,” he told her. “It should be a full outfit. I think it’s your size. If you want it.”

  Was he being bashful? A bashful Aston was actually adorable. It was this adorability that had Gemma walking forward to take the white garments she might have otherwise refused.

  “Thank you.” She glanced back into the bathroom. “Do you need to use it?”

  He gave a quick nod. “Briefly.”

  As they exchanged places, Aston brushed close to her body even as she gave him a wide berth. Gemma avoided his expression as she did so. Moments later she was alone in the room.

  She quickly checked the tags on the clothing. They were close to her size. Gemma was eager to change given the state of her undergarments. She quickly tugged the lace panties down her thighs. She pulled the new cotton panties over her ass just as the toilet flushed in the other room.

  Gemma checked herself in the mirror. The presence of stains on her shirt and the skirt’s wrinkled fabric were reason enough to try the new clothing. She hurried to slip into the white cotton shorts while Aston washed his hands. The matching tank top settled around her middle as the door opened.

  Aston’s pace slowed once he spotted her wardrobe change. His mouth twitched. “You look ready to play a set of tennis.”

  Gemma’s cheeks flushed because she’d not had time to look at the overall outfit. A glance in the mirror showed he was right. She did look as if she’d stepped off a tennis court.

  “I’m not sure it’s your look,” Aston went on. “But it will do. Are you ready?”

  She nodded her agreement despite her discomfort with her appearance. He gestured for her to precede him.

  Gemma hesitated in the corridor. Her purse. It was still in the room. She’d have to return for it after breakfast. What would happen then? Would he want to go home? Worse, would he want to stay?

  Gemma made herself walk forward rather than contemplate what was to come. Breakfast was the next order of business.

  She followed the sound of voices toward the stairs they’d used last night. Aston overtook her on the ground floor, placing himself in front of her as they walked. He reached an arm back, placing it possessively at her side. She didn’t protest the gesture. No one here knew them. No one would know how scandalous it was that they were together.

  A woman in her mid-fifties leaned over a long table in the inn’s dining room. The purple tablecloth covering the furniture matched the purple lilac details in the wallpaper. Likewise, lilac details were found all over the room from the floral centerpiece to the ceramic lilacs on the nearby mantel.

  The woman sent them a warm smile. Gemma returned the sweet expression. Aston pulled out a chair, indicating she should sit in it. He dropped into the adjacent seat.

  Their hostess hurried to the door. “I’ll be right back with a few pastries.”

  Gemma took in the rest of the room while she waited. The windows were tall, with a narrow shape common on older homes. Soft sunlight streamed in between the cream lace curtains, casting scalloped shadows on the rug covering the polished wooden floor.

  A slight creak sounded in the wood to her right. Aston was shifting positions. Was he trying to get her attention? She wasn’t ready to find out. There hadn’t been enough time to contemplate any of the past day’s events.

  Their hostess rejoined them, carrying a tray of goodies. With her was a man Gemma assumed to be her husband, carrying yet another tray. Though he was a good deal older and slightly frail, he handled the burden well. They worked in tandem to set out bowls, dishes and baskets of eggs, sausage and pastries. The smiles they occasionally shared were infectious.

  Once the last bowl was placed, the man dropped into the chair near the door. He scanned over them both, grinning slightly as he asked, “The newlyweds, right?”

  Gemma’s cheeks warmed at the thought. “No,” she quickly replied when Aston failed to respond.

  “Really?” Their host leaned back into his seat while stroking his scruffy chin. “You look like my Sally and I did in the beginning.”

  A nod was all the answer she gave him. What did they look like? Considering Gemma hadn’t so much as glanced Aston’s way since they sat down, she found it hard to believe they could make a convincing newlywed couple. Unless it was the result of an arranged marriage, that is.

  The scent of maple bacon heralded the hostess’s return, seconds before the woman stepped within the room. “Don’t wait on me,” the woman—Sally, Gemma assumed—declared. “Eat!” She frowned at her husband. “Harold, you should have told them that.”

  Harold chuckled at the small admonishment rather than defend himself.

  “Go ahead,” Sally insisted with a wave toward the heaping bowls. “Don’t let it get cold.”

  Aston and Gemma each lifted dishes. Without discussion, they took portions and then exchanged bowls. This continued in silence until they’d taken some of everything.

  Their lack of communication, much like that of their hosts, was a little strange. Were they more in tune than she’d realized?

  “How long have you been together?” Harold asked in between ladling out a helping of fluffy eggs.

  Gemma focused most of her attention on the bear claw beside her fork rather than acknowledging she’d heard the question. As far as she was concerned, there was no together. But she didn’t want to offend by giving the wrong answer.

  Aston held his fork at the edge of his plate so he could answer the question. “Four days. But we’ve known each other for years.”

  “Four!” Sally exclaimed.

  “We didn’t expect the need to stop in Keene last night,” Aston hurried to explain. “Or I would have given you more notice.”

  “Oh, we don’t mind the occasional emergency. You’re more than welcome. Especially considering—”

  “You’re kind to say that but I know it was an inconvenience.” Aston’s rude interruption brought Gemma’s attention off her plate.

  A look at Sally showed she wasn’t upset by his faux pas. Maybe something nonverbal had passed between them to explain the strange exchange.

  His focus swung away from Gemma almost guiltily.

  Her coven priest was hiding something. But what could he possibly be hiding at a bed-and-breakfast in Keene?

  Chapter Fifteen

  A statuesque brunette with brilliant blue eyes halted just outside the dining room. “Look who it is,” she exclaimed in obvious pleasure. “Aston.” She started forward, her lush mouth curving in an attractive way that made Gemma envious.

  Aston stood when the woman flitted into the room and he didn’t shy from her embrace—her very familiar, very close embrace. “Elizabeth,” he murmured though his focus darted between Gemma and the silent male hovering in the corridor.

  “We didn’t know you were here,” the woman, Elizabeth, scolded as she drew back to see him. She didn’t release him, despite their hug having ended. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I didn’t want to interrupt your vacation,” Aston replied with the practiced smoothness of a politician. He indicated Gemma, smiling slightly at them both. “Have you met my companion?”

  The beautiful woman made a quarter turn until she could see Gemma. “I don’t believe I have.”

  “This is Gemma Erjon. She’s recently returned from studying abroad.”

  “Erjon.” Elizabeth repeated the name with careful enunciation. “That’s familiar.”

  “She’s t
he housekeeper’s daughter,” came the sharp response from the corridor.

  Gemma jerked as if slapped. Drew. Clearly, he was upset by her decision to leave the diner last night. She’d not anticipated how badly he’d take it. Each interaction with him since proved how skewed her perception of him had been.

  Elizabeth’s mouth opened into the shape of a perfect O long before she made a sound. “Oh, yes. That explains why it’s familiar.” The woman sent Gemma a patently false smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Your mother makes the best cookies.”

  Gemma offered a fake expression of her own. It lasted until Aston helped Elizabeth into her seat and both turned to see why Drew had failed to join them. The blond male didn’t budge until his companion gestured twice, shot a dark glare and then quietly hissed his name.

  Begrudgingly, the younger Haizea sibling stepped into the dining room. His gaze was fixed upon his brother’s face. If looks were dangerous, Drew’s would have been an F5 tornado bearing down on a bustling metropolis.

  “Please, won’t you sit with us?” Sally spoke up at last. “Let us know if we’re missing anything you need. There are other drinks in the kitchen.”

  Drew spared a mere glance for their hostess before stepping up to the empty chair on Gemma’s left. He stood silent while the gathered diners politely held their forks. Elizabeth angrily cleared her throat. Finally, Drew threw himself into the seat.

  Though Gemma’s perception had been based on a romanticized version of Drew, she recognized the slivering of his eyes as the precursor to a scene. She held herself still, hoping he’d have the decency to wait until they were in private.

  He dashed her hope when he leaned in, growling, “You didn’t waste any time switching brothers.”

  “Drew.” Aston’s firm voice cut through the quiet dining room.

  “And you.” Drew jabbed a finger at his brother. “Did you get me out of the way so you could take her?”