Halloween Between the Sheets: A Reverse Harem Anthology of Spooky Scenes that Get to the Point

by L. A. Boruff

  She stiffened in Mo’ata’s hold. “Hey. Did you—”

  “Not me. The Boss. This is wholly and fully his place. No one will say a thing,” Felix reassured.

  “Time to wash up,” Mo’ata said as he placed his hand to the scanner on the door. The light remained red, but a few seconds later the door clicked open. “Do not worry, shopa. There is a reason we picked this place, at this time. I would never let anything come back to hurt you, in even a small way. There is also a back way out. When I asked to use the hallway, the Boss knew I would be making use of that back way as well.” Placing her down in front of a door in the ar wall of the room he pressed the lever, revealing a bathroom. “Clean up first, and then we’ll go.”

  She nodded and took a step before pausing. “We’ll come back here, right?”

  “Colci’s? Of course. And we won’t even make you wear a ridiculous outfit.”

  Forrest made his way to her side and gave her a little nudge. “I have candy at home, and finagled some horror movies out of Zeynar before he left last time. Wash up, and we’ll finish having our Halloween.”

  She nodded, then paused again. Snorting, she shook her head. “So does this mean we have a new Halloween tradition?”

  If you would like to read more about Blue and her guys, and their various adventures, the series begins with A Girl Named Blue.

  Marie Robinson: All Souls Night

  A Short Sexy Reverse Harem Story from the Magical Kingdoms

  When Life and Death join together, things get really hot.

  With her powers unleashed, Maeve is the first Weaver in her kingdom in over four hundred years. When All Souls Night approaches, she accepts her duty to renew the balance between Life and Death. She must become the avatar of Life and four avatars will Death must pursue her; what luck that she has four sexy men in her life willing to fulfil those roles?

  This sexy short features Maeve and her harem: Trystan, Caliban, Septimus, and Gwayne from the Magical Kingdoms novels.

  All Souls Night

  I had been a child the last time All Souls Night had a full moon. I don't think there was anything different about that night and all the other All Souls Nights throughout the years since magic had been banished before now. I shivered as the wind whispered the spirit's secrets against my skin, the moon's light was tossed upon the cloudy seas of the skin. I stood at the path, a silver ribbon in the moonlight, leading to the ancient grove of trees.

  A maid stood beside me, holding a bowl of still warm mulled wine, infused with the herbs which would allow my spirit to drift and allow myself to be filled with the power of life itself, on the holiest night for Weavers.

  When Septimus had brought up the holiday, I had thought nothing of it. It wasn't until he explained how, as the first Weaver in Caledonia in hundreds of years, I should begin this ritual once more that I realized it was more than a night for eating sweets by bonfires. I had thrown myself into research, finally calling upon the mirror servant, Occulus. He had shown me the origins of the ritual and helped me understand the necessities of it.

  Life and death, Weavers had control over each force, and on All Souls Night, it was our duty to bring them together. I would act as an avatar of life, and death would pursue me, as it does all creatures, and when we are joined together, it renews and strengthens the bond and balance of the world.

  There would be four men who would embody each face of death; four men who were waiting for me in the dark forest, ready to capture me and join with me.

  It was a fortunate occurrence that I had four men who I desired, loved, and craved their touch, and they returned my feelings. Occulus had told me that, since my men and I shared a bond of love, the magic released from each joining would be a power the hundred realms had not seen in many years.

  The maid shifted, drawing my attention towards her once more. I took the bowl out of her hands, careful with the delicate piece. It had been a gift from Smyrna, the Fae councilwoman who befriended us. Perhaps she had known such a relic would be needed, or perhaps she felt it would be a piece I enjoyed--it was carved out of dragon's glass and inlaid with jewels in the shape of four flying dragons, matching the colors of Trystan, Caliban, Septimus, and Gwayne, as if it were made for them.

  The men who were dragons.

  The men who I loved.

  The men who now waited for me, their lust burning through them in response to their own ritual to prepare for this night.

  I brought the bowl to my lips and drank deeply of the rich, thick liquid and returned the ceremonial bowl to the maid. I closed my eyes as I felt the heavy liquid pool in my stomach before the warmth radiated from my stomach throughout my body, stirring the embers of desire in my core.

  The wine sharpened my senses, the cool breeze now felt like caressing hands which traveled lightly across my skin, teasing at my sensitive nerves, encouraging me to open myself to the supernatural world around me and allow the powers of spirit and life to infuse my body. To make myself a beacon which would call to the facets of death which awaited me.

  But life did not kneel to death nor offer its submission without strife.

  My senses were heightened from the magic filling me, flowing through my veins. I could feel the presence of Death around me, though I would not be able to pinpoint it. The magic told me to run, my instincts told me to run. My heart was light, and desire and defiance flooded me.

  I would join with death this night, but death had to find me first. It had to prove itself worthy of joining with life.

  Drunk with the magic swirling around me and the knowledge that my men were out there, waiting for me, gave me an eagerness I had not expected.

  I reached up and released the clasp which held the thick cape around my shoulders and it fluttered to the ground. The maid bowed and stepped away but I hardly noticed her as I felt my heart began to thump harder in my chest, beating against my ribcage with anticipation. I shivered as the desire raced through my veins and I felt my lips stretch into a wide grin.

  I sprinted towards the woods, along the path bathed with silken moonlight, my footfalls dampened by the thick slippers tied to my feet as the skirt of my dress hugged my thighs before it billowed behind me. Septimus had insisted on asking the brownies to create the garments for the ceremony, and the magical creatures had delivered an outfit that looked as if they'd captured the wind and sky, spinning clouds into silken threads and binding it with the needles of the evergreen trees which surrounded the tower. The material was lighter than anything I had felt, and by all rights, should be transparent, but somehow it allowed me the modesty of privacy though it hugged my body from my shoulders to my waist before flaring outwards.

  I hadn't seen the outfits designed for each of the men, but I imagined they would inspire fear and lust as I crossed into the tree line, the thick boughs above blocking the silver moonlight.

  I wove through the trees, my pace slowing until it was a comfortable jog instead of a crazed sprint. My legs did not ache the way they would have last year, before Caliban's training, and I felt proud of my own strength.

  The woods were unfamiliar to me, the fall fog slowly curling itself against the birch and yew.

  A figure slipped between the shadows and I felt my heart leap into my throat.

  Caliban and Gwayne would never allow themselves to be seen. They were too good.

  Which mean it was Trystan or Septimus in pursuit.

  I pushed myself harder, running in the opposite direction of the shadowed figure.

  But he continued to advance, running parallel to me. I snuck a glance and met Trystan's eyes, nearly stumbling as I saw the hunger there.

  He wore tight-fitting pants, but only a robe, seemingly made of shadows, graced his shoulders, his strong chest bared to the sky, his beard thick but closely shorn to his jaw. He smirked and weaved behind a tree. I faltered when I did not see him reappear, slowing in my tracks.

  A touch across my waist caused a yelp to erupt from my lips. I spun as I felt the heat of Trystan's h
and across my soft stomach, his fingers catching in the silk of my dress, a panel of the fabric tore away from me with a sigh.

  Trystan's hearty laugh echoed around me as he disappeared back into the darkness. I looked down to see my right leg now exposed from the tear. So that's how it was going to be?

  I turned towards my path again, unheeding of the underbrush which pulled and tugged at my dress. No matter how the thorns caught, the fabric refused to render itself. It, like myself, was only to be taken apart by my lovers.

  My skin prickled as I became aware of another presence in the darkening woods. The forest floor was a mixture of shadows and illusions from where the moon cast its gaze. A predator was stalking me and I was elated. The life force within me burned with need, the need to flee but also the need to submit.

  I turned my head as a shadow moved but I could see nothing in the darkness. My feet slowed, seemingly on their own, as I turned to peer into the darkness. My wild hair had escaped its loose confines, the burnished copper curls falling gently down my back and over my shoulders, teasing my sensitive skin.

  I moved and stumbled backward as Gwayne towered before me, the huntsman utterly silent in his approach. His grey eyes held a wicked look, a look which stole my breath, so unused to the full intensity of his gaze.

  I felt my womanhood answering his gaze, my arousal flaring brighter. His nostrils flared and he bowed his head, holding my gaze with his half-lidded eyes as he slowly brought his hands to hover beside my hips. He stood so close, but he was not touching me. Even still, I felt the heat of his presence radiating off of him. His gray eyes holding me captive, freezing me in place as if he were planning to devour me.

  I reached upwards, to run my hand over the dark leathers he wore, so similar to his huntsman garb and he stepped away, his lips curling into a filthy smirk. I was unprepared for the sheer lewdness of it and felt my breath pulled from me as I tried to stumble towards him. He lowered his hands, the heat of his palms ghosting along my body as he gathered the gentle fabric in his large hands and tore it from me with a ferocity that caused me to stutter.

  Gwayne stepped away, bringing the fabric to his nose and inhaling my scent. My skin tingled as I watched his hands caress the fabric, my nipples pebbling against the cool material, begging to be lavished. I moved forward, confident in my steps, and I grasped the leather straps of his vest and pulled myself upwards against his chest, standing on my toes as I tilted my chin upwards, seeking his lips.

  I felt his strong arm come around my waist and his other hand buried itself in my curls, gripping my hair tightly enough to control me but not enough to truly cause pain. I realized, belatedly and uncaring, that he had me trapped against him. Gwayne's body was hard against me and my breath stuttered in my lungs as I felt the length of his engorged cock against my stomach.

  "Have you been caught, my little doe?" His deep voice was like thunder against the mountainside, his eyes blown wide with desire as he looked at me.

  I spread one of my hands across his chest, confident in his ability to keep me upright, and glided my palm down his torso and over his hard cock. I smirked as I felt the hitch of his chest as I gripped him through his pants and drew my nails along the length of him. "Perhaps it is the huntsman who has been caught," I said, my voice husky with desire.

  Gwayne narrowed his eyes in a challenge and lowered his head, his breath ghosting over my lips as he held my gaze. He held me to him and I never ceased my caressing of his erection, even as he ground into my palm. I pushed my lips closer to his, his grip in my hair stinging as it tugged against my efforts.

  My skin burned as his eyes trailed over me and his head lowered, even as he tugged my head to the side, baring my neck to him. I cried out as I felt his lips against my sensitive skin, just below my jaw, his teeth nipping at the flesh there before lavishing me with his tongue.

  I felt myself burning. It was as if his lips left a trail of dragon fire that bloomed under my skin, sending bolts of desire through my core and I felt myself grow wet with desire. I felt his fingers dig into my skin as he pressed me harder against him while he explored my skin, my other hand burying itself into his hair.

  Gwayne's lips trailed lower and I moaned as I felt him brush against the top of my breasts. I felt him crouch, lowering to me to my feet and suddenly he pulled away.

  "Wha—" I asked, confused and stupid with desire.

  "Not yet, little doe," Gwayne said sinfully as he palmed himself through his pants. "By the time this night is through, you will be taken utterly apart by us. Does that frighten you?"

  I shook my head, the words caught in my dry throat as I gazed, as if hypnotized, at his groin.

  "Do you want me to fuck you, my love?"

  His stark words pulled my startled gaze to his own. I felt the magic swirling between us, pushing and pulling us. I wondered what aspect of death he embodied. Was he War? He was my general, the man who commanded legions without hesitation. Was this simply a battlefield to him? Where he'd overpower my body, plundering me until he won the battle of pleasure between us? I shuddered as I thought of him, splaying my legs wide, his thick body covering me, his hard cock driving into me.

  "Yes," I whispered, answering his question.

  His eyes glinted in the soft light. "Then run, little doe. Because when we catch you, you will be ours."

  The magic pulsed between us and I turned, fleeing into the darkness, warring with the passion within me. Gwayne had always been my shelter against the storm of life. His love embraced me, curling itself around me until I was enveloped with it, certain in his undying loyalty. But this Gwayne was primal, making the man bare his teeth as he demanded my body respond to him, and it made me shiver with a need to submit. To allow his total domination of my body, mind, and soul, trusting utterly in him.

  As I ran once more, the surge of magic urging me on, I could feel the slickness of my desire trailing down my thighs as the ragged skirt fluttered around my legs. I could sense Trystan and Gwayne behind me, and I knew they were herding me towards Caliban and Septimus.

  The forest opened into a clearing, the sweet meadow grass fragrant in the night air. Septimus stood in the middle of the opening, his head thrown back, his hair flowing loosely, otherwise he was as still as marble. He wore only loose pants which hung low on his hips, before gathering at his ankles. A thin trail of hair stretched between his navel and his waistline before disappearing under the dark material.

  I could feel Gwayne’s and Trystan's eyes on us as I slowly approached the quiet magi.

  "Septimus?" I breathed out as I carefully lifted a hand to trail my fingertips across his smooth skin. His skin shone like alabaster in the moonlight, and when he tilted his head down to look at me, his eyes blazed with the sapphire of his magic.

  "Princess," his voice was velvet on my skin and filled with wanting. I felt powerful in a way that I hadn't with Gwayne. I walked my fingertips up Septimus's chest until I reached his shoulders where I pressed him downwards. The man offered no resistance as he fell to his knees, his eyes gazing upwards at me with reverence.

  I trailed my fingers along his jawline before they ghosted over his lips, where my eyes fluttered as he suckled at them. He would be Famine, then.

  "Do you crave me?" I asked, boldly and unashamed.

  "I would feast upon you every night," Septimus answered, "were you to allow it, Maeve."

  I shifted my weight, spreading my legs and caressed him, running my hand through his silken hair. "Then I shall not deprive you of my taste, my love."

  Septimus growled as he moved forward with the speed of a viper, ripping away the fabric which hid my sex from him. His hands cupped my ass as he pressed a kiss against my mons, his breath teasing my aching lips. I gasped as I felt the first lick against my slit, my knees buckling slightly.

  Arms came around my waist and I felt Caliban press himself against my back, his lips at my ears, nipping at the sensitive flesh.

  "Caliban," I sighed as I reached back to hold his head aga
inst mine, encouraging his kisses.

  "Do you know how beautiful you look," he whispered against my skin as his hands grasped the bodice of my dress, tearing it apart with quiet strength and freeing my breasts to his touch, "as he tastes you? As he makes you sigh?"

  Caliban's hands pressed down my stomach to my thighs, spreading my legs wider for Septimus, forcing me to lean back against the assassin or risk falling.

  Septimus responded by shifting his hands under my thighs, pressing my legs upwards until I was suspended between the two of them, utterly bare to them.

  Septimus licked at my slit, his tongue tracing upwards until he circled my clit, nipping it with his lips and wrenching a gasp from my lips before he traced his way back down, thrusting his tongue into my pussy as he held me to him. I could feel how wet I was and he was only making me wetter as I felt him lick into me again, alternating between my entrance and my clit.

  "Your taste makes him drunk," Caliban's voice was rough in my ear. "Your taste makes us all drunk, Maeve. The only thing that compares to tasting you is burying ourselves in you. Do you feel what you do to me? To us?"

  I moaned as I felt Caliban's desire press against the top of my ass. The magic thrumming through me heightened my senses and I felt him against me in such a way, I wanted to sink into him, to have Caliban and Septimus utterly surround me. I felt Septimus stroke along my entrance with a single finger, his mouth never leaving my wet lips. His finger dipped into my wet channel and my head fell back against Caliban's shoulder as I entrusted my body and my pleasure to these men. Septimus stroked me, slowly, teasing my pleasure as he brought me to the point of release before pulling away.

  "What do you think you're doing?" I dropped my chin to my chest, glaring at the magi who knelt between my legs. The sight of him, his face half-hidden by his dark hair, his mouth shining from the evidence of my arousal, was nearly enough to send me over the edge.