This Strange Witchery

by Michele Hauf

“You like a little Fifty Shades, eh?”

  “I don’t know what that means. Suffice it to say, I’m not going to lie still if you think dripping candle wax all over me is a good time, but like I said—whew! Now it’s my turn.” He bowed to kiss her breast through her top. “Okay if I help you out of some of these clothes?”

  “Please do.”

  He untangled them from the blanket and helped her off with the blouse, and when he saw her bra, he bent to study the side embroidery on the yellow and black mesh concoction. “Bees?”

  “I love bees.”

  “Even bees on your boobs?”

  Mel giggled as he nuzzled a kiss along the cusp of the lacy cup. A flick of his fingers released the front clasp, and her breasts were freed from their confinement.

  “I can still see an impression of the bee here,” he said. A kiss to the side of her boob lingered and gave her a good shiver. “You women and your fancy underthings. Who sees them but you?”

  “You’re seeing them now.”

  “True. And I do appreciate the effort.”

  “And if we’re going to talk obsessive clothing choices, I know a guy with an OCD closet that’d give a psychologist a wet dream.”

  “Speaking of wet...” Tor slid his tongue from one breast to the other, forging a slick, heated trail on her skin. When he suckled at her nipple, Mel dipped her head back into the pillow and closed her eyes. She grasped for the sheets, but her fingers only caressed air. It felt so good, and surrendering to the sensation was all she wanted to do.

  Wiggling her hips as his hands moved down her skirt, she wrapped her legs about him and pulled his body against hers. Her silky panties slid against his briefs.

  “You’re so hot and wiggly,” Tor said. He suddenly put a hand along her jaw and held her there. She peered into his eyes. “You need to know there’s a battle going on inside me right now.”

  “I know, I know. It’s the one where the guy in the suit wielding the stake says this guy right here with the tousled hair and hard-on shouldn’t be getting it on with a client.”

  “You read my mind. Must be a witch thing.”

  “Trust me, it’s a woman thing. I wish I had a spell that would put you in your heart and not your brain, but I don’t.” Mel sighed and spread her arms out across the mattress in frustration. “I want this, Tor. It doesn’t have to be forever. Or even any commitment. Let’s have fun. We’re both adults. We can have sex with one another if we want to. Do you want to have sex with me?”

  “I do. And you’re right. I need to get out of my brain.”

  “I know how to make that happen without magic.” She reached down and found a firm hold on him. The man moaned and bowed his head to her chest. He nodded and made a few positive groaning noises, and she knew she had won the battle.

  “And don’t worry about protection either,” she added. “I’ve got a birth-control spell activated, and it’s very effective under the full moon.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” He slid her panties over her hips. “Right now, I want to fall into your lush world of softness and girlie sighs.”

  Mel sighed for him. “Then come inside me, lover. Come inside.”

  He kissed each of her breasts. At first he moved slowly, reverently, as if worshipping her skin, her heat, her very being. Then his tongue dashed faster and more firmly, twirling about her nipples, and his lips suckled her to wanting moans.

  When he reached for his cock, Mel kept a grip on it, and together they guided him inside her. Tor’s body shuddered above hers. Mel’s core tightened and shivered as his fingers slicked in her wetness and moved up to circle slowly about her aching, swollen clitoris. As he pumped deeply inside her, the man matched that rhythm with his finger. It was a heady touch that surprised her with its sudden and exacting intensity. He knew just where to touch her to raise up every shivering, delicious, humming thread of pleasure. Her thighs began to shake and her breaths came as gasps.

  And when she could no longer cling to the delicious distraction of being almost there, Mel released and her body pulsed upward against Tor’s. Together they came in a clutch of panting moans and cries of triumph. Heartbeats racing one another, they shared the high until Tor collapsed beside her and reached for her hand. He lifted it to his mouth and kissed the palm.

  Mel turned and nuzzled up against his impossibly fiery warmth. Seeking all of his heat, she stretched a leg across his and tilted her hip closer to make their bodies snug tight against each other.

  “That was good,” she said in a whisper.

  “It’s only the beginning.” His chest heaved from exertion, and Mel spread her fingers across it. His heart thundered beneath her fingers. “You make me hungry for more, Mel.”

  “You can have as much of me as you want.”

  “Good.” He turned her onto her back and glided a hand down to between her legs. “I’m going to kiss you right here...” He swirled his finger about her aching clit. “...until you come again.”

  Chapter 19

  While the shower pattered in the next room, Mel lingered between the sheets. Tor had jumped out of bed ready for the day. And when he’d encouraged her to join him, she had made the tough decision to remain in bed. It was only 7:00 a.m. Who even opened their eyes before eight?

  Now she spread her hand over the spot where he had lain next to her through the night. She nuzzled her face against the pillow where his black-cherry-tobacco scent had imbued into the fibers. That had been some good sex. Awesome sex. The kind you wanted to do again and again and again. Which they had. She was blissfully exhausted.

  How could the man even think to leave her alone and wash her off in the shower?

  “His brain must kick in with the sunrise,” she muttered, then smiled to herself.

  She figured waking up in a woman’s bed, not in the comfort of his ultra-tidy and organized home, had to be a challenge in and of itself. How could he even function without a stroll through his closet and a pressed shirt and tie? He’d have to wear the same clothes today, until he found a moment to run home and recharge his OCD uniform.

  Again, she smiled. She liked him exactly as uptight and methodical as he could be. Because she’d seen his lighter, loose side. Singing and dancing. And oh, his kisses. Everywhere on her. Her mouth, her breasts, her pussy. Mmm...

  And she would have to give that up. Because right now, she realized what sacrifice she could offer to make her dark magic effective.

  Tor.

  She swore and buried her face against the pillow. It wasn’t fair. And yet it was. A sacrifice wasn’t that unless it was great and it hurt and the person sacrificing would feel the effects for long after. She hadn’t known Tor long, but excising him from her life would feel as though she were cutting out an organ and tossing it aside.

  And she knew exactly how to do it. He’d mentioned something about a memory spell. She would give him that. She’d mix it up this morning and then try her hand at dark magic again. If it worked, she would know her sacrifice had been acceptable.

  But until that spell was mixed, she intended to indulge in the man. To make memories that she never intended to dispel. So she returned her thoughts to his kisses skating over her skin. His lips brushing her gently and then firmly, followed by the hot lash of his tongue.

  She could feel him glide down her belly and dash his tongue against her clit. Pushing her fingers through her curls and between her thighs, she found that swollen bud humming with want. She gasped as a hint of orgasm teased. She could come with a few strokes, and so...

  Mel curled down her head under the sheet as her body shivered minutely and the tingles of a soft, sweet orgasm scurried through her being. She heard someone enter the room and ask what she was up to. With a giggle, she tugged down the sheet and crooked her finger at the man who wore but a towel about his hips.

  “Yeah?” Tor’s big brown eyes glinted.
His hair, still wet and tousled this way and that with droplets of water, shone in the ridiculously bright morning sunlight. He released the towel and dropped it to reveal a sizable interest in her suggestion.

  When Mel lifted the sheet to invite him into bed, her phone, which lay on the nightstand, suddenly rang. She pouted and patted the bed. “Just ignore it.”

  “Sure, but...” He leaned over to read the screen. “It’s from your dad. Way to kill a good hard-on.”

  “Oh shoot.” She grabbed the phone and before answering gestured for Tor to put the towel back on. “Or it will distract me,” she whispered dramatically, then answered, “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”

  Her dad’s voice was frantic, gasping in between his rushed words. Mel immediately understood what he was asking from her. “I’ll be right there. Twenty minutes, tops.”

  Tearing away the sheets, she flew out of bed and grabbed the first piece of clothing she saw, which was a pair of gray leggings flung over a chair.

  “What’s up?” Tor picked up his shirt from the floor.

  “My dad needs me. My sister is going at Mom like crazy, and Dad is desperately trying to get her out of the house and away from her. But in cat form, Mom tends to hide under the couch or in places that are hard to reach. I have to distract Amaranthe so he can get her. Can you give me a ride?”

  “You bet I can.” He grabbed his pants and shimmied into them. Threading his arms through the shirt, he picked up his tie. “Let’s go.”

  “I love you for this.” Mel pulled on a flouncy red shirt and grabbed her bag of magical supplies.

  She caught his hesitation and decided a kiss was necessary. Tor held her fiercely as she took a moment to find her place in the kiss and reassure him that all would be well.

  “You’re my protector,” she said. “And I am my mother’s protector. Or I’m helping my dad as best I can. Night of the full moon today! We’ve got a busy day ahead of us. There’s lots to do. Sacrifices to make, on both our parts.”

  “You figure out what you’re going to sacrifice?”

  “I did.”

  “You going to share?”

  “Nope. I think it’ll lessen the efficacy of the dark magic if I do.”

  “Fair enough. But both of us? What do I have to sacrifice?”

  “Well, you are bringing me to my parents’ home. You know what waits there.”

  “Right.” His brows furrowed together.

  “Don’t think about it too much.”

  Grabbing his hand, she led him down the hallway. Bruce hovered near the door and when Mel paused before her familiar, he dropped a small round piece of jet onto her palm. A stone to protect against evil, and help one accomplish goals. It also worked well to connect one to the spirit world.

  “Thanks, Bruce. Now I’m ready.”

  * * *

  Mel clasped Tor’s hand and led him toward her parents’ building. They lived on the entire top floor of a six-story structure in the 16th arrondissement that had been remodeled by Haussmann in the nineteenth century. It was old but sturdy, and she loved the open style and the industrial furnishings. Massive iron beams and support structures framed all the exposed ductwork and piping high above. Add a touch of dark magic, and the place had always felt like home to her.

  Until Amaranthe had begun to haunt her mother, Star.

  The accident that had taken her sister’s life had happened two years ago. The first year following, Amaranthe’s ghost had been weak. The family hadn’t realized the knocks and sudden window closings were ghostly activity. Until Star had dreamed one night about the incident for which she would forever blame herself. An accident she had not purposefully made happen. It had been just that—an accident.

  In cat form, Star had been fleeing the neighbor’s rottweiler, which had chased her into the street. An oncoming car, driven by Amaranthe, speeding at a reckless forty miles an hour, had swerved and crashed into a street pole. The pole had sliced down the middle of the car as if it were a knife halving a sandwich. Amaranthe, the doctors had reported, had died upon impact.

  But Star had learned differently in her dream. Her daughter had lived for twenty minutes following the accident, trapped in a broken and dying body, unable to scream for help, yet fully aware of the black cat who had paced on the wreckage of the car’s hood as the emergency team had pried the woman’s body out from the vehicle.

  Star had not died the morning of the accident. But the rottweiler had not relented. Later that evening, Star had gone out to run off the intense sadness that had consumed her after losing her daughter and, blinded with grief, had also become victim of a car’s overwhelming power. She’d been struck and tossed thirty feet through the air to land against a brick wall, dropping dead to the ground before the confused rottweiler.

  Thoroughly and Mel had mourned two family members that day. Only Star had come back to life, unaware of the family she’d been a part of, a family she had helped to create. It had been trying times for both Mel and her father.

  But her father had gone through Star’s death many times previously. Thoroughly Jones knew the routine. However, it was not something with which he’d ever grown accustomed to or, in any way, at ease with. It had been different that time, with the added grief of having lost one of his daughters. He had been inconsolable, yet quietly strong in reassuring Star. Mel had volunteered to plan her sister’s funeral. Together they had buried her at a crossroads near some family land in hopes she would rest in peace.

  Not so. This spring was when Amaranthe’s ghost had started to gain strength, and—for reasons Mel could only guess were that she assumed Star had purposely run in front of the car—her sister now haunted their mother with a misplaced death wish.

  Star, having recently died three weeks earlier after the fall from the roof, was still having difficulty gaining back memories of her family, her loving husband and one remaining daughter. But to add to that the haunting by an angry ghost? To say the fragile familiar was nearing a complete breakdown was not far off.

  Now Mel clutched Tor’s hand as she stopped before the building and stretched her gaze up to the rooftop.

  He kissed her hand and brushed the hair from her cheek. “Want me to go up?”

  She shook her head. “I need to go in alone. If Amaranthe knows who you are or senses anything about you, terrible things could happen. I just need to distract her long enough so Dad can get Mom out of the loft.”

  “I’ll stand guard down here. If you need me, call out. I’ll be at your side in seconds.”

  “I know you will.”

  She took a step onto the first of three stairs leading up to the entrance. Clutching her fingers into fists, she closed her eyes and exhaled. She’d avoided her parents’ home these past several days because she didn’t want Amaranthe to get a read on her, to learn that something was up. Not that that particular something was going at all well. When would she find time to concoct the memory spell? She had to do that. Today. But she needed vervain. And courage. This whole situation had gotten so out of hand.

  “Mel?”

  Tor called her back to the moment with his sure, calm voice. And back into the reality that hurt her heart. “I’m not sure I can do this, Tor.”

  “Of course you can.” From behind her, he slid his hands down her arms. Nuzzling his cheek aside hers, he pulled her into a hug. All his crazy hard lines and muscles worked in tandem to comfort her. He was a wall of strength to her wobbly, weird jumble of hope, fear and utter panic.

  She shifted a hip against his, and the talisman nudged against her. She slid her fingers over the warm, crystal clear quartz.

  “I wonder if it can protect you?” he said.

  She shook her head. “Probably not. Talismans are very personal.”

  “Still. It might give you the strength you require to cross the threshold and face what lies beyond the door.” He unhooked the crysta
l from the D ring at his belt and placed it on her palm. “Take it.”

  “But...you never go anywhere without it. This is...it’s personal to you, Tor.”

  “I’ll get it back from you as soon as you come down. Think of it as my way of being close to you.”

  “Okay.” She tucked the talisman in her pocket, and the heavy weight against her hip felt right. Yes, he could accompany her in this way. “You’ll wait down here in the lobby?”

  “I will. But I can follow you up and wait outside the loft.”

  “No.” She opened the building door and, feeling the strong wards her father placed on the entrance shiver through her veins, sucked in a gasp and stepped across the threshold. “I have to do this.”

  And she marched onward, up the first flight of stairs, not turning back to say anything more to Tor. With his fear of ghosts, she knew argument wasn’t necessary to keep him at a distance. And she didn’t need him—well, maybe a little—but she truly did fear the consequences should she attempt to bring him along with her. Sliding her hand in the pocket, she curled her fingers about the talisman. It was his magic, and she did feel his presence as a repeat of that reassuring hug he’d just given her.

  The stairs were creaky, and yet she never took the elevator. No magical reason, just the remembered fear of being trapped in the tiny one-person box for five hours that one summer when a lightning storm had taken out the building’s power.

  On the sixth floor, she stood in the vast harlequin-checked foyer before the Jones residence and sucked in a breath. A tear spilled from her eye. She missed her sister. Everything about this situation sucked, big-time. And tonight—if she thought now was difficult, tonight would only prove insurmountable.

  Could she do this?

  Glancing down the stairs, she wished to see Tor standing there on the landing, his kind brown eyes offering her strength. But he had his own ghosts with which to deal. Another stroke of her fingers over the talisman reassured her. Mel sucked in a breath and walked up to knock on the door.

  Her dad answered immediately. He held the handle of an empty plastic cat carrier in one hand. With his other arm, he swept it around her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you for coming, Lissa. This has gotten out of hand. None of my repulsive magic is effective either. She’s getting stronger.”