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Posts Tagged ‘Lakeland witches’

The 5th Instalment of Demon Interrupted: A Lakeland Witches Story

castlerigg_Stone_Circle1I’m very happy to offer the fifth instalment of  Demon Interrupted, a new story from the Elemental Coven that will be unfolding in its entirety right here on A Hopeful Romantic over the next few months.

The Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy left so many stories untold and so many fun places in the lives of the Elemental Coven yet to be explored, that a serial seemed like the ideal way to share more of the coven’s adventure. With a coven that specialises in sex magic, it’s not only exciting to revisit my witches at Elemental Cottage, but it’s sizzling hot. Here are the links to the previous episodes in case you missed them:

Chapter 1 Demon Interrupted: Perchance to Dream.

Chapter 2 Demon Interrupted: A Chat with a Demon

Chapter 3 Demon Interrupted: Enter the Shadows

Chapter 4 Demon Interrupted: Dark Chrysalis

Enjoy Chapter Five, and thanks for joining the fun with this Work in Progress.  If you want to know more about the Elemental Coven’s sexy adventures, check out the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy: Body Temperature and RisingRiding the Ether and Elemental Fire. Enjoy!

Lakeland heatwave banner1

Chapter 5 of Demon Interrupted

The Empty Spaces in Between

‘How the hell did I get here?’ It took Ferris a few seconds to realise that there was no one else in the SUV and that it was he who had spoken. He was no longer in his study at Storm Croft, He was no longer in Surrey at all, nor was Elaine with him. He was on the A 66 following a farm tractor, along with a half a dozen other vehicles, crawling toward Keswick. The sun was just going down, and the saddle-backed behemoth of Blencathera loomed large to the right of him still catching the last rays of light on its western flank.

She had killed her husband. The last memory Ferris had before coming back to himself in Cumbria was Elaine revealing to him that she had killed her husband, that she had been hanged for that reason. Surely he had misunderstood her. Surely there were extenuating circumstances, but he’d had no time to ask or at least he had no memory of asking. There had been long stretches of time of which he had no memory during the years he served Lucia, watching out for Cassandra. In fact, on occasion, it almost felt as though he could choose to shut down, like a computer when it’s no longer being used. Back then the lapses in memory, the loss of time, hadn’t seemed strange at all to him, nor had they mattered. But now things had changed. His life had changed. He remembered every detail of the time he’d spent with the Elemental Coven, and he would have wanted to miss none of it. Now, the loss of such a significant stretch of time and, at such an inconvenient moment, was more than disturbing. Surely Lucia was responsible. The tractor turned off near Threlkeld and Ferris sped toward Elemental Cottage, anxious to get home, and truly, Elemental Cottage felt like his home now. He didn’t know whether he was desperate to talk to Lucia or desperate to avoid her.
Demon Interrupted Image by Kev‘You’re just in time for dinner,’ Fiori called from the kitchen, as he walked in the door. ‘Sea bass, at Anderson’s request, of course.’

‘Is Tara around?’ He said, not wanting to ask specifically for Lucia.

‘She and Kennet had some errands to run in Keswick,’ she replied. ‘They should be back soon.’

Anderson and Cassandra were just coming down the stairs. When Cassandra saw Ferris, she threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek, the buzz of her energy making him feel like he’d just drank a couple of strong pints. ‘You’re back. We were worried you wouldn’t make it in time. How was Storm Croft?’

‘Same as always,’ he said, brushing the hair away from her face and nodding his greeting to Anderson. ‘The grounds are lovely this time of year, keeping the gardeners busy.’

For the first time he could remember since he’d arrived at Elemental Cottage, he didn’t taste the meal, even though he knew it was delicious. Fiori’s sea bass was spoken about in hushed tones, and it was always a favourite for Full Moon dinner. The new potatoes and baby carrots with peas were fresh from Tara’s garden, but he didn’t taste them. Even the white chocolate cheesecake with fresh strawberries was wasted on him. Neither did he hear the brisk banter and laughter that was always the best part of a meal shared at Elemental Cottage. His mind was on his encounter with Elaine — if it really had been an encounter. And surely it had to have been because he didn’t dream. Yet it would have been easier if she had been only a visitation from his dreamscape.

Later as he unpacked his bag before he showered for the Full Moon Circle, he discovered among the socks and carefully folded black shirts several dusty tomes about demons and several more about the history of Storm Croft. He didn’t remember packing them. He didn’t even remember having them on the shelves in the library at the great house. Most of the relevant volumes, Cassandra had brought back to Elemental Cottage when she had made it her permanent residence. The books were all leather bound and, from the looks of them, quite fragile. He would have never transported such treasures so carelessly, and yet here they were. Very carefully, he placed them on the bureau and grabbed his robe.

He could hear the rest of the coven milling about downstairs. He’d had no chance to talk to Tara, since she and Kennet had had a flat tyre on the way back from Keswick and had made it in time to eat their portion of the feast in the kitchen after where Fiori had kept it warm for them. As he joined them for the walk to the Dream Cave, he realized he really didn’t know how to approach Lucia. She had always approached him. Demons usually did what they wanted and in their own time. Just because she now resided in Tara, didn’t mean she was always there, present and accounted for. She needed flesh no more than she needed to breathe, but after Deacon’s defeat and Tara’s horrible sacrifice, no one was completely sure that Tara could now live without Lucia’s possession of her. In truth, Ferris was at a loss. There was no knocking at Lucia’s door, and he would just as soon the rest of the coven knew nothing about what had happened at Storm Croft.

‘Guess we’re together tonight, since you don’t dream and I’m not all that good at magic.’ Alice fell into step next to him as they made their way to the cave. Normally Full Moon was celebrated under the open sky whenever possible. Ferris had no idea why Tara had decided to do the circle in the cave.

‘Your magic is far better that you give yourself credit for, Alice, and you can hardly compare yourself to a coven of witches who were raised to it.’ Ferris and Sky had been tutoring Alice on basic magic. She really was quite gifted. She had only recently made her first forays into the Ether with Cassandra. It had taken her some time to overcome her fear of the place after Deacon had dragged her there, along with Ferris, as his captives. She would, indeed, be a huge asset to the coven when a little more emotional healing had taken place and she was a little farther away from those nightmarish memories of what Deacon had done to her. He laced his fingers through hers. ‘We’ll offer support this time,’ he said, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze. ‘It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it.’

She smiled up at him. ‘It’s a safe job. Not so important to you, maybe, but then you’re not nearly as neurotic as I am.’

She had no idea, he thought.

When everyone was gathered and all of the candles were lit around the perimeter of the cave, Tim spoke up. ‘Why are we in here doing dream magic on a gorgeous night like this? I would have thought we’d gather down at the tarn.’

Tara, who had been speaking softly to Anderson, her second in command, looked around at her coven. ‘We’re here tonight because of a dream that Kennet and I had together. We, all of us, have suffered from what Deacon has done to us, and though there’s been a lot of healing, a lot of rebuilding those bonds that make us a family, we all know how much we’ve lost and how far we have to go.’ She turned to Fiori. ‘I know you’re still having nightmares, Fiori, and I know there are several others among us, maybe even all of us who are either suffering from nightmares or well … basically post traumatic stress.’

She looked right at Ferris, and he felt heat crawl up his neck and over his cheeks. Living in the cotton wool present that Lucia had created for him, he had never suffered from anything for very long. But things were different now. For all of them.

The High Priestess continued. ‘Our most intimate act, even more so than the sexual bond we all share, is the act of sleeping and dreaming together, is the act of allowing each other to walk our dreamscapes. In that there’s bonding. In that there’s healing.’

‘In that there’s embarrassment and humiliation,’ Tim groused.

Everyone chuckled uncomfortably. Tim was right, but so was Tara. She offered him an unimpressed look. ‘Nevertheless, Mr Meriwether, we will dream together.’

‘There are Swedish pancakes for afterwards,’ Fiori offered with a cheery smile.

‘Well that’s at least something,’ Tim said.

Tara glared at him. ‘I’ll feed your share to the dog if you don’t watch your mouth, Meriwether.’

‘We don’t have a dog.’

‘Harry Gibbons up the road does. Nice big collie. Loves Fiori’s cooking.’

Once the circle was cast, Ferris took Alice’s hand and pulled her down onto one of the sleeping pallets that ringed the cushions on which the main dreamers would dream. For maximum magic, tonight that couple was Tara and Kennet. They were the most powerful dreamers. But the coven was strong in dream magic. Tim and Marie, and Cassandra and Anderson also excelled in it. Ferris knew that was a good thing, and yet he always dreaded it, especially after his recent encounter with Lucia and what had happened to him at Storm Croft. But dream magic was sex magic, as was all of the magic the Elemental Coven practiced, so when Alice shrugged out of her robe and reached for him, he was fully erect and completely focused on bringing her to the brink of orgasm and keeping her there as long as possible. This, he could do, and this would keep his mind from wandering where it shouldn’t.

He was intimately familiar with Alice’s body, as he was with all of the Elemental Coven. Alice was a keen fell walker and he loved the feel of her hard muscles under soft feminine curves beneath his hands, beneath his lips, beneath his body. He loved the feel of her biceps as her arms encircled him. He loved the tensing of her pectoral muscles when his hands and his mouth found their way to her high, firm breasts with their nipples peeking candy floss pink at the flick of his tongue and the purse of his lips. The swell of them fit the cup of his hand and together formed a tight cradle for his erection to tunnel through as her tongue flicked over the anxious advance and retreat of the head of his cock.

He loved the way her stomach tightened and ridged in anticipation as he kissed down the slope of it, lingering to tongue her navel before descending to briefly rest his cheek against the softness of her pubic curls. Her strong fingers always fisted in his hair in a nearly painful grip as he shouldered open her strong thighs and continued his descent to kiss the Keystone, always distended and pressed in anticipation from beneath its hood. Then, to the soundtrack of sex all around him, he buried his face in the swelling depths of her, seashore-scented and wet.

As the magic built all around them with each thrust, each caress, each kiss, she groaned low and throaty and lifted her feet onto his shoulders, giving him better access, along with a view all the way back to the gripping clench of her anus, giving herself the leverage to bear down. He lapped the honey and salt taste of her with long strokes of his tongue and sucked and tugged at her inner folds as if he were starved for the feast she offered. She bucked and writhed against his mouth as though she were riding a horse in need of taming. He stroked and suckled and licked her open, relishing her mother of pearl arousal, sticky and warm on his fingers, feeling his own arousal surge and press outward above the achy weight of his full sac.

‘I need you inside me,’ she whispered, a whisper he felt more than heard. ‘I need you inside me, Ferris.’ He pulled away wiping his wet face against the back of his arm. As he rose above her to position himself, holding his cock in one hand and spreading her folds with the other, something flashed dark in his peripheral vision. It all happened so fast. He blinked, and as he thrust into Alice’s depths, the afterimage of Elaine danced across his eyelids. Distracted, he scanned the perimeter, but there was nothing. Alice lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist thrusting up to meet him, and his full attention returned to the magic, to her pussy’s gripping, slippery caress of his cock.

And Goddess, his cock felt big! It felt big enough to fill the cave, and the ache in his balls felt molten hot and heavy. As Alice’s grip around his waist tightened and the tension rippled up her spin, up his, and as they reached the point at which he intended to hold her, the high plateau of arousal that would weave their own thread of magic into that of the rest of the coven, he marvelled at how tiny she seemed beneath him, how delicate she was in his embrace. He marvelled that he didn’t tear her apart with his need, with the violence of his thrusting. He marvelled that she cried out as she did, that her need matched his.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. It shouldn’t have happened. They had played their part in dream magic often enough to know how to control it, and yet he felt the clench of her orgasm grip his cock, he felt her heals kick against his spine, and he lost control. He lost control and emptied himself into her, coming in wrenching waves, growling like a wild animal, and he came as though he would turn himself inside out.

It was only in the last throes of his release that he realised her legs were no longer around him, her palms Fells in the mistwere hard at his chest shoving him, and the sound of her arousal was drown out by the sounds of fear. Over the buzz in his head he heard her breathless cries, ‘Get away from me! Get away from me! Where’s Ferris? What have you done to Ferris.’

It was as he moved to calm her, still struggling to figure out what had just happened, that he saw Elaine just beyond the periphery of the circle and, before he could stop himself, he shoved to his feet and ran toward her, feeling the protective magic of the circle as though it flayed him of all skin when he forced his way through without cutting a door. ‘Elaine!’ He called out. ‘Elaine, don’t go!’

‘What the fuck?’ Tim cried out. Someone else called Ferris’ name. Behind him he heard the shouts of the coven as the circle erupted in chaos, but his eyes were locked on the ghost fleeing toward the fells. It was only then that he realised he’d left his body behind in the circle on the cave floor.

 

 

 

Demon Interrupted Chapter 4: A Lakeland Witches Story

I’m very happy to offer the fourth instalment Demon Interrupted, a new story from the Elemental Coven that will be unfolding in its entirety right here on A Hopeful Romantic over the next few months.  The Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy left so many stories untold and so many fun places in the lives of the Elemental Coven yet to be explored, that a serial seemed like the ideal way to share more of the coven’s adventure. With a coven that specialises in sex magic, it’s not only exciting to revisit my witches at Elemental Cottage, but it’s sizzling hot. Here are the links to the previous two episodes in case you missed them:

Chapter 1 of Demon Interrupted: Perchance to Dream.

Chapter 2 of Demon Interrupted: A Chat with a Demon

Chapter 3 Demon Interrupted: Enter the Shadows

Enjoy Chapter Four, and thanks for joining the fun with this Work in Progress.  If you want to know more about the Elemental Coven’s sexy adventures, check out the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy: Body Temperature and RisingRiding the Ether and Elemental Fire. Enjoy!

Lakeland heatwave banner1

Chapter 4 of Demon Interrupted

Dark Chrysalis

‘Wait! Wait don’t go! Who are you? Please don’t leave.’ Ferris shoved up from the chair, cramming his cock into his trousers as he went and, before he realised what was happening, he burst through the bookcase, right on in to the big modern kitchen behind and out through the thick stone wall into the extensive herb garden. He found the woman standing beneath an ancient oak, still holding on to the coiled length of the rope.

When she saw him, she uttered a yelp of surprise and dropped the lead of the noose, backing away from him, her eyes wide with terror. ‘Who are you? What did you do to him? What are you?’ Ferris felt a wave of dizziness that was swallowed up in panic. How the hell had he just gone through two solid walls? The ground beneath him tilted and in another wave of dizziness he fell to his knees, shaking his head, which buzzed as though it were full of angry bees.

Demon Interrupted Image by KevBefore he could clear his mind the woman rushed to him grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. With wild eyes, she glanced at the door to the kitchen. Her complexion was marble-pale, her breathing was desperate. ‘Hurry, oh god, please hurry!’ If he catches you, he’ll kill you. Especially if he sees you with me,’ she sobbed. ‘ I thought he was gone. I thought he was dead. Oh, how can this be happening all over again?

She yanked hard, practically dragging Ferris. With the buzzing still raging in his ears, he followed as she tugged him with all of her strength, coiling the rope around her arm to keep from tripping on it. ‘Oh, hurry, do hurry! I know a place where he won’t find us,’ she called over her shoulder just as she passed through the high stone wall at the edge of the garden.

Ferris cried out and raised a hand to protect his face, but there was no need, her momentum and her tight grip on his hand pulled him through as easily as if he had been nothing more than mist, and they found themselves in an overgrown topiary interspersed with vine-tangled statuary that lined an aging reflection pool. It was a part of the property that had been derelict when Ferris became caretaker at Storm Croft. Though plans had been drawn up to restore it, Ferris was not a wasteful man, so when it became clear that Cassandra would never make use of it, he had not bothered to carry through with the project.

The woman guided him to sit on a moss-covered stone bench next to the pool. ‘He won’t find us here. He hates this place. He says there’s something evil about it. That’s why I always came here, because I know he’ll leave me alone.’

Instead of sitting, Ferris slid onto his knees in front of the pool and, with shaky hands, splashed water onto his face, fearing that he would pass out, then come to himself and the woman would be gone.

‘What are you?’ she asked again. ‘You’re no ghost. I know you’re not.’

‘Of course I’m no ghost. But I know that you are and …’ He stopped mid-sentence. The buzzing intensified in his head and the dizziness once again rolled over him. Staring back at him in the moonlit water was a face other than his own. He leaned forward until he nearly fell into the pool, and found reflected back at him a face broader and sharper boned, with hair that was pale and longer than his own, and the body … he ran a hand over the chest, a hand that responded to his thoughts, but a chest that was broad and muscular, beneath shoulders that blotted out the moonlight in their heft.

‘What are you?’ the woman repeated again. ‘Did you resurrect him? Did you kill him?  Does he know you?’

‘I don’t know who you’re talking about.’ Ferris fell back onto his arse on the concrete edge of the pool. ‘But this is not my body. This is not me. I don’t know what happened.’

The woman came and knelt next to him, her eyes moving over him, her hand still gripping the coil of the rope. ‘How can you not know?’

‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘Tell me what you saw.’

She took his hand and pulled him up onto the bench. ‘I was … doing my duty to him …’ she bit her lip, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘All this time there’s been peace. It didn’t matter how I paid for it. All this time I thought he was gone and that I was free.’

‘What do you mean doing your duty? You were with me and you … well you had sex, with me and then you were afraid and I realised you were a ghost and then … somehow I followed you here.’

‘No! No it wasn’t you I was with. I would have never … done that to a stranger. It’s only that he always expected it of me, and when I saw him back again, I didn’t want to make him angry. I don’t understand. I thought I was free of him. ’ She covered her face in her hands and began to sob.

Not knowing what else to do, Ferris pulled the woman gently to his chest and to his surprise she threw her arms around him. ‘If you have killed him then I owe you a debt I’ll never be able to repay. If he is dead then you’re my saviour.’

‘Madame, please,’ he pulled her hands into his and eased her back so he could look into her dark eyes. ‘I don’t understand any of what you’re speaking. I have killed no one, and I promise you that it was me with whom you had sex. And now I find myself in a body with which I am not familiar, a body that’s no more fleshly than your own. His first urge was to call out for Lucia. Lucia would know what was happening to him if anyone would, but the woman drew his attention back to her.

‘It wasn’t you! It wasn’t this body,’ she gestured to his chest. ‘It wasn’t you I was with. If it had been, if he had found out, he would have hurt me.’ She grabbed her head between her hands as though she were in pain. ‘This isn’t right! None of this is right. He’s dead. I know he’s dead. And I’m dead because of him, but in all these years I have never seen his ghost. I believed that he went to hell. A man such as he could have gone nowhere else. And you’re not him! I know you’re not him.’

‘Who?’

‘Patrick! Patrick Farringdon.’ You’re not Patrick. Patrick’s dead, and yet I’ve just been with him.’

‘I don’t know any Patrick Farringdon,’ Ferris said. ‘My name is Ferris Ryder. I have been the caretaker of Storm Croft for almost thirty years now and…’ His voice faded as though it were drown out by the roar of a wind. He could see the woman’s lips moving, see the alarm in her dark eyes, and then it was as though he were being sucked into a maelstrom of sound and distance, then unearthly silence.

But the silence was short-lives with the sudden rush of air into his oxygen-starved lungs seconds, or possibly even years later. He could not tell. For an instant he felt as though he were suffocating in his own flesh. The angry swarm of bees returned to his head, and there was someone talking, frantically talking.

‘How can this be? How can this be? How can this be?’

He jerked hard enough for his neck to pop as he came back to himself, once again slouched in the brown leather chair at his desk. His trousers were open. His cock was still wet from sex.

The woman cowered by the sofa, hands twisting the rope she held. ‘What are you? It’s Patrick’s flesh I see with my own eyes, but it’s some one else who animates him. You are not my husband. He was a monster, even now as I look into his eyes I see he’s not there. There was no kindness in him, and you, you’re too big for his body, and yet there you dwell. Who are you?’ She glanced over her shoulder as though she were once again about to flee

‘Please don’t run. I won’t harm you.’ In a sudden wave of embarrassment, Ferris yanked his trousers up over his arse and tucked away his cock. ‘My name is Ferris, as I have said. It was me with whom you had sex. I promise you, I don’t know any Patrick Farringdon.’ But he could almost guarantee Lucia did.

castlerigg_Stone_Circle1Slowly the woman moved toward him, one hand resting against her chest, the other holding the rope. ‘How can this be?’ she said again as she brought her free hand to trace the curve of his jaw. ‘This body is like his in every way, but you who animate him are other.’

Ferris took her hand in his and heard the catch of her breath. ‘I promise you I’m not him.’ He didn’t tell her that he was unsure of who he was, but he knew with absolute certainty this flesh that now housed him was not his own. He silently cursed Lucia, equally certain that somehow this was her doing. ‘Who are you, my dear lady?’

‘I am Elaine,’ she said, still studying him as though her eyes deceived her. ‘As you have said, I am dead.’ She nodded down to the rope in her hand.

‘And how is it that you still have form and flesh? Strong magic is required for a ghost to wear flesh.’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It’s as though I’ve only just came back to my flesh when I saw you there … pleasuring yourself … I felt compelled to touch you. That I was able to do so stunned me … and then, even though I thought you were Patrick, I felt … my own arousal growing. That I had not expected. That I never experienced with Patrick. I only ever experienced fear with Patrick.’ Her pale cheeks flushed crimson and the hand that had returned to her chest clenched in a fist.

‘Did your husband do that to you?’ Ferris nodded to the noose around her neck.

She didn’t answer immediately, and when she did, she avoided his gaze. ‘In a manner of speaking, I suppose he did.’

‘Take it off,’ he said. It’s disturbing and morbid.’ Before she could respond, Ferris stood, took the noose in his hands. With sure fingers, he slipped the knot, lifted it off over her head and tossed it aside. Then he pulled her into his arms, fearing that she would faint from the stress of her experience. ‘It’s alright, Elaine. I am not Farringdon, however I may look, and I won’t hurt you.’ He guided her to the sofa and sat down next to her.

Another image from KevHe pushed the hair back over he shoulders, marvelling at how soft it was, exposing the ligature marks purple and angry. ‘Great goddess, woman, what happened?’

She pushed his hand away from her throat. ‘I was … hung for my crime.’

‘What crime?’ The woman was scared of her own shadow, he thought as she sat trembling next to him. What could she have possibly done? ‘Elaine, you’re already dead. You can tell me. Of what crime were you accused.’

Her eyes were bottomless, and her face was paler than moonlight on the high fells. The breath she no longer needed tore at her lungs as though she had been running, but she did not look away. ‘I killed Patrick. I killed my husband.’

Now available —  Chapter 5 of Demon Interrupted: The Empty Spaces in Between 

 

 

 

Demon Interrupted Third Instalment: A New Lakeland Witches Story

Another image from KevI’m very happy to offer the third instalment Demon Interrupted, a new story from the Elemental Coven that will be unfolding in its entirety right here on A Hopeful Romantic over the next few months.  The Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy left so many stories untold and so many fun places in the lives of the Elemental Coven yet to be explored, that a serial seemed like the ideal way to share more of the coven’s adventure. With a coven that specialises in sex magic, it’s not only exciting to revisit my witches at Elemental Cottage, but it’s sizzling hot. Here are the links to the previous two episodes in case you missed them:

Chapter 1 of Demon Interrupted: Perchance to Dream.

Chapter 2 of Demon Interrupted: A Chat with a Demon

Enjoy Chapter Three, and thanks for joining the fun with this Work in Progress.  If you want to know more about the Elemental Coven’s sexy adventures, check out the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy: Body Temperature and RisingRiding the Ether and Elemental Fire. Enjoy!

Lakeland heatwave banner1

Chapter 3 of Demon Interrupted

Enter the Shadows

Ferris left for Storm Croft early the next morning. He was anxious to take care of the estate’s business and be back to Elemental Cottage in time for the Full Moon circle. Fiori had packed him a picnic basket with enough food to see him through an entire Cumbrian winter. His takeaway breakfast included two enormous bacon butties on her homemade sourdough bread, a punnet of fresh strawberries she’d picked from Tara’s garden and a flask of Skye’s black tea blend with lemon verbena. There were homemade ginger biscuits tucked in too for elevenses, and that was just for the morning. Eating had only been an act of sustenance before he had joined Cassandra at Elemental Cottage, where it had become a sensual pleasure – one among many.

He had made it all the way to Birmingham without much traffic on the motorways and was back in Surrey just before noon. The groundskeepers were busy with trimming the topiary and deadheading the roses in the formal gardens. He walked in the early summer sunshine inspecting their efforts. Cassandra had never cared what the grounds or the great house looked like. For most of the time before she had fallen in love with the Elemental Coven’s High Priest, Anderson, she had lived her life as though she had no home. He had always felt compelled to make sure that though she might live that way, she was not without a place to lay her head, a good place, a safe and comfortable place to return to when she had need. There was no shortage of funds for the upkeep, and unless she told him otherwise, he would continue to keep Storm Croft as though its owner were coming home tomorrow and bringing the whole Elemental Coven with her.

Inside, he skirted the grand drawing room and the great hall, both of which had, only yesterday, had their lush wood floors waxed. Using the servants’ stairs, he headed for the small apartment behind the kitchen where he maintained his office and living quarters. Cassandra had offered him free choice of any of the above floor suites, but he had never desired more than a simple accommodation. The housekeeper had left the post of interest stacked neatly on his desk along with invoices, receipts and any other documents he might need to peruse. The ledgers he needed for the monthly records were set aside as well. He still preferred the feel of paper and fountain pen to the sterile tap, tap, tap of the laptop keyboard when it came to the monthly book keeping for Storm Croft. Of course he made sure Cassandra had everything at her electronic beck and call, should she ask for it, though she never did.

It was never difficult for Ferris to find something to do at Storm Croft. For most of the years of Cassandra’s life he had occupied himself with the day-to-day tasks waiting for her to need him, grateful when she did, feeling that she was somehow safer under the big roof of the great house, under his protection, beneath Deacon’s radar. And though he might have wished it, Ferris had never been able to keep her there.

castlerigg_Stone_Circle1And now that Deacon was no longer a threat, now that Cassandra had the happiness Ferris had always wished for her, he was reluctant to move away from the routine that had so ordered his life. In spite of Lucia’s little gift, he wanted no more journey of discovery than what was happily offered him in life at Elemental Cottage.

The afternoon passed to evening, with him grazing on the feast Fiori had packed, packed as though he would be digging ditches rather than crunching numbers. In the bottom of the basket was a bottle of Boudreaux that Cassandra had tucked in, wine that she and Anderson had purchased on a holiday they recently made in France. Ferris knew little about wine. He drank nothing but water before he came to Elemental Cottage, but his lack of knowledge did not lessen the pleasure of it. Whoever he was, or whatever he was, strong drink had little effect on him beyond the gentle buzz that always made him want sex.

It was late and the moon hung heavy through the window of his study when he finished the last of the wine and turned his attention, at last, to the weight of his cock in his trousers. He laid his hand against his fly as he mentally went over the list of all he wanted to accomplish on this journey south. He stroked his length and, it stretched and swelled in response. As his other hand slipped below to cup himself, he felt the amazement he did each time his penis drew his attention to its need to be satisfied. He had no memories of sexual desire before arriving at Elemental Cottage. In all those years he had not missed what he could never recall having. And yet upon the very night of his arrival among the witches of Elemental Coven, he cock weighted his trousers like heavy stone and he’d had both Fiori and Sky several times before the night drew to a close.

And there were skills, sexual skills that he had not known he possessed. He knew how to use his tongue and teeth, his fingers and lips on a nipple, on a clitoris, on the labial folds that swelled with sucking and nibbling. He knew how to pleasure a man when the need presented itself. He knew when to stroke and where. He knew when to stop. He knew precisely the edge and how to bring lovers to that edge and hold them there until they were mad with the need to come. He know when the mount them, he knew how to pleasure their nether holes until they wet themselves in waves of pleasure. He could hold the weight of his need for as long as he willed it, and if he wished to empty himself into the gripping tightness of a lover, he could also will himself to remain hard and continue thrusting after his release. As far as he knew, all these skill were his with no previous recollection of having had sex. He had skills that could not have been instinctual, and yet skills that his cock demanded he now use on a regular basis whether he was among the witches and their consorts at Elemental Coven or alone.

At first he believed his surge in libido was because Elemental Cottage was long steeped in the sex magic of its residents, and his body responded to that magic. But he quickly discovered that it mattered not where he was, his desires did not diminish, and the stroking and caressing his cock simply because it felt good to him had become a part of his routine. It was coven practice that the pleasures of the flesh were pleasures one should share generously with oneself, as well as with others, and they were indeed pleasures in which he took delight.

He opened his trousers and lifted his erection free from his boxers sucking his bottom teeth in a tight gasp as engorged flesh came in contact with the heat of his palm. He shifted his buttocks forward and scooped his balls free with his other hand. Then he took a moment to look down at himself, distended and pale against his black trousers. The housekeeper now lived in the gamekeeper’s cottage. She had left hours ago. He was alone in the big house and it was a long time till morning. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the leather chair, stroking and cupping. Sometimes he thought about sex he’d had at Elemental Cottage, sometimes he fantasized about situations that were not a part of the experience of which he had memory and wondered if they were experiences from his past. And sometimes he just lost himself in the feel of his own body, the sheathing stroke of his fist, the cup and fondle of his balls.

The journey down from Cumbria was a long one and he had forced himself to wait, feeling the uncomfortable surging and swelling and tightening in his cock as he travelled the motorway, anticipating the relief that was always welcome at the end of the journey. And even then he had held himself, held the weight of his need close to his body, felt it tug at him while he inspected the gardens, while he balanced the books, while he paid the bills. And now after the meal and the wine, now it was time. As he stroked, he thought of the deep valley between Fiori’s breast, the way she cupped them around his cock as he thrust; he thought of watching Skye’s skilled tongue snake up over Alice’s splay while she sat on the kitchen counter bathed in afternoon sunlight, skirt hiked, panties kicked to the floor. Fiori’d had every intention of chasing them out that day so she could begin dinner. Instead she had joined them. He had watched her ease three fingers into Skye’s wet slit from where she bent over. He watched until he could take no more, then he opened his fly and entered Fiori from behind. Dinner was late that night. No one had minded.

As he stroked and thrust into his hand and ground his buttocks into the leather chair, his mind was a whir of memories of sex at Elemental Cottage. How could he live among them and not constantly be aroused, and not constantly long to connect. Thrust … stroke … cup … His body knew the rhythm so well now, and it would settle for nothing less. Thrust … stroke … cup … It was as if a whole new world had opened to him, a world of pleasure and sensuality, of colour and texture. Thrust … stroke … cup … Outside a tawny owl trilled. Inside the pipes rattled as the heater kicked on just before his breathing drowned out all other sound. Thrust … stroke … cup …

How he had not seen her in the corner, he could not imagine. She sat quietly on the sofa in the shadow. It was the tight whimper and the nervous clearing of her throat as she came forward that got his attention. Before he could do more than blink his surprise, she dropped to her knees in front of him, shoved his hands away and took his cock into her mouth, deep into her mouth, keeping wide eyes that were nearly black in the dim light locked on his face.

Because he didn’t dream, she was not an apparition from the Dreamscape, and there was no doubting her flesh and blood solidity. She had no scent, therefore she must be a ghost, though how it was that she had flesh, he didn’t know, and any thoughts he had of who she was or why she was kneeling in front of him with his cock in her mouth did not linger as she tongued the underside of him and cupped his buttocks to draw him deeper into the tight tug of her cheeks. Motion became frenzied and desperate as he curled his fingers in her tumble of dark hair in an effort to either regain the control she had taken from him or lose it more completely.

It was only as she lifted the skirt of her black gown and moved to straddle him he became fully aware that her clothing was not of this era, though he could not say from which. Her eyes watered from the effort to accommodate his heft, an effort made by one whose arousal was not yet at the level of his own. But she thwarted his attempt at foreplay, pushed his hands away and persevered. Her tight struggle down onto him made him cry out and breathe in shallow gasps to control himself, holding the soft swell of her hips beneath the taffeta of the gown.

She rode him with her arms around his neck and her soft breasts swaying beneath the deep plunge of the bodice. She rode him with her lips pressed to his ear, whispering frantic words he could not make out as his breathing crescendoed to a roar, then a harsh grunt as he convulsed his release in hard, desperate shudders. It was a release he had not yet expected, one he would have never permitted until he had first satisfied her, but as he reached for her to return the favour, she shook her head wildly and shoved off his lap, stumbling backward onto the floor as she did so. ‘Don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me! I thought you wanted me. I thought you wanted me to do … my duty.’

Demon Interrupted Image by KevIt was only as she regained her footing and backed away from him that he noticed the rope around her neck. How in goddess’ name could he not notice the rope around her neck? For a charged moment, she stood gazing at him, one hand pressed to her chest, the other holding the looped coil of rope. Then, before he could speak, before he could calm her, reassure her that he would never harm her, she turned quickly and disappeared through the wall of books at the back of the study leaving him stunned and shaken, but there was no denying that he was wide awake and his cock was wet from sex.

 

DEMON INTERRUPTED: A Hot New Lakeland Witches Story

castlerigg_Stone_Circle1I’ve been dying to revisit the fabulous landscape of the Lake District, and I’ve decided it’s time to check in once again with the witches of the Elemental Coven. With the completion of Elemental Fire, I left my witches with so many stories untold, and they left me with so many mysteries I wanted to know the answer to that I felt compelled to return.

Well, my Muse has once again poked me in the ribs with the thick stick of inspiration and I’ve decided that it’s story time. I’ve always loved a good series and stories told in serial form, just never been brave enough to tackle a story that way. But the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy leaves so many stories untold and so many fun places in the lives of the Elemental Coven yet to be explored, that a serial seemed like the ideal way to get more of the coven’s story. With a coven that specialises in sex magic, it’s not only exciting to revisit my witches at Elemental Cottage, but it’s sizzling hot.

Today I’d like to share with you chapter 1 on Demon Interrupted.  I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it. Thanks for joining for this Work in Progress.  And if you want to know more about the Elemental Coven’s sexy adventures, check out the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy: Body Temperature and Rising, Riding the Ether and Elemental Fire. Enjoy!

Lakeland heatwave banner1  Perchance to Dream

Chapter 1

In a room full of people Ferris could remain totally unnoticed. It was almost as though he were invisible. He heard things that way, saw things that others missed. Fiori suspected that was part of his magic. However, at the moment, he was completely and totally the centre of her attention as his warm, wet tongue teased its way down and around the pucker peaks and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. One splayed hand cupped and fondled her tight pubic curls while the other worried open his fly. What he was doing to her body was also a part of his magic and way more of a surprise, considering the man’s unassuming nature, than his ability to blend in.

She writhed beneath him totally naked, just as she had been when he entered her room, gently easing her out of a bad dream, back into the Waking World, and into his arms. She didn’t know where he’d been before he came to her. The man seldom slept — and him not even a ghost. He might have adjourned to the library after the rest of the house had entered the Dream World, or perhaps he had been in Skye’s bed sharing pleasure with her and Alice. He was generous with his affections. But then he’d hardly fit in at Elemental Cottage if he were otherwise.

How he had known she was having the dream again? How had he known about the dream at all? And yet he did, and she was glad that he came to her. ‘Sh! sh. It’s only a dream, Fiori,’ he whispered. ‘Only a dream.’ He’d brought her a glass of water from the bathroom and had returned with a soft white towel. While she drank as though she had just traversed the desert, he gently wiped the perspiration from her face and her shoulders. Then he took the glass away and moved the soft terrycloth knap in slow lazy circles down her back and her ribs as she slid into his arms, laying her head against his shoulder.

‘Do you want me to stay with you?’ he asked.

She only nodded, tightening her arms around his neck.

His black shirt was open and untucked and his nipples hardened as she slid her arms inside and up his back.

BTR FINAL IMAGE‘Do you want me to make love to you?’ He asked it as simply as a parent would ask a child if she would like a bedtime story. He asked it because he knew in a house where sex magic was practiced, healing came in the form of passion, and she nodded again because she knew that too.  His cock was already hard, but then she had noticed that it often was. In those times when he allowed attention to be drawn to himself, in those times when he made his presence known he neither attempted to hide his erection nor did he attempt to flaunt it. It was the ease and the comfort of which he wore his own masculinity that made him seem like a much larger man than he really was. In spite of his chameleon nature, he was not shy by any means, and his stamina and his finesse made him a welcome edition to the beds of all of the Elemental witches and their consorts.

Impatient for the feel of him freed, she shoved at his trousers, the scrape of the zipper seeming unusually loud in the quiet room. He ran his hand down to aid her as she worried his cock free. He was neither large nor small. Even his cock was nothing unusual to draw attention to itself, and yet there was no one at Elemental Cottage who didn’t relish the thought of Ferris between their legs, of Ferris shifting and grinding as though his unassuming penis had a secret magic all its own once properly sheathed in an appreciative pussy or mouth or arsehole.

His breath caught with a grunt as she fisted the length of him and she could almost feel the ripples of lust rising up the vertebrae of his spine. For a second he wrapped his hand around hers and shifted his hips. Then he pulled her fingers free, kissing each one of them, running his tongue in ticklish strokes over the tips, making her hips rock against the mattress. ‘I’m going to taste you now. I can already smell how good you’ll be.’ With a wriggle of his arse and a shove with his feet he shed his trousers as he crawled down between her thighs, nudging her open with the smoothly shaven wedge of his jaw, clearing the way with nose and lips, teeth and tongue. The humidity of his breath blew across her clit, which rose up in anticipation.

‘There,’ he said, his fingers parting her as agiley and exactingly as if he were a pianist and she were his instrument. For an age he studied her, fingered her, arranged her as though there were only one way, the best way to approach her dark, heavy folds, and he would not partake until he knew exactly what would bring all of her focus, all of her energy, all of her arousal to the very centre of his attention. ‘And now –’ his words were little more than a rush of breath ‘–I’ll give you what you need.’ He took her with his whole mouth, hunched over her like a lion at his prey, the muscles of his shoulders flexed tight, dusted and gilded in moonlight. And she felt the bloom of her arousal like a bud swelling, bursting, opening. Then the bloom became an explosion rising up from someplace suspended above the base of her spine. He held her hips, held her steady with strength his body belied as she bucked against his mouth, as she convulsed, as the moon moved in and out amid the undulation of slate clouds.

In the hazy vision of heat he seemed larger than himself, much larger than himself as though his arousal, their arousal together had released something broader of shoulder, deeper of chest, darker of memory and, as the moon disappeared, the power of him rose like a shadow thick and all-consuming and, somehow, other than himself. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Gooseflesh prickled over her breasts, even as she rocked out her orgasm against his mouth.

But before the tingle of uncertainty and the edge of fear could take hold, the moon reappeared and unassuming Ferris gave her clit on last hard tug with his lips and then rose over her, positioning himself, easing her open with his knees and his hips.

‘I need you in me,’ she said, her voice nearly lost in her struggle for oxygen.

Riding the Ether cover image Final - Copy - Copy‘A need which I share,’ came his urgent reply. It took no more than the tucking of his hips and a single thrust and he was in deep. She was slick and ready for him, gripping him as though she hadn’t just come, as though she were desperate for him to take her. With arms much stronger than they looked, he lifted her legs around his hips and positioned himself so that with each thrust he raked her clit, and she could almost swear that in the stark relief of moonlight and shadow his eyes were onyx black and yet bright, so bright. Even in the glow of a nearly full moon, he road her in the light of an after image that made no sense, and she was reminded that not even Ferris understood his own magic. The closer they both came to orgasm the larger and heavier the after image grew. And the larger the after image, the harder they strained for release. When orgasm broke over them, so did the shadow, consuming them for the briefest of moments and then receding behind their own efforts to recover themselves taking with it Fiori’s urge to speak of it, to question it.

‘Shall I stay with you?’ Ferris asked when they had both calmed enough to speak.

‘If you don’t mind, I’d like that.’

‘There’ll be no more dreams tonight.’ He eased his penis free and sought out the towel again as he slid down under the duvet next to her. ‘But it will perhaps ease your journey back into sleep if you’re not alone.’

‘I don’t need to sleep, you know?’ she said as he settled her into the crook of his arm, her head resting against his chest.

‘And yet even with the nightmare, you still choose to visit the Dream World regularly.’

‘I can’t help it.’ She said. ‘I guess I haven’t been dead long enough to not feel the need. Skye says she no longer misses it, but I still do. I still find the long hours until morning … lonely.’

‘The dreams’ll pass, Fiori, and you’ll heal.’ He shifted to kiss the top of her head. ‘Everyone understands what you did, what you did for Tara, for the whole coven. There was no other choice. You know this.’

‘My head knows it. My heart still has trouble with it. What about you, Ferris? You said you don’t dream.’ She spoke as much to change the subject as because she was truly curious about the man in her bed. ‘Are you incapable of dreaming, or do you simply choose not to?’

‘When I made my pact with Lucia, my ability to visit the Dream World was taken from me.’

‘And now that she’s released you?’

‘After so long in her service, I suppose it’s habit no longer to seek out my dreamscape.’

Fiori felt an involuntary shudder as he spoke, and she pulled him closer. ‘But you’re free now. You’re free to remember all that you were before, and yet you haven’t.’

‘No. I have not.’

For a long moment the silence was filled by only their breathing. Then she raised on her elbow and looked down at him. ‘Don’t you want to know?’

He met her gaze in the darkness and, for an instant, the obsidian shine of his eyes made her feel as though she were falling into them. ‘I made a pact with a demon, Fiori. That our agreement left me to care for and watch over one such as our Cassandra, I shall never regret. But that in our agreement, the demon felt it necessary for me to live in the moment with no memories of my past other than the magic I needed to protect the succubus, I would prefer not to know.’ He shrugged as though anticipating her next question. ‘Lucia has made it clear.  All I have to do is want to know my past and it shall come back to me. But it’s my experience that some things are better left where they’re buried. Now sleep, my darling. I know you don’t need it, but it is your habit. I shall be with you when you wake.’ He pulled her back into his arms and stroked her hair.

Elemental Fire cover image finalFor a long moment she lay listening to the slow even beat of his heart, suddenly reminded that though he had not the muscle nor the height of Anderson or Tim or Kennet, from the moment he entered her room, from the moment he rescued her from the Dream World, he seemed to dwarf them all. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered the strange after image that formed around him just before their release. Surely it was just a play of light and shadow in the waxing moon. Surely she was just a little raw around the edges from dreaming about once again being forced to take the life of her beloved high priestess. Everyone was still struggling to recover from Deacon’s final assault. It would take some time to find their feet as a coven family again. But one thing was certain; though Ferris had only been with them for a short time, he had become an asset she could no longer imagine the coven being without.

Find Chapter two Here

 

Tis the Season for Books!

christmas-jingle-bells-thumb17244964Stocking stuffers and holiday treats come in all shapes and sizes this time of year, and if you’re anything like me, there are few things you’d rather find in your stocking than that nice new book you’ve been dying to read. Back in the days before eBooks, back before I married Raymond, I lived with my sister in Oregon for several years. We shared a house and, after not growing up together, finally had the chance to become great friends. For those of you who don’t know, my lovely sister is sixteen years older than I am and she married very young, so my early memories of her are memories of her treating me the same way she treated her own children.

During those few years in Oregon, my sister was just coming off of a nasty divorce and learning to play again. Her kids were grown and she was free for the first time in her life. Because we both had good jobs, we were extravagant and creative at Christmas. Her children lived a long way away and I was single, so we decorated the cat climbing post and used that for our Christmas tree. I had a crazy tuxedo cat named Zeke at the time, who was perfectly happy to sit on top of the carpeted platform above the mounds of gifts surrounded by baubles and tinsle. We skied on Christmas Eve, having the slopes of Mount Bachelor nearly to ourselves, then we went home that evening to unwrap the gifts while Zeke batted around the wrapping paper and hid in the boxes.

Actually, few of the gifts were much of a surprise. We both loved books. There were two book stores in Bend Oregon at the time and we never went there without browsing both.  So as Christmas drew nearer, we both dropped hints about the books we’d really like to read, and then be both sneeked around and found ways to buy those books and keep it secret.

Another family photo updateWhen all the prezzies were unwrapped, we’d sit among the carnage caressing and admiring our respective stacks of new books, trying to decide which to read  first while Zeke once again slept on his perch atop the Christmas Cat Tree. Books have never stopped being a treasure in either of our lives, and I married a man who loves books at least as much as I do. In fact, we sometimes choose a book we both want to read and read it outloud to each other. We did this often in our early days of marriage. Now there’s less time, but we still talk about what we’re reading, and books are still one of the main topics of discussion in our house.

And now those books come to my sister, my husband and me as downloads. Our bookshelves are still full and overflowing and we still love the feel of a real book, but now we collect whole libraries on our kindles. Now we can carry those libraries with us wherever we go. Any book lover who has ever taken a long plane flight knows that the most important part of packing is always deciding which books to take along. Of course that’s still the most important part of packing, but now we don’t have to decide. Now we can take them all!

BTR FINAL IMAGEHoliday Special on Body Temperature and Rising: Vol I Lakeland Heatwave Paranormal Trilogy

This holiday season, Body Temperature and Rising is a great way to stuff that eReader stocking with exotic, erotic paranormal fun. I’m very pleased to share the witches of the Elemental Coven as a special holiday treat — 35 pence in the UK and 57 cents in the US on Amazon.

May your pile of books, whether print or eBook, be high and deep this holiday season, and may you frequently find yourselves lost in th pages of a good story!  Below is a sizzling excerpt from Body Temperature and Rising to help you get lost.

Buy Links:

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Body Temperature and Rising Blurb:

American transplant to the Lake District, MARIE WARREN, didn’t know she could unleash demons and enflesh ghosts until a voyeuristic encounter on the fells ends in sex with the charming ghost, ANDERSON, and night visits from a demon. To help her cope with her embarrassing and dangerous new abilities, Anderson brings her to the ELEMENTALS, a coven of witches who practice rare sex magic that temporarily allows needy ghosts access to the pleasures of the flesh.

DEACON, the demon Marie has unleashed, holds an ancient grudge against TARA STONE, coven high priestess, and will stop at nothing to destroy all she holds dear. Marie and her landlord, the reluctant young farmer, TIM MERIWETHER, are at the top of his list. Marie and Tim must learn to wield coven magic and the numinous power of their lust to stop Deacon’s bloody rampage before the coven is torn apart and more innocent people die.

Body Temperature and Rising Excerpt:

Warning: This excerpt is NOT rated PG

Marie woke burning up. She clawed off the duvet and sat bolt upright as the memories came flooding back and terror clenched her stomach into a tight knot. It was only then that she realized she wasn’t at home. She was sitting naked in the middle of a very large four-poster bed, and Anderson was sitting next to her.

‘Everything is alright now, my darling.’ He placed a cool hand on her cheek, then her forehead. You are safe at Elemental Cottage.’ He didn’t wait for her to ask. ‘Tim Meriwether is also safe and resting under the watchful care of Fiori. He asked to return to Lacewing Farm. As is the case with most of my sex, he is very protective of his territory. Tara and Sky have taken Serina Ravenmoor to a safe place.’

Riding the Ether cover image Final - Copy - CopyOther than the pale moonlight coming in the window, the room was dark. As the events of the night came rushing in on her like a fast moving current, she fought down nausea, then closed her eyes until her insides righted themselves again and she was certain she wouldn’t be sick.

‘I need a shower,’ she forced herself to sound calm. ‘I’m sweaty, and… I feel really dirty.’

‘A cleansing ritual of some fashion after what you have been through, my dear, is not only recommend, it is essential. But are you sure you are recovered enough?’

It was only when she stood by the bathroom door and saw the shower looming in front of her like a gaping mouth that she balked as memories of the last shower she had attempted flooded back to her. Anderson, who was standing next to her with a reassuring hand on her arm, brushed the damp hair away from her ear. ‘I will stay with you if you wish it.’

‘Thank you,’ her voice was breathy and thin, like it too might belong to a ghost. Perhaps she was a ghost. Perhaps Deacon had killed her too and she just hadn’t realized it yet.

With his comforting form fully visible through the clear safety glass of the shower door, she took her time, scrubbed herself hard, and let the tears slide silently down her cheeks as she did so. How was she ever going to survive what she now faced? And even worse, how would Tim survive when it was clear Deacon planned to use them each to the detriment of the other. And worst of all, what she only fully realized as the feel of the water pressure stimulated her skin to a rosy pink hue, the urges and desires that Deacon had kindled in her were still there, and in spite of herself, she couldn’t help wondering what it would have felt like if she had given in, if she had let him pleasure her to release.

She cranked the water to cold and stood in the sluice of it until her teeth were chattering, and still it was as though a million tiny pin pricks were alive just beneath the surface of her skin, as though he were still reminding every single pore in her body how desperately she needed to come.

She was shivering uncontrollably when Anderson opened the shower door and shut off the water, ignoring the splash on his pristine white shirt. ‘It is enough, my love. I cannot allow you to catch your death.’ He bundled her into a huge blue towel and began to dry her goose fleshed skin vigorously. He tisk-tisked. ‘My dear, even when I first take the flesh, I am warmer than you are now. This will never do.’

She tried not to writhe beneath his touch, but the misery of her need was overwhelming. Her lip trembled and in spite of her best effort her eyes misted. ‘I wanted him, Anderson. Dear god, how could I want him?’

Elemental Fire cover image finalHe lifted her open palms and placed a kiss on each where her nails had pierced her hands. ‘You have no idea what you have done, do you, my sweet Marie? Of course you wanted him. That is his magic, to make himself the most desired of men, to make his victims feel in their bodies hunger and lust for him like they have never imagined. Even Fiori, who is a powerful witch, not to be trifled with, gave in, my darling. But you did not. You banished him twice and remained free.’

‘Then why do I feel this way if I’m so special? I feel like I’m on fire, I feel like I’ll explode if I don’t…’ She blushed hard. ‘If I don’t get some relief. And that it’s because of him makes me feel disgusted, and still I want.’

‘Shshsh!’ Anderson stopped her words with a light kiss. ‘He is gone, my love. What you feel is now yours to feel, to use, to transform into your strength. My darling Marie,’ he wiped a single tear from her cheek and lifted her chin so that she met his dark gaze. ‘There are many elements, many facets to sex magic. And what Deacon has afflicted you with, he cannot take from you. It is now yours. And what is now yours, you may freely give to me, you may allow me to ease your need, as you did earlier when the situation was much more desperate. In doing so, we may, together, transform it to pleasure and even to something more powerful still.’ He kissed her palms again. ‘If you will permit me.’

‘Permit you? I would beg, Anderson, if it were necessary.’

He brushed his lips across her ear. ‘My love, it would never in a hundred lifetimes be necessary for you to beg love from me.’

She lifted her arms around his neck. ‘Then please, Anderson. I need you now. I need you to help me.’

He took her mouth deeply, tongue plundering, teeth nipping, lips insisting. Then with a sigh that tasted darkly honeyed, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, where the bed had been mysteriously, perhaps magically, made up with fresh linen. There, he pulled back the duvet, kissing and coaxing her down onto the soft mattress.

His body was shades of silver and shadow in the moonlight, teasing her eyes with glimpses of the hard plain of his belly and the tight half domes of his buttocks. As he shrugged out of his clothes, the shape of him still remained vague and mysterious but exquisitely solid, substantial as he moved onto the bed next to her, his anxious cock leading the way. He dropped a wet, suckling kiss on each of her heavy nipples, causing her to arch her back and grind her ass against the clean sheets.

‘I think we must first give you some much-needed relief.’ He brushed a thumb solicitously against her bulging clitoris, and she whimpered and shifted her hips against his touch ‘The seat of your pleasure is ripe with your desire,’ he said ‘And I have such a fondness for ripe fruit.’ Still stroking the swell of her with his thumb, he slipped two fingers between her pouting labia and the catch of his breath mirrored hers as he gently probed and withdrew and probed again until he found her g-spot and she soaked his hand and nearly bucked off the bed.

He released a deep sigh. ‘You are as wet as the fells in heavy dew, and the feel of you makes my own need almost more than I can contain.

‘Please,’ she moaned. ‘Please.’

He lifted her on top of him, and she could feel his thick erection pressing against the inside of her thigh as he carefully positioned her, stroking her pussy lips, then parting them. She felt the press of the head of his penis against her pout, then his hands on her hips guided her downward onto him and she cried out with exquisite pleasure at the feel of him pushing into her grudging hole, then yielding, then pushing again until the fullness of his erection was completely engulfed in her slippery tightness, and suddenly her thoughts were totally and completely on Anderson and what he was doing with his substantial cock. Then he began to thrust, shifting his hips in such a way that with each thrust he raked against the swell of her clit, sending shock waves of pleasure up through her body as she thrust back.

‘I think we shall not linger long this first time,’ he gasped between barely parted lips. ‘Your need is too great, and mine is little less so. Once we have achieve some measure of relief, there will be all the time we need for pleasuring, and I think we shall need a lot.’  She thought he might be right.

 
© 2017 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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