Linda Robertson - Arcane Circle

I rolled over to watch the red foo dog and black dragon tattoos dance on his back as his muscles bunched in a stretch. “Nana hasn’t breathed a word about us sharing a bed, yet. It’s a good idea to refrain from tempting her beyond her ability not to butt in.”

“Good for whom?”

He had a point.

Johnny grabbed his pants from the floor and held them modestly in front of him as he stood and faced me. “Probably a wise call, but,” moving the jeans aside, he added, “I can’t say my ‘morning wood’ agrees.”

Every nerve ending sizzled when I saw him. I threw the covers off and knee-walked across the bed. His deep blue eyes, framed in messy dark curls, capture me as I reached out and fondled him. “It’d be a shame to waste it.”

“It would.”

Though he slept naked, I didn’t. I released him to roll my tank top up slowly, teasingly. He followed its revealing progress, breathing faster. When I pulled it over my head, he responded by pushing my boy shorts down and letting his hands wander until he discovered how wet I was. I wiggled out of the shorts and dropped them to the floor. “Ta-da.”

“If you skipped the pj’s you wouldn’t have to go through all that.” He moved closer. Holding me, he nibbled on my ear and nuzzled into my hair. “You smell so good,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Sweet like lilacs.” He caressed my breasts, my nipples. I trembled, ensnared by Johnny’s touch, his scent, and his voice. A decadent heat engulfed me. This wasn’t like the enflamed yearning Menessos could incite with his voice. This was a more deliberate reaction, triggered by certainty. The pleasure Johnny could give me—had given me repeatedly—was flawless.

“Get behind me,” I said, twisting onto all fours. Growling in approval, he joined me on the bed and stroked me with his fingers, pressing them slowly inside me. I moaned softly and rolled my hips. “Please.”

His cock pressed at my opening, but didn’t thrust inside.

He knew me, he knew I was greedy for him and wanted all of him deep within me. He grasped my hips and held me firmly while he rubbed just the tip in and out. In and out. Over and over, until I was desperate for all of him, yearning for gratifying release, and shaking with the need of it.

I pushed against his grip; he was strong and maintained the distance. Only the tip. “All of it, Johnny,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

“All?”

“Now. Please.”

“As you wish.”

I was so wet, when he shoved his length into me, there was no resistance. A whimper of pleasure passed from my lips and I tossed my head, throwing my hair across my naked back.

Johnny took a handful of my hair and twisted it around his hand until his grip was at the nape of my neck. He held me there with my head raised. It was aggressive and controlling. It was dominant. I liked it.

I liked the power play. The idea that he claimed a position of control excited me. But I was not without power. My back arched, knees flexed, almost drawing me off him. Then, with his other hand’s fingers pressed on my hip bone, he urged me back. I thrust myself onto him again.

We had a rhythm, a balance of control and consent. Still, I swiveled my hips every so often just to remind him his control wasn’t absolute; I could veer from the rhythm.

An incredible orgasm was ready to overtake me—

Then I felt Menessos clinging to life despite the rising sun. I could feel him kindling my flesh, burning under my sternum, heating deep in my core. It was so good, so powerful I lost myself in it, moving faster and more forcefully. I was almost there.

—Menessos died.

The kindling warmth disappeared. I was alone with Johnny again.

But none of the urgency faded. None of the desire dwindled. Somehow, knowing this was mine, all mine and mine alone, made it better.

Johnny was building up to his own orgasm. All he needed was a squeeze from me. That squeeze. He was waiting for me, in full control of himself, and now that Menessos had succumbed to his curse, I gave Johnny full control. I let go. I obeyed his rhythm precisely.

The orgasm hit me like free-falling, a glorious sensation rippling across my body, my heart pounding, my breath racing.

My elbows gave and I thrust my face into a pillow as I cried out. Johnny maintained his grip in my hair, but stretched his arm to allow me distance.

When the angle changed, my sensitivity to his movements redoubled and the climax was revived. My fingers clawed into the sheets until my body was overloaded, until the low growls from Johnny’s chest had stopped, until we collapsed onto the bed, twisting to lie side-by-side until we caught our breath.

While Johnny showered, I lounged in the bed. His return was quick, and he wore only his jeans. His wet hair was in a towel-dried but adorable mess. I left my warm bed and inspected his chest because I couldn’t not touch him. “You took the stitches out.”

“Yeah. Oh, look, it’s a tit bit nippy in here,” he said, performing his own inspection on me.

“I’ll crank the heat up if you like.”

“I do like it when you crank up the heat … but don’t touch the thermostat. More fun for me.”

I felt very grateful that his mood and his libido were elevated again. He’d laid out another button-down shirt and as I passed it to him, he volunteered to make breakfast and Beverley’s lunch while I showered. I accepted the offer.

The aroma of coffee and bacon lured me down the stairs. Though I had been a vegetarian for several years, as Menessos had warned me, my connections to Johnny were making the savory scents of meat more scrumptious to me with each passing day. I joined the rest of them in the kitchen where I discovered Johnny’s cooking had won over the sentinels. Outside, the night was fading. It was light enough that Johnny could see the dark shadows of the barns. “It’s like in the cartoons: ACME barns. Just add a drop of water and poof. ”

Beverley thought that was hilarious.

Maxine and Zhan were in suits of navy blue and pale gray this morning. They donned their suit jackets to make a round outside before the Beholders showed up.

Johnny passed a plate into my hands. Though two greasy slices of bacon lay beside the eggs and toast, I accepted it eagerly.

Soon Beverley put her empty plate in the sink and left to brush her teeth. She hadn’t spoken a syllable to me.

“Enjoy your coffee,” Nana said. “Since we have spies in minivans, I’ll take her to the bus stop from now on.”

“Spies in minivans?” Johnny echoed.

“One of the objecting parents recognized me picking up Beverley yesterday.” For a few minutes, the three of us brainstormed about how we could get this party on track. Johnny pitched his disguise idea to Nana. She gave it her approval.

Beverley strolled slowly into the room. “If I get an A on the math test today, can I see the unicorns again?” she asked, studying the floor where the broken glass had been. With the very last word, her eyes lifted to meet mine.

She was blank; I hadn’t a clue about what she was feeling. But I conceded, “That would be a fitting reward.”

Nana drove her to the bus stop—after Johnny assured me he’d remembered to stick a joke in her lunchbox—and I began gathering my supplies for the ritual.

I packed white taper candles. Green, yellow, red, and blue votive candles. My incense holder and incense. Two bowls. A bottle of crystal water and a pouch of sea salt. I had hematites, aventurines, bloodstones, and coral. I tucked all of these into my overnight bag, added my wand, and had my broom ready. It was not the ritual broom that had been used in the previous version of this spell, but I felt that having my flying broom from the lucusi couldn’t hurt.