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Willow floated, adrift on the currents of air in the room. The world around her was all very soft, the power that filled her giving her a sated sense of lethargy. She could barely summon the interest to pay attention to the conversation going on right in front of her.
“This one?” a vaguely familiar voice asked critically, the clipped British tones sending frissions along her spine. “Are you certain?”
“Oh, definitely.” Rack’s gravelly voice grated against her teeth. “She’s the sweetest thing you’ll ever taste. Fresh and eager and very, very sweet.”
“Which would be ideal if all I was looking for was a bedmate. The working I’m doing requires more energy than I can summon on my own. I need someone I can use to help power it.”
“I’m tellin’ you, this is your girl,” Rack insisted. “She holds a huge charge, and she’s got all kinds of untapped power of her own, just waiting for the right person to come along and put her to good use.”
“Hmm.” The rich, vibrant voice sounded thoughtful. She felt herself moving, slowly drifting down and forward. “Come here, child, let me have a look at you.”
Finally roused enough to be curious, she dragged her eyes open to look into his, black and deep and critical.
For some reason, he made her think of Giles. In leather. With a guitar.
She giggled.
And then immediately began whimpering, her mind’s eye flooded with fear and confusion and an image of peeling, rotting flesh, horns and fangs erupting from a familiar face.
“Eyghon,” she moaned softly.
He looked at her curiously. “Do I know you?”
But she couldn’t pull her thoughts together enough to answer, the images slipping away from her like water.
He seemed to have heard enough. “I’ll want to sample the wares.”
“You’ll pay half up front,” Rack insisted.
“Don’t be stupid.” The crack of power off the man awoke her senses. She tried to focus more, curious now. “I’ll pay half after, and if she isn’t as advertised, I’ll pay the regular rate for your strung out whores, and you’ll be grateful to get it.”
Rack backed off. “Okay, man, whatever. No need to get hostile.”
“You haven’t begun to see hostile. We’ll be using the back room.”
“Sure, no problem. But you’ll see. She’s all I said and more.”
The man took Willow’s hand in an almost gentlemanly fashion, guiding her to the floor and steadying her as she readjusted to life on land. Then he drew her arm through his, guiding her towards a door in the room she had never been through. “Come along, my dear. I believe you have something to show me.”
Willow was only dimly aware of the details of the room beyond, her power trip clouding her mind again. It was a bedroom of some kind, sparse and beige, nothing to stimulate her awareness. The man removed a large crystal from his pocket and stood it up on the bedside table, flipping the light on as he turned back to her. “I don’t think we’ll be needing the clothes.”
“Hmm?” she asked vaguely.
“Take them off.”
“Oh. Okay.” Her hands drifted slowly to the collar of her shirt.
“This will never do,” he complained impatiently, moving towards her. He rested his fingers against her chest as Rack so often did, and she felt the energy pulled off of her like a layer of film. She whimpered at the loss.
“Stop that,” he snapped. “Try this instead.”
Suddenly her whole being was flooded with the barest taste of power so clear, so dark, it made what Rack gave her seem tainted. Willow trembled, crying out and nearly falling to her knees as the world around her became so detailed and lucid for just a moment. It faded quickly, but the memory of it was burned in her mind. “More,” she begged.
“Be a good girl and I’ll give you more. Much more. Now, get undressed.”
She knew he was watching her as she took her clothes off with desperate quickness, eager to please him. She was naked in a moment, her clothes scattered around the room.
The man circled her once, twice, studying the full length of her, lifting her arms and tipping her head side to side as he examined her. “You seem clean enough. How did Rack get his hooks into you, I wonder?” He began undressing as well, still studying her.
He was built well for a man his age, muscles defined but not sculpted, tanned over every inch. Dark curls scattered over his chest and down in a thin line across his stomach before softly framing his genitals. Dropping the trousers gracefully onto his pile of clothes, he turned back to her. “I think we’ll start with fundamentals, don’t you?”
“Please,” she pleaded, desperate for another taste of that pure energy he commanded.
“Poor child.” He reached out a hand to coast his knuckles lightly over her cheek, skitters of electricity running over her skin as his energy field crossed hers. “You did very well.” The sliver of power he gave her lasted barely a moment, just enough to leave her panting. “Would you like more?” he cajoled.
She nodded eagerly, her eyes half closed in bliss.
“Show me how much.”
He pushed her to her knees. Disoriented, she wasn’t sure what he wanted until she felt the dry, velvet slide of his cock head against her lips. He rested one hand on the back of her head, the other guiding his shaft to her mouth.
Deep inside her, something panicked, screamed that this wasn’t right. But the memory of that surge of power overwhelmed it, and she opened her mouth to run her tongue over the mushroom cap head.
The man groaned softly, stroking her hair. “That’s a good start,” he encouraged her.
Thus emboldened, she brought her hands up, one to cup his balls and the other to push his hand aside to take its place, gripping tightly around his shaft as she worked him with her tongue. She hadn’t done this much beyond experimentation with Oz, and that was so long ago. But the buzz she had from the power she had already absorbed coupled with the desperate need she had for what he offered her lowered her inhibitions and gave her incentive to do well.
She lapped firmly at the tender head, her hand experimenting with pace to find what pleased him most. He seemed satisfied, grunting with each stroke. Willow explored the whole length of him in precise detail before sliding back to the end. Opening her lips, she took him in, feeling the firm length of it with all the planes of her mouth. His hand on her head guided her in slow, long strokes, and for a moment she flashed on the image of him thrusting into her pussy instead. It had been so long since she’d had sex with a man, but somehow the thought of this powerful man fucking her aroused her in a way she wouldn’t have expected. She couldn’t help but moan softly.
He grunted in response. Feels good, does it?” he said, his voice low and throaty.
She nodded, still sucking feverishly.
“Good girl.”
The shock of power he fed Willow engulfed her, blotting out any remaining restraint. She offered no resistance as he tangled his fingers in her hair and began fucking her mouth, moving in short, rapid strokes that gave little consideration to her comfort. She relaxed and let him, gripping the bones of his hips to hold herself steady and encourage him on. He murmured soft obscenities with each stroke until he tensed with an oath.
She wasn’t prepared for him to jerk out of his mouth, pearly come shooting over her face and into her hair as he stroked himself to completion by hand. Sitting back on her haunches, she watched his face slowly smooth out from its passionate contortion. When he finally opened his eyes, she asked very simply, “Why?”
He seemed to understand what she was asking. “Because you haven’t earned the privilege of swallowing yet. But you more than earned this.”
This time the power had a rich, heady tone to it, erotic and masculine. Her head fell back, her body humping instinctively at nothing.
He waited patiently for her to recover from the surge, then offered her his hand. “On the bed with you now.”
Rising, she started to wipe the ejaculate from her cheek. He caught her wrist. “Leave it,” he commanded.
She did.
She moved up to lie back against the pillow, her legs spread willingly. But he stayed at the foot of the bed, tugging lightly at his soft cock. “Rack says you have a lot of power of your own. Show me.”
Unable to focus her will enough to work magic, she wasn’t sure what he wanted. “How?”
“Touch yourself,” he instructed. “Show me your power.”
Again the inner voice resisted, and was overruled, her hand moving down to stroke her thighs before gently fingering around her labia. She turned her head aside from his intense gaze and noticed the crystal on the nightstand was glowing with a warm, diffuse light. It entranced her.
“You did that,” he said softly. “It’s enchanted to register magical energy in the room. To tell me if Rack was telling the truth. Do you think you can make it brighter?”
Willow knew what he meant. The energy raised by sex magic was incredibly potent, and he wanted to see what she was capable of without his help.
She’d show him. And he’d be pleased.
Turning her head back, she relaxed into the pillows, her fingers spreading her labia open to release the moisture dammed behind them. As she painted the liquid over all her sensitive flesh, her other hand drifted up to her bare breast, cupping it, kneading it before moving in to pinch and roll the nipple. Willow envisioned Tara there, making love to her for this man’s pleasure. She gasped at the memory of Tara’s mouth on her breast, Tara’s delicate fingers dancing through her vagina, Tara’s soft curves pressed up against her. Her hips arched, opening her up for deeper exploration as her fingers slipped into her channel, and she slowly started fucking herself.
He grunted softly.
She opened her eyes to look at him and saw he was watching her with a fiery intensity, his fully erect cock in his hand as he jerked himself slowly in time to her own thrusts. She had turned him on, just by playing with herself. Suddenly she was filled with an entirely different sense of power, the power a sensual woman could have over a man. It was almost more intoxicating, as it came from within her and was wholly hers, not dependant on some outside source. She reveled in it, listening to his breathing go ragged, watching the slow contortions of his face in pleasure. She knew he saw it, too, the power within her, but instead of intimidating him, it just seemed to excite him more.
“Come for me,” he commanded hoarsely.
She closed her eyes, her wet fingers slippery on her clit as she rubbed fiercely, her own breathing rough and vocal. And in the last moment as climax took her, it wasn’t Tara she saw between her legs but this man.
This time she wasn’t surprised by the warm splash of semen over her belly and breasts as she came down. She simply ran her palms over her torso, rubbing the tick moisture into her skin luxuriously. He must have liked that, for he barely softened this time, mounting the bed to crawl between her legs.
She spread her legs, welcoming his penetration, but instead he moved down, bending his head to lick slowly over the areas she had just attended with her fingers. The soft, wet warmth of his tongue took her breath away as he carefully lapped up all the moisture she had released, separating every fold, digging deep for every drop. She whimpered and moved against him, but he restrained her, one arm flung over her stomach to pin her in place while he devoured her with erotic slowness, tenderly feeding her honeyed pearls of power to increase all the sensations a hundredfold.
All thoughts of power abandoned her, the only thing left her overwhelming need for release. “Oh, please!” she begged, her fingers locked in his hair to hold him in place. “Don’t stop!”
He shook his head, the tight suction on her clit pulling electric shocks through her body. “Why would I stop,” he murmured, releasing her nub to stroke long, firm licks up her slit, “when you just taste better the longer I go?”
She cried out, as much in response to his words as to his reintensified attentions. The first penetration of his finger, thicker and coarser and warmer than her own, was enough to drive her over, cursing and writhing against him. But he didn’t stop, adding another finger and then another, riding her clit hard as he brought her off immediately a second time and then a third before finally letting her fall, limp and sated, against the pillows.
Letting her head loll to the side, Willow finally became aware of the crystal again. It shone now, incandescent and white, amazingly bright.
Chuckling as he moved up to cover her body, he finally settled himself into the bowl of her hips, his erection prodding questingly against her thigh. “I do believe I owe Rack an apology. I never should have doubted him.”
She didn’t answer, instead shifting her hips to try to capture his cock in the entrance to her channel.
He resisted, gently stroking her hair, damp with sweat and come, back off her face. Bending his neck, he nuzzled softly against her ear. “I recognize you now,” he murmured, almost an endearment against her skin. “You’re Ripper’s little ghost girl, aren’t you?”
That should have meaning for her, that he knew that. How many people knew she had been a ghost for a few hours all those years ago? But she was still foggy from the magics and the sex, and couldn’t pinpoint the significance. Instead she just nodded, enjoying the tremors the vibration of his voice in her ear created.
He kissed further down along her neck. “Rack’s definitely given me a greater prize than he knew.”
She draped her arms around him, letting her body rub against his solid planes. “You’re pleased.”
“Oh, yes, very pleased.” He kissed his way across her collarbone to nip sharply at her jugular, making her gasp and jump against him. “Tell me your name, little one.”
It took her a moment to remember it. “Willow.”
“Willow,” he breathed against her skin, slowly moving up to rest his lips against her ear. “Now, Willow, tell me this. Which do you want more right now, the magics? Or me?”
She whimpered, physically pained at the thought of having to choose between the two. “Both,” she pleaded, her eyes wide and desperate. “Oh, goddess, please both!”
He chuckled wickedly. “A girl after my own heart.” And then he was moving, the firm head of his cock bumping up against her clit before finding its way into her slick channel. When he thrust home, she screamed out ecstatically, her fingers clutching into the muscles of his shoulder blades reflexively.
Her rational brain gave up its last tenuous hold on thought, and suddenly her subconscious mind was able to put together all the clues. “Ethan,” she breathed in horror and wonder.
“So you finally sussed it out.” He backed almost all the way out, the friction exquisite torture, before just as deliberately pushing back in. “It’s too late, though. I’m not stopping now.”
Her legs wrapped around his lower back. “Don’t stop.”
“Beg me,” he demanded, pumping into her again.
“Please,” she begged shamelessly. “Fuck me, Ethan, please fuck me.”
He growled and caught her ass in both broad hands, lifting her hips to begin slamming into her.
Keening softly at the intensity of sensation, Willow arched back against him, meeting each thrust, encouraging more.
She mewled when their mouths met for the first time, his kiss commanding, controlling, his hands locked tightly in her hair to hold her head still, his lips thin and strong and soft. She submitted eagerly, letting him fuck her mouth with the same fervor that he fucked her body. She didn’t pull away until darkness crowded in around her consciousness.
Slowly she became aware of him tapping into her in a third way, siphoning off her own magical force as he pummeled his pleasure into her. She moaned in soft complaint and tried to clutch it back, but he distracted her with soft susurrations and small morsels of his own power and his mouth closing around the peak of her breast to suck hard. She cried out and capitulated, letting him take it all just so long as he kept making her feel like this.
Willow didn’t know how long they moved together like that, joining and rejoining in endless cycle before it finally became too much for her. Her body began bucking erratically as climax approached. He must have felt the changes and buried his face in her throat. “Do it,” he insisted, his voice low and rough. “Come on me, you sweet little whore.” That was all it took. She cried out as her body spasmed, initiating a series of paroxysms that drove her clit against the root of his cock in electric tremors, her inner muscles clenching tight around him. His head snapped back with a roar, and she laughed in joyous surprise as she felt the warm pressure of his seed erupting inside her, pushing her finally over the edge.
The crystal on the table shattered, dozens of pieces scattering over the table and onto the floor, each glowing with an actinic light that slowly faded and went out.
Afterwards, they lay spooned up against each other, Ethan casually fondling one of her breasts, dropping absent kisses along her bare shoulder. He sighed. “I could have made you a goddess,” he said wistfully, “if only you weren’t already so strung out.”
For a moment, his words made her infinitely sad, but the weight of multiple highs washed it away, leaving her quietly at peace.
He was the first one to rise. She watched as he dressed, admiring his body with new eyes. Tucking his shirt into his trousers, he turned and saw her watching him. “Up, up, slug-a-bed,” he chided with a smile, taking her hand to help her from the bed.
She let the momentum carry her to collide softly against his body. “More?” she wheedled playfully in her best little girl voice.
“Greedy little trollop,” he laughed, caressing her cheek lightly. But he gave her what she wanted, offering her powerful drops of energy as his mouth slid sensually over hers. When he pulled away, his eyes had gone dark. “Maybe not a goddess, but I could take you as my personal whore. Would you like that?”
She giggled breathlessly, titillated by the suggestion.
The look in his eyes was dangerous. “Perhaps we’ll discuss this more when you’re sober. Time to get dressed.” And he handed her her blouse.
Rack was toying with another “client” when the came out, but he rose with predatory grace to meet them. “So?”
“I’ll pay double,” Ethan said bluntly.
“Double?” This was apparently not what Rack had expected to hear.
“Double,” Ethan repeated impatiently. “The moon will be full dark in three days. I’ll come for her then. I want her fully charged, and with the good stuff, not that recycled crap you’ve been supplying her.”
Rack circled around her, moving in closer. “Seems there was more to you than I figured, darlin’.” He reached up to draw her hair away from her neck. “Maybe I should find out what makes you worth twice the price.”
Ethan caught Rack’s wrist and used it to lever his arm back until his elbow gave an audible pop. “You’ll keep your hands off her. I’ve bought her to work an incredibly complex spell, and I don’t intend to wade through your leavings to do it. Cross me on this and you’ll find our business dealings come to a most unpleasant end. Now call the lady a cab.”
“A cab?”
“It’s not a difficult process,” Ethan replied snidely. “I’m sure you can manage it. This girl just became your meal ticket, Rack, I suggest you treat her accordingly.”
When Rack left the room to use the phone, Ethan came back to her and lifted her chin to study her. “I wish I could be there to see your reaction when you come down off of this. It ought to be entertaining. Here,” he pressed one of the crystal shards into her hand and curled her fingers around it. “Something to remember the evening by.”
“Don’t go,” she appealed softly.
He pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss on her forehead. “Don’t worry, sweet girl. You’ll see me again in three days, and we’ll create sex and magic like you’ve never dreamed of. And maybe then we can discuss your future.”
“Yes,” she sighed, lost in her mind’s vision of magic and sex with this man.
Ecstasy.
Willow woke up in her bed, still dressed in the clothes she had worn yesterday. She grimaced at the bright sunlight shining in through the windows and reached out to close them with a quick incantation.
“Claudete.”
Nothing happened.
She tried again, but still there was no response.
Finally she gave up and rolled over. Apparently she’d tapped out her magic last night, but she couldn’t remember how. She couldn’t actually remember much of anything after getting to Rack’s. Her hair was matted with some sticky substance she couldn’t name, and her body ached, but somehow she was incredibly relaxed. She tried to focus, to remember anything that had happened, but it was all a blur, more emotion than vision. Power and passion and the indescribable joy of surrender. None of it made any sense.
Something sharp stabbed her hand, and she opened it to find a sliver of quartz crystal, the broken edges of it still sharp and fresh. The sight of it filled her with longing and dread. She couldn’t go back to Rack’s. Something was waiting for her there, something dark and erotic, something that wanted to devour her whole.
Something she wanted so badly it made her weep.