Spells and Seduction

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com ISBN # 1-4199-0559-7 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Copyright© 2006 Edited by Sue-Ellen Gower. Cover art by Syneca.

Electronic book Publication: March 2006 This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously. Warning:

The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers. Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (Erotic), and X (Xtreme). S- ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination. E- rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature. X- treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

Dedication

To my editor, Sue-Ellen Gower, whom I cannot possibly thank profusely enough. You wield your whip with such finesse . And to my family, who puts up with a wife and mother who serves leftovers for five nights in a row, ignores the laundry until it’s piled so high you could get altitude sickness from scaling it to the top, and doesn’t always share your enthusiasm for the little things in life because she’s distracted by “work”. I love you all. Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Killians: Premium Beverages International B.V. McDonalds: McDonald’s Corporation Valium: Hoffman-LaRoche, Inc.

Prologue

The blast threw Malcolm Forester back close to a hundred feet, slamming him into the stone wall behind him with enough force to kill an average mortal. The pain came an instant later. Beyond words. Blinding. It charged through his body like a lightning bolt before dropping to his feet where it simmered and burned like banked coals. He slid to the cold, damp stone floor, lying boneless, lost in the agony. “You fool!” the demon taunted with a smile. It studied its buffed nails with cool disregard then straightened the askew collar on its designer sports coat. “What made you think you could contain me, Adramelech, the most powerful demon in the Underworld, when the other mage had failed? Look at you. Pathetic.” It laughed, the sound hollow, terrifying in the empty room. “But at least I am free to roam among the humans again. I suppose I owe someone something for that.” It regarded Malcolm thoughtfully for a moment then turned its attention to the other men in the room— Vandenberg, an American who had evidently stolen a magical, inscribed copperplate and hired a mage to use it to cast a spell, and Draig, the red dragon who had called upon Malcolm for help. “You may leave, dragon. Only this one will I punish.” He indicated Malcolm. Oh boy, he was cooked. “I won’t leave without the copperplate. I must have it back, or every race of dragon will perish,” Draig said, standing up to the demon. “That man stole it from me.” He indicated Vandenberg. “It was under my protection. You know our laws—”

“I am not bound by your pitiful laws,” the demon scoffed. “I should’ve taken care of him long ago,” Draig grumbled, shooting a glance at Vandenberg. “He’s given me trouble before. My mistake was in underestimating how much of a threat he was.” Vandenberg shrugged. “Lies! Lies, the dragon speaks only lies. The plate is nothing more than a scrap of metal for my collection. I don’t know how the demon was summoned. That mage obviously didn’t know what he was doing.” He turned to the demon. “But now that you are free and in my debt, I need the plate back. I paid for it. It’s rightfully mine.” The demon laughed. “I owe you nothing, human, other than your life. Go. Before I change my mind.” “Malcolm,” Draig said, kneeling beside him. “Help me. One mage has perished. How many more Immortals will die because of that man’s greed?” “I can’t do anything. The demon’s too powerful…” Malcolm mentally scrambled to find a way out of the disaster Vandenberg’s mage had just created for all of them, for the Immortals and for potentially all humanity. Somehow, the other mage had summoned the demon. Hadn’t he known only a High Mage could control a third-level demon? Hadn’t he known it was folly to even try? Suicide. As a second-level mage, Malcolm now knew he didn’t even have the power to bind the demon temporarily.

What else? What else could he do? His feet were killing him, burning so bad tears were streaming from his eyes. It felt like they were baking in a pizza oven. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. Was there any hope for his salvation? “I tell you what, mage,” the demon said. “The human is such a small, powerless morsel. So unsatisfying. And the dragons…” It made a disgusted look. “They leave a bad taste in my mouth. But a mage is the most delightful of treats. Yet, I’m feeling rather guilty after having fed on your counterpart only a few minutes ago. Wouldn’t want to overindulge. Makes a demon weak, you know.” It licked its lips, picked a bit of lint off its shoulder and stuffed the piece of inscribed copper into its pocket. “I’ll give you exactly seventy-two hours. If you can find one human being on this miserable planet who will willingly give you the ultimate gift—true, selfless love—your soul will be yours. And so will this hunk of worthless metal. If not…I’m sure you can figure it out. And the copperplate will be mine to trade to the highest bidder.” Wearing a smile on its handsome face, it swaggered toward the doorway. “Now, I think I’ll head out. See what I’ve missed the last couple of thousand years.” It pulled open the heavy wooden door and lobbed a ball of raw energy at Vandenberg when he ran toward him. Vandenberg flew across the room, hit the far wall then landed on the floor like a thrown rag doll. “I have a feeling this time the humans might just welcome me with open arms.” And then it was gone. Draig huddled over Malcolm. “Are you going to be okay? What can I do to help?

The demon must be stopped. Vandenberg…” he lifted his head then swore, “has fled? Dammit. I thought he was out cold. Bastard’s got more lives than a fucking cat.” “Go. I’m safe for the time being. The demon can’t harm me once a deal has been struck. Not until the promised time. Prepare your people for the worst. I’ll try my best to meet its demands.” “Are you sure?” “Yes. Go. The chances of my success are slim. You must be ready. Gather the Guardians in a safe place where they will not be seen in case someone who truly knows what to do with that plate happens to be the highest bidder.” “Very well. Shit, I’m sorry, Malcolm. Very sorry.” The dragon fled, leaving Malcolm lying in the middle of the ancient castle’s stone keep, alone with his private demons. Doomed. He was doomed to lose his soul. Forced to pay the price for the crime of answering a fellow Immortal’s call for help. His only hope was to find pure, self-sacrificing love. How? Who? One person came to mind. But could she love him again after what he’d done to her? Would three days be enough time to make up for years of hurt? Did he have the heart to even try, knowing he risked breaking her heart again?

Chapter One

Black shirt, blond hair. Black shirt, blond hair. Black shirt, blond hair! Shoot! Standing back at the entry to the restaurant’s bar, Rory Denton counted at least fifteen men who could be her blind date. That meant one thing. If one of them didn’t come to claim her in the next few seconds, she’d have to ask each of them their names. How embarrassing. “I can’t freakin’ believe this. Who would’ve thought there’d be so many guys with blond hair and black shirts in one place? My luck, they’ll all be named Matt,” she muttered. Naturally, although she stood with her best come-and-get-me expression on her face, not one of them gave her more than a curious glance. Grumbling to herself about the hazards of meeting a blind date at such a popular nighttime hangout, instead of someplace easy, someplace where there’d be no thirty-two-year-old guys with blond hair and black shirts on a Saturday night, like McDonalds, she worked her way down the bar. “Excuse me, is your name Matt Wainwright?” she asked the first one. He shook his head. On to number two. Three. Four…

By Potential Blind Date number five, she was so humiliated she wanted to crawl out of the place on her hands and knees. Yet she refused to leave because of one simple fact—she hadn’t had sex in a whole twelve months and had even endured a Brazilian wax in preparation for this event. And so, her pride bruised but not completely obliterated, she continued through the bar, asking one black shirt-clad man after the other if he was Matt. She gathered nothing but negative responses until she reached the very end of the bar. One guy left and an empty seat next to him. He glanced over his shoulder and gave her an appraising glance and subtle nod of acknowledgment. It had to be him. Finally. Nice-looking too. Very nice. Tonight was going to be interesting. Rory straightened her spine, pasted on her best meeting-ablind-date smile, and sauntered toward him. Unfortunately, some six-foot-something babe in a skirt that barely covered her vitals beat her to him. The woman gave Rory’s date a grin that would bring any man to his knees and made herself comfy in the barstool in which Rory had intended on taking residence. The guy gave Rory a knowing smile over his shoulder then turned toward the woman. Bitch! No woman takes my sure thing! Before Rory had the chance to give in to second thoughts, she pulled at the front of her top so The Girls were a tad more prominent in the low v-neck, pushed down the waistband of her skirt so her belly ring would show with the slightest lift of an arm, and half stomped, half sashayed to the table, her gaze fixed on the back of the man’s blond head.

“Excuse me,” she said, brushing past the date stealer to drape an arm over the man’s shoulder. “Hi, Matt. I’m sorry I’m late. There was an—” “Excuse me,” the woman said. “…accident,” Rory finished. “I’m not Matt,” the guy said with an amused grin as he stared at The Girls. “But I wish I was.” “Bastard! Why am I wasting my time with this?” The woman reached around Rory to grab her oversized purse. Then she let loose with a string of expletives that would put a sailor to shame and whirled around, clobbering the man in the head with her handbag. “Excuse me.” Amused but also embarrassed beyond belief, Rory stepped aside so the date stealer could get past. Then the red-faced woman gave Rory a smug glare and stomped away, mumbling something about striking mortals off her date list for good. “Sorry?” Rory said to the man, who was now holding a cocktail napkin to his red eye but sporting a grin that suggested he could care less if his other eye was clobbered too. Oh boy, this guy was nothing but trouble. Wicked trouble. Good trouble if a girl was out looking for some fun… Maybe if she didn’t find her blind date, he’d volunteer to stand in? She considered the possibility while he took a long swallow from his Killians. Adorable face. Expressive eyes. Great body. Yes, he just might work. “I could’ve sworn you were my blind date. Didn’t you know it’s not safe to wear a black shirt in public?” she added, intentionally avoiding the subject of giving strange women the

eye when on a date with someone who could do serious damage with only her purse. “Don’t worry about it. That date was going nowhere, take my word for it.” He gave her a shark-toothed grin. “That’s what I get for going on a blind date. Alison there was supposedly an acquaintance of an old friend of mine.” He chuckled, glanced around the room. “Jack loves playing pranks. I should’ve known better. He got me good this time. What a nightmare. Wonder where the bastard’s hiding? Gotta get him back for this one.” So much for his wicked-trouble potential. I’m so not going to get into the middle of a prank war. “Okay, well, I’m really sorry. Er, have a nice night.” Rory turned to check the bar for any unclaimed black-shirted guys. She didn’t find a one, at least none that she hadn’t approached already. “I can’t believe this. I’ve been stood up? By a sure thing.” She sighed. “Only me. That’s what I get for trying to do something impulsive, unpredictable.” “Have a seat,” the guy who’d been beaten up by his date said from behind her. “I’ll buy you a drink.” Oy. She didn’t want to get caught up with a couple of boys playing pranks on each other, even if said boy was absolutely scrumptious and her girly parts were withering up from disuse. “No thanks. I should get going. I don’t belong here—” “Please.” “Are you sure it’s safe?” Rory eyed the bar’s entry with exaggerated worry. “I mean, I’m not particularly fond of pain. Like to avoid the unnecessary variety if I can.

What if your date comes back with a bigger handbag?” “I figure she’s gonna be picked up by the guys with the love-me coats the minute she steps out on the street. That woman was nuts, claimed to be a dragon. Ever heard of anything so crazy?” “No, can’t say I have.” “Didn’t see a single scale. No claws or wings either, did you?” With an extremely friendly smile, he patted the stool. “What’ll you have? I insist.” When she didn’t move, he added, “Please. Just one drink. I promise I won’t bite…unless you want me to.” This time his smile was a little more genuine. Less predatory. Now, she felt silly. It was a drink. What kind of harm could there be in that? She was feeling a little down right now—okay, a lot down. This guy was up to no good, and she was fairly sure she didn’t want him to be the stand-in for her no-show blind date now, but he was kind of fun to talk to. “Okay, if you insist. Thanks. But only one. Then I’m outta here.” She sat. “I’ll take a diet. And no, can’t say she looked particularly dragonish to me either.” He waved at the bartender. “How about something a little stronger?” “Fine. A diet with lime.” He ordered her drink then said, “Sorry your date didn’t show. I’m Shane.” “Nice to meet you, Shane. I’m Rory.” There was one of those awkward moments where they sat and stared at each other for a moment. Then Shane tipped his head

and gave her a playful smile. “Thanks for saving me from the big, bad dragon. You’re my knight in shining armor.” He sighed melodramatically. She laughed. Of all the silly things. This guy was something else. She had a fondness for men who could make her laugh. “So, hate to bring up a touchy subject, but did I hear you say you were stood up by a ‘sure thing’?” “Yes.” Why did he have to remind her? She rested her elbows on the table. Dropped her chin on one fist. Studied his face. Nice eyes. Real twinkly. And his mouth was pretty cute too. Real nice smile. Should she give this guy a shot? She could sense he was offering and, so far, no prank-playing friends had popped out from behind the bar and hosed them down with seltzer or anything. “Can I ask you a question? Once again, I’m having difficulty comprehending the male human population.” “Go for it.” He poked a handful of peanuts in his mouth. Washed them down with a swig of his beer. “Tonight turned out nothing like what I expected. I came here to meet a blind date. I thought we’d have some dinner, a drink or two then go home to…you know. It was all arranged up front. Which leads to my question—what guy skips out on a sure thing? I mean, aren’t all men like walking, talking, sex-seeking missiles?” Rory thanked the bartender when he set her glass in front of her, and took a sip. “Please tell me it’s not because I’m ugly and you’re just being polite? I used to be so cute back in college. But that was a long time ago.” She sighed. “I had a birthday last week. I’m getting old, aren’t I? Do I disgust you? Are you pity-flirting with

me?” “Hell no. I don’t pity-flirt. And you’re not old.” Why didn’t that lift her drooping mood? “If it’s not that, what is it? None of my friends have been stood up by a sure thing… then again they’re all a few years younger than me. I’ve got papers to prove I’m clean. No HIV, no Hepatitis B, C or whatever, not even a cold sore. Perfectly safe. No criminal record. So what’s the deal?” Shane took a long swallow of beer from his bottle while visually appraising each of her assets. Sure seemed like he appreciated what he saw if the lust-filled glitter in his eye was any indication. So why wasn’t she getting all warm and toasty? Where was the lust? The chemistry? She felt nothing. Nada. Nil. “Here’s the deal—whoever this Matt is, he’s an idiot, that’s all I’ve got to say. A complete moron.” Shane’s compliment, crooked devil-made-me-do-it smile and open ogling wasn’t doing anything for her, not even easing the sting of being stood up. How pathetic was she? Sitting in a bar, waiting for a blind date who was clearly not going to show, whining to an adorable guy about her sucky love life. The words “I’ll fuck you!” were practically emblazoned across the front of his forehead but she wasn’t in the mood to accept his invitation? This was what she’d come here for—to get fucked. Why, oh why, did the idea of going home with this extremely attractive, available and willing guy make her feel colder than Detroit in January? “This bums me out. You wouldn’t believe what we girls have to go through to get ready for an event like this.” “I can imagine.”

“Can you? Ever had your hair ripped off your balls by a sadist?” He cringed, visibly swallowed, and sputtered out, “Can’t say I have. But I bet the results are breathtaking.” He waggled a single eyebrow. Time to go. She drained her glass and stood. “Sorry, I guess I’m just not in the mood for this tonight.” She motioned between them. “Thanks for the drink, though. Good luck with your next date. You’re pretty fun. Deserve someone who doesn’t need heavy drugs to know whether the voices she hears are coming from real people or the ones in her head.” “It’s amazing what a little valium does for a person’s outlook on life.” “Yeah. Looks like I could use a little of that myself these days, that and some Retinol-A.” “Thanks again for being my knight in shining armor.” He winked. Rory headed toward the bar’s exit, fully intending on getting herself out of there while the getting was good. No use hanging around and inviting trouble, especially in her current frame of mind. She’d learned a long time ago that sitting in a bar by herself, especially when she was even mildly upset, was a recipe for disaster. The last time she’d done that, she’d downed one or two…or three or four Long Island Iced Teas and woken up the next morning married to a man she barely knew, let alone loved. However, one thing stopped her from taking the next step

toward the door. One very tall, very dark, very handsome thing. “Malcolm?” she whispered. “It can’t be!” Her heart lurched up her throat. Her mood took a sudden turn for the better. Across the jam-packed, smoke-clogged room, his gaze found hers and literally wrestled it into submission. Two dark brows rose in surprise as his eyes snapped to hers and held her captive like a steel trap. A million questions raced through her mind, each more troubling than the last. Malcolm? Here? Now? Where has he been the past several years? This is impossible! Several years ago she’d attended his funeral—granted she’d heard rumors the casket had been empty. Still…still Malcolm Forester had died in a plane crash somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. Everyone knew that. If he hadn’t died, what had happened? Why had he left so suddenly? Why hadn’t he let anyone know he was alive? And why did he wait so long to return? Her insides twisted up into a tight ball. Sweat coated her palms. Her feet felt as heavy as concrete blocks. She couldn’t take a single step forward or back, which left her waiting for him to come to her. “Rory Denton.” His voice sounded like a low lion’s purr. It did things to her that her ex-husband’s hands never had. “Imagine seeing you here.” “Yeah. Imagine th-that,” she stuttered, trying to drag her lolling tongue back into her mouth. He looked incredible, like he hadn’t aged a day since the last time she’d seen him. The only sign of

age was the few gray strands at his temples. “I…wow. Oh my God. I’m speechless. Wow. Did I say that already? You look great. No offense, but I heard you were…well, dead.” “Rumors based on a misunderstanding.” He shook his head. “Clearly you can see I’m still very much alive.” He took her hand in his. “Come. Have a drink with me. We must catch up.” Gladly. If I can get my legs to work again. Oh my God! He’s alive! My Malcolm? He led her to an open stool, waited for her to sit before he did. He was so close it would take no effort at all to reach out and trace the lines of his developed chest through his tight T-shirt, to slant her mouth to his and reacquaint herself with his unique flavor, to press her body against his and feel his heat again. “How have you been?” he asked. Where have you been? Shuddering with the need to touch him, but unsure her touch would be welcome—how many things had changed since she’d last seen him?—she sat on her hands. Since hearing he’d died, her life had been hell. She’d been married and divorced, and changed jobs at least three times, yet fought to maintain the one thing she craved—stability, security. “Fine, fine. You?” She held her breath, waiting to hear where he’d been. He waved to the bartender, ordered two glasses of wine and said, casually, “I heard you were married.” “You did?” she asked, disappointed he’d turned the conversation back to her. “Did I hear wrong?”

“No, no. It’s true. I was married, emphasis on ‘was’. Speaking of marriage, I’ll take a diet instead of the wine,” she answered as she admired the strong line of his profile. His thick hair was pulled back into a low ponytail at the base of his skull. The longest strands skimmed his spine between his shoulder blades and she imagined how it would feel to comb her fingers through its cool silky length again. “I’m not married anymore. And I don’t drink anymore either. I learned that the minute I take a drink, my ability to act like a rational, responsible human being goes out the window and my life turns into a circus.” “Is that so?” He turned his head. His lips curled into a sexy smile that made her knees knock and pussy warm. “Yes.” She swallowed half her glass of cola in one gulp. “Now, I’m anxious to hear what happened to you. It’s been a long, long time…and you left so suddenly. I thought you were dead, everyone did. Your folks had a funeral,” she said, trying to sound casual, not let on how much the news of his death had hurt her. It had nearly killed her. “Don’t get me wrong. The funeral was nice. There were hundreds of people there. Your uncle gave a touching speech… but…God, I’m glad you’re not dead.” “That’s good to hear.” He winked playfully. “I’m glad I’m not dead too. I was out of the country…studying.” “Studying? You never said anything about going to school overseas. And why not make a few phone calls? Let everyone know you were okay? There were a few people upset by the whole thing, ya know,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.

“Attending school overseas was an unplanned thing, an unexpected opportunity. And as far as everyone thinking I was dead, I had no idea what people were saying at home. Evidently my folks didn’t receive the telegram I sent after the accident, which doesn’t make me happy. The plane I was scheduled to be on crashed over the Atlantic. I was fortunate enough to have missed it, thanks to a delay on my connecting flight from Detroit to New York.” He took a sip of his wine and watched as his tongue darted out and moistened his lips. He leaned forward slightly. “Sometimes you have to trust that fate has a mind of her own, you know what I mean?” “Yeah,” she croaked, all too aware of how close he was, thanks to several interesting twists of fate, and wishing he’d get even closer, as long as it was in a dimly lit room. Did she look old to him? Fat? She’d gained a few pounds since he left. Changed her hair color. Oh God, her lipstick was probably a mess. He was staring at her mouth. She ran a fingertip under her lower lip, hoping to blend away any smearage. Ran her tongue over the front of her teeth. “Wha-What were you doing in Europe?” “I just finished up the research for my PhD.” Doctor? Malcolm? Why did that not surprise her? “Wow. Impressive. In what?” “The Dark Arts,” he said in a hushed voice. Feeling rather stupid, she leaned forward and whispered, “Dark arts? What’s that?

And why are you whispering? Is it a secret? Do you work for the government, doing some kind of top-secret spy stuff?” “No, no. Nothing like that.” He chuckled and the sound seemed to seep through her skin and bounce around inside her body like a bunch of ping-pong balls. “It’s not exactly a secret. I attended a little known school in Romania where I studied magic.” “You? Magic? Like pull-rabbits-out-of-a-hat magic? You had to leave the country to learn that?” “No, like learning-to-control-the-dark-energy-of-the-universe magic.” Yikes! She leaned back, way back. “Ooookay.” No wonder his family had let everyone think he was dead. Malcolm Forester, former valedictorian of Plymouth High School, former magna cum laude graduate from Oakland University, and Rory’s first love—correction, the love of her life, was…cuckoo No, no, no! He was intelligent, incredibly sexy, friendly, kind, giving… He leaned closer, until the slightly spicy scent of his cologne drifted to her nose. His breath lightly caressed her cheek like invisible fingers as he spoke, “I sense you are a skeptic.” …and did she say sexy? “Who wouldn’t be?” she asked. “Perhaps later you’ll have a change of heart.” He leaned even closer, until his chest was no more than a hairsbreadth from her nipples. She could feel them practically straining to reach him, pushing at the restraint of her bra cups like caged wild animals trying to bust loose. “Celebrate with me?” he whispered. “We both have a reason, yes?” He rested his hand on her knee and squeezed.

Her gaze fell to her lap, where there was a notable amount of dampness collecting, barely hidden by her skirt gone uber-mini, thanks to the way it insisted on inching up her thighs. She lifted her gaze to his dark eyes, the color of a cloudless night sky. Blue-black. Yet, at the moment, she swore she saw violet flames dancing in them. Blue flames were the hottest. Someone had told her that once, although she couldn’t remember who at the moment. That fire was making her mighty warm too. In all kinds of interesting places. “Yes. I mean, we have a reason to celebrate,” she managed to mutter after finding her tongue again. “You and me. Me and you. We both. Together.” In a dark room, I hope. Her hands trembling, her mouth dry as cotton, she picked up her glass and emptied it in a series of long gulps. Then, breaking her no-drinking-alcohol rule—only because she was about to die—she helped herself to some of his wine too. “Mmmm. This stuff’s good.” She licked her upper lip, catching a droplet clinging to its center. Okay, so maybe she was looking for a little liquid courage too. “I thought you said you don’t drink anymore.” He watched her with laughing eyes. “I don’t. But I swear my throat was about to burst into flames.” “Ah yes. I can see the need for liquids then.” He stood, offering his hand. “Shall we?” “Shall we what?” “Go celebrate, of course. Surely you didn’t think that I’d suggest we spend our evening here, in this crowded, miserable place?” He shifted his weight forward and whispered, “Come with me,

Rory. Let me show you what I’ve learned while I was away.” He palmed her cheek and traced her upper lip with his thumb. “I have a feeling this moment is the reason fate had thought to spare me. I survived so I could be here with you tonight. Don’t you agree the chances of bumping into each other like this were slim?” “Yes,” she murmured, leaving her lips parted slightly as he continued to stroke them until they tingled. Her gaze would not stray from his eyes. Everyone else in the crowded bar seemed to fade away until nothing and no one existed but the two of them. “Then we would be fools to deny what fate has given us.” He gathered her hand in his and lifted it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the back. “Let’s see if what we had is still there. Give me one night. That’s all I ask.” He muttered something after that, but she didn’t hear it. “Well…” Darn it, it was hard thinking with Malcolm’s steamy bedroom eyes staring at hers. What had been her objections? “Just one evening. If that’s all you want, that’s all it has to be,” he promised. “No strings. No complications. No demands.” Rory, who’d admittedly come to this bar with one thing in mind —having no-strings sex—didn’t hesitate for more than a second or two longer. Who was she to turn down the opportunity to have sex with the guy she’d loved for years? A guy who had broken up with her years ago, without any real explanation. A guy who, until tonight, she’d thought was dead. Her “what-if?” man. Even when she’d been married, she’d always wondered what might’ve happened if they’d had the chance to find each other again, as mature adults instead of heads-in-the-clouds college students.

It seemed she was about to find out! Her head swimmy—and not from the wine—her legs boneless, her belly flip-flopping, she stood and followed him through the bar. She only briefly noticed the blond-haired guy standing next to the door, nervously scanning the interior of the room like he was searching for a blind date. You snooze, you lose, buster. Not the least bit regretful for blowing off her blind date, she followed Malcolm out of the bar into the relative chill of the night. As they stepped forward, a black limo silently crawled forward from the shadows like a prowling jungle cat. A uniformed driver stepped from the car and held the door until both she and Malcolm were seated inside. A lowly secretary at a small marketing company, and not the kind to rub shoulders with the rich and famous, it had been a long, long time since she’d ridden in a limo. She’d forgotten how luxurious they were. How smoothly they rode. How small the interior felt when one was closed inside with a man who seemed larger than life, larger than the body he possessed. As the car rolled forward, past her car, she let out a surprised squeak. “Oh! My car.” “It’ll be brought home for you.” “But I have the only set of keys.” She lifted the key ring that was hooked to her purse strap. He looked unconcerned. “There’s more than one way to start a car.”

“You’re going to have someone hotwire it?” “I didn’t say that.” He opened the mini-fridge and poured her a glass of her favorite diet cola, handed it to her, then produced a black hardcover book from somewhere. He cleared his throat. “Now, I need to explain how things’ll work tonight before we begin.” Her face burning, she thanked him for the drink and asked, pointing, “You have an official rulebook? For a one-night fling? That’s…unique.” “This is my book of magic. It contains my spells, notes, research. I take it everywhere with me.” More talk about magic? That doused the heat considerably, though not entirely. A pleasant little simmer remained. Between her legs. “Interesting. I take my PDA everywhere with me. Same concept, I guess.” “Similar.” He nodded and opened the book. The musty pages crackled and a flurry of dust motes launched into the air as he flipped them one after another, sending her into a round of sneezes. “I’m pulling out the big guns, my most powerful spells. I want to make this as enjoyable as possible for you…” he started as he continued flipping pages. “Sorry,” she said between sneezes. “Allergic to dust. I appreciate what you said, though. I hate to admit it, but it’s been a long, long time.” He lifted his gaze from the book. “A shame. We could use that pent-up energy in more productive ways but for now, we’ll concentrate on the pleasure of sex.” He emphasized those last three words as if they were something unheard of.

She felt one of her eyebrows creeping upward. “I won’t ask… okay, I will. If you’re not concentrating on the pleasure of sex, what the heck are you concentrating on?” “The spell,” he answered matter-of-factly as he picked up a tall cylinder with something in it and shook some all around the car. More dust? She gave him a pointed glare and he grunted. Evidently her allergies were ruining whatever mood he was trying to create. “Are you okay?” “I’m okay.” She sniffled and pinched her burning nose, hoping to allay another sneeze. “I thingh I’b alergigh to magigh too.” “I’m sorry. It’ll be over soon. I admit, this isn’t the best environment for this, but I don’t expect to remain in here for long, knowing you.” His eyes glittered with mischief. “You dow be well.” She unblocked her nose. “I mean you know me well.” “Finished.” He slammed the book closed and Rory pinched her nose again. “Now, close your eyes and concentrate on your fantasy. Where is your fantasy taking place? What time in history? What would you like to happen? Visualize a scene in your mind and match your breathing to mine.” He picked up her hands and pressed them flat against his chest so she could feel it inflate with each deep inhalation. “That’s it. In. Out. In. Out.” He leaned closer and whispered, “Do you have a picture in your mind? A picture of a place you’ve always wanted to be with your lover.” He leaned even closer until his breath warmed her lips and drew out the words until they felt like a caress. “A time in history. Place in the universe. Anywherrrrre.”

He was so close. So real. So alive. Would he kiss her? Despite the fact that she couldn’t breathe, and that her mind had officially checked out and left for parts unknown, she tried to make her breathing match his. “Think, Rory,” he murmured. I’m trying. She somehow managed to drag in one deep breath. The oxygen seemed to do some good. Despite being practically lip-to-lip with the man who’d inhabited her dreams for many a night, she began to rummage around in her brain for a fantasy. Within moments, she recalled a sexy novel she’d read recently about a woman who’d traveled back in time. A castle with a dark, sexy knight. She imagined a castle in a faraway land, with dimly lit rooms, Malcolm dressed in one of those sexy white shirts…and just for kicks, she tossed in Brad Pitt. She heard Malcolm mutter something under his breath. Something she couldn’t understand, maybe in a foreign language. Before she could ask for a translation, a sudden gust of wind howled through the car, sending her hair whipping around, lashing her face. Blinking open her eyes, she covered her stinging cheeks with her palms. “No! Don’t open your eyes yet. And you must not break the connection between us.” He forcefully pried her hands from her face and returned them to his chest. This time, her fingertips found the cool smooth surface of his bared flesh and she sucked in a gasp of surprise. “You undressed already?” she asked. “That’s quite a trick.”

“Concentrate on the scene. What do you see? Don’t tell me, just visualize the details.” She did what he asked and he started mumbling again, and the wind started blowing again, blasting through the car like a hurricane, stealing her breath. Curious and confused, she trembled and leaned forward, pressing against Malcolm’s reassuring bulk. His steady heartbeat thumped in her ear, soothing her. Within seconds, the wind died, replaced by a cool, fragrant breeze. It smelled like grass and trees, the country in springtime. “It’s done. Now open your eyes but don’t be alarmed.” She blinked one, two, three times, just to make sure she was seeing what she thought she was. No car. The car was gone, as was the road, buildings, street signs. Instead, she saw a real castle. Huge, beautiful, mysterious. Woods. A field. A dirt road. A horse. And Malcolm, dressed in a billowing white shirt and snug pants that ended at his knees, was sitting next to her in the grass. “Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” she said, scrambling to her feet. She looked down at the gown she was wearing. Long, heavy velvet, snug-fitting bodice with a full skirt. “Holy crap! How’d you do this?” “It’s magic,” he stated matter-of-factly. And thus, Rory Denton, a person who’d never believed in spells or tricks, had never even gone to a kiddie magic show at a birthday party, could now say with complete honesty that she

believed that magic was real…well, almost.

Chapter Two

Malcolm didn’t wait for her to finish up with all her surprised exclamations, her oohs and aahs and oh-my-Gods, before he swept her off her slipper-shod feet and carried her velvet and silk-clad body up the dirt road, into the castle’s main entry, and through the impressive interior, nodding at the occasional passerby dressed in old-time garb. When he dropped her on a massive four-poster bed some umpteen rooms later, she said, “How the heck…? Where are we? This wasn’t what I was expecting. I mean, I’d imagined…but I never thought…” “I’d say from the clothes and castle—England. Maybe seventeenth, eighteenth century. I’ve never been any good at —” “Wait a minute!” England? Did he say England? “Eighteenth century? As in old times? A couple hundred years ago? Before electric lights, cars, computers…telephones and central air—” “Maybe. I’m not sure.” She watched him move about the dark room, lighting fires and oil lamps. “What do you mean you’re not sure?” “It’s your fantasy. Not mine. If you don’t tell me, there’s no way for me to know.” “Yeah, but…but…this can’t be real. How? No one can travel through time.” She leapt from the bed and ran to the window, pushing aside the shutter and glancing down for any signs of modern-day vehicles, up at the sky for airplanes. She slammed it shut. “This is a trick. You slipped me some drug in my soda. Yeah! That’s it. And drove me to a…a castle? In southeast

Michigan? There aren’t any castles in Michigan. So that can’t be it. Exactly how long was I asleep?” She turned to face his hunky old-fashioned-clothed body, her fists resting on her hips. Boy, oh boy, did he look nummy in that white shirt. It gaped wide open—much like her mouth at the moment. She closed her mouth. “You weren’t sleeping and I would never drug you.” He sounded insulted. Looked insulted too. Well, pooh. Now she needed to soothe his wounded feelings. Malcolm had been a very sensitive and proud young man. She could see that hadn’t changed. “Sorry. Of course you wouldn’t drug me. I know you better than that. I was just trying to come up with a reasonable explanation… Oh! I’ve got it. You hypnotized me, made me forget the drive to the airport and flight. Yikes! What day is it? Is it Monday yet? Did I miss work? I need to call in.” She ran around the room, looking for a phone. “What? No phone in the room? What kind of place did you bring me to? Don’t they modernize these castles?” He caught her shoulders, forcing her to halt. Her insides— particularly her girly parts—thanked him. “Stop it. It’s still Friday night. No reason to panic.” “Impossible.” She leaned forward for a second, almost ready to say “Who gives a damn?”—about her job and what day it was and the possibilities of time travel—and throw him on the bed. Just before she hurled her body at him like the shameless hussy she wanted to be, she changed her mind. She’d just started a new job three months ago. She couldn’t afford to lose it already. Breaking free of his grip,

she hurried across the room and rummaged through the contents of an armoire. Phone? Where would they hide a phone in a place like this? When she whirled around to look elsewhere, he placed two heavy, large hands on her shoulders once more, stopping her again. Then, no doubt to make sure she wouldn’t escape, he hauled her against him until all her soft curves were flush with all his yummy angles. “Please, stop panicking. You’re not in danger of losing your job,” he said, stroking her hair. He lifted her chin with an index finger. “I don’t wish to appear callous but I did this for you. And if you want to enjoy your fantasy fully, we need to get on with things. Our time here is limited.” There was that fire again. In his eyes. Deep blue like gas flames. And oh, what it was doing to her body. Making it all nice and toasty. Her bones were melting. “Get on with things?” She felt her nose wrinkling, despite the heat rippling through her body. “How limited? Do you rent this place by the hour? Like rooms at the Flamingo Inn?” He laughed, which only made her weaker in the knees than she already was. “Not exactly, although if it helps you understand and get past this…” “Okay, okay. I hear you. So I can either spend all day running around, looking for hidden electrical wires and other signs of modern times or we can…” “Check out the bed,” he said with a nod and a naughty grin. Wasn’t much of a dilemma, really. Thanks to her lengthy dry spell, her questions about the wheres, hows and whens hadn’t even begun to snuff out the spark of desire he’d skillfully kindled since they’d run into each other at the bar. In fact,

despite her worry about losing her job, the mystery surrounding him and their setting was stoking it right along to a nice, hot inferno. “I vote…for the bed.” “Excellent choice.” He gently steered her toward it then lowered her onto the mattress and climbed over her. He wasted no time with “Hellos” and “How do you dos”. He lowered his head and kissed her. His tongue pushed its way into her mouth and plundered, tasted, took. His hands hurried over her form, tearing at clothes and touching, stroking, claiming. His touch on her skin was like a brand, burning into her flesh. His kiss was like the sweetest ambrosia. Between hands and mouth, he stirred a blinding, intoxicating need that she had no choice but to sate, as quickly as possible. Savoring his kiss, her eyes closed to the world, her senses focused, heightened, she clawed at his clothes, eager to find skin, and moaned into their joined mouths when she did. Her fingertips traced the lines of muscle and bone. Her tongue delved into his mouth, drawing in his flavor. Her hips tipped up to rub her tingling pussy against his hip. He broke the kiss, stealing her breath away and she lunged forward, eager for their mouths to join again. He gently pressed on her shoulders, holding her flat on her back until she relinquished. “A little slower, love.” “I…can’t,” she said between panting breaths. Her body was wound tight as a spring. Hot as the deepest belly of the earth. Trembling like grass in a maelstrom. And all that from some kissing.

Laughter glittered in his eyes, kind, joyful laughter, not mocking, when he shook his head. “I see it will be up to me to maintain control.” He rolled off her. Propped his head up with a hand. The front of his shirt gaped open, revealing a single dark brown nipple. “Absolutely. I admit. I have none. Nada. Not a bit.” Still flat on her back, she struggled to untie the laces holding the front of her dress closed. Darn things! Knotted tight. “What made me think that being in clothes like this would be sexy? It’s like a freakin’ chastity belt. And speaking of chastity belts…” Worried about what she’d find down below, she flipped the skirt up over her belly and pushed at the long bloomers until the waist slipped down over her hips. In her efforts, she found no belts, to her relief. “Please. Allow me,” he offered, kneeling between her legs and impeding her efforts to remove the bloomers entirely. “Be my guest.” She propped herself up on her elbows and watched as he bent over and snagged the waist of her underthings with his very straight, very white teeth. When he had them down around her ankles, he used his hands to remove them completely. His gaze climbed up her legs to her freshly waxed pussy and he smiled. “You waxed. Nice.” He pushed her knees apart and lowered his head for a taste. His tongue flicked over her labia. She trembled. Then, anxious to have him do more than merely tease her, she bent her knees and drew them back in a silent invitation. He accepted with enthusiasm, using his tongue and fingers together to tease, caress, stroke. His tongue whirled around her

clit, sending wave upon wave of tense need crashing through her body. His fingers thrust in and out of her pussy, heightening her desire until she was sure she couldn’t hold back another second. Until a flash of warmth shot across her chest and her belly was twisted into a tight ball. Her legs trembled. Her pussy clenched around his fingers, increasing her pleasure. Her fingers gathered fistfuls of blankets. Just as she was about to give herself over to a powerful orgasm, he stopped his masterful oral stroking and helped her out of her dress to feather soft kisses over her tight belly. For robbing her of what she figured would be the climax to end all climaxes, she gave him a pout and a mini-dose of mean eyes. “Easy, baby. It’s too soon.” “Says who?” “Me.” With no warning, he flipped her over onto her belly and started massaging the backs of her thighs. Little tingles of pleasure danced up her spine and she smiled into the down pillows. It had been oh-so long, so long since she’d been touched— even innocently. So long since she’d been held or felt cherished. So long since she’d felt open and vulnerable. Since her divorce, she realized, she’d let a part of herself wither away and die. The soft side of herself, the part that eagerly opened to others. That was the part she’d caged up like an untrustworthy pet. All in the name of self-preservation, of safety and stability. Contrary to her former opinion, she did need this—excitement, affection, sex…companionship. And she wanted them with

Malcolm. For more than one night. For the first time in ages she felt alive, like she’d shaken the hazy effects of some drug, or broken out of a fog. His caresses moved higher, up over the globes of her ass cheeks to the small of her back and she moaned into the pillows with gratitude as he worked the knots out of the muscles. When he had them all loose and relaxed, he sprinkled the sensitive skin there with tiny, tickling kisses that made her muscles tighten up again. She giggled and arched her back first down then up like a cat in a stretch. “I didn’t know how it would be possible but you’re more beautiful now than ever.” “You’re just saying that,” she said, her head still buried under pillows. He worked his way up, kneading and stroking, working tight, bunched muscles into limp, relaxed ones. He kissed her shoulders and left behind a blanket of goose bumps that reached clear down to the soles of her feet. “Relaxed now?” he asked as he rubbed her neck. “Mmmm. Yes. Very. This is wonderful. Thank you. Did you take a class in healing massage at school?” “Not directly.” He rubbed her upper arm then worked his way down to her hand, even working out the tension in her palm. “Learned it from a friend.” “That’s some friend,” she joked. “He was a physician, named Asclepiades.”

“That’s a mouthful. Sounds Greek,” she said, half following the conversation. The other half of her mind was entertaining much more pleasant thoughts, like what she’d like to do to Malcolm next. Something involving her tongue sounded good, as soon as he was done with the massage. She wasn’t about to rush it. “He was.” Malcolm worked his way up and over to her other arm. The biceps, triceps, smaller muscles of the forearm then down to her wrist and hand. “Well, give him my kudos.” She sighed with contentment. “He taught you well.” “Will do. Next time I pay a visit to Ancient Greece.” Once again he worked back up toward her neck then over the back of her head. Her scalp tingled as he walked his fingers through her hair. His blunt-nailed fingertips rubbing in small circles up over the top of her head then down the sides. She could feel the last bit of stress melting away. Thanks to his very skillful massage, she was literally a pile of goo. “Okay. Over you go.” He helped her do a log roll onto her back. Still semi-dressed in the white shirt, which made his dark olive skin really stand out, he settled next to her on his knees and placed both hands on her chest, just above her nipples. As he let his fingertips drag down her torso, he said, “I’ve never stopped thinking about you. Not since the last time I saw you.” “I thought you were dead,” she said, hiking herself up on her elbows. She reached one hand to him, capturing his fingertips in hers. “They said…your mother…father… If I’d known you were alive, I would’ve waited. I wouldn’t have married—” “No need to explain. You married because it was the right thing

for you to do at the time.” “I married because I was looking for something, stability maybe?” She shook her head. “No, I married because I was torn apart at having lost you,” she confessed, admitting the truth for the first time, even to herself. “I was lost and alone and I thought I would be happy if I married someone, anyone. But I was wrong.” She watched as something dark flashed across his eyes. In a blink, it was gone, replaced by the simmering heat of pent-up passion. “I don’t deserve to be here with you,” he said. “Like hell you don’t.” She scrambled to her knees and wrapped her arms around him, giving him the biggest, tightest hug of her life. “I’m glad we’re here together. I’m glad you aren’t dead. Really, really glad.” “But,” he sighed, “there is so much you don’t understand. About me. My life. I shouldn’t have brought you here.” He held her at arm’s length but she struggled to fall against him. She had to be closer. Her very soul cried out for it. Now that he was here, she didn’t ever want him to leave again. “Please. Don’t go,” she whispered. “But—” “Forget it! Forget about excuses and explanations. You’re here. We’re together. That’s all that matters right now. Do you have any idea how it feels to want something you can never have so bad it hurts? I thought you were dead. I dreamed… I never thought…” She

shook her head, blinked away the stinging in her eyes. She wouldn’t cry. Not now. “Finish what you started. Make love to me.” “Okay. I will. But answer one question first. Will you spend tomorrow night with me too?” “Yes. Gladly. Now,” she said, falling back into the pillows and dropping her knees to the sides. “Please. Make love to me. Make my fantasy come true. I want to feel you inside me again.” He climbed over her, unfastened his pants and in a single thrust drove his cock deep inside her. She cried out, the sound of her voice echoing through the massive room. She struggled to keep her heavy eyelids lifted, to watch tension sweep over his dear face. To watch need fill his dark, heavy-lidded eyes. To watch heat tint his face and neck a deep red. Even as lost as she was in her own bliss, her body shaking as wave upon wave of passion blasted through her, she could see him struggling against a quick release. He licked a finger and reached down to stroke her clit. With each tight circle, each inward thrust of his cock, she was driven further, driven to the very limits of her control until she could take it no longer. There wasn’t a single part of her body, from the very top of her scalp to the tip of her toes, that wasn’t shaking and tight, on the verge of release. The blaze of her orgasm started deep in her belly and wound out, flashing through her arms, her legs, her head like a bolt of lightning. She tipped her head back and cried out again, her voice hoarse with withheld tears and pent-up needs. And his voice joined hers as he too found release, pumping faster, harder until he had spilled every last bit of his come inside her.

In a matter of seconds, it was done. Her body was trembling, but not from tension. Exhaustion claimed her as she lay back, resting under Malcolm’s heavy bulk. She felt herself drifting to sleep, a smile pulling at her lips, Malcolm’s fingers tangled in her hair at her temples. It felt so good to be back in his arms, back in his bed. It was like she’d never left. Like all the years they’d been apart were all a dream—no, a nightmare. The nightmare was finally over. “I have a question,” she teased, once she was able to speak again. “Hmmm?” Malcolm sounded sleepy and sated. “This was everything I imagined, and more. Don’t get me wrong. But I wonder, if this was truly magic, then where is Brad?” she asked with a naughty grin. “When I was in the car, I imagined Brad Pitt too.” Malcolm rolled over onto his side and grinned right back at her. It was the kind of expression that made her squirm—in a very good way. “Glad you asked. I…uh…forgot to mention one insignificant detail earlier.” “Insignificant?” “I thought it was insignificant. Until now.” His gaze wandered down her form, soft like a caress. Hot. “Though if you ask me, he’s nuts.” He gently pinched one of her nipples.

“He? Who?” she stammered, already losing track of the conversation. “Mr. Pitt.” Malcolm traced a circle around her left nipple until it pulled into a rigid peak and her breathing was irregular and shallow. “I can’t force a living human being to participate in your fantasy if they don’t wish to.” “You can’t? Bummer,” she said breathlessly, not at all disappointed. “I’ve been rejected by Brad.” “I’m sorry. But I do have an alternative.” He uttered a couple of words, made some bizarre motions with his hands then pointed toward the door. A man appeared there literally in the blink of an eye, a mirror image of himself. “Oh. Wow!” she stammered. She wrapped the sheet around herself and stood, gaping. “Is that you? Another you? How?” “Yes, it’s me,” the other Malcolm said. “I traveled back in time from the future, like Harry Potter. To be here with you and myself.” “That’s…that’s confusing. Speaking of confusing, so is calling both of you Malcolm.” “Just call me Brad,” the other Malcolm said, smiling. He glanced around the room. Great. “Well, uh, what do we do first?” Rory couldn’t help noticing Malcolm’s cock had grown erect again in the last few seconds. Evidently he was liking part two of her fantasy so far. She glanced at Brad to gauge his reaction. Like Malcolm, it seemed he was appreciating her fantasy so far too. The men smiled at her then each other.

“This oughta be fun, hey, Malcolm? I never would’ve guessed sweet little Rory Denton would have such a naughty imagination,” Brad said, combing his fingers through his hair. She sucked in an appreciative sigh at the way his biceps bunched with the movement. Brad was every bit as nummy and real as the original Malcolm. “I hoped,” Malcolm answered with a wicked smile, just before he swept her into his arms. She gave a surprised yelp then giggled as he set her on the bed and kissed her neck, sending blankets of goose bumps down the right side of her body. Brad kneeled on the bed on her left and leaned down to kiss her to oblivion, squelching her giggles. His tongue swept into her mouth, dipping, tasting, plundering. His hand, or maybe Malcolm’s, fondled her breast, weighing it, kneading it before his fingertips closed over the sensitive nipple and pinching. More hands skimmed along her stomach, stopping at her mound. This was bliss! Her mouth full of the sweet flavor of Brad. Her body being stroked and tormented by more hands than she could mentally register at the moment. Her ears were filled with the combined sighs of both men. Malcolm uttered wicked promises that made her head swim while Brad continued to drive her to torment with his mouth. Just when she thought she’d go absolutely insane, Brad broke the kiss. She blinked open her eyes to catch him smiling down at her like a cat about to eat a canary. His lips were moist from their kiss, one corner lifted into a crooked smile. Two of them! Two Malcolms. As if one wasn’t enough to make her hot and wet and all things wonderful.

Same hair, same olive skin, same dark body hair sprinkled over his chest and legs. A fine line of hair arrowing down the center of his belly to the thicker crop of curls nestled around the base of his erect cock. Same dark hair and eyes that made her think of things she’d never imagined. Things so shocking and naughty it made her pussy wet instantly. Two times the man. Two times the heat. Two times the wanting. Two times the bliss. Could she handle it? She couldn’t wait to find out! She lay between them, nude, her body there for their pleasure. Her pussy thrummed with need. Hot juices coated her inner thighs as the men ran their hands up and down her legs. Malcolm lifted one knee, Brad the other. Together, they eased her legs apart until her pussy was open. Her heart raced along at a jackrabbit’s pace as she watched both men look longingly at her. Her breathing ceased altogether when Malcolm reached out and pulled at her labia. Brad slid his index finger into his mouth, moistening it with his tongue before finding her clit and driving her crazy by drawing slow circles over it. “Oh my God,” she muttered, over and over. Her eyelids grew heavy as bricks and fell closed, shutting out the glorious sight of the two men touching her most intimate parts. “Do you like to have two men at once, Rory?” Brad whispered into her ear. His question, combined with the thick finger pushing slowly into her pussy, made her shudder. “Two men touching, kissing, fucking you?” “I don’t know. I’ve thought about it once or twice…”

“Do you want us to push you to the threshold of climax and then pull you back? Until you feel like you can’t wait another second for release?” Brad continued. “Yes, oh yes.” “It would be our pleasure.” This time it was Malcolm’s deep voice in her right ear, making her shake and moan. And his hands between her legs, parting her labia. His finger sliding in and out of her burning pussy. “Oh…” “Rory, roll onto your stomach,” Malcolm commanded. When she rolled over, he helped her up onto her wobbly hands and knees. “Yes, like this.” He eased her around, so her face was before his pelvis and her rear end inches from Brad’s. “Take me into your mouth.” Eager to taste him, and weak from the hunger being stirred by Brad’s strokes to her pussy and ass, she opened her mouth and teased the head of his cock with her tongue. As a reward, Malcolm gathered her hair in his fist and groaned. His cock pressed against the seam of her mouth. When Brad pushed a slick finger into her ass, she opened her mouth and took Malcolm’s cock deep into her mouth. Cock sliding slowly in and out of her mouth, fingers matching pace, thrusting in and out of her pussy and ass. It was almost more than her body could handle. Around a mouthful of sweet cock, she groaned and sighed. The inner walls of her pussy clenched tight around Brad’s invading fingers.

“That’s it, love,” Malcolm growled, his voice hoarse as he fucked her mouth with slow, even motions. “Will you take both of us at once?” She nodded in response and was instantly rewarded with a pussy full of Brad’s cock as he filled her with one swift thrust. Thrusting in and out, Brad smacked her ass, the sting of his strikes only adding to the already almost unbearable bliss. She could feel her body readying for orgasm. Energy building. Tension coiling in her belly. Heat rising up her chest to her face. She cried out as her body neared the crest. Then cried out again when both men pulled out. Malcolm from her mouth, Brad from her pussy, leaving her to tremble on her knees. “Darn it!” she shouted. Malcolm gave her one of his trademark naughty smiles and promised, “Oh, don’t you worry. We’re not even close to being done with you yet.” He grinned over her head at Brad. “Are we, Brad?” “No way.” “It’s time for a position change.” Malcolm took her hands in his and helped her upright. “We’re going to make sure you get the maximum benefit of fucking two men.” “Okay,” she said, breathless, dizzy and sure the second they touched her she’d drop dead of heart failure. Malcolm lay on his back, his erect cock resting against his lower abdomen. He motioned for her to position herself over him, her breasts resting against his smooth-skinned chest, her stomach against his, her knees straddling his hips. His cock plunged into her pussy, the motion of his thrusts creating a delightful friction against her clit.

But it was when Brad kneeled behind her, parted her ass cheeks and smoothed some warm, slick lubricant over her anus that she really started burning up inside. As she lay over Malcolm, his cock slowly gliding in and out of her pussy, Brad’s cock pressed against her tight hole. “Oh God!” she cried out against the sting as her hole slowly stretched to accommodate Brad. “I can’t. Oh God! Stop. No, don’t stop. Oh God!” “Easy, baby.” Malcolm said, reaching up to stroke her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “We’re here to please you. We’ll only do what you want. If it hurts too bad, Brad’ll stop.” “No, I don’t want him to. I just want him to go slow.” “Like this?” Brad asked, as he applied the slightest bit of pressure until her anus stretched just enough to accommodate the head of his cock. The instant feeling of fullness down there, added to Malcolm’s thicker cock in her pussy, sent her to the edge. “Ohhh…” she said on a sigh. Heat crashed through her body in steady waves, starting at her center and rippling out to her hands and feet. She felt herself smiling as Brad’s cock drove deeper inside, slowly inching its way home. Malcolm started moving again within her. Slow, steady thrusts that stirred the flames flaring inside her body to an inferno. She knew she wouldn’t last long like this. The sensations were so intense, the fullness that radiated out from her anus and heightened her pleasure until she swore she couldn’t take another second. Her breasts were flattened against Malcolm’s chest, their

breathing synchronized as together they soared toward release. She had never felt so vulnerable. Never felt so whole as she did just then, sharing such an intimate pleasure. She whispered a thank you into his ears for fulfilling a fantasy she never in a million years had expected to experience. And then she gave in to the orgasm gripping her insides and twisting them into knots. Instantly, the pent-up tension released as tremors quaked through her body. She clung to Malcolm, called out his name. Wept on his shoulder when both men joined her in paradise. Brad pulled out to empty his seed on her behind but Malcolm did not. He pistoned in and out of her spasming pussy until both of them were spent, sated, exhausted once more. Rory collapsed on top of him, grateful for his warmth and the wonderful feeling of his embrace. Eventually, Malcolm rolled onto his side, sandwiching an extremely contented Rory between both men. She giggled as she lay there, Brad’s arm slung across her chest from behind, Malcolm’s leg over her hip from the front. “My lord?” came a strange female voice from the general vicinity of the door. She spoke with an accent. British. She gasped. “It cannot be. Intruders!” Rory blinked open her eyes as Brad’s weight lifted from her upper body. Gone? He was gone? She turned her head, spying an elderly woman dressed in a long, dark servant’s gown and mopcap. Her eyes were wide as saucers. “‘Oo would you be? In me master’s bed?” She whirled about, screaming something incomprehensible at the top of her voice.

“Time to go,” Malcolm said, sounding as disappointed as Rory felt. He sat up, grabbed Rory’s hands, kissed the insides of each wrist and mumbled a few words in that strange language he’d used earlier. Before Rory could blink, they were back in the limo, fully dressed. The only signs of what they’d just done were the scent of sex still clinging to her skin and the pleasant aftershocks of her orgasm between her legs. “Wow. Wow, wow, wow,” she said, looking around the limo. “Believe in magic now?” “Yes. I most definitely do. But I have some questions, so many things I want to ask—” “Tomorrow,” he interrupted, running his knuckles along her jaw. “You’re tired. We can talk some more tomorrow.” “Okay,” she acquiesced on a sigh. “You promise? Tomorrow.” He nodded. The car pulled onto her street and from the corner she could see that her car was indeed parked in her driveway. She didn’t need to ask how he’d done it, how he’d done any of it. He gave her a gentle kiss. Erotic, soft, lips and tongue and even a little bit of tooth. His kiss made promises he hadn’t spoken. Promises that made her shake all over again. “Tomorrow?” he asked. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

His smile was brilliant, wicked, seductive. “Then I’ll pick you up at six o’clock.” “I’ll be ready.” “With your second fantasy.” “Yes, with my fantasy. Now that I know the sky’s the limit, I’ll be sure to come up with a good one, something crazy and unexpected. Maybe we’ll go to a faraway planet. Or make love on a pirate ship. You can play a decent pirate, can’t you?” “Aye,” he said in a gravely voice. “That I can.” He kissed her to heaven and back again then she reluctantly shook away his offer to walk her to the door, climbed out of the car and went into her house. Time to do some real fantasizing. Tomorrow night couldn’t come soon enough. She couldn’t wait. Sitting in hell would be a fantasy, as long as she did it with Malcolm. But first things first. She went inside, undressed and dropped onto her bed. If her body didn’t ache all over after that amazing evening, she would’ve almost believed it was a dream. It was all too weird. Crazy. Wonderful. Malcolm was alive! He’d come back to her and they’d spent the evening together. Holding each other. Loving each other. This time she didn’t stop the tears. They gathered in her eyes

and ran down her cheeks, dripped off her chin. She rolled onto her stomach and stared blindly out the window, into the dark night. Malcolm was back. Or was he? What did this all mean? What did he want? A couple of nights of sex? Then what? Was he free to have more—like a real relationship, spare clothes left at each other’s place? A co-owned puppy. A joint bank account. Marriage. Was he hiding something? Would he leave again, leave her heartbroken and confused for another five, ten, fifteen years? “I don’t know if I can deal with this.” She dropped her head until her face was buried in the coverlet. “Malcolm, what made you come back? What do you want?” Even as the tears flowed, she told herself she had to get control of her feelings somehow, bury them deep inside. Focus on the here and now. She really had only two options—drive herself crazy by thinking and wondering. Or enjoy what she’d been given, two dates with the man she’d thought she’d never see again. Looked at that way, things were really very simple. If all she could have was two days with him, then by God, she needed to make those two days’ worth of happiness last a lifetime. And if her heart wouldn’t cooperate then she’d put on a happy face for Malcolm and do it for him. She sensed he was just as troubled and confused as she was. Malcolm watched Rory disappear through the deeply shadowed doorway. The burgundy-painted door closed. She was gone. Instantly, the familiar emptiness that he was so used to carrying

within him overtook him again like a chill. It crept up his spine then tightened around his heart. Anxious to find a connection with her, even the slightest, he stared at the house, watched as golden light filled her living room window then the bedroom upstairs. He reached for her with his mind, saw her undressing, peeling off one garment at a time. Lying on the bed in her underclothes, staring at the window as if she could see him. Her lips curled into a sexy smile that burned away a bit of the cold that encased his heart, his soul. “Rory Denton, I need you,” he whispered into the night. He looked down. The dark shadow was now swirling up around his waist. Forty-eight hours, maybe less. The magic was drawing the light from him, his power. He had no more than forty-eight hours before…it would be done. The darkness would overtake him and his soul would be lost. Forever. Unless…Rory. “I don’t want to go through with it. Goddess, help me, I don’t want to do it. If only there was another way.”

Chapter Three

There were a number of reasons for Rory to be nervous tonight. First, she was about to be picked up by Malcolm, the man she’d been thinking about all night long, all morning, all afternoon, for another adventure. The man she spent years believing was dead. The man she’d spent those same years wondering what might’ve happened if he hadn’t shown up at her dorm room the day she’d been packing to go home and told her it was over, that he couldn’t marry her. He vanished from her life that day. Second, she was about to make a sort of embarrassing wish. She’d never told anyone about this particular fantasy, wasn’t sure she could even let Malcolm in on such a secret, but she figured she had to take a chance now. How often did a girl get to make the most unlikely of wishes come true? She only hoped Malcolm wouldn’t judge her for it. They’d shared so much already. He was the only man she could even imagine sharing this with. What am I doing even thinking of going through with this? Rory paced the floor, staring at the clock. One minute to six. One minute. The doorbell rang. He was here. It was time. Her hands literally shaking from nerves, she clutched her purse to her chest, smoothed down her skirt and did a quick hair and makeup check in the mirror before heading toward the door. The bell rang a second time as she twisted open the deadbolt. Malcolm’s wide grin greeted her the second the door was opened. “Good evening,” he said in a deep voice that promised all sorts of wonderful,

wicked things. One hand holding that big book of his and a small velvet pouch, he offered her his free hand, which she accepted, even though her palms were slick as snails. Not particularly sexy. “Hi,” she said, stepping aside to welcome him in. He seemed to fill the room. He was so real. So big. So Malcolm. “Have you thought about where you’d like to go tonight?” “Yes. Well, kinda. It’s not so much a where as a how. Well, I guess there’s a where in there too.” His response was a single eyebrow lift. “Please, don’t make me feel any more awkward than I already do. This is extremely embarrassing.” Malcolm pressed a cool palm to her burning cheek. “Rory, I don’t want you to feel embarrassed or ashamed of anything. Your fantasies are yours. They are beautiful, you are beautiful and I feel very lucky to be able to celebrate them with you.” “I hope you mean that.” A smile tugged at her cheek. “After you see what my fantasy is, you might change your mind.” “I’m happy to take my chances,” he said over a chuckle that left her feeling giddy and weak in the knees. “Shall we begin?” He set his spell-casting accoutrements on the coffee table, sat on the couch and instructed her to sit next to him and close her eyes. Still nervous but not as bad as she was earlier, she followed his instructions, pressing her palms to his chest and concentrating on the vision of herself and Malcolm in a room with a wide wall of windows overlooking the sea. An assortment of bondage

furniture dotting the landscape. Kneeler. Swing. Some kind of long balance-beam-slash-narrow-table thing. A huge bed with restraints connected to the headboard and footboard. Just as the night before, a strange blustering wind howled through the room. Seconds later, a soft breeze carried the scent of salt and ocean to her nose and she smiled. “We’re here,” Malcolm whispered. She blinked open her eyes, noted she was nude, in broad daylight. Overcome with embarrassment, even though she’d imagined exactly what now was, she snatched a sheet off the bed and wrapped it around herself. This was real. Magic was real. And she was about to try something she’d never even considered. Her heart up around her vocal cord region, instead of down in her chest where it belonged, she took in the sight of the room, which was an exact replica of the one in her imagination. Sunfilled, airy, fresh, and filled with bondage equipment. She found Malcolm standing next to the bed, dressed head to toe in black. He held a riding crop in his left hand, a riding crop that was not meant to be used on a horse. The evil glimmer in his eyes made her knees turn to marshmallow. “I find your choice of fantasy interesting,” he said. “This place is very different from the last one. Why is that?” He gently pulled the sheet down then held the crop out, letting the tip of the leather slapper tease her nipple. “I’m…I’m not sure.” Rory said between gasps. “I guess I’m not as shy this time.”

“That’s a very wonderful thing.” Malcolm took her hand in his and kissed it. “You’re perfect, just the way you are. I’m happy you’re conquering your fears. I’m glad you had the courage to show me your most secret fantasy. I promise you’ll be very glad you did.” She merely swallowed and nodded. There was something very big in her throat. Maybe her tongue. Or her stomach. Or maybe even a small mountain. She couldn’t be sure at the moment. “Have you ever played domination and submission games?” he asked, his voice low and smooth and silky. The sound soothed her frayed nerves a smidge. She was so glad it was Malcolm teasing her nipples with that crop, not anyone else. She was nervous with Malcolm, but she felt safe. He would never hurt her. “No,” she heard herself whisper. “Never.” “Then we will go slowly. Since this is your first time, we can try a little bondage. I’ll tie you up. Your arms and legs.” She nodded again. He mirrored her action, his sharp, focused gaze holding hers. “Okay. If you want me to stop, at any time, just say…” “St. Joseph’s,” they said the name of their old college residence hall in unison. Rory giggled. “Great minds.”

“There’s always been a special connection here.” Malcolm motioned at their heads. And our hearts. “Come.” He urged her to stand. “Not that I expect to start living as Master and slave after only one night, but I want to explain a few things before we begin.” He gently motioned toward the floor, coaxing her to kneel at his feet. “The beauty of domination and submission is in the power-play, the pleasure the roles give both Master and slave. As your Master, you can expect me to always think of you first, to never push you beyond your limits, though I might test them. And to never harm you.” “Okay.” “As slave, I expect you to do as I command. Without fail. No matter what you want.” “All right,” she said in a smaller voice. Had she made a mistake in asking for this fantasy to come true? Was she really ready for the reality of domination and submission? Or was she glamorizing it? “To fully enjoy your role as submissive, you must be willing and able to trust me.” He squatted before her, ran a thumb along her jaw. His gaze pierced hers. “I won’t do anything until I know… It’s been a very long time since college. I’ve been away. We’ve lived separate lives these past few years. And I hurt you. I know I have, and I know the pain still lingers. Do you think you can trust me?” When she didn’t answer, because she didn’t know for a fact what the answer was, he continued, “Last night’s fantasy was fun, but this is different. This is much more serious. Sometimes

these kinds of fantasies—of dominance and submission—are better left to the imagination, where they can be safe and private. I don’t want you to have any regrets. Trust and honesty. They are essential.” She searched his dark eyes, looking for something, the answers to his questions, and all the questions still spinning through her mind. She knew they weren’t there in his eyes, yet she continued searching while her mind jolted from thought to thought. Trust? Was that possible, truly possible? He was right. He had hurt her. He’d left so suddenly all those years ago. He hadn’t explained anything, just packed up and left. And pulverized her heart into tiny bits. The pain had faded but had never truly gone away. Could she trust the man who’d walked out of her life so suddenly, who’d left her believing he was dead for years? Did she truly believe what he said about the telegram? This fantasy wasn’t just about sex, she realized. It was about giving herself over to him, to the possibility of a future with Malcolm. Nothing could happen between them if she couldn’t trust him, if she continued living as she had for years—holding back the most vulnerable parts of herself. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, looking into his eyes, searching her heart for the answers. But slowly they surfaced, one by one. And together, they brought her to one realization. More than anything in the world, she wanted to trust Malcolm. And she wanted to show him that by relinquishing all to him there, in the bedroom. The control would be his. Her body

would be his. Her heart would be his. It might not be easy, but it was what she wanted to do. “Yes, Malcolm. I will trust you,” she said, emphasizing the word will . “This is what I want. This is what I need.” After a moment of silent contemplation, he seemed to be convinced she meant what she said. He also seemed to be relieved. He straightened to his full six-foot-plus height. “Okay, slave. We will try this once, at your request.” “Thank you.” “No need to thank me…yet.” He ran the crop down her shoulder. “But later, you may be inspired to show me a little gratitude.” She shivered at the promise heavy in those words. “I’m honored to be given the chance to show you the pleasure to be found in submitting fully to your Master.” He cleared his throat, hiding the ghost of a smile pulling at his lips with a cupped hand. When he lowered his hand, his expression was once more appropriately stern—stern but steamy, erotic. “As a man who believes in the concept of positive reinforcement, I believe it’s fitting in this case to begin with a reward. On your feet, slave.” Reward? That sounded promising! Very happy she’d taken a chance and revealed her most secret fantasy, she hopped to her feet. Malcolm was the perfect man to fulfill her fantasy. Dark and sexy and dangerous. Her heart was skipping beats left and right.

Her pussy was burning with the need to be filled, already. What would he do? Spank her? Tie her up and tease her until she begged for mercy? Fuck her with a dildo until her pussy spasmed and her body shook? Her knees nearly buckled as her gaze met his. Oh, mercy! That was one scalding gaze. She knew for a fact she’d never, ever get tired of him looking at her like that. In fact, she could think of nothing closer to heaven than years and years of playing Master and slave with Malcolm Forester. Malcolm holding her every night as she drifted to sleep. Bringing Malcolm a steaming cup of coffee every morning and watching his adorable, rumpled self waken. Even the most mundane parts of life would be better with Malcolm. “This way,” he said, taking her hand and pulling gently. She crawled up on the bed, turning to leave her legs dangling over the mattress edge. “You deserve so much more than I’ve given you through the years.” His gaze turned tender, even troubled. “Don’t.” She caught his hand as it swept past her shoulder and held it against her chest. “You did what you had to. I’ve forgiven you for leaving, for letting me believe you were dead all this time. You haven’t explained, but I know you must’ve had a good reason. Why can’t you forgive yourself?” A soft smile softened his features. “I can’t believe what a lucky man I am but I—” “Yeah, well,” she said, unable to resist the temptation to tease him. “Sliding out of my slave mode for a minute. I’m getting impatient. Where’s my reward? Or is this whole fantasy thing my reward? Last night. Tonight?”

“In a way, yes. But I do want to do something special for you tonight. I want to fulfill your most secret fantasy. I want to thank you for trusting me, letting me back into your life, even if it’s only for a couple of nights. Now,” he said, clapping his hands, “shall we begin?” There was a loud crack, like a thunderclap, and a split second later she was knocked backward and thick, black smoke obscured Rory’s vision. Her eyes teared. She blinked, tried to lift a hand to wipe away the water streaming from her eyes but she couldn’t. Her hand was bound. She tried the other one. It was tied too. “Malcolm?” she whispered. She tested her feet. They too were secured. She was flat on her back, spread-eagled and tied, virtually blind. It was exciting, thrilling, to be so powerless. The sunlight outside the windows dimmed, snuffed out by dark, roiling storm clouds. Inky shadows shifted in the room. The atmosphere added a sense of sexy menace, an energy to the scene. Even as the smoke thinned and lifted, she found she couldn’t see much better than minutes before, when the room had been filled with smoke. A thick shadow obscured Malcolm’s face, allowing her to make out only the outline of his form. Head. Shoulders. Torso. She had to admit, the darkness made the whole role-playing experience feel so much more…real. “I know what you need,” he said in a low, rumbling voice that more resembled an animal growling than a human speaking. “You think you crave safety, stability. And maybe you do in everyday life, out there. But once you’re in your bedroom, what

you hunger for is danger.” He leaned low, whispered in her ear, “That’s what you want, isn’t it? A dark stranger taking control, dictating your every reaction?” She closed her eyes and nodded. This was so amazing. A little unsettling but intense and thrilling at the same time. He did know her, knew the darkest secrets of her heart. “I want to watch you come. To see you lose control. To inhale your scent. To taste your sweet juices.” His words made her shiver. The soft flutter of his breath against her neck and the heated tone of his voice gave birth to a coat of goose bumps all over her upper body. He stepped back and she blinked open her eyes just in time to catch him moving his hands through the air. A heartbeat later, a strange ball of red light hovered over her. It hummed and crackled, sounding like electricity charging to the ground from a fallen power line. It shifted and swirled like a cloud. It was both intimidating and awesome, much like Malcolm himself. “My power is absolute. Are you afraid, Rory?” “No.” The ball shifted, changing shape, taking on the form of a dragon the size of a cat. Its wings beat the air and a puff of flame shot from its mouth. It soared up toward the ceiling, then dove straight at Malcolm, long neck extended, claws ready. When it struck the side of his head, it seemed to melt right into him. His eyes glowed red. “I have the darkest energies in the universe at my command. Does that scare you?” “No.” Softer, she added, “I know you won’t hurt me.” He snapped his fingers and the straps binding her ankles

disappeared. “Open your legs for me.” Oh my God, ohmygod, ohmygod. She was burning up. It was as if the strange red glow from his eyes was throwing heat rays right to her pussy. She was going to come. Just like that. Without him even touching her. Breathless, she slid her legs apart, leaving her knees straight, and clenched the inner walls of her vagina, trying to fight the urge to come. “Wider,” he demanded. “Bend your knees. Show me your pussy or I’ll have to make you do it.” She whimpered, not because she was scared, but because she wanted to come so badly her whole body ached, right down to the soles of her feet. She lifted her knees and drew them back. “Yes. That’s it. Oh yes.” He snapped his fingers, and once more, her legs were secured, this time by straps around her thighs, spreading them wide. A metal bar of some kind held them apart. “What a beautiful sight.” The glow from his eyes faded. She heard the soft zip as he unfastened his fly but couldn’t see him. The room was pitch black now. She let her eyelids fall closed again. “I want to fuck you so bad. You make me so hard.” “I want you to,” she whispered. “Yes. Oh, yes.” She felt something teasing her labia. Soft fluttering touches. Her stomach clenched. She tipped her hips up in a silent invitation. She wanted Malcolm inside. Now. “Not yet. You’re not even close to ready.” Oh God. She closed her fingers around the straps binding her

wrists to the headboard and squeezed. Not ready? How more ready could she be? She could feel the slick wetness between her legs, running down, between her ass cheeks, readying her for his cock. She’d never been so wet. Malcolm kissed her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder. He traced a circle around her nipple then pinched it until she was tossing her head from side to side begging for him to take her. Every part of her hummed with pent-up energy. Her arms and legs trembled. Her insides twisted into painful knots. “Show me how to touch you. Show me.” Her hands were instantly free of the straps, but Malcolm’s large hands circled her wrists, pulling them down until her fingers rested on the swollen flesh between her legs. He released her. A split second later, he pushed something into one hand. A large dildo. “Have you ever masturbated in front of a man?” “No.” “Good.” A small light blinked on next to the bed, illuminating the room in a dusky golden glow. “Then I am the first. I want to see you bury that dildo in your pussy.” Her breath caught in her throat. Yes, it was still semi-dark in the room, but she was self-conscious. Touching herself. In front of anyone. In front of Malcolm… “Let go of your embarrassment. You’re doing so well, Rory. Look how far you’ve come. Look how you’ve trusted me. Touch yourself,” he said in a firmer voice. “Shed the last of your inhibitions and be mine.”

She found her clit with her right index finger and slowly drew a circle over it. Instantly, a wave of heat swept up her body. “Oh yes, that’s it, my love. The dildo.” She fisted the dildo in her left hand, and while continuing to tease her clit with her right hand, slowly pushed the dildo inside. Further, further. “Oh,” she said on a shudder of pure bliss. The dildo was hot in her hand, and it seemed to pulse, like a real cock. It filled her completely. “Fuck, yes.” Malcolm encouraged her as she slowly pulled it out then plunged it back in. The strain in his voice nearly sent her over the edge into orgasm. She could practically feel the scorching heat of his eyes on her pussy as she stroked her clit, thrust the dildo in over and over. She knew she’d come quickly, within seconds. She stopped and dragged in a deep breath. “Oh God.” “Don’t come yet. You cannot come until I tell you. Do you hear me, slave?” “Yessss, Master.” He pulled the dildo out of her, took it away. She nearly cried out in frustration. Why did he take it away? Was he going to fuck her now? Oh, yes! She felt the mattress shifting down at the foot of the bed. She couldn’t wait to feel his cock inside her again. He released one leg.

What was he doing? Bewildered, yet still shaky and hot, she lifted her head to watch him unfasten the other. “This way.” He led her to the long wooden thing that looked a lot like a balance beam. About twice as wide, though, like a narrow table. A rope hung suspended from the ceiling above it. What was that for? “Get up there.” She hadn’t been on a balance beam in ages since she’d taken gymnastics in junior high. Much to her chagrin, she mounted it with as much grace as a hippo trying to do ballet. Didn’t help that her legs were as boneless and wobbly as gelatin. And the shaking didn’t make balancing any easier, either. She squatted and held on with her hands. Her toes curled over the edge. The wood was sanded but not completely smooth. The rough edges scraped her fingers. “Lie down.” That was one thing she’d never tried on a balance beam. Did he mean on her stomach or back? She turned to ask him but before she spoke, he climbed up next to her and pushed down on her shoulder. “I won’t repeat myself.” Stomach, it was. She shakily knelt, then lowered herself onto her stomach. Feeling like she was going to fall, she wrapped her arms around the sides. Her thighs parted, gripped the wood for support. It rubbed against her pubic bone and inner thighs. Might not look too sexy, but it felt very sexy. Naughty. Her heart rate sped up. Malcolm stood over her, his feet between her legs. He pulled her arms behind her back and then secured her wrists in cuffs, first the right, then the left. Her breathing quickened. Became even

faster when he moved down and did the same with her ankles, strapping them together before pulling them up and back until her spine arched. After giving the whole shebang a little tug, he pushed her knees apart. She’d seen a picture of a woman tied like this once. On a website. She hadn’t been able to forget the image. Now she was living it! God, oh, God. Somehow he secured her arms and legs together to the rope fastened to the ceiling so that the tension from above helped stabilize her oh-so-precarious balance on the narrow surface. Her spine arched even more and her pelvis lifted off the flat top. In her mind, she just kept saying ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod . This was way beyond anything she’d ever dreamed of. So thrilling. Sexy. Mind-blowing. Liquid heat pulsed through her body in wild waves. The apparatus shifted a smidge as Malcolm hopped down to the floor. She instinctively tensed, but the bindings kept her secure. She didn’t fall. Didn’t move a bit. “So sexy, my little slave.” He walked to the bed, picked up the dildo. Then he went to the far wall and retrieved a large vibrator from a shelf. “I’m going to tease you now. You love to be teased, don’t you, slave.” “Ohhhh. Yes,” she whispered. She opened her legs wider, as far apart as her position allowed. “Please, Master.” He skimmed over her bottom with the vibrator. The gentle hum penetrated her skin, tickling her insides. She gasped, sucking in a shallow breath.

Slowly dragging the tip of the vibrator down one leg then the other, he murmured, “Your body is completely under my control. You will not come until I tell you, slave. Or you will be punished.” “Yes, Master.” He rested the toy on her pussy, just below her clit. The vibrations warmed her labia, her vagina, her clit. She clenched her inner muscles. Empty. She wanted his cock so bad. He moved it up, bringing it closer to her clit. The sensations intensified. She started shaking all over as white-hot pleasure pulsed through her body. And then, with the vibrator still on her clit, he pushed the dildo inside. Between the intense buzzing of the vibrator and the intimate strokes of the dildo, she was hurled toward climax. Being fucked like this, so helpless. It was beyond words. She cried out as her body quaked. Her pussy spasmed. “Don’t you come! I didn’t give you permission to come yet.” He jerked the dildo away. The vibrator vanished. She gasped. Her thighs cramped. Her empty pussy twitched. No climax. She was in hell. So close. She was so close. Her heart was trying to pound its way through her rib cage. Her head was spinning. She nearly screamed in frustration. There wasn’t a muscle in her body that wasn’t coiled tight, demanding release. “Please, Master.” He set the dildo down and climbed up on the table. Released her ankles and wrists, helped her to the floor. He held her so

tenderly, traced her lower lip with his thumb. A tear slid down her cheek, dripped off her chin. She wanted him to kiss her. To fuck her hard until she came and then hold her just like this. “My turn.” He led her to a small bench positioned up against a wall. Some restraints hung from the wall—four leather cuffs at the ends of four thin silver chains, all attached to metal rings mounted to the wall. “Sit down facing me. On the very edge of the bench.” He leaned in close as he strapped her wrists up and out. She inhaled his sweet, spicy scent and closed her eyes. Silently, in her head, she thanked him, over and over for this, for granting her fantasy. For making her first experience everything she’d imagined and more. He lifted each ankle high and secured them in the remaining two cuffs. Her legs were wide apart, her feet up over her head. “You like it hard.” “Yes. Yes!” He thrust roughly into her, immediately falling into a quick rhythm that echoed the stuttering heartbeats pounding in her ears. His hands trembled as they closed around the underside of her thighs. He lifted until her hips were high up and his cock was plunging deep, stroking the most sensitive parts inside. “Now, slave. Come now!” “Yessssss.” The heat of her orgasm crashed over her, knocking her brain loose from its connections and hurling her into a world where nothing but utter bliss existed. The unparalleled pleasure of complete release. Her body quaked all over. She dug her fingernails into the flesh of her palms and called his name into the darkness. He answered with a low growl.

Moments later, Rory was lying sprawled over Malcolm, cozy in the bed, giggling like a loon, her head all swimmy, her insides all twitchy. Malcolm blinked open his eyes. “What’s so funny?” “Nothing. I swear. I’m just a little overwhelmed,” she admitted. “Overwhelmed? In a good way, I hope?” Malcolm asked. His fingertips walked down her arm, leaving pleasant little tingles and tickles in their wake. “Oh yes. In a very good way. Just two days ago, I was thinking the best I could do was have a one-night fling with some guy my friends had bribed into screwing me. And even then he wasn’t inspired to show up, at least not on time. But that’s a good thing because I know now that one night with a stranger wouldn’t have been enough. It would’ve left me feeling cheated and empty.” She took Malcolm’s hand in hers, twined her fingers through his. “This is what I needed.” “My hand?” Malcolm asked, laughter in his eyes. “No. Goof. What I needed was this. I needed to come to terms with my fears. To explore my fantasies. But more, I just needed you. Closeness. Dare I say it…?” She knew what she wanted to say, what word sat at the very tip of her tongue, but it wouldn’t come out. It was too soon. She would scare Malcolm away. Men didn’t like hearing that word, especially men who’d only promised a one-night fling—or a two-night fling. She turned her head and stared at the far wall. A fling was still a fling, it wasn’t— “What?” he asked, pulling at her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze.

“I…maybe,” she stuttered, afraid to breathe. Afraid to say the words. She held her breath and waited, watching his features for a reaction. Slowly, a smile touched each one, mouth, eyes, softening them. “I won’t lie. I’ve loved you for a long time, Rory. Long before the day I left. I had no choice. I had to go. But it just about killed me.” “Why? Can you tell me now?” she pleaded, finally asking the questions that had been running through her mind since she saw him at the bar—correction, since the day he’d walked out of her dorm room. “Why’d you leave like that? And why’d you let everyone think you were dead? Why’d you let me think you were dead?” “I’m sorry. Honest. If I’d known you…I thought I was doing the right thing, for your sake. I swear, I didn’t stop thinking about you. Not a day went by that I didn’t wonder where you were, if you were okay, happy.” She sat up and wrapped her arms around herself. She felt raw and exposed. Confused. Eager to understand. Frustrated with his vague halfexplanation. “What does this all mean to you, Malcolm? Last night? Tonight? Why’d you come back to me? Because if you’re looking for an occasional trip to an exotic locale for a tumble in bed with a sexy woman, you picked the wrong girl. I can’t…I just can’t—” “I’ll tell you tomorrow.” He pulled her closer until her body was flush with his and she could feel the steady in and out of his breathing against her chest and stomach.

“You’ll give me one more night?” “Will I get another fantasy?” she asked as an idea started forming in her head. “Yes.” “And I can wish anything?” “Except for another rendezvous with Brad Pitt.” He kissed her forehead. “Or any other living human being who doesn’t want to be a part of our,” he cleared his throat, “activities.” She smiled. “You couldn’t keep me away if you tried. But first, how about another round before we go back? How long do we get to stay here?” she asked, grinning. He answered her invitation with an eyebrow waggle just before pulling on her shoulder until she was flat on her back once more. Licking his lips, he coaxed her to bend her knees and part her legs then lowered his head to hungrily devour her pussy. “As long as you want.” Ah, what a fantasy that was. But it would be nothing compared to tomorrow! Tomorrow’s fantasy wouldn’t be so much about sex as love. She’d waited too many years to be with Malcolm. Spent too many sleepless nights wondering “what-if”. Spent several years standing beside a headstone saying goodbye. Now that she had her chance, she was going to make sure he never left her again.

Tomorrow, if she had any say about it, he would be hers, for always.

Chapter Four

Malcolm was late, had lost precious hours and there was no way he could get them back. His body was failing him. His magic was failing him too. It had taken several spells to get to the point where he could even lift his head. This was it. Tonight, after making an attempt at fulfilling Rory’s third fantasy, he would cast a final spell, to erase himself from her memory. Then, he would accept his fate. He would fight it no longer. He would not allow her to pay the price for his foolish mistake. The problem was, in order for his magic to work, all three aspects of his being had to be in agreement—body, mind and spirit. That hadn’t been a problem until now. His will had been to make Rory’s wishes come true. But now…now he didn’t want Rory to completely forget him. He wanted Rory to be his—no, not wanted. Needed. He required her to be his forever, more than he required his next breath. He wasn’t sure which would be more painful, casting the final spell, or having his soul wrenched from his body and hurled into the flames of the Underworld. As he gathered what he needed for his final two spells, he struggled to gather his thoughts too. He needed to focus on Rory, what was best for her, what she deserved, and less on his desires. That was the only way he’d have the strength to do what he needed to. When he was as prepared as possible, his energy reserves fueled by the healing spells, he summoned his car and driver with a simple spell and was off. Of course, by the time the car

pulled up in front of Rory’s home, he still hadn’t been able to suppress his thoughts of possessing her, of claiming her as his own. “You’re late. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” She looked a little nervous too, which made him wonder what sort of fantasy she wished to share with him today. Last night had been glorious. The trust she’d so freely given him. He would never forget it, not in an eternity. He’d been right about one thing—she was capable of the kind of love that would break the demon’s spell. But he couldn’t let her take the final step. He wouldn’t use her for his own gain. Wouldn’t take advantage of her giving heart. It was wrong, no matter how he looked at it. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m feeling a little under the weather.” “Then maybe we shouldn’t—” “No,” he interrupted. “This is important. We don’t have a lot of time.” He took a few moments just to enjoy the sight of her, her long golden hair and round, trusting eyes. The soft curvy body she was always trying to hide. What would it take to convince her she was beautiful? Perfect in his eyes? When she started to look nervous, he began the process of casting the spell. He drew the circle with the ash, called upon the powers from the four corners, cleared his mind as best he could, reached to the last bit of power within and opened himself to her mind and spirit. As he closed his eyes and spoke the final words of the spell, he waited anxiously for the results to reveal themselves. Just like the past two nights, her wishes did not reach his conscious mind and so he was left to discover them after they’d already come true.

Once more, when the spell was said and he blinked his eyes, he didn’t know where they were. A hotel room somewhere, he guessed. He was intrigued. What fantasy was this? “You may open your eyes,” he said to her. Her eyelids fluttered open and her eyes took in their surroundings. She smiled. It was a dazzling smile. It took his breath away. Warmed his frosty insides. Eased his agony a tiny bit. Even now, the dark swirl of the demon’s energy was moving up, up, up his body. It was at his neck now, and the pain was nearly unbearable. It wouldn’t be long now. He hoped he’d have enough time to give her the gift of one last fantasy. Before he erased her memory. It made no sense, but for some reason, knowing he’d given her a small measure of happiness over the past few nights—even if she wouldn’t recall the details—made him feel a little less guilty for coming to her in the first place, for even considering using her to break the demon’s grip on his spirit. It had been wrong. He shouldn’t have come. This was the least he could do. She might not remember being with him, but she would have this deep contentment within. He hoped it would be enough to hold her over until she could find someone who could make her truly happy. She deserved it. “Rory?” he whispered, swallowing a large lump of regret. “What is your final fantasy?” She stopped her visual inspection of the room to smile at him. Then she glanced down at her left hand to admire the ring on

her finger. “Is it real?” she asked, lifting her hand. The diamond glittered in the dim light from the overhead chandelier. Ring? Hotel? What kind of fantasy was this? “What did you wish for?” he asked, almost afraid to hear her answer. She hadn’t…she couldn’t, he wouldn’t allow her to say the words! “What’s wrong?” she asked. “I… You… Don’t. Just don’t…” She didn’t want for him to find his tongue before asking, “Are we really in the honeymoon suite?” “I don’t know.” “In Paris?” She stood. Her long, gauzy white nightgown clung to her form as she rushed toward the window. She gasped as she pulled the curtains aside. “Paris! I can’t believe this!” She turned back to him and gave him a watery smile. “Does this fantasy have to end?” “I… There’s so much you don’t understand—” “What’s to understand? We’re husband and wife!” She rushed into his arms. Laughing, sobbing into his chest. “We’re husband and wife.” He lifted her chin until her gaze met his. “Listen to me—” She pulled gently on his neck until he lowered his head to kiss her. Her full lips were soft and pliant under his. He dipped his tongue into her warm, sweet mouth, savoring her flavor. He dragged her against him until her soft curves were snug against his hard planes, until his rigid cock—housed in a loose-fitting

pair of satin boxer shorts—was pressed against her soft stomach. He eagerly drank from her, exploring, demanding until he felt her weight dropping as her knees buckled. Then he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Lowering her onto the satin sheets, he was overcome with her beauty and with the willingness she showed to give all she was and all she had to him. Her lips slightly parted, she sighed and whispered, “Malcolm, take me. Make me yours. Forever. That’s the only magic that I care about. The magic I find in your arms. The spell you cast with your eyes. The enchantment you stir with your touch.” He kissed her deeply, his breathing matching hers, and nearly drowned in the depth of his need. She seemed equally overcome. Her arms trembled as she lifted them to his shoulders. Her eyes pleaded with him, begged for more, long before she whispered, “Please, make love to me now.” Not able to wait another second to see her, to feel her satinsmooth skin brushing against his, to fill his senses with the scent of her arousal, he ripped at the delicate fabric covering her. She gave a soft mewl when he reached between her legs and stroked her cream-slicked pussy, slowly rocking her hips forward and back in a rhythm that nearly drove him crazy with desire. Anxious to become one with her, he jerked his shorts down and kicked them off then settled on his knees between her legs. He

couldn’t hold off for even a second, not a single heartbeat. He knew he was going too fast, knew he owed her a million more kisses and touches, but he was sure if he wasn’t inside her right then he’d perish. He uttered a soft apology, lifted her knees and drove inside her, burying himself to the hilt. Her slick, warm walls gripped him tightly, nearly driving him to completion after a second stroke. He leaned over her, changing the angle of his thrusts, kissed each closed eyelid before slanting his mouth over hers. Unlike the last two nights, this time she became the aggressor. Her tongue pushed between his lips and twisted in his mouth. He felt the deep rumble of his groan in his chest. Their mouths joined, their bodies moving in a common rhythm, he was overcome with the intensity of their combined energies. It charged through his system like a nuclear explosion, sending waves of scorching fire out from his center. It was all he could do to stop himself from giving in to the release he sensed was only a heartbeat away. As if she knew how close he was to losing control, she stilled beneath him and pressed her palms to his cheeks. “Malcolm,” she whispered. “Look at me.” He opened his eyes and found such profound love in hers he could barely hold her gaze. He couldn’t let her say the words. No matter what. “Yes, Rory?” She gave him a watery smile, her eyes damp with unshed tears. “Will you tell me now? Why you left so suddenly?” “It’s no real mystery. Do you remember the conversation we had the last night we spent together at college?” She tried to remember but couldn’t. She recalled being in her

dorm room, lying in his arms after making love and being happy. “No. I don’t remember what we talked about.” “We talked about what we wanted for the future. I was trying to find a way to tell you about the school, to tell you I’d be gone for a while. To tell you about my calling, about the magic. But then you told me you wanted marriage, children. You needed security, stability, for every minute of every day to be predictable.” “I did?” “Yes. And I knew it would be impossible for me to give you that. I can’t promise you that now, which is why—” His sentence was cut off by a brilliant flash and crack of thunder. In the next instant, the room was filled with smelly green-tinted smoke, and Adramelech was standing next to the bed, looking bored. “I see you’ve spent your time wisely,” it said. Rory screeched and ducked her head under Malcolm’s shoulder. “What’s that strange man doing in here? Is he another magician?” “No, love. I was trying to tell you.” Malcolm slowly withdrew his cock from her then caught her face between his hands. A strand of her hair wound around his thumb. “I have to go now. That…man as you called him…is my master. I won’t be able to return. I…have to do something now. I’m sorry. I’m very, very sorry.” He reached for the can of ash sitting on the nightstand, hoping to begin the spell to erase her memory. “What the fuck? You can’t leave me now. No!” She pounded on

his chest with her tiny fists. “No! Not again!” She landed a punch on his upper arm just as he reached for the ash. His arm jerked, knocking the ash over. The silver canister fell to the floor with a clatter. “Dammit,” Malcolm cursed. This wasn’t going the way he’d hoped. He’d hoped to make love to her, say his goodbye and then cast the final spell while she was sleepy, contented. “What’s wrong, lover boy? Couldn’t get the little lady to say the words?” the demon taunted as it kicked the ash across the floor. “Fuck you!” Malcolm cursed. “What words?” Rory said, jerking the coverlet over her upper body. “What’s going on?” “Three little words. That’s all it would take,” the demon singsonged. “What words?” Rory shouted, her gaze searching Malcolm’s. She pulled on his shoulder. “Please, Malcolm. I trusted you. Now you must trust me! What words.” “Iiiii…” said the demon. “I?” Rory repeated. “Don’t listen to it. It’s a deceiver. A liar.” “Lllllllluuuuuu…” the demon continued. “Luh?” Rory echoed the demon. “Luh? What’s that mean?” “Oh, for crying out loud!” the demon yelled. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“What? What?” Rory yelled back. “Dammit, you two are pissing me off. So I’m not with this magic stuff! Give a girl a break!” “Listen,” Malcolm pleaded. He could feel the last of his strength draining away. He couldn’t summon the canister with magic. He couldn’t cast the amnesia spell. Dammit! She was going to remember this. Probably for the rest of her life. “I don’t. Want. You. To. Seeee…” he forced out. It was getting hard to breathe. To speak. He rolled to the side to let her move out from under him. “Go.” “Ticktock, ticktock. Time’s running out,” the demon said gaily. It pointed a finger at Malcolm and smiled. “Ding, ding—” “Malcolm, I love you. More than anything in the world. I love you.” Rory threw herself on top of him. “No,” Malcolm whispered. “Aw man!” the demon said. “That’s what I get for giving a hint.” A faint golden light rose from Rory’s body and swirled above him. The air around them crackled and warmed. Slowly, the warmth seeped inside and spread down his 63 chest, stomach, legs. His strength returned. The light returned. He was alive! Alive and well. The pain was gone. He was strong. He was miserable. Rory loved him. She’d given her love willingly and freed him. And what would she get in return? More heartache. The

amnesia spell wouldn’t work now. Not after their souls had joined. He sighed. “I didn’t want you to—” She interrupted him by pressing an index finger to his mouth and impaling herself on his erect cock. “I love you. I can’t live another day without you. To hell with that guy.” “Dammit.” He caught her hips and eased her off him. “I didn’t want this. I mean, I kind of did in the beginning. The pain. I was desperate. But I changed my mind. I knew I couldn’t go through with it. I wanted to make you happy for one more night. And then I was going to wipe away your memories.” “Why?” She sat beside him, pulled the coverlet up and wrapped it around her shoulders. “What just happened here?” “I got screwed, that’s what happened,” the demon said. “Now, the party’s over, and you people are boring me.” With a puff of sulfurous gas, it was gone. The small scrap of copper fell to the floor. “Who was that?” Rory asked, sounding bewildered. “Not who. What. It was a demon. A demon another mage summoned from the Underworld accidentally during a spell. I tried to temporarily bind it, but failed. And it claimed my soul as the price. To gain my soul back, I needed to find someone who could love me selflessly.” “And that’s why you came back to me? After all this time?” He felt like the shit he was. He nodded. “And now what?” she whispered.

“But I decided not to go through with it—” “No, now what?” she repeated firmly. “Are you leaving? No, don’t answer that. Tell me. Do you love me? Truly? Or was that a lie, what you said last night?” “Yes, I love you. More than anything. You make me whole. You make me the man I was meant to be. I’ve known that for a very long time but that’s why I stayed away. I love you too much to make you live with this…danger. Chaos. Evil. It’s not right. My life is about as predictable as Michigan’s winter weather.” “I don’t care. I’ve had enough of predictability. It’s highly overrated. Despite the way it started, my marriage was predictable, my husband was predictable. But my life was dull, empty. Stability didn’t make me happy. You make me happy. Thank you for coming back to me, even if it took years.” His heart swelled at her sweet words. “Goddess help me, but now I know there’s no way I could’ve stayed away forever. If it had taken an eternity, I would’ve come back.” “Just promise me one thing,” she said, gently stroking his temple. “We can live the craziest life in the world—full of surprises, magic and fantasies and dark, evil forces— but tell me you won’t ever leave me again, no matter what.” “That’s a promise I will never break again.” “And what about that demon? Anything we can do about him?” “Together? Who knows what we could do.” He picked up the copper plate and fingered it thoughtfully. “But we’ll worry about

that, and this…tomorrow.” He lifted the piece of metal to illustrate. “What is that?” “Something that needs to be put in a safe place so it can’t end up in the wrong hands again.” “What will you do with it?” “I’m not sure. I don’t want to think about it right now. There’s only one thing on my mind at the moment. And it isn’t this crummy hunk of metal.” He dropped it in the nightstand drawer and turned back to give Rory a warm smile. He had a woman to love. A woman who’d risked so much to give him everything. He had a lifetime of gratitude to show her. He gathered her to him and held her close as together they rocked their way to bliss and beyond. Two hearts, two minds, two spirits bound together for all time. About the Author

Nothing exciting happens in Tawny Taylor’s life, unless you count giving the cat a flea dip—a cat can make some fascinating sounds when immersed chin-deep in insecticide—or chasing after a houseful of upchucking kids during flu season. She doesn’t travel the world or employ a staff of personal servants. She’s not even built like a runway model. She’s just your run-ofthe-mill, pleasantly plump Detroit suburban mom and wife.

That’s why she writes, for the sheer joy of it. She doesn’t need to escape, mind you. Despite being run-of-the-mill, her life is wonderful. She just likes to add some...zip. Her heroines might resemble herself, or her next door neighbor (sorry Sue) but they are sure to be memorable (she hopes!). And her heroes—inspired by movie stars, her favorite television actors or her husband—are fully capable of delivering one hot happily-ever-after after another. Combined, the characters and plots she weaves bring countless hours of enjoyment to Tawny...and she hopes to readers too! In the end, that’s all the matters to Tawny, bringing a little bit of zip to someone else’s life.

Tawny welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora‘s Cave Publishing at 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.

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Ellora’s Cavemen: Tales From the Temple IV anthology Immortal Secrets 1: Dragons and Dungeons Immortal Secrets 2: Light My Fire Lessons in Lust Major Passion In A Pear Tree Private Games Sexual Healing Tempting Fate Wet and Wilde Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless. www.ellorascave.com