Bewitch Me - A Halloween Collection (5 page)

She hadn’t planned on attending the party, but temptation was curling around her.

Tom asked me to dance.

This morning, she was sure she could never handle it, but the lure was strong, and the thought of being held hostage by her newly awakened powers was aggravating.

She could handle a party, for a few minutes at least. A couple of glasses of cider, a few minutes to chat with the parents of the students that lived in her neighborhood…

A chance to have Tom Owens wrap those strong arms around me.

Swallowing nervously, Cass reached for a pair of jeans and a soft sweater.

She could do this.

Fifteen minutes later, Cass hesitantly approached the revelry down the block. She was relieved when ten-year-old Susie Pratt rushed forward to tug her toward the refreshments table to show off the blobby cookies she had made herself. Cass had always felt more comfortable around children than adults, and praised the little girl for her efforts. She glanced around – the party was in full swing, with a band playing music for couples swirling around the dance floor, Halloween games and pumpkin carving stations, and enough food and drink to feed an army.

Cass spotted Tom by the pumpkin table, lighting the jack-o’-lanterns and putting them on display as the children finished them.  As usual, he looked good enough to eat, and apparently she wasn’t the only one who thought so – Viola Perkins was sticking to him like a barnacle in tight purple leggings, her manicured nails stroking the soft leather of his jacket. To his credit, Tom didn’t seem terribly interested in taking her up on her blatant invitation, and Cass took a few deep breaths, relieved when the surge of magic churning in her belly settled down again. Susie tugged on her jacket and handed her a cup of cider.

“Thank you, Susie.” She smiled at the little girl and took in the party around her, content to stand on the edge and drink it all in. Reminding Tom that he’d asked her to dance was too much, even though she was dying to be in Viola’s place, petting the hard muscles underneath that jacket. Maybe in a few minutes she’d work up the courage to go say hi. Maybe.

IT TOOK TOM TEN minutes of advanced evasive maneuvers, but he finally managed to get rid of Viola Perkins. The woman was determined, and while at one point Tom had been flattered by her eagerness to get into his pants, she couldn’t take a hint. Besides, where Viola was all aggressive attitude with a side of man-eater ruthlessness, Cass was gentle seduction, heady and addictive. Tom knew without a doubt which one he preferred.

He’d spotted Cass the minute she showed up, hovering by the refreshments with little Susie Pratt, too nervous to go say hi to the other neighbors. One or two approached to strike up a conversation, and she always seemed pleased but a little surprised, making hesitant small talk and basking in the unexpected attention. Tom had deflected Viola by pointing her in the direction of Bill Hoss, a widowed contractor. Hopefully the divorcée would decide to sink her claws into a new target.

Tom couldn’t help the jolt of anticipation as he sidled up next to Cass.

“Hey.”

She gasped and started, and he reached out to steady her, taking her hand. She must have bumped the table, because a dozen brownies tumbled to the ground, seeming to leap off their place on the platter.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s okay. I’m just a little jumpy.”

He hadn’t let go of her hand, and watched with interest as a fine pulse beat in her throat and a blush crept into her cheeks when he rubbed a slow circle into her palm with his thumb. He liked that she responded to such a simple touch. He like that a lot.

“Those look great.” She waved her free hand at the jack-o’-lanterns.

“Thanks. The kids did a great job. But now my duties as the King of Pumpkin Town are finished, and I’m hoping you’ll take me up on that dance.”

He felt the nervous tension in her hand, but the flare of heat in her eyes was going to incinerate him, and he let out a breath as sooty lashes dropped down over those blue pools of fire.

“I should probably go – ”

She tugged gently, but he didn’t release her hand. Instead, he edged them toward the dance floor, where the band had struck up something slow and sweet, perfect for sweethearts. The floor was crowded with couples who turned curious glances in their direction. Tom saw Cass tense up and sensed impending flight, and impulsively wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close.

She was stiff in his arms, uncertain, holding herself away, her eyes on the neighbors that watched with unabashed interest.

 “One dance, Cass. That’s all,” Tom coaxed, arousal dropping his voice to a deep rumble.

Her eyes flickering up to his, she nodded abruptly and cautiously let herself relax into his hold, her hands gripping his shoulders.

Heaven.
He nearly groaned at the feeling of her pressed against him, soft and hot, the sweet curve of her waist incredible under his hands as they gently swayed to the music.

“Put your arms around my neck.” He felt like a king when her slender arms hesitantly crept up to do as he asked, and the new position pulled them even closer together, her breasts pressed against him, her hot breath gusting against the hollow of his throat.

Tom knew the moment she registered his swollen cock nudging against her stomach through his jeans. She stiffened, and her startled gaze flew up to his.
Crap.

He quirked a wry smile.

“Ignore that. He has a mind of own. Sorry. “

He started to pull back, but suddenly, she surprised him by tightening her arms around his neck and pressing herself even closer. Their breaths mingled in the cold night air.

“Cass—”

“Shhh...”

And she floored him again with the lightest tentative brush of her lips against his before she buried her face in his jacket.

And so they swayed on the edge of the dark, pressed as tightly together as their clothes would allow, Tom’s mouth against her hair, stroking the small of her back where her sweater rode up, his cock cuddled against her softness like it belonged there.

Tom was caught up in the music, the moment, and the spicy scent of Cass that enveloped them. She smelled like apples and cinnamon, welcoming and exotic at the same time. He would happily drown in her scent, and his mouth watered, wondering if she tasted as good as she smelled.

He dragged his eyes open as the song began to wind down, and frowned.

“Huh. That’s weird.”

CASS DRIFTED IN A sensual fog, reluctant to leave her comfortable position against the hard plane of Tom’s chest. She felt a little drunk, glowy and sparkly from the inside out, her nerve endings overloading on sensation and the still unfamiliar rush of magic in her blood. She couldn’t believe she’d been brave enough to ever get this close to Tom.
To kiss him
. Now she had firsthand knowledge of how good all those delicious muscles felt crushed against her breasts, the heat of his body, and the clean smell of his soap mixed with something uniquely his, and all she wanted was more and more and more.

And his cock, large and thick under the denim of his jeans. Hard.
For her.
That was a mindboggling revelation in and of itself. She’d yielded to impulse and the results were surprisingly wonderful. Cass wasn’t sure what to do with all the new sensory information, but a greedy inner voice suggested she examine it more closely. Preferably when both of them were naked.

Cass forced herself to focus.

“What’s weird?”

“The air. It’s…sparkling.”

Cass’ eyes flew open.

The music had stopped, and the puzzled neighbors murmured to each other in wonder as sparkle trails playfully swirled around, whipping through hair and curling around the bemused partygoers. The fiddler futilely swatted at one swirl with his bow and the children jumped up and down, trying to catch the glowing sparks.

“It’s not fireflies – what
is
that?”

“Pollen or something.” Cass tried to shrug it off, dying inside.

“It doesn’t look like pollen. It looks like…I don’t know, pixie dust?”

“Probably just some teens playing a prank.”

Apparently Cass’ grip on her powers still needed some work. She groaned and pulled away from Tom, chastising herself for her lack of self-control.

You can’t even handle five minutes of human contact,
she scolded herself. Granted, those five minutes were spent pressed up against Tom Owens’ warm, hard,
tempting
form. Witch or not, no red-blooded female could be faulted for a lapse in self-control under those circumstances. The man had her hot and aching with no more than a smile and the caress of his fingers against the small of her back.

An answering sparkly swirl stroked the curve of his jaw and Tom jerked back, unnerved.

Cass scowled at the happy sparkle trail. She was pathetic.

“I have to go.”

“Wait, don’t – ”

“I’ve got things to do.”

As she turned to go, Viola plowed through the crowd and launched herself into Tom’s arms.

“Oh Tom, what is it? Do you think it’s dangerous?”

Cass tamped down on the urge to gag as the voluptuous bitch cuddled close, her breasts spilling out of a tight top. She took some solace in the fact that Tom didn’t put an arm around her, but only patted her shoulder soothingly. Still, it was only a matter of time before Viola wore him down. He was a guy and therefore not immune to breasts, and Viola was clearly unafraid to go after what she wanted. Plus, there was no chance that she would accidentally transform him into something unsavory.

The thought of the two of them entwined brought a wave of depression that had one positive result – the joyous sparks swirled one last time, and then twinkled out of existence, leaving the neighbors even more baffled than before.

Cass breathed a sigh of relief.

After some confused chatter, the music started up again, and Viola immediately wrapped Tom’s arms around her.

“You owe me a dance, Mister.”

Cass rolled her eyes and hurried away, ignoring Tom’s “Wait, Cass – ”

She headed back down the street toward her house, which suddenly looked very lonely in the dark at the end of the block.

Cass shivered, feeling dejected.

It was going to be a long, cold night.

TOM STARED AT HIS prize pumpkins in the weak morning light. It didn’t look good. The pumpkins were his pride and joy, his own crafted vines, lovingly tended for months in preparation for competition at the festival. They were round and orange and monstrous, just as they should be, but the sharp bite of cold that swooped in overnight threatened to undo all his hard work. Grim, he started tucking blankets around his babies, the best he could do at the moment.

It had been a rough night. After Cass had fled, Tom had spent fifteen minutes trying to dodge Viola’s clutches.
The woman was like an octopus.
Then he’d hurried over to Cass’ house and spent another ten minutes knocking on the door, coaxing her to talk to him, to no avail. Confused and wondering what he’d done to spook her, Tom had given up and headed home, only to have his sleep ruined by dreams of Cass, a hundred times worse now that he’d gotten close enough to touch her, to breathe in her cinnamon scent. The vivid vision of taking her from behind, her ass titled to take his thrusts, the softness of her hair in one tight fist, and her cries of pleasure as he fucked her slow and deep had him waking with a shout, his climax rushing out to coat his abdomen and chest.

So much for sleep. At dawn, Tom had given up on any pretense and bundled up to check on his prized gourds, dismayed at the impending disaster and the icicles hanging from the roof. It wasn’t supposed to be this cold in October. Ever. Steeling himself against an icy blast of wind, Tom reached for another blanket.

“Tom?”

The gentle voice sent a lick of heat up his spine, and he straightened to see Cass surrounded by a throng of eight-year-olds. The relief and frustration that swamped him in equal measure left him dizzy. He stomped across the pumpkin patch, eyes narrowing as she took an involuntary step back.

“You said it was okay to bring the kids by to pick out their pumpkins?”

“Sure.” He couldn’t help the gruffness in his voice. She was tying him in knots whether she meant to or not, and it took everything in his power not to reach for her.

Relief flickered across her face.

“Alright kids, go choose your pumpkin. Carefully.”                                                                                           

Squeals of delight filled the cold air as the kids scampered off in search of the perfect gourd.

Cass still hadn’t looked him in the face. Tom tugged off a glove and tucked a knuckle underneath her chin, tilting her eyes up to his, savoring her quick intake of breath.

“You ran off last night.”

“I was cold.”

“You should have stuck around. I could have warmed you up.”

“You looked a little busy with Viola.”

Tom stroked her cheek. Soft as silk under the pads of his fingers.