Bewitch Me - A Halloween Collection (9 page)

It had Trent having guilty second thoughts about his practical arrangement with Nicole.

And then Trent found out what she really was.

And that’s when the trouble began.

He’d been checking the mail that night when the glass front door opened.

Lucky dress.

He’d only seen her in jeans before, but Isabella dressed to kill was something else, and the simple black sheath that lovingly clung to her curves seemed unbearably exotic. Trent smiled.

“Hot date?”

“Gallery fundraiser. All those stuffy people with too much money and not enough taste, complimenting me on the ‘importance’ of my work. Blech.”

She rolled her eyes, opening the little mailbox and extracting a pile of envelopes.

“And they never feed you anything edible. I’m going to go upstairs, climb into my PJs, and eat an entire pizza.”

Isabella rifled absently through the envelopes, stopping on a fat, purple letter.

“Oh crap,” she said, as the thing started to vibrate.

“What’s the matter?” asked Trent.

Isabella dove for the elevator button, trying to hide the bouncing purple envelope.

“Nothing. Fucking elevator. Come on!”

Suddenly, the letter surged out of her hands in a shower of sparks, nearly taking Trent’s head off as it zoomed by.

“Get down!” shouted Isabella, pushing him to the ground, as –

WHOOSH!

The letter exploded in a rush, and the lobby was suddenly festooned with flowers, sparklers, hundreds of balloons, and even little glowing butterflies that dropped glitter like rain.

Trent pulled himself to his feet, his jaw slack, his entire body covered in glitter.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Just my Aunt Minnie’s way of saying congrats on the new digs. It’s touch activated. She doesn’t understand human things like lobby mailboxes. I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

But Trent stumbled back when she tried to brush the glitter from his sleeve.

“What the fuck are you?”

He was shaken and shocked, but the hurt in her eyes still made him feel like a heel.

“I’m a witch,” she said quietly.

The elevator pinged open.

“Don’t worry about all this,” she continued, expressionless, “It’ll dissipate by morning.”

And she stepped into the elevator and disappeared.

Three weeks later, Trent was still finding glitter in intimate places, though the lobby was magically pristine the next morning. He’d avoided Isabella ever since, but they lived across the hall from each other, which made that somewhat impossible. Trent couldn’t stop thinking about her, worrying about what crazed witchy thing she was going to spring on him next, plagued with thoughts of broomsticks and toadstools.

But…his blood heated whenever he caught a glimpse of her, and two days ago, he headed out for a jog just in time to see her opening the door to find the paper, dressed only in a tight cami and worn little shorts. By the time he reached the elevator, Trent was hard as a rock.

And it wouldn’t go away.

How was a man supposed to concentrate on work, pre-nups, and marriage when he was basically a walking hard-on?  It was all
her
fault. She’d obviously cast some sort of spell on him, maybe as punishment for him looking so horrified when she announced that she was an unnatural mistake of Nature. OK, that was harsh, but the only images he had of witches were creepy, vindictive, and fictional. And now he could add crazed glitter bombers to his list of characteristics, but whatever.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He couldn’t sleep. His only moments of relief came when he caved to the urge to jerk off to images of sinking between her thighs, into her mouth, or her hand. Dropping his jacket and mail on the front table in his apartment, Trent looked down at the bulge in his pants and frowned. This couldn’t go on.

She has to make it stop.

Before he even realized it, he was out the door and across the hall, knocking firmly. He winced at the sight of the doormat that read, “Life’s a Witch,” and looked down the hallway, anxious. Trent had left his jacket inside, and the last thing he needed was one of the neighbors to see him sporting enough wood to build a log cabin. Trent frowned at the softly lit hallway.

When you marry Nicole, you’ll have to move.

It had occurred to him before, but now that it was imminent, the idea left a sour taste in his mouth. But there was no way Nicole would agree to live in a building like this. Trent was surprised at how sad that thought made him. He’d always appreciated its warmth and character.

The door opened, and Isabella’s eyes widened at the sight of him.

Trent scowled. She was in another cami and a pair of sleep shorts, no bra. His cock jerked.

“Do you always answer the door half-dressed?”

She started to answer, and then noticed his big, throbbing problem.

“Yeah,” he growled, “You’re going to take care of that.

ISABELLA FLASHED HOT AND cold, confronted with a large, pissed off,
hugely aroused
Trent Langley standing in her doorway, determined to make her –

“What?”

Trent pushed past her and closed the door behind them.

“Whatever you did, undo it.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

Trent pointed to the bulge in his pants.

“This is not normal.”

“Is it…bigger…than usual, or something?” Isabella ventured, unclear what the problem was.

It looks fine to me. SO fine.

“It’s the same size it always is,” Trent gritted out, “The problem is – ”

He stopped abruptly as Inkblot the black cat twined himself around Isabella’s ankles, keeping a wary eye on the intruder. Trent backed up a step.

“Just a cat,” she promised him, trying not to laugh, “Familiars are too high maintenance for me. They need lots of attention.”

She picked him up for a cuddle, and felt a curl of heat as Trent’s eyes lingered on the creature snuggled against her breasts.

Don’t forget, he thinks you’re a monster, Isabella.

Isabella sighed.

“What exactly can I do for you, Mr. Langley?”

“I’ve been hard for two days,” he growled, “I can’t stop thinking about you, and when I jerk off, I’m hard again in seconds.
Seconds.
It isn’t natural. So, whatever hex you cast, stop it right now.”

Isabella put Inkblot down to glare at her neighbor.

“Oh, you think just because I’m a witch, I go around hexing people who act like bigoted jerks? I wish!”

“Lady, I am not fooling around! My engagement is about to go through, and you’re not going to ruin it with your witchy sex games. I don’t want to think about you, naked or clothed or at all.”

“Go through? Like a merger? How totally romantic. For your information, I haven’t cast a hex on anyone in years.  So whatever you’ve got going on down there is all on you.”

She poked him in the chest.

“And I can’t help it if you’re thinking about me all the time. Maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you that you shouldn’t be treating marriage like a business deal. And for your information, you may be hot, but I actively avoid men who think I’m a freak.”

“Then maybe your subconscious can’t keep its hands off me,” he retorted.

“That’s ridiculous,” snapped Isabella.

But she froze.

“Totally ridiculous,” she repeated, weakly.

“Isabella – ”

His tone was warning.

“Hang on, let me check something. Aunt Minnie!”

Trent edged closer to her as magic suddenly swirled around the room.

“Aunt Minnie? The glitter bomber?”

“Trust me, if anyone will know what’s going on, it’s Aunt Minnie. She’s nutty as a fruitcake, but she knows
everything
there is to know about magic.”

Trent sniffed her hair.

“Why do you smell like ginger cookies and dirt?”

“It’s sculpting clay, you idiot. And I was baking earlier.”

Trent sniffed again, this time nuzzling his nose into her hair, his warm breath making her toes curl.

“Incredible,” he murmured, and Isabella had to force herself to step away.

He wasn’t kidding about uncontrollable attraction.

“Aunt Minnie!”

“No need to shout, dear,” said Aunt Minnie, popping into the kitchen and calmly reaching for a teacup, “I heard you the first time.”

Trent eyed the plump little woman suspiciously, but Isabella hurried forward to kiss her on the cheek. Aunt Minnie eyed Isabella up and down.

“Is this what the girls are wearing these days? In my time it was all corsets. But you’ve got your mother’s hourglass figure, dear. Lucky girl. You should visit more often.”

“Aunt Minnie, this is Trent.”

She grabbed his hand and dragged him forward. Trent shuffled uncomfortably beside Isabella as Aunt Minnie gravely inspected him, lingering on his package.

“My, my. What seems to be the problem?”

Isabella rolled her eyes.

“Is it possible that I hexed him with an undying attraction to me without knowing it?”

“Darling, hexing has never been your strong suit,” Aunt Minnie calmly poured herself a cup of tea out of thin air, “But you’re a magical being, darling. And you’ve been working so hard lately. Perhaps all that pent-up sexual energy manifested itself accordingly on the nearest suitable partner. Put plainly, you wanted each other badly enough, and so, BAM.”

Her eyes twinkled as Isabella blushed.

“How do I stop it?”

“You can’t undo a spell that doesn’t exist, Isabella. If it’s just sexual withdrawal, the cure should be easy. You’re two consenting adults. Burn it out.”

Isabella gasped as Trent frowned.

“We can’t do that!” said Isabella, though her pussy was pulsing at the thought.

Trent was frozen next to her.

Aunt Minnie shrugged.

“I have to rush, dear. It’s my poker night.”

She blew Isabella a kiss and popped out.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Isabella couldn’t look at Trent as she exited the kitchen and flopped down on the couch to bury her face in her hands.

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Well, it is. We’re going to have to deal with it.”

Isabella glared at him.

“I don’t sleep with soon-to-be-engaged men.”

“And you are not what I want. As for Nicole…she wants something like an open marriage anyway. Believe me, it won’t be a problem.”

But Trent looked troubled.

Isabella pulled her legs up under her, considering the situation.

“We could…we could interact without touching? Maybe if I watched you?” said Isabella hesitantly, heat flooding her as Trent’s eyes darkened and he moved to join her on the opposite side of the couch.

“At this point, I’ll try anything,” he affirmed, his voice gruff.

Isabella found it hard to swallow as Trent’s hands went to the buckle of his belt. He slowly unhooked his trousers and eased the zipper down over the turgid bulge. She held her breath as he eased his cock out – flushed dark, the head was a wide mushroom, the veined shaft engorged and rigid. He was big and male and so much more than Isabella expected. Her fingers itched to touch him.

God, I’d love to sculpt him
, she thought, the naughty idea of recreating that glorious cock in bronze for her personal collection a heady thought.

Trent started stroking, his face tight, his breathing labored.

“Raise your shirt,” he ordered.

“What?”

“I want to see your breasts. I can get off at home on my own. The point of this insanity is to interact, right? Show me your tits, Isabella.”

The steel in his voice set off a riot of sensation, and Isabella was shocked. There wasn’t a submissive bone in her body, but there was something so
hot
about letting him call the shots. She wondered if she’d enjoy turning the tables.
Oh yeah.

Trent growled and Isabella hastily tugged her cami up over her breasts.

“Sweet,” breathed Trent, eyes on her nipples as his hips jerked with each thrust, “Just like I pictured. Play with them, sweetheart.”

Feeling epically naughty, Isabella cupped her breasts, kneading, watching the incredible play of lust in his brown eyes as he pleasured himself. She rolled her nipples, pinching lightly, feeling an echo in the hot folds between her thighs. Just watching him, she was soaked.