Charmed

Chapter One

“Mm… That feels delicious,” Chloe purred, opening her legs wider. Someone was performing some fantastic tricks with his tongue. So much so that her toes curled and her hands clenched in his silky hair. He must have liked her reaction because his tongue swept unmercifully across her pussy lips then plunged deeply into her heated channel.

“Oh jumping Jehoshaphat!” Chloe yelped. “I’m almost there, please don’t stop!” And he didn’t. Instead he added a finger to his arsenal. He stroked her clit as his tongue plunged in and out of her pussy.

“Oh yes, yes, that’s it! Give it to me, daddy!” Millions of stars, not just from the predawn light, blinded Chloe’s vision as the beginnings of her orgasm ripped through her. Unabashedly she screamed her release then yelped when she felt a sharp prick on the inside of her thigh.

What the fuck! Did he just bite me?

Her dreams were definitely getting kinkier and kinkier! Oh well, whatever he’d done, she wanted him to do it again because her orgasm had just kicked up ten notches as he sucked on her inner thigh.

While she struggled to regain her senses, she distinctly heard the telltale crinkle of foil. As her body continued to pulse from her orgasm, she felt her lover slide his way up her body and position himself between her quivering thighs.

“Do you want more?” he asked, whispering huskily in her ear. As if trying to coax the right answer out of her, he moved his hand, which had been stroking her pussy, and exchanged it with the head of his cock. Cock indeed! It felt more like a battering ram with its thick head and wide shaft.

“I don’t think you’re gonna fit,” Chloe panted when he slowly inserted the head of his cock inside her.

“I fit quite well four times last night,” he chuckled, working his way into her tight passage.

“Four times?” They’d had sex four times already! Where had she been when all this went down? But before Chloe could become more indignant on the matter, she almost choked when he plunged deep inside her, filling her. He was so thick and deep within her she just knew he was touching her womb, or was unbelievably close.

“Ah!” Chloe gasped, shuttering her eyes at the exquisite pain-pleasure he was inflicting on her. As his thrusts became more demanding, she eagerly met him thrust for thrust by lifting her hips from the bed.

“I love it when you throw your pussy back at me like that!” her lover groaned. “You would be the death of any mortal man,” he grunted, rising up on the palms of his hands. Now he could dig deeper into her. Sliding one of his arms under her thigh, he lifted her leg up and wide and thrust even deeper into her now quivering flesh.

Chloe opened her eyes and looked into the face of her dream lover and the breath caught in her throat. She knew she had a great imagination but she’d really gone overboard with this one.

Not only was he white with a delicious British accent but he was drop-dead gorgeous to boot!

Never in her thirty-four years had she dreamed up a lover outside her own race. Most of her dreams featured deep chocolate-brown hunks with pretty skin and even prettier white teeth.

But she had to admit she hadn’t done badly with this one. He had impossibly wide shoulders, which tapered down to washboard abs with to-die-for v-cuts. His jet-black hair curled softly to the nape of his neck. A strong jawline, aquiline nose and sparkling green eyes the color of fresh spring leaves completed the picture.

He was manly perfection personified.

It was amazing what a few days of vacation could do for the mind and body! Two weeks ago, she’d closed on the last house in a hundred-unit subdivision she’d been brokering for the past seven months. In need of a long-overdue vacation, Chloe had decided to fly to Vegas a week ago for some relaxation and fun.

Well, whatever it was, she just hoped her dream didn’t end anytime soon because not only was he one of the best-looking men she’d ever dreamed up but he was working it.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked. If Chloe weren’t so besotted by the rotation of his hips against her pelvis, she would have thought he sounded insecure. When did dreams start acquiring insecurities?

“Ungh-hungh,” she gasped, nodding her head.

Oh my lamb!
He was really working his cock now. It took Chloe several attempts to form a coherent sentence. “B-b-but I especially like what you are doing to me.” Wanting him even deeper, she shifted her position lower onto the mattress then wrapped her legs around his hips.

“Oh…yes…love…hold me tight. Just like that. Your pussy is so hot and wet,” he hissed. Grabbing hold of the headboard, he quickened his pace so that his balls were now slapping against her ass.

“Oh…oh…oh,” she panted. “Please don’t wake up, Chloe girl, this dream can’t end now!”

“Mrs. Smythe, I assure you it won’t,” her lover growled, nipping at her puckered nipples. “As long as you want me, this will never end.”

Mrs. Smythe?
Oh no, he didn’t! Dream or not, he wasn’t going to call her another woman’s name. Pushing on his shoulders, Chloe tried to sit up. But his hard body wouldn’t budge and although he wasn’t driving into her at such a voracious pace as before, he didn’t stop.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to kiss her lips.

“You just called me another woman’s name,” Chloe huffed, trying to wiggle away from him, but his body kept her trapped under him even when he began to shake with laughter.

“Oh, you are a delight! I knew you were the one to spend the rest of my life with,” he drawled, his clipped British accent bringing goose bumps to her skin. Or was it the fact that his long strokes had slowed to an exquisitely slow pace?

Chloe closed her eyes in ecstasy. For some reason, she suddenly didn’t mind if he called her Priscilla, Queen of the jungle, as long as he didn’t stop. This man had the wickedest hip fluctuations.

“I…know…exactly…what…your…name…is,” he punctuated every word with a kiss to her lips and a thrust of his hips. “It’s Mrs. Chloe Smythe. You’re my wife.”

“Yeah, right, and your name is Count Vladimir Dracul and I’m the queen of the damned,” Chloe chuckled, egging him on.

Whatever turned him on was fine with her as long as she was able to come…and she was almost there
again
as she felt the heat slowly beginning to build in her belly.

“Well, no, my name is Tristan Smythe. Count Vladimir was a lonely bastard who didn’t deserve the notoriety he received and, yes, you are a queen of sorts and I don’t think my people are damned.”

Chloe’s eyes shot open. Why did he have to ruin her dream and her impending orgasm with this foolishness?

“Whoa, whoa, partner,” Chloe huffed. Taking him by surprise, she bucked her hips and successfully pushed him off her. She then rolled out of bed, pulling the sheet with her.

“Okay, now it’s time for this dream to end.” Chloe closed her eyes then pinched her arm. When she opened her eyes again, her gorgeous lover was still lying stretched out on the bed. He was looking at her intently and with what looked a bit like worry.

“Why do you always keep referring to this as a dream? This is definitely real and we
were
married last night.” He validated his claim by lifting his left hand and wiggling his ring finger at her, a gold band winked back at her.

Without even having to look down, Chloe instinctively knew the weight on her left hand wasn’t her favorite aquamarine-and-diamond ring she wore on a daily basis. Unable to resist, she looked down at her hand.

“Damn!” Chloe couldn’t believe the size of the yellow diamond, the size of a lima bean, sitting on her ring finger. Grabbing hold of the back of the nearest chair, she was suddenly seized with a bout of nausea.

“Oh God, what have I done?” she groaned, beginning to falter backward.

“The ancients say that temporary memory loss usually occurs during the transition,” Tristan informed her matter-of-factly. He removed the condom then rose gracefully from the bed with blissful disregard to his own nudity.

Although he reached to steady her, Chloe snatched her arm away from him. That sent her stumbling toward the wall of windows that looked out onto the Las Vegas strip.

Unmindful of the thirty-floor drop below, Chloe fought down the urge to hurl as the events of the past week flashed before her eyes.

She remembered how she and her best friend Shirley had flown out to Las Vegas to celebrate her selling out Metro Park West the week before and the subsequent six-figure commission that came with the final closing.

She also remembered checking into the luxurious Kensington. Covering over five city blocks, the hotel featured miniature-size versions of well-known British landmarks.

One of the hotel’s four restaurants was housed in a half-acre park with live trees reminiscent of Hyde Park. The Big Ben was home to a traditional English pub. Replicas of the London Eye and Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum provided guests with in-house entertainment. And the lobby was surrounded by the River Thames.

“Oh God, what have I done?” Chloe whispered as she remembered that fateful night a week ago.

She and Shirley had only been in the hotel for a few hours when she’d met Tristan Smythe, the sole proprietor of The Kensington. She couldn’t believe her luck when she’d met the handsome owner of the newest and most popular hotel on the strip at the five-dollar roulette table at the casino.

When she sat down across from him, they’d exchanged polite smiles but she couldn’t help feeling that he was watching her. And she was correct because he’d eventually moved several seats over to sit next to her and began flirting with her outrageously. Even going so far as to asking her out on a date, which she repeatedly refused, despite of his charms.

However, Chloe wasn’t entirely immune to his handsomeness, British accent and dry wit for her concentration had faltered on the gambling table. And she ended up losing five hundred of her hard-earned dollars.

Calling it a night before she lost any more money, she had been floored when he’d gathered his winnings as well and invited both her and Shirley back to his suite for a late-night supper. Unbeknownst to them, his suite consisted of the entire floor of his hotel.

From that day forward, he’d wined and dined her with his private chef. Upgraded their room to the Queen’s suite, treated them to Las Vegas shows and flown her to Lake Tahoe in his private helicopter.

This week had been so much of a whirlwind that she hadn’t known if she was coming or going. Two nights ago as they were having dinner in his penthouse, she hadn’t hesitated when he’d asked her to marry him. Before she knew it, the marriage license was procured. And she was standing in front of a minister in the hotel’s grand ballroom, pledging to love and obey him in sickness and in health “until death do us part”.

Turning to him, Chloe knew deep down she couldn’t have done any better if she’d been in her right mind. Yet this man was still a stranger and a fruitcake to boot with his silly talk of Count Vladimir and the ancients. She might be a plus-size girl but she wasn’t
that
desperate.

“We’re celebrating our honeymoon, aren’t we?” she asked. He nodded his head, yet he didn’t move toward her when she finally collapsed into the chair she was holding on to.

“Well, there is only one thing that we can do,” she announced, smiling at him brightly. Obviously he must have felt her smile was genuine because he returned it with one of his own.

Chloe’s heart skipped a beat at the effect it created on his already gorgeous features. Maybe she might have to rethink this marriage thing. It wouldn’t be so bad to wake up every morning to a beautiful man like him. And be put to bed by his delicious cock buried deep inside her every night.

Girl, get a grip! What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, as they say, and this farce of a marriage will definitely stay here.

“And what’s that, love? Are you about to suggest we get back in bed and try for a fifth round?” The smile that curved his lips offered such sinful promises she was hard-pressed not to tackle him where he stood and ride his cock to hell and back.

However, Chloe bolstered herself against his charms. She tightened the sheet around her and shook her head.

“No, that’s not going to happen
again
,” she stated firmly but lost a little of her resolve when she noticed the slight narrowing of his eyes.

“What I was going to say is that the only thing we can do at this moment is to get a divorce…” Chloe faltered a little in her brave speech because his face had become hard as stone. And he’d started to clench and unclench his fists. Undeterred, she continued. “As you’ve already stated, we’ve consummated our marriage several times. I’m pretty sure there are dozens of places right here in Las Vegas that can draw up the papers.”

“I am not giving you a divorce, Chloe. You’re talking nonsense. For you crave me as much as I crave you. The transition has caused you to forget what you felt for me before. Soon I will initiate the next phase and you will finally be one of us.”

The man was definitely insane! Here she had given him the easy way out and he’d refused. The idiot could have any woman he wanted and he wanted her—the pretty-faced fat girl.

All her life, Chloe had been told she had such a pretty face—if she’d only lose some of that weight. Little did anyone know that because of well-meaning compliments like that, it took her almost twenty years to come to love her plus-size figure and work with what she was born with.

Although she was a size fourteen, sometimes a sixteen depending on the time of the month, she was a
very
solid fourteen. What people referred to as a brick house. She was nicely proportioned with slim ankles, firm thighs toned from hundreds of squats and a well-rounded derriere. She also had ample hips, a flat stomach with a mild case of love handles and a pert 36D bust.

But even though she thought of herself as attractive, she knew she wasn’t attractive enough to pull and keep the attention of the man who was now her husband.

“What do you mean one of us?” Chloe asked, not understanding all of his mumbo jumbo. If he needed a wife to become a U.S. citizen, he could have paid for a more willing victim.