Warlock's Charm (5 page)

He settled his left hand on her hip and used his other hand
to activate his magic. With it he slowly opened each button on her shirt,
revealing her heaving breasts. He wanted to see her naked body in all of its
glorious wonder.

Damien needed them to be skin against skin. The friction she
was causing as she rubbed herself up against him was about to be his undoing.
Moving his hands from her hips, he dragged her blouse off her and threw it
across the room. Her lacy bra was now his only barrier against releasing her
beautiful breasts.

Anya was not a delicately built woman, though her size did
seem diminutive in comparison to his large frame. Her skirt was bunched up
around her waist and she wouldn’t need much coaxing to remove that garment from
her body.

He wanted to get her naked so he could kiss every inch and
crevice. He wanted to make slow, sweet love to her. Unfortunately, their first
reunion coupling wasn’t going to be slow—they both needed each other with such
urgency that it would be a rougher and faster coupling than what he would have
wanted for their first time back together.

Beggars, however, couldn’t be choosers.

Sighing heavily, she leaned down and smashed her lips
against his. The kiss was hot and sweet and made him wonder if she’d opened her
heart to him again or if she was just giving him one last taste of bliss before
she vanished from his life forever.

He knew that her decision to yield to him so quickly had to
come with a price—she thought she’d get him out of her system and make him think
she’d really come back to him to be his wife.

He knew her better than he knew himself. If only she’d come
to understand that and accept it. She railed against the inevitable. He would
never let her go no matter what he had to do in order to keep her.

He deepened the kiss and their tongues dueled as if they
were doing an ancient sword dance.

Anya fought for domination with him, and he’d always given
her what she wanted so she would feel like the one calling the shots in the
relationship. Perhaps he had to show her just how much she needed his touch—and
make her see how much she was addicted to him, just as he was addicted to her.

“I want you naked beneath me, Anya. I want to thrust my cock
deeply inside of you. I want to fuck you hard and fast and leave us both
shaking in the aftermath of our coupling.”

Her eyes lit with raw carnal hunger. His blunt language
aroused her, just as it always had. She reached for the fly to his trousers.

“I want that too, Damien. I think we should do this now
before my head regains control. I’m running purely on the emotions you arouse
within me. I want your thick glorious cock inside of me now. I don’t want to
wait for it. I don’t want to continue arguing about who is right and who is
wrong when I know that I am right and you are wrong. Let’s not haggle about it
any longer, let’s just give in to sweet temptation.”

He didn’t want to argue with her and if she wanted to cling
to the belief that she was right, who was he to challenge that?

His ancestors had acted like foul bastards but he didn’t
care about his family honor at all. At least not when it came to the Asher
Family line. They were true bastards, and she could think ill of them all she
liked.

If thinking of them as evil monsters made her sleep easily
at night than that was what she had to do.

He ran his hand up the inside of her thigh and touched her
mound. She was so wet her panties were drenched. He could only imagine the
countless nights she’d spent away from Vanguard wanting him the way he’d wanted
her.

He somehow managed to tug her underwear down her legs and
she helped him to kick them off. Her skirt was still bunched up around her legs
and he pushed it up even farther so he could gain entrance to her beautiful
cunt.

She freed his cock from its material prison and her eyes lit
up as she stared at the engorged length.

“I’m always amazed by the sight,” she murmured. “You never
cease to astound me.”

Her praise stroked his ego just the way he liked it.
Groaning hungrily, he kissed her deeply as he entered her and drove home.

He stilled inside of her and savored the moment. He had
waited so long for this moment. He’d fantasized about her every single night
and day since she’d left him. How many times had he been forced to suffer
through cold showers while he attempted to pleasure himself with his hand?

He couldn’t do the job the way that being with his sweet
Anya did it Nothing could take her place.

She locked her legs around him, the strength in her legs
reminding him of how fierce she was. He had never met a woman with such a
strong will before and it carried over into her physique. Even though she was
average height, she was bloody well stronger than she looked, and many a witch
hunter had found that out firsthand!

His admiration for her swelled inside of him and increased
his thrusting power. He pushed in and out of her channel, and pulled out of her
completely at one point.

She looked bereft. Her eyes locked on his as he kissed the
nape of her neck. Her breathing labored, she struggled to find the words he
wanted to hear.

“Fuck me, Damien. I’ve waited fucking forever for this. If
you think I’m going to let you get off without me going along for the ride you
are sadly mistaken, sir!”

He chuckled huskily, kissed her roughly and slammed back
into her again, making her body jolt with the force. At first he wondered if he
had hurt her but the blissful expression on her face told him that everything
was fine. Now was the time to drive them both toward the edge of ecstasy!

Anya wanted to cry. It was all so perfect. She had her Damien
back with her and driving her to the height of pleasure she’d so missed during
her time away from him. Feeling him inside of her made her feel so complete.

He continued to screw her the way she liked. The sound of
their bodies clashing together was erotic for her. She grasped him closer to
her. Pulling his shirt out of his trousers, she slipped her hands up beneath
the material and rubbed her hands across his bare flesh. His body shook as he
shivered beneath her caress.

He was leading her toward her release. He balanced himself
on one arm and reached down to play with her clit. She sucked in another
lungful of air and let out a sweetly tortured moan.

He was about to have her screaming out her pleasure. She
only hoped that the walls in the mansion weren’t thin. She would hate to have
the rest of the house hear her scream with such wild abandon.

“I’m going to lose it in a minute, Damien,” she gasped out,
making a smile spread across his face.

“I am about to shatter as well and fill you with my seed,”
he muttered.

Fear coiled in her belly. She didn’t want to stop him, she
wanted him to continue and fill her with his essence, and yet she wasn’t on any
form of birth control.

If they continued on their current course he could leave her
with a child and she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted that given the fact
that they were probably not going to last as a couple. She wanted them to have
a big final hurrah with this honeymoon of sorts, and then she could petition
for a divorce from him rather than an annulment. In some cases, divorce was
easier to obtain on Vanguard.

Still, she felt certain she could raise a child on her own
surrounded by her family back on Earth. And she had desired to start a family
as soon as possible, so she wouldn’t ask him to draw out prematurely. No, she
would allow him to impregnate her if fate dealt her that hand.

He kissed her roughly again, filling her mouth with his hot
tongue. She moaned against his lips and felt the flutters of her climax rushing
over her. She lost herself in the euphoria as the walls of her sex contracted
against his cock and caused him to lose it all in that moment.

With a wild cry, his hot cum spurted inside of her. As she
continued to orgasm, her powers released and the breakables in the room
exploded.

He continued to shudder inside of her as she clung to him in
the aftermath of her own release.

She had done exactly what she’d been set against doing.
She’d let her husband seduce her, and now, now she might not be able to kick
her addiction to him—Damien was her world, how could she leave him now?

They lay tangled in each other’s arms for a good fifteen
minutes.

They hadn’t said a word to each other in that time, content
to just enjoy being together. Words sometimes complicated matters, and given
the fact that they had too many complications existing between them that could
keep them apart, being quiet was the best way to handle matters.

“Well, that was good for the first act,” he mused, finally
breaking the silence.

She smiled. Her first urge was to challenge him for making
such an audacious remark. Instead, she remained quiet, just content to let it
be.

Sometimes, she said things she wanted to take back after the
damage was already done and she didn’t want to do that in this situation. They’d
already said and done things to each other that they either had to forget or
forgive.

Maybe she had to give him exactly what he wanted. They lay
cuddled together so she had her arm draped across his chest. She swirled her
fingers through the thin smattering of hair that he had on his chest.

When she twirled her finger around his left nipple, he
inhaled sharply. She was naked save for the skirt that was somehow still around
her waist.

She rolled away from him and stood up. She quickly shimmied
out of the skirt and threw it across the room, stopping for one moment to eye
the scene of carnage she’d created during her climax.

“I’m thinking you shouldn’t have decorated the room with
those breakable figurines, Damien. You know I tend to lose control when my
passions are riled.”

She turned back in time to see his grimace.

“We can always fix it with magic. That’s what I figured
anyway.”

“You rely far too much on magic.”

He frowned. “This coming from the Witch of the Year.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “It is true—I am a master when
it comes to the craft but my mother always drilled into me the fact that we
must not become a slave to magic. Those who are slaves to the craft covet the
abilities of others imbued with magic, and because of that they make slaves of
those whose abilities they want.”

“Wise words,” he murmured, sitting up.

She looked at him and brazenly twirled around so he could
get his fill of her naked body.

“Commit it to memory, Damien, because after we have our
whirlwind honeymoon, you won’t be seeing it again.”

His posture went rigid. She could feel his irritation and
knew he would never give up on convincing her that he was the right warlock for
her.

Given enough time, he might actually succeed as every part
of her warred against her better sensibility. She actually didn’t want to leave
him; she just didn’t see how she could stay with him given his family
background.

“You’re wearing too much, honey. You need to strip out of
those clothes so we can be completely skin to skin.” She went over to him while
he was still lying on his back and sat down so she straddled him. “Here, let me
help you,” she murmured, using her magic to remove his shirt.

He winked at her.

“I guess you’re not going cold turkey after all when it
comes to using your powers.”

“I never said I’d go cold turkey, darling. I merely said
that you relied on using your abilities a tad too much.”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling.

Memories flooded her mind, memories of when she’d held the
Ross Amulet.

Anya’s body trembled as she sat atop him, grinding against
him, and wishing that she could somehow wipe what she knew about his family
history from her mind. She’d never quite understood the saying “ignorance is
bliss” until he’d given her the black tourmaline amulet as a gift after their
wedding ceremony.

From the moment her hands touched its smooth, cool surface,
she wanted to somehow have amnesia befall her—to her despair some things could
just not be unseen.

During the day she could cope with the frightening images
and the anguished emotion trapped within its depths. It was the nights she
feared.

Nightmares plagued her sleep since she’d left her dear
Damien and now that she was back with him she feared the nightmares would
continue. If he witnessed her screaming fits in the middle of the night and the
many fragile items she shattered as a result, perhaps the magnitude of what he
had done would finally hit home for him.

A sheet of ice settled over her soul, and she pushed away
from him. Standing up, she reached for her discarded clothes and put them on as
quickly as possible. She had to escape, she had to leave him. She couldn’t
stay, staying was madness.

“Please don’t go,” he murmured.

Her body continued to tremble and only relaxed when she felt
his arms wrap around her from behind. He pulled her against him, and his body
warmth invaded her own. The rushed intensity of their encounter had faded, she
still wanted him as he wanted her but somehow he understood that she needed to
sort out her raging emotions.

“I love you deeply, Anya. Whatever comes our way, just know
that I would do anything for you,” he whispered.

He’d always easily professed his love for her by saying it
aloud and not just showing it to her…she knew those three little words were
dreadfully hard for most men to even whisper let alone declare as proudly as
Damien said them.

Her heart melted as his words struck home. She needed to
believe him, she needed to trust him again. She could fight her love for him
her entire life but she’d also be robbing herself of a gift she could never find
again.

He was her true love, he was the man she wanted to spend her
life with—now she just had to convince herself that he wouldn’t hurt her again.

Damien kissed the nape of her neck and wrapped his hands
around her waist. She wouldn’t fight this. She had to submit, she wanted him
again.

She thirsted for his touch. She’d continue giving her entire
body, heart and soul to him and pray that in the end the only fire that would
burn them both would be the flames of their love.

The ghosts of her family would always haunt her, and she
suspected they also haunted Damien. Her family had suffered too much pain at
the hands of Damien’s and yet maybe the element to heal the scars between them
would be their fiery love. She had to give it a chance, she had to give him a
chance; she had to take another chance on love.

She lifted her hands up and reached back to caress his face.
He hadn’t shaved in a while and his five o’clock shadow bristled beneath her
palms. He used his magic and stripped her down to her skirt and bra.

He turned his face and kissed one of her hands and then
swept his hands down the length of her body, tracing a path to her back and
deftly unhooking her bra. Her brassiere fell to the floor, forgotten in their
lust for each other. Her nipples pebbled against the cool rush of air flowing
over them, and he cupped both breasts with his massive hands.

He kneaded them gently, making her body go wild from the
glorious sensations of his touch. He always had the ability to make her go
weak-kneed and absolutely at his mercy for whatever he wanted.

Electric bursts of sheer delight rushed through her,
preparing her for the shattering climax his ministrations would produce shortly.
If she had her way they would continue fucking well into the night.

She never wanted to leave his side. She wanted to drown out
the inner voice that told her to run from him and keep running and the only way
she knew how to do that was to let him continue to bring her pleasure. She
wanted to savor this moment and capture it in her memory for perpetuity.

She leaned against him, purposefully rubbing against his
groin, which caused him to let out a shattering moan that told her he was close
to losing his control. She would have to keep pushing him because she was ready
for him to lose it completely and give her what she craved—what she’d always
craved ever since she’d met him.

Living like a nun had almost driven her crazy with
distraction and it was probably why she’d gleaned such satisfaction out of
turning Oliver White and the other witch hunters into living wax dolls.

Her sexual frustration had done wonders for giving her the
edge she needed to take down all of the bloody witch hunters that pursued her.

Damien kissed her neck again, and she twisted in his arms to
meet his hungry lips with her own.

“You’re so beautiful, Anya. You look as if your beauty could
rival that of Aphrodite’s.”

“Aphrodite was a fair beauty while I’m a dark beauty born of
the night.”

It was true—she’d been born during the Spring Solstice as
the clock chimed midnight, otherwise known as the Witching Hour.

“Then you are my dark witchy beauty.” He kissed her again
and moved his hands to her skirt. Unzipping the zipper, he let her skirt fall to
a silky pile onto the floor. She ran her hands over his chest. The muscles
rippled beneath her hands.

He still wore his trousers, although his fly remained open.
She wanted him out of his clothes as soon as possible. She took a brief moment
to appreciate his ruggedly handsome looks.

His reddish brown hair caught the light reflecting from the
open balcony. The sun would set soon and drape the world in darkness. Nights on
Vanguard could be hauntingly beautiful or terrifyingly ugly.

She trailed her fingers down his chest, stopping to circle
her fingers around the star-shaped scar he had right above his left nipple. She’d
never taken the time to study his numerous scars—received in battles against
witches and warlocks no doubt.

“How did you get this one?” she asked, her voice sultry with
arousal.

Damien grimaced, momentarily wrenched out of their blissful
moment. Swallowing heavily, she watched his Adam’s apple bob uncontrollably.

”I don’t think you will want to hear about that part of my
childhood.” His eyes went distant. “In fact, I attempt to blot it out as best I
can. Unfortunately there are parts of my childhood I’d rather forget.

“I think this particular hiccup when I was a little kid made
my father truly grateful that he’d married a woman like my mother who had a
family the complete opposite of his and the legends surrounding her family’s
heroic deeds almost made up for the fact that my father’s side was filled with
so much poisonous treachery.

“The only reason I can still do business on Earth and the
other colonies is because of the Forsythe name. Fortunately, whenever they hear
it, they think immediately of my maternal grandparents, whose generous
philanthropy benefited so many who needed it. I thank my lucky stars every day
that my father made the positive choice to follow his heart and marry my mother
instead of following the path my grandfather had chosen for him. I’d rather not
continue on that road down memory lane, darling.”

Intrigued, she rubbed the area again, earning a hiss from
him. He reached his hand up and captured hers so she couldn’t continue.

“I want to hear about your childhood, Damien, we shouldn’t
have anything between us, should we?” she asked seductively, knowing that as he
was dangerously close to speeding things up between them, he wouldn’t be able
to refuse her when she used her wantonly sexy voice. He wanted her again just
as much as she wanted him.

His eyebrows furrowed and his jawline hardened. “My
grandfather didn’t die until I reached my teens,” he said, his voice halting as
if he didn’t quite want to speak aloud the information he had to divulge.

“I take it he wasn’t the kind of grandfather other children
would want,” she murmured.

“He was hardhearted, hardheaded, cruel and devious right up
until the very end. I used to pity my father and I often wondered how he could
have had such a hard childhood and in turn become such a good father.”

“What did your grandfather do to you?” she asked, closing
her eyes briefly against the pain that flooded her heart anytime she thought of
the Asher Brothers.

“My mother thought we should spend a family holiday with the
old bastard and my grandmother. I don’t think she quite believed the terrible
legend surrounding him. She wasn’t from Vanguard, you see, and any of the
reports back on Earth didn’t quite give the whole sordid tale of what the
Ashers did here before Earth authorities heard about it and intervened.

“Anyway, we spent a weekend at his plantation, Devil’s
Pride. As soon as my mother saw the place and heard what my grandfather called
it she didn’t want to be there, but my grandmother convinced her to stay and my
father grudgingly went along with it. My grandmother was a different sort of
woman but while she might have treated other children with indifference, she
did genuinely care about those who shared her own blood.”

“I guess it wasn’t a holiday in paradise,” she murmured.

“Far from it.” He fell silent and remained that way until
she distracted him by softly kissing his scar and the area around it. He drew
in a sharp breath and threaded his fingers through her silky raven hair. Capturing
his mouth with hers, he sighed longingly.

“Less talk,” he murmured, “more action, lots of action.”

“I can heartily agree,” she murmured. Turning in his arms,
she reached down and wrapped her fingers around his shaft.

Dropping to her knees, she surveyed the hard length of his
cock. He felt so smooth in her hand and yet she could also feel the power that
pulsed through him in his member. She wanted to taste him, she wanted to make
him bow to the power she held over him.

His entire body went stiff as she rubbed her hand his cock,
and then touched the upturned bulbous head of it. It was coated with pre-cum
and she felt all powerful when she heard him gasp loudly.

“Not right now, Anya,” he murmured, surprising her with his
refusal. She looked up at him as he gently pulled her to her feet. “It’s all
about you for the next little while. I don’t want you thinking I need to put
myself first. For the last few months I’ve thought only of you, Anya. I’ve
fantasized about how I would pleasure you and in turn gain pleasure from
knowing that I’ve given you what you deserve. I want to treat you like the
princess you are.”