Witches of Three_Philomena (8 page)

Phil bent and felt the soft butterfly brush of a kiss on her cheek. Something melted inside her. She stood with her hand pressed to her cheek as Beck urged Emily to the door.

“I’ll be right back. We have to talk,” he said before closing the door behind him.

Phil just stood savoring the moment of Beck and Emily’s presence. Something was wakening inside her and it brought such joy as she’d never experienced before.

True to his word, Beck returned in a short time. He entered the kitchen and stood watching as she set the table and produced the makings for sandwiches.

“I thought you might be hungry,” she said. Their gazes met and held.

“I am,” he answered with such hot intensity that she felt herself blush. “But I want to talk first.”

Her blush faded. She settled into a chair and waited. He seemed a little uncertain about how to begin. Finally, he seated himself across from her.

“Tell me again about you being a witch.”

“I am.”

“And your sisters?”

“Yes, both of them.”

“Your mother?”

“Nooo.” Suddenly she wasn’t so sure. She’d never asked herself that question before. Since Claire was so against the use of special powers, Phil had assumed she wasn’t a witch, but now she wondered.

“I don’t think she is,” she amended.

“So what do you do as a witch, besides eat on the ceiling and throw your boyfriend out the front door?”

“Oh, you noticed that.”

“I didn’t understand what had happened until on the drive back here. A lot of things began to fall into place.”

“I tried to tell you.” Phil looked at him, suddenly thinking he might not want to continue an intimate relationship with a witch.

“You did, indeed,” he said. “So what I want to know is if you’re the wicked witch of the West or the good witch of the East as Emily thinks.”

“I’m a good witch, well, mostly.”

Beck looked at her solemnly. She waited, uncertain, until a quiver of his lips turned into an outright grin.

“By damn, a witch,” he said, almost in awe. “I’ve never bedded a witch before.”

“Well?” she dared to ask with a touch of impudence.

“The best experience of my life,” he said softly and jumped to his feet. He grabbed her out of her seat and wrapped her in his arms. “You’ll have to guide me through this. I’m not sure what’s expected of me.”

“More of the same,” she said and raised her face to his.

His lips brushed across hers, teasing, exploring, demanding. She leaned against him, feeling the strength of his body. Deep inside heat built.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered against her mouth.

“Okay.” She nodded and immediately they were in her bedroom.

“Whoa, how did you do that?”

“I’m not sure,” Phil said, “but it’s a lot faster than taking the stairs.”

Beck stared at her as if just now seeing her for the first time. She whirled around, gave him a come hither look over her shoulder then appeared in a low cut, diaphanous peignoir.

“You don’t need that,” he said.

She finished her turn and smiled knowingly. The gown had disappeared and she stood before him completely nude. Strands of blonde hair floated around her head then settled over her shoulder, one lock curving lovingly around a nipple.

“You’re dazzling,” he whispered harshly and reached for her.

She went into his arms willingly. His kisses were hot, insistent. She flicked his clothes away so he was as naked as she. The feel of his skin against her burning nipples made her gasp with anticipation. He cupped her buttocks and lifted her then lowered her onto his hard cock. She slid onto him, moaning as his hot shaft pierced her channel. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she wriggled against him and felt him further stiffen with desire.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured and tightened his grip, snaring her so she could do nothing but move with him as, still standing, he pumped against her.

Her body thrummed with a mounting passion. No longer a part of this world, she clung to him, feeling his cock push deeper and deeper. With every thrust he touched the core of her desire. She felt a scream build inside her, sensed it mounting. All muscle and bone within her melted so she was only a sensation of wanting and needing.

She was reaching for the gold ring, the final prize, the culmination that would end all need for another. When it came, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. As if from a great distance, she heard Beck’s hoarse shout and felt his hot semen pumping into her. They held each other as Beck carried her to the bed and fell onto it with her still wrapped in his arms. They were still connected, and she thought nothing would ever tear them apart. Humming with satisfaction, she relaxed against him and dozed.

Sometime later, she woke up to the feel of large warm hands caressing her breasts then a hot mouth settled on a nipple while one hand skimmed over her body and settled on her mound. His fingers parted her lips and brushed against her clitoris in a circular motion that instantly awakened her libido. She moaned and opened her legs wider while his finger dipped inside, caressing her channel before returning to stroke her bud.

He suckled each nipple then rose above her and bent to place his mouth against her clit. She jerked at the heat of his lips, automatically clamping her legs tight against his head before relaxing again. It wasn’t that she hadn’t had oral sex before, but all too often it went the other way. Few men liked to give what they demanded for themselves and fewer still made it so fantastic. She couldn’t move. She was pinned to the bed by Beck’s wicked mouth. Tossing her head from side to side, she concentrated on breathing and on the growing needs he aroused.

When she came, she screamed with ecstasy and rolled into a ball unable to endure any more sensations, but then he turned her onto her back, raised her legs over his shoulders and entered her weeping channel. As devastating and thorough as his oral sex had been, the feel of his hot cock was the final and best of their joining. Immediately, she felt her climax come on and felt the pulsating force of his culmination. High with sexual gratification, she lay against him, whimpering her satisfaction and he cradled her in his arms until sleep claimed them.

Chapter Seven

“You actually went to J&B’s bar?” Beck stared at her. “What the hell were you doing there?”

They were lazing in bed. Full darkness had fallen outside and they had been trying to decide whether to go down to the kitchen for a snack. Without actually discussing it, they seemed to have settled on the fact that Beck would spend the night. How they’d gotten to the subject of Phil’s sleuthing, she wasn’t sure, but she was glad for a chance to question him. She needed more information from him if she was going to be effective.

“I was trying to find out who killed Diane. You didn’t do it so it had to be someone, maybe someone she met at the bar, one of her—” She hesitated, not wanting to say something that would hurt him.

“One of her lovers?” he asked. “I think the police checked all that out.”

“Maybe they missed something. Do you know the names of the men she had affairs with?”

His face took on a stoic look, not so much of pain but of old sorrows.

“I don’t know the names of all the men she was with, but the first one was Jared Richards. He’s kind of a man around town. His wife left him a long time ago because he was such a stud. He didn’t seem bothered by it much. The divorce just gave him more freedom.”

“Who else?” Phil asked, kneeling to face him.

“Junior Boniface was another. He has a terrible temper and has gotten himself into some trouble but his family has mo—”

“Money. I know,” she said quickly. “He’s not a particularly attractive man in looks or personality.”

“With money you don’t need the other,” Beck said bitterly.

“Next,” she said hastily.

“Joey Strada.”

“I don’t know him.”

“He owns a carwash and is known to deal in drugs and money laundering. An all-around bad guy.”

“He might be a suspect,” Phil said, tapping her chin in thought. “Anyone else?”

“Douglas Hughes.”

“Why him? He has a beautiful wife and two children.”

“I think she slept with him just to prove she could.” Beck sighed. “There was another guy she picked up by the name of Rudy Tobias. He wasn’t her type, but near the end, she got less choosey. He did a lot of bragging after she was killed. The police checked him out and said he had an alibi when it came right down to it.”

“Is that all?” Phil asked gently.

“All I can remember,” Beck said tightly. “By that time, I no longer cared who she slept with.”

“I’m sorry,” she said because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. This man had gone through a lot of pain and there was nothing to make anything better, nothing short of finding his wife’s murderer so he could get on with his life.

They went down to the kitchen for a late supper. Phil managed to produce cold chicken and a salad. They talked about other things, avoiding any mention of Diane and her possible killers. He told her about his teaching and coaching job at the local high school, about his favorite students who had gone on without him when he was put on suspension. He laughed when he told her of some of Emily’s antics, and she found herself genuinely amused by the stories. For a while, they dwelled on happier times and Phil felt closer to him.

But as they made love again, she found herself more determined than ever to find the real murderer. Beck was a strong, self-contained man, but he’d suffered enough.

His side of the bed was empty when she woke in the morning. She sprang up, bathed, dressed and went in search of him. She found him on the barn roof nailing shingles in place.

“Hello up there,” she called. “Are you hungry? Let me rephrase that. Are you ready for ham and eggs?”

“I’ll be right down,” he said and climbed down the ladder.

Phil stood admiring his trim buttocks and linked her arm with his as they walked back to the house.

Brunch took longer than it should have. They dawdled, talking and laughing and finally, holding hands, they climbed the stairs to the bedroom. Beck was at his best, taking Phil through a range of emotions, from voracious desire, to laughing experimentation and finally, to a thunderous climax that left her purring like a kitten. She couldn’t get enough of him and his eyes told he had the same feeling about her. Whistling, he went back to his roofing.

Phil decided to make another try at J&B’s pub. This time, she disguised herself as an older, dowdier woman desperately in need of a drink. When she looked in the mirror at her dull hair and wrinkles, she nearly changed her mind. Would she look like that one day when she was older? Never! She was a witch. She’d always look young and beautiful. She’d make sure of it.

The bar was nearly empty when she arrived. A couple of men played pool while one man sat at the bar nursing his drink. A young, rather pretty woman perched on a bar stool with a bottle of beer. Phil hurried to a stool and motioned her wishes to the burly bartender on duty. He poured her a shot of whiskey, which she quickly picked up, making sure her hand shook. She tossed it back and asked for another one.

She made a show of encircling it with her arms as if afraid someone might snatch it. She kept her gaze pinned on her glass, although she was aware of everyone in the bar, especially the girl at the other end who kept casting glances her way. Finally, she slid her bottle of water along the counter and took a seat next to Phil.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked in a soft voice.

Phil raised her head and stared at her as if trying to decide when in reality, she was delighted for someone to question.

“Free country,” she said and shrugged.

“My name’s Tammy. What’s yours?”

“Mary Albright,” Phil said gruffly.

“I haven’t ever seen you in here before,” Tammy said and motioned to the bartender.

“That’s because I haven’t ever been in here before,” Phil said, careful not to sound too belligerent. She didn’t want to scare Tammy off.

“Buy me a drink?” Tammy asked and after a moment’s hesitation, Phil nodded. The bartender had arrived by now and Tammy ordered a mixed drink.

“Who’s paying?” the bartender asked.

“Put it on my tab,” Phil said and drained her glass. “Bring me another one.”

The bartender went away to fill their order.

“Are you new in town?” Tammy asked curiously.

“I’ve lived here all my life,” Phil said.

Their conversation expanded. The bartender brought their drinks and they sipped and exchanged information about themselves. Phil wasn’t sure how much of it was true. On her part, very little was. She despaired of ever turning the conversation to Diane when Tammy brought up the subject herself.

“Diane used to say…” She paused. “Diane was my best friend. She died a couple of years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Phil said, feigning ignorance. “What did she die of?”

“She was murdered by her husband,” Tammy informed her. “At least, that’s what the police say.”

“Have they arrested him?”

Tammy shook her head. “They can’t find enough evidence.”

“Do you know a Joey Strada?”

Tammy fell silent and studied what was left of her drink. Phil watched her curiously.

“I know him,” the girl said finally and took a breath. “He used to be…a close friend.”

“What happened?”

Tammy shrugged. “We had a falling out.”

“Another woman?” Phil asked, reading her mind.

Tammy shifted on her stool.

“Men can be such bastards,” Phil went on. “I had one, too, that couldn’t keep his eyes off other women. Of course, he wasn’t totally to blame. Some women get a kick out of making a play for another woman’s guy.”

“Diane was like that,” Tammy said snidely. Her face was set, her lips compressed in anger.

“What a bitch,” Phil said, quick to take advantage of the change in mood.

“She was,” Tammy agreed then shrugged. “But she was my friend.”

“Some friend.” Phil shifted gears. “Who could have murdered her if her husband didn’t do it?”