Chapter 33 #2
“Okay, reopen right after lunch. But please, go to the diner. Eat something yummy and charge it to my account.”
They each grin.
Jamie and I walk out the front door. He hides his face, but I refuse to because I know what I’m about to do.
Flashes nearly blind me, but I keep going forward.
My hands are tucked into my pockets, and his are slid inside his hoodie.
I glance over my shoulder to see at least ten people following us.
We make it to the manor in record time, taking the long hallway to the study.
The spell book we used almost two weeks ago is on the desk, where I left it.
I don’t reach for it because it’s not the one I need.
It’s inside the top drawer, thinner and bound in cloth. I look at the script across the front.
Prosperity Workings for the Witch.
The pages are worn from being used. I flip through the pages and stop at the ward I want. My eyes scan down the page, and I make a mental list.
“What do you need?” Jamie asks.
“Honey. Cinnamon. A green candle—there’s one in the kitchen drawer. Dried rose petals—they’re in the front room.” I’m already pulling a jar off the shelf. “And I need my small, round mirror in my bedroom.”
He rushes through the house without asking a question. I work on setting up the space.
When he returns, I’ve got everything laid out on the desk, and my sleeves pushed up. I write my first and last name on a bay leaf until it’s covered on both sides.
Jamie stands to the side and watches me work.
The leaf goes in the jar. Honey is poured over it until the leaf is covered. Cinnamon is sprinkled on top after that. The rose petals are ripped into pieces. I pull a gold coin from the top drawer of the desk and drop it inside. I set the mirror under the jar, facing upright, creating a reflection.
I light the green candle. The flame lights the dark room.
When I glance over at Jamie, he’s watching me intently with the crooked mustache.
I take the deepest breath and close my eyes. My chest fills, and then I exhale. I do this until my head is light, and I’m in a relaxed state.
With both hands firmly gripping the jar, I clear my throat and speak.
“I’m Blaire Wardwell. Blaire. Wardwell. Three syllables. Jameson Cross. Jameson. Cross. Three more syllables. When anyone says our name, kind or cruel, in rooms we’ve been in or in those we will never be, it returns in riches tenfold.”
Jamie freezes on the other side of the desk.
“The more they talk, the more we receive.” My body burns, and my hands are hot. “Let it return as beauty. Let every stolen picture be harder to look away from than the last.”
The flame flickers.
“Let it come back to us as pleasure. Travel. Money. Peace. Energy in and energy out.”
I lift the candle and let the wax drip inside until everything is sealed in a layer of green.
I blow it out in one quick breath. Smoke drifts upward and curls.
The study is so quiet that my ears ring.
Jamie hasn’t moved an inch, but his finger is rubbing the hematite. “You warded my name too.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I should’ve as—”
“Thank you,” he says softly, putting a finger over my lips. “I always consent to your magic.”
“Now, if they talk, we benefit.”
“I’d like to formally request somebody to write another article.” He clears his throat. “An exposé with tons of pictures.”
I laugh harder than I should. “Oh, stop.”
He comes around the desk and stands in front of me. “Feel better?”
I nod, and he slides his lips across mine.
I reach up, remove the mustache, and capture his lips again.
His palm moves up my body, and suddenly, I stop caring about anything other than this.
I lie back on the desk, papers falling on the floor.
The lamp wobbles but survives. His strong hands go under my ass, and my legs instinctively wrap around him.
“I need this,” I say against his mouth.
“Fuck, I do too.” He kisses down my throat. “Someone must be talking shit about us.”
“Let them,” I mutter as he pulls my sweater over my head. It lands on the floor next to the papers.
He takes his time removing my jeans in the slowest possible way. It’s cruel—a favor I plan to return. His hot mouth is on my collarbone as one of his hands sits right under my ass. He’s pressed between my legs, his bulge pressing into me.
Then he falls to his knees on the rug.
That’s when every thought in my mind leaves my body.
Both my legs are looped over his shoulders as he devours me.
My breath hitches as he teases my clit, flicking, then licking me from top to bottom.
I gasp, my back arching as I press into him.
The scruff on his chin feels so damn good that I can barely handle it.
Two of his fingers slide into me and curl, and the sound I make is not of this world.
He’s relentless about it, hungry in a way that makes me want to give him everything that I am.
Everything in me pulls tight and then releases.
I hear myself groan, and it feels like an out-of-body experience. My back comes up off the desk. His arm is the only thing keeping me upright. He works me through every second of it and doesn’t let go until I’m utterly wrecked.
When he stands, his mouth is wet, and his eyes are still hungry. With one motion, he removes his belt.
“I fucking love it when you look at me like that,” he says.
I reach for his hoodie, removing it from his body.
“I don’t think you’re the one bewitched,” I confess as he pushes into me with one long stroke.
He moves my hands up above my head.
“I dunno. You’re the only one who’s lasted past thirty days,” he says.
I smile, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.”
“Of course I did.”
Our tongues slide together. He lifts my thigh, going deeper, hitting a spot that makes my eyes roll to the back of my fucking head. He slams inside of me harder, the oak desk sliding an inch along the floor. It groans out in protest, and we both laugh.
I want more of him. I need more. I don’t have to say anything for him to know.
If he keeps going, if he keeps slamming against my G-spot …
It’s absolutely euphoric as the warmth spreads through me. The orgasm takes me completely under. As my body seizes, he keeps pumping into me. His mouth finds my nipple, and I can’t be quiet as he fucks me into oblivion. Before he comes, he drops back down to his knees.
His mouth is back on me, working me slower this time. He rubs circles on my clit with his tongue. Those gorgeous eyes that remind me of summer seas never leave mine. Everything in me pulls tight and holds.
Then he stops.
“Jameson.”