Chapter 33 #3
“The real name, I see,” he says.
His cock is back inside me, working my G-spot again.
Before I come, he pulls out and goes back between my legs.
I’m dripping wet for him, needing to come so bad that I might explode.
I rock against his face, needing just a little more friction, but he doesn’t give it to me.
Right as I’m teetering on the edge, he stands, giving me his beautiful cock again.
Nothing about what we do is sweet or innocent. His hand closes gently around my throat, thumb under my jaw. The second he adds the slightest amount of pressure, I melt under him.
The next time he slams into me, it’s too much. My body tenses and releases as we kiss each other. I’m breathless for him as he spills inside me. He braces himself on top of me, breathing in my ear. The room smells like honey and cinnamon and sex.
When we break apart, the study looks like a crime scene. My sweater is on the floor, along with all of his clothes. His hoodie is in a heap on the opposite side of the room. The fake mustache is stuck to the side of the desk like it crawled there and died.
Charlie is sitting in the corner of the room, staring at us.
“How long has he been there?” Jamie asks.
“I don’t want to think about what we just subjected him to,” I say, waving my hand in his direction. “Go away, Charles.”
His tail flicks, but he doesn’t budge.
“I swear, he’s going to tell my aunt in the afterlife that I fucked on the family heirloom.”
A book flies off the shelf from across the room.
Jamie’s eyes widen. “I guess they didn’t like that we did that?”
“Probably not,” I say. “But it’s mine now! I own everything. I can fuck on it if I want,” I say out loud, just in case the spirits have an issue with it, so they can get it out now. A door slams in another room. “Sometimes, they’re children.”
“Wait, this house really is haunted?” He looks confused.
“Everything I’ve ever said really is …” I wiggle my fingers at him and smile.
When I hear the front door open and close, the two of us hurry to get dressed. Seconds later, as Jamie stands shirtless with his belt open and me with my sweater on backward, Winter enters.
“Just friends, right?” she asks, glancing between us.
I zip up my pants. “Just friends. Right?”
Jamie appeases me and grins. “Friends forever.”
“I don’t get it,” she tells us. “Josie is picking up dinner for us. Don’t go anywhere.”
We don’t leave the house.
At seven, Josie brings home fried chicken and mashed potatoes from the diner. I open a bottle of wine and pour everyone a glass without checking if they want one. It’s been a very weird day. I think that spell might have just made us both horny.
“To the evil love witch of Pine Haven,” Josie says, holding her glass to me with a laugh.
“To the cult.” Jamie waves his hand around the table, as if we’re all the members.
“Ahh,” we moan in unison.
“To the scammer,” I say, which is followed by laughs.
“To just being friends,” Winter says, and I roll my eyes.
Jamie laughs, but very obviously eye-fucks me across the table. My roommates notice.
The sun fades, and I pull out the apple bread dough I mixed up earlier in the week. I was saving it for a cozy day, and this occasion is better than any. I put it in the oven and make a pot of coffee.
“I was at the Historical Society, learning things about the people who died in this house, and I saw pictures of the decorations your aunt used to put in the yard,” Josie says. “Where’s all that stuff?”
“The garage,” I tell her. “Leaning against the far wall. The cauldron and giant black cat cutout. The lights are there too.”
“We should put it up. It’s tradition,” she says. “Plus, the Historical Society were total douchebags about that tradition not being upheld.”
“I don’t know why they don’t talk to me about these things,” I say.
“Um, I think I might know why,” Winter says. “They’re scared you’ll hex them.”
I glance at all of them. “People are afraid of me?”
“Yep. Be careful where you wiggle your nose or point your finger,” Josie says with a giggle.
“It’s getting out of hand.”
“Use it to your advantage,” Josie tells me. “I think we should put a sign on the door that says, Get rude, get hexed. Scare them from even walking in the door in the first place.”
Winter snickers. I glance around the table and think how lucky I am to have this. Knowing it won’t last forever makes me not take the little things for granted.
When I pour everyone a cup of coffee, I glance out the kitchen window and see two vans parked down the road. Then I see the reflection of the streetlight off a camera lens. I close the blinds and continue my night.
At ten, instead of him driving up the mountain, I ask him to stay. It is an instant yes. He follows me upstairs. He kisses every inch of skin that’s revealed when I undress for a shower.
“Thanks for staying,” I whisper in the dark.
“All or nothing,” he says, kissing me. “We have nine days.”
For the first time all fall, it doesn’t sound like he’s counting down to a deadline. It sounds like he’s finalizing a plan.