Hack (The White Horse Duet #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Sage

Ineed another new dildo. The one I’m currently pushing into my pussy just isn’t cutting it. My orgasm is playing hide and seek—again—and I’m obviously a really shit seeker.

Even with images of the literal man of my dreams flashing through my mind, I just can’t reach that peak. Still, I keep trying…the prominent veins in his strong, defined arms, his solid torso leading down to the perfect V that always eludes me.

Dream Me usually concentrates on his chiseled jaw, that perfectly straight roman nose, his full pink lips, the abs…

oh, the abs. Grabbing the bottle of champagne-scented lube—because I’m classy like that—I squirt a little over my clit, using my dying dildo, BB—Big Blue—to rub it in.

Then I push it back inside and press the button for a new tempo on the vibrations.

In and out, over my clit, back in again…Yes! It’s working. I continue picturing the man from my dreams, how he towers over me and dominates my personal space with all that is him, his essence overwhelming each one of my nerves in the most delicious of ways…

Then silence.

“Nooo! He’s dead!” I yell in frustration and throw myself backward on the bed before pulling BB out of my broken pussy and launching it against the wall.

“Woah! Watch it, babe, that thing almost took my eye out.”

Sitting up a little, I see Danika as she picks up the offending object between two fingers and chuckles.

“I take it BB didn’t work?” She throws it onto the bed beside me, where it bounces a couple of times on the sheets that are, luckily, covering the nakedness of my bottom half. My best friend has zero boundaries.

“Ding ding ding. Three points for Captain Obvious.” I sigh and let my eyes roll as I fall backwards again, dramatically placing my forearm over my head. “Am I destined to just never experience a real-life orgasm?”

“There are still so many more things you can try. Maybe you should just let that professor who likes to visit the shop have a go?” She wags her brows and grins, knowing full well that I have turned down the professor from the nearby college too many times to count.

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with him, he’s tall and handsome and seemingly into healing crystals with the amount he buys, but there’s just nothing there for me.

I’m not a virgin, by any means. There were many fumbles in the dorms at college.

And in the seven years since, I’ve brought a few strangers home after nights out with Danika.

None of them, not one, have ever given me an orgasm.

“Maybe you should let Professor Hotty have a go and you can give me some feedback.”

“Babe, I’d break him if I had a go on that disco stick.

Come on, get your ass up. It’s almost opening time.

” Swift as a cat, Danika turns and leaves the room, her shoulder-length cherry-red hair whipping around in soft waves.

“Got to wash my hands first, though.” She laughs over her shoulder before I hear the bathroom door close behind her.

It’s a shared bathroom, so I listen for the door again, waiting for Danika to be done because I have to pee, and I need a shower before I’m ready to open up the shop this morning.

As I’m straining to hear when Danika’s finished, my hand slips and I fall out of bed, landing on my hairbrush that pokes me in the ass cheek, no doubt leaving a nice bruise.

Of course. I’m not even a little shocked at my clumsiness anymore.

If I’m not wearing the many good luck and protection charms that Trina, our beloved boss, suggested for me years ago, then it’s inevitable I’ll hurt myself somehow.

I mean, I hurt myself with them too, there’s just a lot less bloody mess while I’m wearing them.

It’s safe to say that our quirky, pagan lifestyle follower and hard-core hippie OG, Trina, is the reason I haven’t fallen in a ditch somewhere, left to die. It sounds dramatic, but with the situations I tend to put myself in, it’s a real possibility.

After my shower, I grab my cauldron-shaped mug from the open-plan kitchen and remove the Black Label coffee bag that has been brewing.

It’s from an Australian brand called Witch Coffee, so it was like fate when I came across it online while I was searching for suppliers for the shop.

Sipping at the delicious black nectar, notes of deep blackcurrant and creamy roasted truffle fill my senses and I can’t help but moan into the mug as I make my way back into my bedroom.

I let my towel drop and dry off naturally as I finish my coffee and ponder what to wear today, settling on an ankle-length dress with thin straps.

The fall colors of the soft fabric are my favorite, just like the time of year itself—which happens to be one of the most popular in the shop due to all the witchy items—and I pair it with a black crochet bolero-style cardigan.

Danika actually made it when she was going through her crochet phase, which lasted a total of six months before she moved on to her next obsession.

Sighing, I eye my outfit accessories. While they’re not exactly my favorite style choice, they’re a necessity.

First around my neck is my evil eye pendant.

Trina said it’s great for protection in warding away negative energy.

Next is my pentagram pendant, with a crescent moon on either side to also represent the Triple Goddess.

I finish off with my Ankh and my Hamsa hand pendants.

These are the longest, each sitting at a different length so they don’t overlap.

For my wrists, I fill them with a variety of beaded bracelets containing protective gems such as black tourmaline, tiger’s eye, black agate, obsidian, and hematite.

I add a black tourmaline ring to each of my fingers, some embedded in real silver and others with iron.

Finally, I add my pentagram earrings and I feel like every stereotypical version of what a witch would be—the Wiccan kind, not a broom flying, spell casting one with warts.

Satisfied my clumsiness for the day is mostly subdued, I take in my reflection in the tall mirrors built onto the outside of my closet doors.

I pile my thick black hair into a messy bun before applying some black liner to my lids, sweeping the pencil across for that almost perfect cat eye.

The black kohl emphasizes my heterochromia, a condition that really bothered me as a child, but I’ve grown to embrace it.

It never bothered David Bowie and really feeds into the whole witchy vibes I have going on.

When I place the pencil down on my dresser, I notice my red lipstick is just sitting there and roll my eyes.

Danika.

The lipstick usually lives in my barely-used makeup drawer, but for the last week, my best friend has been not-so-subtly telling me I should wear it for a great first impression. Upon whom I am meant to be impressing, she’s not clear, but she rarely ever is and her instincts are generally on point.

The first morning I saw the lipstick on my dresser, I put it back in my drawer only for Danika to give me the silent treatment all day.

The second morning, I ignored it again, and Danika continued with the silent treatment, so by the third morning, only a few days ago, I gave in and my best friend relented.

Hence, I’m now wearing the damn red lipstick.

Grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl on our coffee table, I head downstairs to the fresh scent of some sweet baked goodness wafting up from the shop.

There are a dozen boxes to navigate around as I walk through the storage room to get to the main shop area, where I pause and take a moment to be grateful for everything I see.

I like to do this most mornings, because since I’ve been wearing all these luck charms Trina insisted upon, not only has my clumsiness subsided but life in general has improved.

I work with my best friend in the world, running a shop full of witchy items—that I’ve always had an obsession with—and one that also sells the most delicious coffee.

To top it off, we have an amazing apartment above the shop, meaning our commute to work is, well, non-existent.

My only real complaint is my lack of orgasms, but I don’t think there’s a charm in the world that can help me with that problem. Danika, on the other hand, has been very vocal about her many, many…many orgasms over the years, and for that, I kinda hate her a little.

“Do you have ants in your pants this morning? Because you are on fire. You’ve filled the cake case, shelves are all basically stocked, and the tables are outside already.” I peel my orange and admire the chocolate tortes that Danika baked for our morning regulars on their way to work.

We take it in turns to bake for the morning rush, and sometimes we even have our own little competition, baking on the same day to see whose cakes sell quicker. The score is pretty even for right now, but I have an amazing idea for the next one. I’m definitely going to win.

“Couldn’t sleep.” She’s almost finished restocking the healing crystals by the windows.

It’s the best place to keep them as the belief is that the moonlight will charge them.

“It’s my birthday in less than a week, my brother’s visiting in a few days, and I’m full of energy.

” She crushes the now-empty box in her hands and turns to face me, her lips parted as if she wants to say something, but the chimes above the door interrupt whatever my best friend wants to get off her chest.

She puts her head down and walks into the storage room behind me as I pop a piece of orange in my mouth before putting the rest beneath the counter.

I think Danika’s worried about seeing her brother.

It’s been at least ten years since she last saw him…

when he dropped her off at college with all her things.

They’ve still kept in contact with monthly phone calls, but this will be the first visit.