Eighteen
ZACH
The following week is Morgan's birthday. After work, I go home, change into more comfortable clothes, and head to her house. She said she doesn't want to spend her birthday dinner in my "stuffy apartment." She's not wrong, it is kind of stuffy. It was fine for a while, but I'm starting to think I'd like more space. Maybe even a yard.
But that's something to worry about after the wedding. Which is in ten days.
It's a little chilly out, since it's late October, but she's set up a picnic in her yard. I go around to the back of the house, where she's spread out a blanket and is arranging food. I watch as she twirls her hand in a circle, index finger pointing out. The air around her hand shifts, and in an instant, the fruit laid out in front of her is diced and sliced and mixed in the previously empty bowl.
My brain struggles to take it in. While I'm finally accepting that magic is real, at least to some extent, it's another thing entirely to watch fruit just become fruit salad.
She looks up and smiles at me. A wide grin that I've never seen before on her face. She's fucking beautiful when she smiles like that. I know I'm staring, but I can't look away.
She blinks hard and the smile fades. "What?"
I realize I've stopped walking, so entranced with her smile. I shake my head. "Nothing. You're just, you're gorgeous when you smile like that."
She drops her gaze, one hand fiddling with the rings on the other. "I, uh, ok?"
I close the distance between us and drop down on the blanket next to her. My hand cups her cheek and lifts her face to look at me. "You're always beautiful, Morgan. You know that, right? Even when you're scowling like you want to bite my head off. I've just never seen you smile like that."
Her cheeks pinken and it's adorable. Which I definitely don't say out loud.
"You think I'm pretty?" Her voice is uncertain.
My lips twitch but I hold back my smile. "Of course. Haven't you dated other people who've told you that?"
She pulls away and busies herself arranging the rest of the food. Another twirl of her finger turns a block of cheese, a box of crackers, and a package of prosciutto into a photo-ready charcuterie spread. Grapes, two small jars of jam, and a small bowl of honey appear.
"No, not really. I honestly haven't dated much, period. Didn't seem much point, what with our curse."
"Well, the few people you've dated were idiots. You're beautiful."
In a dramatic change of tone, she gives me a naughty smile and a wink. "You're not so bad yourself."
The compliment warms me more than it should. This was never supposed to be anything beyond a sex-based fling. Yet here we are, spending her birthday together. She didn't want to spend it with family or friends, she chose me.
That has to mean something. I know what I want it to mean. But I don't know how to tell her that.
She pours us each a glass of white wine in plastic glasses.
I raise mine for a toast. "To you, Morrigan Goode. Happy birthday."
She taps her glass against mine, then takes a sip. "Thank you. One more year and it's the big three-oh."
I chuckle. "Thirty isn't so bad."
She sets a slice of cheese on a cracker, wraps it all in prosciutto, and pops it in her mouth. I do the same, adding a smear of some kind of red jam. The jars aren't labeled.
"Is that how old you are?" she asks.
"Thirty-one," I say. "Did we really not know how old the other is? Because I had no idea you were turning twenty-nine."
She shrugs. "I guess it never came up."
We eat and drink in silence for a few minutes, the sounds of the evening surrounding us: grasshoppers, rustling leaves. Somewhere in the distance, I hear an owl hoot. I didn't see her owl, Bowie, on her porch when I got here, so maybe it's him out in the woods somewhere.
"Tell me about this curse," I say. "I've heard you and your sisters mention it, but I have no idea what it's about."
"You wouldn't have believed it was real anyway," she says, a note of accusation in her voice. “And I told you about it at the art museum.”
"That’s right, I forgot about that. And have I apologized yet for not believing you?" I ask. It was pretty shitty of me, honestly. I was a jerk about it.
"Once more can't hurt."
I lean in and press a kiss to her forehead, between her eyebrows. "I'm so sorry, Morgan. Truly. I had my reasons, but they weren't good ones. I should have trusted you. I should have trusted my dad, if nothing else, before I knew you."
She rubs her hand along my thigh, sending a shiver up to my cock. Heat settles there. "I'll gladly have you make it up to me."
My cock twitches, recognizing the innuendo in her statement. "I'll gladly do so."
The taps her index finger on my nose. "After we eat."
"We're not staying out here, are we?" I'm barely tolerating the temperature in jeans and a sweatshirt. I'm not wild about the idea of getting naked outside tonight.
Meanwhile, as usual, she's in bare feet.
"Oh, sorry. I forgot to extend my spell to include you." Again she waves her finger in a circle. This time, instead of assembling food, a blanket of warmth settles over me. "Is that good? Too warm? Not warm enough?"
Wow, this magic stuff is pretty damn handy. And hard to deny what I'm seeing with my own eyes. Feeling in my own skin. "It's perfect. Thank you."
"My pleasure."
"This is how you can stand going barefoot everywhere, isn't it?"
She nods. "I just hate the feel of shoes on my feet. I much prefer a little warmth spell."
I finish off my wine and lean back on my elbow as I nibble on an apple slice. "So with this curse, now that Sirona's in love with Grant, it's all good, right? Curse broken?" Even as I say the words, I know there's more to the story she told me a few weeks ago.
"We thought. But then Nana discovered there are more layers. Sirona also had to learn a lesson about taking care of herself sometimes, not just everyone else."
Yeah, I can see where Morgan's older sister is a caretaker. "It's a good lesson to learn. "
Her smile is grim. "Turns out, we all have to learn lessons. And, well, Bronwen still can't fall in love. Not until I do."
I'm silent, taking in her words. Trying not to think of the implications for our budding relationship. I like Morgan a lot. I might even be falling for her. But I'm not in love. And I'm relatively certain she's not in love with me either.
"What lesson do you have to learn?" It seems like a safer question.
She fiddles with the hem of her brown cargo pants. "Ihavetobelieveinmyselfmore," she mumbles.
I take a moment and repeat her strung-together words a few times in my head before I parse it out. "You have to believe in yourself more?"
Staring at her feet, hair falling around her face like a shield, she nods.
I lift her face to meet my gaze. "If it makes any difference, I believe in you."
"Not until a few days ago."
"No. And that was about me and my shit, not about you." I sit up so I can kiss her forehead again. "You're kind of amazing."
I mean that a little more than I want to. But she really is.
She leans her head against my shoulder and I rub up and down her spine.
"Anyway, yeah, I have to believe in myself and fall in love before Bronwen can. So if it seems like she's been trying to push us together, that's why."
“You mentioned that.” I can't help myself from kissing the side of her neck. She trembles. "There are worse things than being pushed together with you."
Love spells and curses are bigtime magic. A lot bigger than whipping together a charcuterie board and fruit salad. But if I want to keep moving forward with Morgan—and I do—I guess that comes with the territory.
MORGAN
"Can we stop talking about this now? It's kind of killing my birthday vibe."
He sits up, sliding his hand down my arm until he can lace our fingers together. "Funny you should mention the vibe."
"What does that mean?"
With his free hand, he reaches for the gold gift bag he brought with him. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dying to know what he got me.
"When's your birthday?" I ask. I hope I didn't miss it somewhere along the way as we were busy hating each other.
Though really, what I hated about him was that he thought me a con artist. I should probably make him grovel harder for my forgiveness, but I get where he was coming from.
"April sixteenth." He sets the bag on my lap.
"Aries," I say, almost as a reflex, staring at the white and gold tissue paper. "Can I open it?"
"Don't we have birthday cake first?" His tone is teasing.
"I have a cake inside for later." Honey dropped one off. She even included candles in the shape of two and nine. "I want my presents now."
"Presents? Plural?" He raises his eyebrows.
"Yes, plural. Because I have every intention of enjoying your body as one of my presents."
His brown eyes turn molten. "Your wish is my command. But open this one first."
I yank out the tissue paper and toss it to the side, then reach into the bag and pull out the box inside.
It's a vibrator. A simple silver cylinder, rounded at the tip. The box boasts five speeds for "a variety of pleasures." I have a similar one in my bedroom, but he clearly bought this for us to use together and I won't turn down more sex toys.
Grinning, I lean in to kiss him on the mouth, my whole body heating. Our lips cling together before I finally sit back. "I love it. Thank you. This will go nicely with the other presents you're giving me."
"And I love when you grin."
My heart trips a little over the word love coming from his mouth. But that's not what we are. Even if we go there someday, we're a long way off.
Much to Bronwen's chagrin, I'm sure.
He winks at me. "Don't worry, I have very specific plans for how to use your present."
My pulse skips a beat in my chest but makes up for it between my legs. "Do you, now?"
"I had planned to take you inside, but with your little warmth spell, I think right here will work just fine." He smooths my hair out of my face, tucks it behind my ear, then fingers the delicate shell. My breath catches. I didn't realize my ears were so sensitive until him.
He scoots closer, his face not quite touching mine, but almost. When he speaks, his lips brush mine. "I think I'm going to strip you naked, and we'll see how many times I can make you come. Like birthday spanks, but more fun."
A shiver runs through me with the word spanks . "I wouldn't be entirely opposed to those too."
He presses his lips more firmly against mine. "I'll keep that in mind."
By the time he kisses me for real, I can barely catch my breath. His kisses are slow and lazy. Seducing me even though I don't need seduction.
Time bends around us as we fall back on the blanket. I use magic to move the picnic supplies out of our way as he tumbles me back and comes down on top of me. His hands seem to be everywhere, caressing my face, my arms, my hips. Sliding into my hair as he drags his mouth down my neck.
I'm nothing but want. I'm not sure I even know my own name anymore; I can't think, only feel. "Zach," I whisper.
Apparently I still know his name.
He raises up on one elbow, our legs a tangled mess. His shoes have disappeared and he rubs one foot up and down my calf.
"What?" he asks, voice as soft as mine. "Tell me what you need."
Everything. I need everything. I want it all now, and I want this never to end. "More," is all I can come up with.
With a wicked smile, he slides his hand under my t-shirt and up my belly. My breath comes faster the closer he gets to my breasts.
One finger teases the underside of my breast and that's my breaking point. I can't take it any longer.
A quick twirl of my finger and I'm naked, my clothes magically discarded on the grass.
He huffs out a startled laugh. "That's a neat trick." His palm covers my breast, pinching my nipple between his index and middle fingers. "How come I'm still dressed?"
My words come out in pants, the pleasure from how he's working my nipple intense. "I... would never... undress someone with... without their permission."
"I give you permission." His voice is rough, arousal making it soft as sandpaper. I love it.
Another moment and his clothes join mine, scattered in my yard. We'll worry about that later.
"Fuck, that's incredible." He rocks his cock against my thigh and kisses me fiercely.
We unleash all the passion we've been holding back, this kiss telling each other everything we can't say in words. He continues to stroke me everywhere at once, his own sort of magic. My breasts are dying for his mouth but I don't want to stop kissing him.
Finally he pulls back, his hair falling around our faces, casting us in shadows in the fading twilight. I can barely make out his eyes. But there's no mistaking the intensity in them as he looks down at me.
"I want you so much right now."
"You have me."
A tight smile flits across his face. "Not yet."
He reaches for the vibrator, which is still in its box. A magical moment later, the box is gone and he's holding the toy.
"Someone's anxious to play with this," he teases.
I rub my aching pussy against his thigh. The friction is just barely adequate for the moment. "Damn straight."
He twists the dial on the bottom and it starts to hum. A low sound that's familiar enough to me, it makes my nipples even harder and my clit throb. They know what's coming.
"Did you have an idea how you want to use that?" I ask.
With another wicked smile, he slides down my body, settling his shoulders between my legs. One of my very favorite places for him to be. Of any man I've been with, he is, hands down, the best at oral sex. I had a girlfriend briefly in college who was better, but that was a long time ago. Zach gets the job done, with pizzaz.
He presses the buzzing vibe against my pussy, between my lips, and a shock of pleasure jolts through me. I cry out and arch my back, pressing into the sensation.
He slides it slowly back and forth, just barely grazing my back hole, which feels incredible, and letting the tip glide over my clit.
The pleasure is almost too sharp. I won't be able to come like this. But I'll take it for the moment.
Without warning, he slides it inside me. It's not thick, and my muscles instinctively clench it. The vibrations shoot pleasure down my legs and up my spine.
And then his tongue is there. He buries his face between my legs, letting go of the vibrator and leaving it where it is, buzzing inside me. He's pushed it in as far as it will go, and my pussy swallows nearly the whole thing.
His mouth moves around the end of the toy, licking and sucking at my most sensitive skin.
I've never felt anything like it. This orgasm is going to be cosmic. I might change the tides.
I gasp his name, gasp for breath, gasp random words I'm not even sure of.
And then he closes his lips around my clit. Two deep sucks and I'm soaring. Rainbows and stars burst behind my eyelids as he continues to suck me, even as my pussy clenches around the vibrator and the orgasm tears through me.
I'm panting, trying to find what's left of my mind, and he continues to lick and suck my clit. He moves the vibrator now, thrusting it in and out of me.
I come again. This time it's harsh and quick, and I yelp his name.
"Such a good girl," he murmurs just loud enough for me to hear. It sends a different sort of pleasure through me.
I reach my arms toward him. "Please. Now. I need you."
He pulls the vibe out and tosses it aside, then crawls up my body until he's covering me. Kissing me. He tastes like me, my orgasms on his lips as he moves his tongue against mine. His body moves in similar fashion.
I need him now. I didn't bring any condoms out with me, but it's easy enough to get one from my bedroom. A snap and the wrapper is gone and the latex is on him.
He lifts his head. His gaze softens, and he looks into my eyes long enough to make me uncomfortable.
"You're amazing. "
I feel his praise in every cell in my body, an electric pulse of acknowledgment. Of validation.
I should say thank you or tell him that he's amazing too. Because he is. But the words won't come.
Instead I say, "Fuck me? Please?"
His gaze never leaving mine, he reaches between us to move his cock into place. With agonizing slowness, he slides inside me. Bit by tiny bit until his groin meets mine. He rocks his hips, giving me the friction he knows I crave.
His thighs widen, forcing mine to too. He starts slowly, long glides out, smooth thrusts back in. Each time making sure to rock against me the way he knows I like.
And still he doesn't close his eyes. Doesn't look away. I feel stripped naked and vulnerable, like he can see everything inside me. But I can't look away either.
He lowers his face, putting us forehead to forehead. I can't see anything but him. Can't feel anything but him. He's everything in this moment.
His finger traces down my cheek, then his thumb plays with my lower lip. "Morgan," he breathes. Like I'm precious.
Like I matter.
I can tell myself it's just sex, that these are fanciful imaginings I'm creating in my head to ease my loneliness by making this into something it's not. But deep down inside, where it matters, I don't think that's what I'm doing.
"I know we said this was just sex. But Morgan, it's not just about sex for me. Not anymore." Even as he says it, his hips gradually pick up speed, each thrust of his cock harder than the last. "I don't want this to end after the wedding."
I open my mouth to respond, to tell him I don't either, but all that comes out is a broken cry.
His chest heaves as he tries to keep talking. "This is your real birthday present, if you'll have it. Me."
I gather his hair into a ponytail and hold it at the back of his neck. Now I can see him; there's just enough light left. His expression is raw and open. And deep inside, I know he's putting everything on the line, opening himself to me like this.
All I have to do is reach out and take the gift he's giving me.
I don't know what to say, don't have the words to express what I'm feeling the way he can. Especially not now.
Seriously, who can have deep emotional conversations during sex? Zach, apparently.
So I give him the bare minimum. For now. "Yes," I whisper. My voice doesn't have the courage to say it louder. My heart pounds against my ribs, not from sexual exertion but from the magnitude of this moment.
With a groan of relief, he kisses me, and a few moments later, we're lost to the sensations. He's fucking me in earnest now, hips slamming into me so hard, it rattles my skull.
I love it. I love everything about this night.
I force myself to stop my thoughts there. I have no idea if I love him yet, but I'm not ready to examine that. Not now.
Especially not when a monster orgasm is building. I've never felt pleasure this intense, and again, I'm not examining why that is.
"Close?" he pants.
I nod, rolling my hips, chasing that elusive last touch that will send me flying.
On his next thrust, he hits it. "Fuck, Zach!"
I detonate.
There's no other word for what happens in my body. I'm shaking, sobbing, ecstasy burning through me. I'm soaring outside my body, yet I've never been more fully present in it. I'm vaguely aware of my nails tearing down his back, likely leaving marks.
With a roar, he joins me. Shaking, we cling to each other, groans and cries echoing through the evening. Probably alerting Sirona and Bronwen, who live on either side of me, what we're up to. But I don't fucking care because this moment, this instant of time, is everything.