Chapter Nine
Nine
S crew them. Merle liked the sentiment and Liberty’s defense of him.
They finished their lunch and left the tavern. Standing awkwardly by her, he wasn’t sure what to say next, but he didn’t want to go back to his place. He was ahead on his projects for work and could catch up overnight if he needed to. “As you said, you haven’t helped me get ready for Halloween...”
“I haven’t, you’re right about that. I have another hour before I have to be back to the shop for my next client. Let’s go and get some pumpkins and we can carve them later today.”
“So pumpkins are authentic?”
“Yes,” she said. “Samhain is a season of endings and preparing for rebirth. Some endings include death and spirits. Carving pumpkins is a ritual connected to them that goes way back.”
“How do you know all this stuff?” he asked, impressed with her knowledge of something that he had only ever thought of as a chance to get candy since his mom didn’t allow it the rest of the year.
“It’s part of our family tradition. In our household it was bigger than Christmas,” she said. “I bet your family did Christmas big.”
“You’d be wrong. We do draft day big.”
“Draft day?”
“Yes, that’s the day when sports teams recruit players. It’s sort of a big deal. My dad is a high school baseball coach so he’s had a few students over the years go on to play for major league teams,” Merle said.
His dad took draft day seriously. The other holidays? They were just days that his athletes weren’t practicing and Merle’s mom felt the same way. She was a tennis pro at the club near their house. She said the holidays made her students sloppy and it took her a few weeks to get them back to where they’d been.
“Well... I guess that’s...that’s weird, right? I mean, no judgment.”
He arched one eyebrow at her.
“Okay, totally judging your fam. Do you think like that? I mean, you’re in good shape, but you don’t seem overly sporty to me.”
He smiled at that. “I’m okay. I don’t like sports, but I don’t suck at them.”
“I’m guessing that’s a good thing given the family you’ve grown up in,” she said.
“It isn’t,” he said as she led them to the local grocery store off the main street, a co-op supplied by local farms. They had a huge pumpkin patch outside the entrance that included bales of hay, cinnamon “witch” brooms, gourds and so many different varieties and sizes of pumpkins. Because of Birch Lake’s past and history with witches, there were a lot of traditional Halloween—and Samhain, he assumed—items set out.
“Why not?”
“Because I have potential and don’t live up to it. If there is one thing Coach hates, it’s wasted talent,” Merle said sarcastically, having heard countless lectures on that subject every year he could remember. It was the refrain of his life until he left home. Talent didn’t mean dick to him. He wanted to pursue something that was for him, and not because his father’s rotator cuff injury had kept him from playing baseball after college.
A part of him had always felt selfish for thinking that, but they already had his middle brother Manford, who played baseball in college and went on to become their assistant head coach. And, of course, Marcus could keep the Rutland baseball dream alive too. It had just never been his dream. And while he had a fast arm and could pitch, he’d hated every moment on the field.
There was so much pressure not to fuck up and ruin the game for the entire team. Merle could handle pressure and did all the time in his day job, but he was the only one who had deal with the screwups. He could fix code in no time at all. But if he missed a pop fly or got tagged out, there was no way to go back and undo it.
“Wow, really? Do you call your dad ‘Coach’?” she asked.
“Yeah, when we were growing up everyone called him that. We had kids from the team over a lot,” he said.
“That’s...” She trailed off and shrugged.
“What?”
“I don’t know. I was going to say odd, but I didn’t have a dad growing up so I have no way of knowing if that’s normal or not,” she said.
“It’s not.” He followed her through the pumpkin patch until she stooped next to a larger one and he did the same. Up close, he could smell her perfume and see the way those individual strands of her hair were made up of brown, gold and red. He almost reached out to touch her, but hesitated. One touch wouldn’t be enough for him.
He wanted more from her. And he wasn’t going to have it if he kept checking himself. He carefully took some of her multicolored strands in one hand, running them through his fingers.
She tipped her head back so she was staring up at him. Her lips parted and those bright gray eyes locked with his in a combination of dare and desire.
It was a challenge.
One he always backed down from...but not today. He shifted forward slightly, slowly, allowing her time to pull away or push him back before his lips touched hers. The corners of her lips turned up before they parted and her tongue brushed against his. She leaned slightly toward him, her hand resting on his thigh, her fingers gripping his arms as she used him for balance.
He deepened the kiss, a feeling of relief and white-hot heat coursing through him as he gave in to the urge to touch her. She tasted faintly of cinnamon and sage. God, he wanted her more than anything.
He tried to keep things light and keep it cool. Just a kiss. They were in the public pumpkin patch, so he had to keep his wits and only take this one kiss. Otherwise he’d be tempted to worship her on the bed of leaves and vines below them. But he couldn’t help letting his lips fall to her shoulder and stroking her collarbone, innocently revealed by her scoop neck top. Her skin was soft and his fingers were calloused and sturdy from years of gaming and typing.
Their eyes met. He wanted to say something profound, but his mind was a messy jumble of heat and joy and an image of her naked in the pumpkin patch. He heard people coming toward them. Liberty just licked her lips and nodded.
“I think you should get this one,” she said, patting the pumpkin.
He stood up and took her hand, drawing her to her feet, and her breasts brushed against his arm. Just be cool, just be cool. Which was almost fucking impossible as he felt himself harden in his jeans. Then she turned her hip, brushing against his crotch and she smirked over her shoulder at him as she felt his erection.
She was teasing him again.
And he wasn’t at all upset by that.
There was something magical about pumpkins. Liberty had always thought that Disney had picked a pumpkin for Cinderella’s coach deliberately. Pumpkins were used in spells to conjure protection, prosperity and abundance amongst other things. Merle was carrying a large pumpkin and she had two smaller ones that would make a nice cluster at his place. On the little front porch he had.
That kiss set fire to her. Maybe it was the thrill of being so close to the earth in that patch of pumpkins that made her feel that way. But there was something even more ancient and elemental that sparked inside of her when she touched Merle.
It was such a change from when he talked about his family. Her family inspired her passion and had really grounded her. She’d always known that she’d use the gifts that all Wakefield women inherited to help others. Purpose found her.
Now she wasn’t sporty at all. Goddess knew she couldn’t catch anything to save her life. But still, she wondered how growing up in a house where Merle didn’t fit in had affected him.
She glanced over her shoulder and he met her gaze for a long minute. He was getting bolder. Which simply made her want to tease him more. Especially after she grazed his cock when she’d brushed against him. She remembered the way it had felt in her hand in the parking lot when she’d stroked him. What would it feel like to break this tension between them and feel him inside of her, indulging in every ounce of pleasure? Yet she also enjoyed the dance of being so close to him, of tasting him and touching him, keeping them both wanting.
Perhaps it was some latent restraint coming out to play. Or she was just scared to move forward with Merle, to plunge them both into uncharted territory, where she was at risk of getting her heart broken and losing her drive.
There was something more to Merle than just being this long, lanky guy with great hair who kissed her like he was ravenous. He only let her see what he wanted her to see. And didn’t they all? But was he doing it because she was something mysterious for him? Something to play with until the shine wore off?
Was she doing that thing she always did, where she tried to find a flaw in a guy so she could walk away?
Probably.
She’d never realized how often she’d been aware of men dating her and hooking up with her because she was different. Or how much she craved feeling needed just for herself.
“Like what you see?” Merle asked when they got to his car and placed the pumpkins in the trunk.
“You know I do,” she said, turning into his body since they were both standing so close. The trunk was open, blocking them from anyone who came around the back of the shop. He’d left his car behind WiCKed Sisters too. “I only have about five minutes before I have to get back to work.”
He had one hand on the trunk lid as he leaned in, putting his other on her waist, guiding her more firmly into his body and bringing his mouth down on hers again. There was a solidness to Merle that she’d never noticed until she was held against him. He was a skilled kisser, his tongue easing into her mouth slowly, deliberately, and that banked fire that had been burning started to grow.
He tasted faintly of apples and smelled deliciously woodsy. There was a comfort in that as he drew her body closer to his.
His kiss was thorough, and she wanted him more than one kiss should make her want any man. But this was Merle , her good friend, her bestie’s cousin, her coworker, and things were different with him. One wrong move and she could lose him.
His fingers traced a pattern against her waist, and her skin tingled through the fabric of her shirt.
She put her hand on his face and felt the stubble of his whiskers as she rubbed her fingers over it and sucked his tongue deeper into her mouth. She grazed the hard shaft pressing against the front of his jeans and felt her body practically clench and melt at the thought of taking him inside of her.
His hips rocked against her hand. Goddess, she wanted to put an end to the years-long foreplay that had dominated their relationship. Denying herself and running from the truth had to stop.
She tore her mouth from his and looked up at him. His eyes were half-lidded, his lips slightly wet from their kiss and his face was flushed.
“I...uh...”
“Come with me,” she said, pulling him back from the car, closing the trunk and leading him to the back door of her part of the shop. She unlocked it and then opened the door before turning to him.
He licked his lips, following her with those hungry eyes. Enough time had passed. This slow dance they’d engaged in was coming to an end.
Samhain was working its magic, moving her from one season of her relationship with him and into the next.
She held her hand out and he threaded their fingers together, nodding as she stepped up into her shop with him closely behind her.
He closed the door and they were surrounded by the darkness of her back room. The scent of the candles and oils and the herbs she used to create her custom witchcraft materials surrounded them. But all she felt was the heat of Merle’s body so close behind her. It was intense. The buildup of tension and desire emanating from him staggered her as she took a deep breath, inhaling his scent and all she wanted in this moment was him.
“Wait here. I have to let them know I’m back and can’t be disturbed.”
Merle surveyed Liberty’s back room. It was one of the few places in WiCKed Sisters he hadn’t been to before. Liberty guarded this place like it was her sanctuary. Poppy had mentioned that she liked to keep the vibe pure in here. And he wasn’t sure what that meant, but as he looked around the room, he had to admit it felt like Liberty.
There were all the smells that he associated with her. Sage, rosemary, earthy tones of wood and wax. There were oils on the counter that she used to make her candles. He walked over to them, catching the scent of cinnamon and ginger—a warm autumn mix that she’d been wearing since the middle of September.
He took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on her space rather than on the fact that he was minutes away from having her naked in his arms. Thank god he had a condom—had been carrying one around since the other day after the visit to her Nan’s. On the small chance he’d be adventurous.
But neither of them was ready for more than sex. They were still essentially friends.
“Back.”
He turned as she closed the door that led to her shop and locked it. The bustle of energy and life that was always inside WiCKed Sisters disappeared. Leaving only the two of them.
He grinned.
“Disappointed.”
“In?”
“I had hoped you’d be naked, lying on my meditation pillow, when I got back,” she said.
He glanced down at the small square pillow. “How would I fit on that?”
“Fantasies don’t deal in reality,” she said.
“So you fantasize about me?” he asked as he toed off his shoes and started undoing the buttons of his shirt. Her wish was his command.
“I do,” she said, sauntering toward him. He’d never really noticed it before but she practically glided across the room.
“Stop.”
“Why?”
“I want to give you your fantasy.”
She paused, nodded. “Go for it.”
He shrugged out of his clothes, dropping them in a pile. He glanced at that magenta-colored meditation pillow and then back at her. But she was staring straight at his erection. Which got even harder as she watched him. He moved awkwardly at first, given he wasn’t Magic Mike, but the appreciation in her eyes and the way she watched him slowly made that fade. He was so ready to see her naked, to have her back in his arms.
As he sat on the pillow, she licked her lips. Unsure what pose he should take, he leaned his arm on the pillow and bent one leg so he was reclining.
She watched him as if he was made purely to please her. He lifted his hand and beckoned her with the crook of his finger. But she didn’t move. Instead she started removing her clothes. She undid her jeans and with a twist of her hips and shimmy of her legs, she let them fall to the floor before stepping out of them. Then she pulled her blouse up, revealing her skin. There it was. All of those gentle curves that made his fingers tremble with the need to touch her as he watched it fall, landing on top of her jeans.
She stood there in a lacy black bra and the smallest, tiniest panties. Her hips were full and curved, her waist defined, her stomach a slight bump. Everything about her was beyond reality. Her breasts were full and her nipples were pressing against the lace of her bra. His blood started racing through his body, and he felt his dick jump, wetness blooming from the tip.
He growled as she reached behind to undo her bra, her back arched. The dark pink of her nipples, then the small birth mark on her left breast, drew his eye. He stroked his finger over it and followed the red mark left by the band of her bra. And then she pushed her panties off before coming toward him. He could barely think. He wanted to get to his feet, but it was clear she was in charge here.
She came down on one knee in front of him, her hand moving to stroke his erection as he began to rub her nipples with his fingers. As she leaned forward, he felt the warmth of her breath against his cock as she licked the tip. He thrusted his hips forward, temporarily entering her hot, waiting mouth. Then he eased her away temporarily as he sat up and lifted her with him, pulling her lips to his. She straddled his waist, her moist pussy against his cock, shifting so that she was almost riding his shaft.
Lifting her breast, he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking deeply on her as his hands ran up and down her back, finding her ass cheeks, cupping them and drawing her forward. The scent of patchouli, cinnamon and rose was so much stronger here.
The brush of her hair against his arm as her head fell back was cool and soft. Balancing herself with one hand on his shoulder and the other between them, she let him maneuver his cock toward her center. The wetness of her against his bare skin rocked him to the core. The fire running through his veins was consuming him. Before he got too close to the edge, he tore his mouth away, reaching for the condom in his pants pocket.
He ripped it open and slid it on as she shifted. Liberty was already straddling him again as he positioned himself at her entrance. Their eyes met as she lowered herself on him. He couldn’t breathe for a minute, not until he was fully buried in her.
That fire burned brighter and stronger.
For the first time in his life, he was out of control and he didn’t give a fuck. His hands were on her hips, urging her to move and move faster. Driving her toward the center of the inferno so he wasn’t alone. So that when they both came, they’d emerge from it together.
He lowered his head, wanting to taste her again, to draw her very essence into every fiber of his being. She rode him, but not fast. She took her time, as if this moment could last forever, but he felt that tingle down the back of his spine and his balls tighten. Dammit. He was going to come. He could try to delay it, but he was fucking Liberty Wakefield. His body didn’t want to wait. Not when she was everything he fantasized about come to life.
At least he could bring her with him.
He reached between them, finding her clit and rubbing it as she kept rocking on him, taking him in and out of her slick body. He felt her start to tighten around him as she threw her head back, moving faster against him. The moans she made were getting quicker and faster.
He dug his fingers into her buttocks and pulled her hard against him as her pussy quaked around his cock. He grabbed her hips and drove himself into her harder and faster, coming on the second thrust as she let out a low moan. He kept stroking until he was empty and she collapsed against his shoulder. The heat of her breath tickled his neck and felt so right.
This wasn’t something he could walk away from.
She wasn’t.
And he was going to have to sort out a lot of other things in his life to have a chance of keeping this bold, ballsy woman.