Chapter 15 Rosie
Rosie
Lying in bed that night, I’m frustrated.
I tell myself it’s because I’m in a reading slump, something that never happens. Not to me, not when I have an entire bookstore at my fingertips. Not when I have spent my entire life getting lost in books, surely not when my magic is most fond of love stories.
But I’m in a slump and I fucking hate it. The only other time I can remember being in an actual slump was the day before I came down with the flu, when I was in denial of how sickly I felt, my head pounded so bad, and staring at a page made me want to cry.
Right now, I blame it on the mission.
Up until yesterday, I blamed it on the kiss bond that kept my brain thoroughly distracted, desperate to, at the very least, be in the same room with Jack, despite my iron-clad decision to stay away from him until the bond left for good.
But an evening kissing him sated that enough so I could think.
Now there’s only one real thing fogging my mind, though I won’t admit it.
Jack Haggerty.
Today, with him helping me and then spending almost an hour making out on my couch, felt far too good.
Having him pressed against me, resting with my head on his chest, and taking in his uniquely Jack scent felt…
right. Letting him help me when I needed it felt more natural than accepting help has ever felt, especially when he understood my unique and sometimes irritating need to figure it out myself, guiding me through every step as he fixed the unit.
I know it’s the bond. In reality, I know that. But I also… I can’t seem to function, which, from my research, doesn’t seem to be a normal side effect.
Maybe it’s because I haven’t had an orgasm in some time. With Phillip around, I haven’t really felt comfortable breaking out any toys and doing some self-care, but maybe that’s my issue. I stare at my side drawer, suddenly feeling that need curling in my belly, and make a split decision.
Self-care will fix this. Right? It has to.
“Keeping boundaries won’t cause gloom, make a sound and ghost barrier for my room,” I say as my fingers shake with sudden, strange nerves. My magic leaves my fingers and coats the walls, ceiling, and floor in glittering pink that, if my heart wasn’t racing so much, I might find pretty.
Instead, I move with haste, shimmying my pants and underwear down before rolling to my bedside table to get my vibrator. It’s the one with a dildo and a vibrating finger on top for my clit, and my pussy clenches as I hold it, at the mere promise of what’s to come.
Literally.
Yes. This is all I need. Just a nice, relaxing evening with my battery-operated boyfriend, because we all know men are nothing like the books when it comes to sex.
I click it on and the toy thrums to life and I let out a shaky breath as I move my hands under the covers, my legs spreading and my eyes drifting closed.
A breath leaves my lips as I slide the vibrating head over my center, already wet with anticipation, then up and over my clit.
The tiniest mewl leaves my mouth, and I bite my lip.
Even though I know my magic is working, I can’t help but feel the need to keep it down, just in case.
My mind moves through all of my normal self-love options from some of my favorite books: a pierced tattoo artist with a daddy kink, a fae who loves hand necklaces, a sweet golden retriever of a man who fucks a woman over the hood of his truck.
My usual options don’t pique my interest as they usually do, but eventually, I settle on one I read a few weeks ago about badass women PIs.
The male love interest found out who she was while undercover and tied her to the bed while interrogating her until she spilled the beans.
My mind fills with images of being restricted, unable to move, while a man pleasures me, and a shaky breath leaves me.
Need courses through my veins as I circle the head of the vibrator over my clit again before sliding down my center and dipping the head in.
I groan at the stretch and wonder when the last time I used this one was.
I’ve been using my bullet vibe for quick orgasms, but I somehow instinctively knew tonight I would need more to take off the edge.
That’s it, I tell myself as I slide the vibrating cock into me, picturing the man from my book hovering over me, slowly sinking in, teasing and taunting me with the fullness.
When it settles deep inside of me, the vibrating finger lays on my clit and I groan.
Yes. This is it. I just need to take off the edge, and I’ll stop thinking about Jack.
About making out with him and lying with him and kissing him and touching. Him.
I pull the vibrator out then slide it back in, slowly fucking myself as I picture the man from my stories, dark hair flopping forward and a crooked smile as he slides in, teasingly. My hips shift, trying to get more, to change the angle, and I groan when the thick tip grazes along my G-spot.
Suddenly, the faceless fictional character in my mind shifts, a more familiar smirk taking its place. Tousled dark waves fall forward into his face, and those black-rimmed glasses perch on his nose. Full lips pout as I slide the vibrator in deep, a grunt coming from his lips.
Glasses.
The lead in my book didn’t wear glasses, did he?
My hand doesn’t stop moving, though, and I slam the vibrator in deeper, letting it buzz against my clit.
“That’s it, Rosie. Take what you need,” the man in my mind says, but he’s no longer resembling a fictional character.
It’s Jack.
Somehow, my fantasy has moved back to where I needed to get it away from, and I’m fucking myself thinking about my neighbor.
I should stop. I should definitely stop.
But instead, I picture his head dropping, running kiss-swollen lips and tongue and teeth over my neck as he starts to fuck me, hard and fast.
“Oh god,” I groan, as he fills me over and over, pleasure so intense starting to build in my belly.
“That’s it, Rosie girl. That’s it. Take my cock like my good little witch.” My hips buck to get the toy deeper, to get him deeper, and my other hand moves to pinch my nipples as the need and desire continue to build and swirl in my belly, taking me higher and higher.
“Fuck, Jack,” I groan, and with his name, I feel those golden strands of the kiss bond, tugging and tightening, like even my magic wants it, wants him.
“Come for me, Rosie,” he groans through gritted teeth, and that’s all my mind needs for the pleasure to rush over me in intense waves, over and over again, tightening around the toy and bucking to get it deeper in the most intense orgasm I’ve ever given myself—or had, period.
And when I come down from my high, the walls still glittering with my magic, I stare at the ceiling and count down the minutes until this bond is out of my system.
31 days until Halloween
“So which one of you kissed Jack Haggerty?” my sister Violet asks when Poppy and I are hanging out at her place.
With her words, I nearly spit out my muffin.
Instantly, I try to think of an excuse, a work-around, but just as quick, I realize I’m already a lost cause: the muffin was touched by her magic.
It turns out her call for a sister night was nothing of the sort; instead it was a planned attack I didn’t even see coming. The bitch.
“I did,” I admit quickly.
Loose-lip orange olive-oil muffins. Fucking Violet.
I love my sister and I love her baked goods even more, but god, I have to be more careful when accepting whatever she gives me.
You’d think I’d have learned my lesson when I broke a vase sneaking into the house when I was seventeen and tried to blame it on her, only to be slipped this same goddamned muffin and then told the truth.
It happened to Poppy, too, when she lost her virginity but wouldn’t tell either of us because she was scared we’d judge her.
It’s the oldest trick in Vi’s book, but I love her stupid muffins, so I fall for it every time.
The bright side is, I’ve had this happen before, and while I know there is no chance of lying, there is a way to avoid the worst of its effects. As long as I don’t tell an outright lie and as long as Violet doesn’t ask too-specific questions where I can’t tiptoe around my answer, I’ll be safe.
Probably.
Hopefully.
I’d been avoiding Vi and Poppy all week and thought I was safe to see my sisters again, since when I woke up, the golden strands were gone, visually, at least. While the pull of the kiss bond is mostly gone as well, I still feel the occasional phantom tug to see or talk to Jack that I’m hoping will wear off sooner rather than later.
“I knew it,” Vi says with a laugh, and I fight the urge to needle her. Obviously, it would be me: I’m the only one of us who talks to Jack, not to mention he lives right across from me.
“I’m sorry, what? You kiss bonded Jack Haggerty? Why?” Poppy, our sweet head-in-the-clouds sister, asks. “And why did Vi know before I did?”
“It wasn’t hard to figure out. She came into the bakery a couple of mornings in a row, asked what he liked, and got coffee for two.
I thought it was strange, but she told me that she had annoyed him again and was trying to win him over so the metaphorical war could be finished once and for all.
But then he came in the other day and was glowing like golden Christmas lights.
Poppy, you can’t keep a secret to save your life, so I knew it wasn’t you.
But now I’m wondering why our sweet sister gave her first kiss bond to the grumpy nerd across the street.
” I groan, feeling the pull of her magic again.
“It’s kind of a long story,” I say, glaring at the muffin. Despite the fact that it’s one of my favorite flavors (the bitch), I refuse to eat more. The more I eat, the stronger the spell, and I can’t have them asking too many questions or finding out the truth.