Bewitched Werewolf

Episode Four

He leaned back, tilting his head up so he could see my face. He appeared relaxed, but I didn’t see how he could be. He inhaled as I came close to him, eyes closing in a long blink. When he opened them again, they were golden.

I raised my hands to his hair while he watched me. My fingers sank into the soft mass and I think one of us moaned aloud. His hair was soft but crisp, thick and dense. I felt his aura, had to push through the invisible barrier to reach him. Ivor was the alpha for his pack. All that energy tightly coiled around him, protected him and gave him some natural immunity to witchcraft unless he was able to get underneath it.

I shivered, then breathed deeper, trying to relax and let his aura coat mine and focus on him alone. After a few moments, I looked down at Ivor. Are you staring at my chest?

“No. That would be wrong, he said, still staring at my breasts that were inches from his nose.

“Can you relax and try to open yourself up a little, so I can reach you?”

“Open myself up a little,” he murmured, like he didn’t quite understand. He shifted a little and I felt him try to accept me, my aura suddenly merging with his. It was a little disorienting, like I was suddenly me and a little bit of someone else.

I took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself down and channel my energy and magic from me to him. Magical energy that nipped across my nerves like red ants swept up my body, seeped from my core and heart down through my arms, into my fingers and into him. His hands tightened on the bedspread and I felt his whole body get tense. It shouldn’t have hurt, but he looked like he was in pain.

“I’m almost there.”

“Tell me about it,” he mumbled darkly.

Uh-oh. Magic is unpredictable. It affects different people in different ways. Sometimes it’s relaxing, other times it hurts and, occasionally, magic is pleasurable.

Even pleasurable magic has levels, it can feel like that fleeting sensation one has on that first bite of ice cream. Or it can be like an adrenaline rush that makes one’s heart pound and steals your breath.

And every now and again, if the chemistry is just right, the planets are aligned, the gods are smiling down upon you, etc., it can feel like that shining moment just before o****m.

And there is always a backlash. A fraction of whatever they are feeling comes back to me along with the magic. Or in this case, the pain from his headache.

And it was just about to hit me.

I’ve done this for a while. I knew which category he fell into, and I also knew that if we were not careful we’d have s*x at this bed-a- fundraiser and gainful employment be damned. I tried to brace myself a little. Like adjusting my stance for a punch. But the magic returned to me, slamming into me like a WWF wrestler on Crank.

The magic had me damp and panting, feeling desperate and empty. My body felt like one of those videos of a flower blooming at high speed.

I swayed forward, arching my body closer to his, forearms along both sides of his head, almost shoving his face into my cleavage as I tried to reel the magic back into my body.

With a moan, I climbed onto the bed, my thigh sliding along the outside of his, so I could straddle him and shove him back onto the bed. Instantly, his hand grabbed onto me, just below my waist, pulling me into him with a guttural noise. His other arm wrapped around my waist, hauling me into his lap, his fingers sliding my little black dress up to my hips so he could press his c**k against my core.

This was very bad.

He was huge, hard and perfect against me. Impotence was definitely not the problem. Any second now he was going to throw me down on the bed and take me. His aura had changed, spiked with desire and passion, his hands were on my waist, trembling in agitation to move as he held still.

It’s almost done. Just a second! I gasped out. His fingers clenched against my skin, moving along the silky material so he had a good grip on each cheek as he tried to get me a little closer to his lap.

My magic sped through him like a tornado instead of a breeze, the areas of pain and tension like a red neon sign blurred in the fog. My aura coated his, dissipating the tension, channeling it back into me.

It was quick, no more than a few seconds.

I pulled my magic back out of him, neutralizing it and pushing it away from me. The magic was gone, but the desire wasn’t.

Don’t have i*********e with the client.

I jerked backwards, nylons making my legs slippery on the bedspread. I was falling to the floor, but he caught me, righting me, so we both stood, facing each other.

I pulled away from him and went to the chair, sitting down with a thunk, on top of all the clothes. Ivor sat back down on the bed, his head in his hands as he took deep breaths. Now he really looked like a man in pain.

Very calmly, head still in his hands as he looked at the floor, he said, You know, we used to have a witch on retainer. And it never felt like that. Then he turned, a very forbidding and closed expression on his face as he scrutinized my appearance.

Magic is unpredictable. That was my fault. I should have shielded differently…uh, it won’t happen again. We don’t want to be late. I stood up and grabbed my purse from the table, making a beeline for the door. I reached for the handle, but he was right behind me, hand on the door near my head, keeping it closed.

Not so fast. Has that happened before?