What the Hex

by Jessica Clare

My dream is coming true.

And I’m sure not going to tell him that I orgasmed the moment he “reached” into my magic.

He’s tall and slender, his deep green suit expensive and cutting edge without being too trendy. Willem has very pale skin and bright carroty-red hair that speaks of his northern European ancestry. His face is angular and proud, and his eyes are a light green that would probably be attractive if he wasn’t such a jerk.

“I think we should pretend we’re dating and in love.” His orange brows shoot up.

“It’s not my first choice, either, trust me. But it would explain why we’re suddenly together all the time. It would explain why I’ve moved in with you. My parents would think I’m in love and wouldn’t ask too many questions. My friends would probably think I’m fucking you for the prestige of dating a warlock, but I can handle that. Your friends wouldn’t question why you suddenly have a woman moving in with you. It really is the perfect cover story.”

“No one’s going to believe that you want to be with me. No one likes me.”

Two seconds after I do, I remember that the last time he held my hand, I came.

In addition to working under the table for a super-cranky warlock, I’m apparently going to fake-date him as well.

She wants magic as badly as I do, and so we’re both breaking the rules.

Oh . . . oh dear. I press my thighs together, because that intrusive tingle is starting between my legs again. Surreptitiously, I glance over at Willem, but he’s casting without even looking at me, one finger on the page of the book while the other drips blood into the snake-scale-milk-goat-hair concoction in the bowl. I try not to squirm, even as the sensation builds. Shit. It’s definitely an orgasm. Shit, shit, shit. I clench harder, trying to push the unwanted feeling away, but it keeps spiraling and growing greater as the tablet continues to glow, the writing lighting up as the spell activates. I watch in a mixture of horror and fascination as the last line of wording lights up—and everything inside me squeezes in a fierce, breathtaking orgasm. “Unh.”

It takes everything I have not to gasp aloud. I do contort in the chair, though, my back arching as the breath leaves my lungs.

Am I supposed to come every time he casts?

Instead of being annoyed by his demanding words, I feel my pussy clench, hard, in anticipation of the spellcasting. Why am I being turned on? This is bad. This is very bad. I don’t like Willem.

I think I’ve had more orgasms in the last few days than I did with my last boyfriend.

The Willem thing has to be because of magic, though. It’s certainly not his winning personality.

From afar, I glare daggers into the man-bun-wearing fool. I lean against the car, watching as he flirts with my fake girlfriend, reaching over and touching a lock of her hair and laughing with her. Does he think because she’s claimed that now he has to stake out his territory? Because it looks as if he’s trying to pull her into his lap. Penny smiles again, discreetly moving her chair a little farther away when the idiot leans in again. At least it’s only one-sided. I’d be all kinds of pissed if she had a secret paramour . . . And then I frown at myself. Why does it matter? I just need her for casting, to be my power source. There’s nothing personal about it.

“Warlock dick must be special dick indeed.”

“Your Katrina hit on me,” I enunciate, disgusted. “And the men were flocking around you like vultures.”

I’m surprised no one asked me if your semen tastes different than regular semen.” The car swerves as my hands jerk on the wheel. “I beg your pardon?”

“Not that we’re going to sleep together.” “I should say not.” I’m dismayed it even came up.

It’s like the moment he casts, I orgasm and conk out.

“And the way he just looked at her, like he wanted to eat her up with his eyes.”

He . . . did? That doesn’t sound like Willem in the slightest. Maybe he had indigestion.

Why is it I’m suddenly thinking about how he kissed the top of my head and how perfectly I fit against Willem?

Time to get casting . . . and get another orgasm. My thighs clench at the thought.

Am I? I’m just trying to ease the distress that her misery causes me.

In short, he’s thorny on the outside and an absolute mush inside.

gasp, shocked at how good it feels and how it sends a tingle between my thighs, just like his casting does. “Oh.” “Should I stop?” “No, I’m fine,” I breathe. “I was just startled.”

He kisses my neck again, and my body is prickling all over with awareness. I’m reminded of each and every spell we’ve cast, each one accompanied by a pulse-pounding orgasm. Arousal floods through me, and with it, embarrassment.

absolutely cannot get turned on b...

Oh, sweet lord have mercy, how is it that these “fake” bites can feel so much better than anything I’ve felt in a long time? My pulse is throbbing between my thighs, reminding me just how hard I come each time he casts.

The man just tongued my neck, and now my panties are sopping and I can’t think straight. If he wants to cast later . . . I’m going to be an absolute puddle.

enjoy her company, and after being in her presence for several hours, I don’t feel the need to leave the room.

it’s just so damned adorable that I want to reach over and kiss her.

Ever since I gave her those love bites on her neck, I’ve been obsessing over touching Penny. Over skimming my hands along that dress of hers and hiking up her skirts to grab handfuls of that curvy derriere. Over hauling her against me and leaving her neck absolutely ringed with bites so they would all know just how delicious she is and how hard it makes me when she does that happy smile that makes her all cheeks and teeth. I’ve grown addicted to that smile. I’m an idiot.

she made a few soft noises that got me hard.

she smelled clean and fresh and sweet and I want to kiss her even more.

Not that I should be noticing that it’s lovely. Or that she fits perfectly in my lap,

No one’s ever touched me like this. Like I’m a possession. A beautiful, fragile possession that has to be played with and teased. I love this.

“I’ll be good.”

Just like when he finds my panties and pushes them aside, only to tease along the seam of my pussy with his fingers.

Stop? I will lose my damn mind if he stops.

want him to keep going. So I press my hand over the one he’s got in my panties and help him rub. He lets out a guttural sound, and then he’s rubbing the sides of my clit harder, in just the way I like. I bite down on one of his fingers, rocking my hips against him. He whispers my name, working my pussy more expertly than I could have ever imagined, and it takes me no time at all to come. The release is hard and swift, and I make a keening sound behind my teeth as he keeps teasing my clit, not stopping even when I quake with my orgasm. In fact, he doesn’t stop until I push his hand away, and then he lets out a little huff of amusement, as if I’m the bossy one.

One orgasm made me drowsy. Two is just unfair.

then straddling me. “What the devil?”

“Actually, scratch that,” Penny continues. “I think we should kiss.” “Kiss . . . ?”

That’s all I get out before her mouth is on mine. Penny

presses her lips t...

with single-minded determination, and I taste cherry-flavored gloss and a hint of vanilla, and then I forget about tasting anything, because she’s kissing me with soft, delicate, sweet kisses that fill me with yearning. Her mouth is warm and seductive as she gives me small kiss after small kiss, peppering my mouth and chin with ...

“No. I want to have sex with you because I like you. What on earth are you talking about?” “You want to be with me,” I enunciate, still not entirely sure I believe her. “Willem Sauer.”