Open All Hours (Carnival Magic 2) (9 page)

He finally relaxed and Leesa felt the tension drain out of him. And she almost purred when he brushed his fingertips over her hair and her face, then down her back, making her shudder with delight. “Or both?” he asked.

She lifted her lips to his. “Or both,” she confirmed.

His mouth came down on hers, searching and teasing. But this time, she didn’t want tenderness. She wanted him fully unrestrained. She tilted her head, pulling away and he followed, pressing his lips more fully against hers. But his hands were still gentle.

Not this time
. She pulled away and shoved her hands in the narrow space between them, working his shirt up. He obliged, yanking it off and tossing it to the floor. The fly of his jeans parted next and she reached in to grab hold of him. He groaned as her hot hand gripped him firmly. For a few moments he let her palm him, stroking him from thick base to plump tip.

“Leesa, wait.” His voice sounded strained, heavy with desire.

“No, I don’t want to wait. I’m done with that. I want all of you now.”

His chuckle was short and sharp. “Hold on, darlin’, I don’t want to crush you.”

“You won’t. I’m stronger than that.”

“Wait, now. Don’t you --” He cut off as she slipped away from his embrace and headed towards his bedroom, still gripping his throbbing hardness. He had no choice but to follow as she tugged him along.

She flicked on the light as she entered and the room was washed in soft LED lighting. “Well,” she said. “Seems you need convincing.” Leesa lay on the black comforter that draped Vol’s bed, the white making her body stand out in sharp relief, and parted her thighs. The thin strip of fabric between her thighs was already damp with her moisture. She reached down to part her inner lips through the silky fabric, and the scent of her arousal reached him fully and he leapt across the room to bury his face in her.

Vol parted her dark pussy lips, revealing soft coral flesh, glistening with readiness. He lapped at her, first through the skimpy material until her juices soaked the fabric and her button was swollen and jutting out for his attention. He gave it, sucking at her tender bud as he gently inserted a finger into her center, feeling her walls quiver around him. He added another finger, pulling them apart rhythmically, stoking her fires higher. Leesa squirmed on the bed, but he held her in place for his tongue. When she was close to her peak, he lifted his head and she moaned.

“Just a minute, darlin’.” He slid off her panties and tossed them aside, preferring to lie alongside her to bestow more head-spinning kisses. She popped open the front clasp of her bra, beckoning him silently to suckle on her.

He tugged on first one nipple, then the other, flicking his tongue over and over their sensitive peaks. When his fingers returned to her soaking lips, she cried out, unexpectedly reaching her climax.

As the tension rolled away from her, Vol pulled off his jeans, releasing his heavy, aroused cock. “I came too soon,” she whispered, her sex quivering at the sight of his length and girth. Leesa reached out and stroked him from base to tip, amazed at how heavy his dick felt in her hands. She lifted the baton of smooth, tight flesh to her lips and sucked the wide mushroom head into her mouth.

Vol grunted as her hot mouth descended on him again and again. “No you didn’t, sweetheart. You came just right.” He twined his fingers in the loosened ends of her braids, stroking the silky fibers as she worked her mouth up and down on his stiff cock. Leesa’s flesh was slippery wet and she pressed her thighs together around her plump clit before wrapping her hand around the root of him. Then she slid her other hand down to cup and squeeze his balls. They tightened in her hand and he pulled away with a soft hiss. “That’s enough of that for now,” he ground out.

He pressed Leesa back to the springy mattress and kissed his way to down her stomach to the fluffy patch of hair between her thighs, parting the tender curls for his flicking tongue. In and out, he plunged, holding her thighs apart when her energy was spent. Vol slid his tongue up into her pussy, deep, pausing to pay extra attention to that sensitive spot deep within her, then curled it back out, to flick over the honey-sweet nub of her clit. Leesa cried out, hips bucking as the room spun around her. But Vol held on, clamping her thighs in his arms, while he continued to mercilessly flick inside her spasming hole as Leesa came again, her cream running onto his tongue.

When she was done, he pulled his body upward, over hers, nudging her quivering thighs wider. He kissed her open mouth and she tasted herself on his lips as he sank his bulging cock into her. Leesa groaned with pleasure as he stretched her slick channel. His strokes were deep and long, pushing her walls to open for him. She moaned with the sensations of being filled and used what little energy she had left to rock her hips to meet his thrusts.

Leesa curled her fingers into his broad back, holding on as he stroked her higher, turning them both so she was on top. This position brought him further into her, and Leesa gasped with the pleasure of her clit rubbing against him. She lifted her body, grinding against him, making sure she took all he had to give. Vol cupped her cheeks, kissing her thoroughly as her orgasm clashed over them both. Only then did he take over again, driving hard, spilling himself into her.

* * *

“Do you want to do this or shall we get you a nice ball to play with?” Tip asked. It was almost midnight and everyone had gathered in the large meeting room at Graham’s Greatest Show, the carnival Arthur owned, and they all sat at the conference room table. The night was muggy and Ellie cracked a window to let in some cooler air. The Carnival was about to close for the night, but the rest of the staff had been instructed to shut down without Arthur’s presence. Salt had been poured all along the outside of the building.

Leesa pressed her lips together and managed to keep from rolling her eyes. “We haven’t gotten the moth yet.”

“That’s okay. One will come.” Tip arranged a lit candle in a ceramic bowl of water. “Now I place this vessel facing north. Oh, by the way, what’s your favorite song?”

“My favorite song? Why?” Leesa asked. This was getting stranger and stranger.

“Because we are trying to remove a spell from you. You need to be surrounded with something that makes you feel good. Stronger.” She fussed with a few more items in the bag. “Now, what is it?”

Leesa paused and bit her lip. “Um…”

“Spit it out,” Ellie said. “Can’t be that bad, can it? Ugh, is it ABBA?”

“No. It’s ‘
The Devil Went Down to Georgia.
’”

After a few seconds the room burst into laughter. “Country? That’s your favorite song?” Tip wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

Leesa marveled that the swipe didn’t seem to disturb the layer of makeup she wore. “Yeah, so? It’s a classic. Black people do listen to country, you know.”

“Fine,” Tip said. “Sing it.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Yes, but it has nothing to do with this ritual. Sing it, if the song is close to your heart and has meaning, it will help both of us.” Leesa began to recite the spoken words tentatively. She’d always appreciated strings in any piece of music, but the real appeal of the song was on a deeper level. It was about taking a risk and knowing what you’re good at. When Johnny accepted the Devil’s bet to a duel, he knew that he was the best fiddle player that ever lived and felt assured of a win. Now that was confidence.

Tip looked at the others. “You sing too.”

“You gotta be kidding.” Ellie made a face, but at Tip’s glare finally joined the chorus of voices with her clear, strong alto.

“I see you know the words,” Tip muttered, as she set out the supplies, the lead suspiciously absent. In the ceramic bowl with the candle, she dropped in the cube of antimony and then pulled the petals from three roses and dropped them into the bowl, then stirred it with the cedar dowel Vol purchased from the home improvement store. When the group came to the end of the song, they began again, louder this time. Tip took off one of her many silver necklaces, one with a round charm on it that looked like a full moon complete with rough craters, and waved it through the candlelight, all the while murmuring words in a language Leesa didn’t understand.

A flutter passed her ear and Leesa almost screamed. But it was the moth, as Tip had predicted, drawn to the flame in an otherwise darkened room. It danced with the swing of the moon pendant five, six, seven times. Then Tip dropped the necklace into the water, creating a steaming hiss.

“That candle wouldn’t produce enough heat to --” Ellie began.

Arthur elbowed her. “Thought you would believe in magic by now.”

“Keep singing,” Leesa hissed.

“No,” Tip said. “You all can stop now.” The moth was gone, probably to more steam-free climates, and the woman removed her necklace from the bowl.

“Is that it?” Vol asked. “That wasn’t bad. Although I’m glad I don’t own a karaoke bar. Geez.”

“Not quite
all
.” Tip pushed the bowl over to Leesa. “Drink.”

“Oh, no. I’m not drinking that.”

“You don’t have a choice; not if you want this to work.” Vol’s voice was urgent.

“No one said that I would have to ingest anything. I don’t…ugh, no. It might make me sick.”

“I don’t think --” Ellie started.

“No, she’s right,” Tip turned to Leesa and refastened her necklace. “It might make you sick. That is if I did it right. Comes with the territory of curses and the like, I’m afraid. But you’d just throw up, then it’d be over.”

“How will I know it’s over?”

“You don’t change anymore,” Tip replied. “How do I know? I’m not Wikipedia.”

“Okay, fine.” Leesa took the bowl and drank its contents; the rose petals bumping against her lip and making her feel like she was drinking the latest perfume from Yves Saint Laurent. She replaced the bowl. “So now what?”

“How do you feel?” Vol asked, placing an arm around her.

“I imagine she feels relieved,” a voice said from outside the window.

Cold ebbed into the room as the group turned to the large bay window. Hovering outside it was the woman who’d placed the curse on Leesa. Her face was an off-putting mixture of tight forehead and wrinkled cheeks, but her eyes were sharp and sparkling.

“Don’t worry,” Tip said. “She can’t get in.”

“No, I can’t. Your friend has done an excellent job protecting you, as well as reversing my spell. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be. It didn’t take much.” Tip responded.

“But it put your magic out there in the universe, and it’s strong. Was it worth it, revealing your power to help a stranger?”

“I wasn’t hiding,” Tip replied. “Are we done here, or did you want something?” She lifted her hand in a threatening gesture.

The old woman raised both arms in surrender with a soft chuckle. “Nothing more, daughter of rock and sand. But we will meet again.” She faded from sight and the room returned to its usual temperature.

Leesa placed her hand on Tip’s arm. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t know using your powers would attract…”

“But I knew,” Tip explained. She gave the other woman one of her rare full on smiles. “And it was the right choice. At least we know it worked.” Then the smile turned into the one Leesa had gotten used to seeing: wicked and knowing, with a flash of silver lip ring. “Besides, I can handle any repercussions.”

One year later

The diner was standing room only. Servers had to contort themselves to wind through the throngs of people.

“Say I was right,” Leesa said, smiling for another picture from a local blogger.

“About what? Ow!” Vol said when she pinched his arm. “Okay, you were right. The kick up in business is due to you.”

Leesa had returned to work energized after her impromptu “vacation” and had turned in her resignation. The next day, she’d pressed the button to make her own Food Fiction blog go live. Short stories, recipes, and restaurant reviews abounded. Tone submitted a few of his retro classic recipes, complete with fifties diner lingo, and the posts went viral. Even Tip wrote an op-ed article about the perception of Black Goths. Soon, she had enough blog content for a book. Finally, Leesa had convinced Vol to open the diner to a launch party and book release for Food Fiction.

“Thank you,” she said, grinning. “I knew it would be a success.”

They kissed, much to the delight of the clientele and the photographers in the crowd. He whispered, “Are you glad you did it, love?”

She knew exactly what he meant. “Yes,” she admitted. “The cat wasn’t the real me. But the bear is the real you. And I love every inch.” Leesa laughed as Vol waggled his eyebrows suggestively before pulling her into a hug and lifting her off the floor. “And yes, you can take that comment both ways.”

Eden Royce is a native of Charleston, South Carolina, whose great-aunt practiced root, a type of conjure magic. She now wishes she’d listened more closely.

Her dark fantasy and horror stories have appeared in various anthologies and magazines and she wants to keep a touch of that darkness in her romance and erotica tales.

Besides writing, her passions include roller-skating, listening to thunderstorms, and excellent sushi.

Visit Eden’s website at edenroyce.com and her blog at darkgeisha.wordpress.com or find her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/eden.royce?fref=ts

or on Twitter at https://twitter.com/edenroyce