Treats for Trixie
A familiar has to be careful when letting a warlock have his way with her. Especially if she's a bit inexperienced. But when Forrest sets his sights on Trixie, nothing will stand in his way, not even her own insecurities. Trixie is one full figured familiar worth having for his own.
If
that woman
didn’t quit swishing her hips when she walked by him, Forrest was going to turn her over his knee. The resulting spanking would likely end with her beneath him, clawing his back and screaming his name. If he were lucky. He felt decidedly lucky. With Halloween approaching and his magick burning inside him, filling him with more power than he had at any other time of the year, the resulting rush was like a firebrand across his senses.
The woman in question was none other than Trixie Lance, the local familiar coven’s good girl. Of course, “good” was a relative term. That whole house was a bunch of animals. Literally. Each of them had an alternate animal form, and they loved to party.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” And that would be Zyan, his best friend and the one man who could see right through him.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Zyan toed a chair around to straddle it, resting his hands on the back. Music blared through the bar where Forrest watched his little familiar. “Well, you have to admit. There’s not been a sock on the door in more weeks than I can count, and you’re always either here or at the familiar coven. No’ that I blame you.” Zyan shook his head as Trixie walk by once again, the other man’s eyes giving her backside an appreciative once over. “That woman’s got an arse to inspire sonnets.”
“Stop looking at her ass,” Forrest bit out through clenched teeth.
“Kinda hard to miss, that.” Zyan grinned. “Nice and round, just right to grip while she rides—”
“I will fuck you up so bad you’ll need a slew of familiars feeding you mystical energy to heal.”
Over the centuries of their friendship, Zyan had adopted a Scottish accent because it “dropped panties faster than Mardi Gras.” Forrest had to admit the man had a point. Which was why he didn’t like him anywhere near Trixie.
“Then do somethin’ about it before someone else does.” Zyan shook his head, making a
tsk
ing sound as he sucked in a breath. “A man could get lost in that wee beauty.”
Didn’t he just know it? Forrest had been obsessing over the voluptuous little cat shifter far longer than any sane man would. Nice and rounded in all the right places, Trixie had a body that just screamed sex. Her extra curves had caused her grief in a den filled with lithe, tall beauties, but Forrest’s mouth watered whenever he thought about how she’d look standing nude before him. Generous hips, rounded breasts, and a strong body, Trixie was built to take a man like him. She would surely be the death of him. Didn’t mean he was opposed to chancing it. He just couldn’t figure out how to approach her. He knew she was an innocent. His magick told him that every time he got near her, screaming for him to claim her for his own before another man did. Unfortunately, he wasn’t into the kind of sex with which one initiated virgins. His immortality ensured he’d been “around the block” a time or two. Vanilla sex wasn’t in his repertoire, and vanilla was what a virgin needed.
As if he’d conjured her, Trixie sashayed past with her rounded ass swishing right in front of him. It was all he could do not to reach out and swat that luscious, rounded behind as she walked by him. She seemed oblivious to his plight, as if he wasn’t even on her radar. Being a cat shifter, he knew she was hyper aware of anything and everything around her, so did that mean she was ignoring him?
Forrest narrowed his eyes. The little minx was...
playing with him
! This put a whole new spin on things. Instantly, his cock was rock hard, pressing painfully against the leather of his pants. As he watched, her long black hair brushed the swell of her hips, seeming to beckon him to touch her. Had she turned her head on purpose? Every movement of her head seemed to bring his focus straight back to her ass. Just when he thought about pulling his gaze away, knowing the folly of allowing her to bewitch him like this, she bent over the edge of the bar to get the attention of the bartender. The movement brought her short skirt high over the backs of her smooth, dark thighs.
And just like that, the image of him pushing her upper body down on the bar and plunging into her entered his mind. He seized on it, knowing that image would forever haunt him. Just like the woman. He wanted to bind her arms behind her back or over her head, pin her knees to her shoulders, and take her until they were both so worn out neither of them could move. He’d cover her with his body and keep her there for the better part of this century, or until he was compelled to let her up. Maybe he’d keep her under him forever.
Or tied to a St. Andrew’s Cross…
Ah, gods, he could just imagine the slick, tight feel of her cunt grasping his cock as he pounded her from behind. He’d take her ass next, plunging into her with abandon. Would she enjoy that forbidden pleasure or beg him to stop, to let her go? The more he thought about it, the more he knew he needed Trixie begging him to take her any way he wanted. Forrest was never a man to deny himself pleasure during sex, but he’d always made sure to satisfy any woman he had in his care. Trixie would be no different.
And just like that, he made up his mind. Trixie Lance was his.
Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, he walked into mine
. Trixie knew she was playing with fire even as she had her
Casablanca
moment. Forrest Erebus was way out of her league. Not to mention he was one of the most notorious Doms in the coven. Witches and familiars alike had tried to tempt him into more than a couple weeks in his dungeon, but none had managed to hold his attention longer than it took to orgasm. A few dozen times. Or more. Unfortunately, Trixie couldn’t seem to stop thinking about all that hedonistic pleasure to be had in his arms. Realistically, she knew she wasn’t ready for his brand of sex. If she gave herself to him the way it was rumored he demanded, she’d lose herself. But oh, what a time she’d have!
Did she dare?
As she signaled the bartender for her usual ginger ale, a large warm body pressed against her backside. The unmistakable bulge of a very long, very thick cock pressed snugly between the cheeks of her ass through her skirt. Forrest. She’d know his scent anywhere. He smelled like his namesake. Pine, cedar, and rich earth underscored the rich masculine scent of warm male as he surrounded her with his body, his arms on either side of her. It was a public display. Him staking a claim. Immediately, her heart began to race even as she arched her back, craving more of his seductive touch.
“You live too dangerously for a woman who drinks ginger ale.” Forrest’s voice was warm and smooth, like she imagined a good whisky would be. There was just enough bite to make her take notice, but it wasn’t so rough he scared her away.
“Says the man sitting in a bar when any one of the women here would gladly go home with you.” She turned to face him. “What do you want?”
He grinned but didn’t move out of her space. Instead, he leaned in closer, his breath fanning her cheek. “You,” he said simply.
Trixie couldn’t help inhaling deeply, taking in his scent deep. She’d already known he was aroused, but the depth of his need surprised her. Given the strength of his scent, the way it rose sharply when he moved even inches closer to her told her he was aroused for her. Only her.
“I’m not your usual caliber of lover. Are you sure you don’t have me mixed up with another familiar?”
There was no way Trixie could keep her own arousal from firing. The results were...surprising. His magick and hers mingled, the energy sparking off each other creating a halo of glittering magick around them.
“Wow,” she managed.
“Still think I’m mistaken?” He was right at her ear, his breath and rumbly voice sending shivers down her body. Her cunt wept with need, her nipples tightening to the point of pain. Without realizing it, Trixie rubbed her breasts against his chest, seeking relief for her throbbing peaks.
She wasn’t. Unfortunately, the pull of his magick combined with hers was too seductive to ignore. The cat in her loved the electric charge. The familiar in her demanded she submit to the needs of the warlock who’d claimed her. It all added up to her being helpless to do anything other than what he wanted.
Trixie looked up at him, the powerful lust making her braver than she had a right to be. “What would you do to me?” Her voice was throaty, sexy. She’d never known she could sound like that, like a sex kitten rather than a mystical partner to any witch or warlock. And did she really want to know the answer to that question? She’d heard of Forrest taking women—and men—to his dungeon to use as his playthings. Some of the familiars in her den whispered of the naughty, wicked things he’d done to their bodies, often comparing tales. One woman had told of how he’d restrained her in a stockade, alternately whipping and petting her entire body until she’d zoned out. She’d described it as the ultimate euphoria, a state where the pleasure and pain mingled so sharply she’d needed both to maintain the effect. Then he’d plunged his cock inside her, fucking her until she screamed his name, begging him to take her again and again. Could Trixie really handle something like that?
Instead of answering her, however, Forrest merely looked her over as if sizing her up. “Rumor has it you’re a virgin.”
She shrugged, trying to pretend it didn’t matter. In reality, she was deeply embarrassed by that fact. Several familiars and warlocks had expressed interest in her, but, upon finding out she was unpracticed, chose not to bother. “So? Everyone has to start somewhere.” The feel of power spiraling through her must be making her drunk because she added, “Afraid you won’t measure up in the future?”
Instead of an outward explosion of male outrage or, worse, telling her he’d likely forget her before she did him, Forrest merely gave her a satisfied smirk. “I’ll chance it.”