It has been a while since I shared anything from my FF stories, so I thought I’d remedy that today. Here’s a luscious excerpt from my sexy FFF paranormal novella The Witches of Gloucester.
It’s not about power. It’s about love.
The historic port of Gloucester, Massachusetts has a special charm, due at least in part to its resident witches. For decades, raven-maned Marguerite and red-headed Beryl have lived among its hard-working inhabitants, making magic and mischief. Love and sex fuel their supernatural abilities, but duality limits their power. To reach their full potential, they need a third witch to complete their circle.
Rejected as a nymphomaniac by her puritanical boyfriend, Emmeline escapes to Gloucester to work on her PhD thesis. From the moment she arrives, Marguerite and Beryl sense her erotic vitality and unrecognized paranormal talent. The platinum-haired beauty may well be the enchantress they have been awaiting for so long. Now they need to show Em that her prodigious libido is a gift, not a liability, and to persuade her that her destiny lies in the sea-girt town they guard, and in their arms.
Marguerite gathered Emmeline into her arms as the girl burst into ragged tears.
“Hush now.” The raven-haired woman combed her jewel-encircled fingers through Emmy’s platinum locks. “Don’t be afraid.” Warm lips branded Emmy’s brow. A supple tongue flicked out to gather the tears from Emmeline’s cheeks. Through wine-colored velvet, Marguerite’s ample bosom, simultaneously soft and firm, pillowed her own more modest breasts. A whiff of cinnamon tickled her nose, followed by the musky aroma of female arousal.
Emmeline’s already swollen nipples pulsed like the lighthouse off Bass Rocks. A wave of liquid need swept through her, cresting and breaking between her thighs.
“Oh...oh, please...” Marguerite’s fierce kiss swallowed her moan. A snake-like tongue wriggled into Emmy’s mouth, brazen and seductive. Emmeline yielded, swooning with the heat of that kiss, until needle-sharp teeth nipped the plumpness of her lower lip.
“Hey! Aah...” Her yelp became a groan of need as the tiny pain kindled new fires in her hungry pussy.
“Ssh. Just relax, love.” That was Beryl’s voice, smooth, hypnotic, matching the delicate brush of fingertips along her shoulders and down her arms. “Let us pleasure you the way you deserve.” Seduced by the redhead’s quiet dominance, Emmeline obeyed. She closed her eyes, letting the rising tide of her own lust drown the last shreds of fear.
In the sweet darkness, every sensation grew more acute. Marguerite deepened the kiss, sucking Emmy’s tongue into her mouth, while Beryl stroked Emmy’s back, belly and thighs. The wandering hands barely touched Emmeline’s body but everywhere they traveled, delicious heat followed.
Sparks danced along Em’s naked skin in the wake of Beryl’s fingers. Naked? When had she removed her clothing? Her eyes fluttered open. Shadows hung in the opulent room, shaped by candles that flickered on the mantel. It was nearly midsummer. How could the night have come so quickly?
Embarrassment, wonder and need warred within her. Arousal coursed through her body in shimmering waves, so intense it was almost pain. She found herself splayed nude upon the carpet, arms flung out and erect nipples pointing at the ceiling. Her knees were bent, her thighs spread wide in lewd invitation. Moisture seeped from her exposed cleft, dampening the silky nap of the rug beneath her.
Beryl knelt in the gap between Em’s legs, equally naked, her porcelain-pale skin gleaming in the dimness. Candlelight struck glints from her coppery crown. Emmeline couldn’t help staring at the matching tangle hiding the woman’s sex. She ached to part that auburn curtain and taste the moist flesh it concealed.
The older woman grinned. Mischief glittered in her emerald eyes. “Time enough for that later, girl. The first climax must be yours. Trust us. We won’t harm you. We just want to teach you who you are.”