It's Halloween and Lucy's husband Graham has once again disappeared with his red haired mistress. But, before
's rendezvous with her beloved, she does
the unthinkable and takes her daughter–the child fathered by Graham–
trick-or-treating at Lucy's house. Odessa
Lucy is a distraught until she gets another unexpected knock on her door. It's Mark Lewis, her husband's co-worker and the one man she's never been able to resist.
What's the harm in just one more illicit night with Mark? Lucy deserves that much, or does she?
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Excerpt: (general audience)
Lucy peeled the wrapper off another chocolate and decided she’d take off her stupid store bought witch’s costume, pour herself a good stiff drink, and call it a night after reading just one more chapter. No, on second thought why wait on that drink. She poured a gin and ginger and then plopped back down on the couch with her book.
The heroine’s breasts were heaving in excitement over finally seeing the hero’s steely shaft when Lucy was rudely interrupted by that damn doorbell.
She sighed and placed the open book on the side of the couch, quickly adjusting her pointy witch’s hat before opening the door.
“Trick-or-treat!” A chubby little butterfly grinned up at her.
“What a beautiful costume.” Lucy dropped one of the good chocolates in the little girl’s plastic pumpkin treat bag.
“My Daddy says I’m the prettiest butterfly ever.”
The child’s bedazzled butterfly wings and rhinestone studded leotard and tights definitely weren’t off the rack from the five and dime Halloween aisle. Someone had put a great deal of work into crafting the perfect little girl butterfly attire. Lucy dropped an extra candy in her pumpkin. “I believe he’s right.”
“Thank you,” the little girl chirped. “Are you Daddy’s maid?”
“Excuse me?” Lucy stammered.
The little girl tilted her head and looked up at Lucy as if she were harshly judging her store bought witch’s attire. “Mommy’s more pretty than you.”
“Prettier, I’m prettier.” A tall redhead stepped out of the shadows cackling like a witch. “That’s enough, Amalie. Thank the nice lady and go on to the car.”
“I already did thank her,” the little girl said, staring up at her mom.
Lucy’s smile evaporated as the redhead pulled off the mask and they locked eyes. This wasn’t just any redhead, this was her, Graham’s mistress from across the bay.
Standing there barefoot, Lucy guessed the woman to be even taller than Graham. If not for her height, she would have been nothing more than a wisp of a girl in an almost sheer chiffon buttercup yellow gown that clung to her lanky frame. She was all hair and long legs with her red curls falling every which way in swirls of crimson.
So, this was the infamous
Odessa and Graham’s illegitimate daughter; the
child born from an affair with her husband. Lucy searched the little girl for
traces of Graham and her breath caught in her throat when she recognized the
hawkish deep-set eyes behind the mask. The child wasn’t blond and she didn’t
have Graham’s dimpled smile. But, there was no denying the fact that from what
she could see the little one bore a striking resemblance to Graham’s mother.
She had his mother’s muddy brown hair and half-hearted smile.
“Amalie, go to the car,” the redhead repeated.
Lucy watched the little girl turn and go to a car she recognized all too well. There was no mistaking the custom gold paint job of the Mercedes that had once been owned by her husband. The child hadn’t flitted like a butterfly and she didn’t slam the car door. She moved with the same self-conscious manner that often left Lucy feeling like she’d been tiptoeing over eggshells, never doing anything exactly quite right.
A searing heat still crept across her chest all the way up to the tips of her ears. Why at this moment of all moments, when confronted by the little trollop, did she have to have a damn hot flash? Mother Nature’s nasty way of reminding her of the years she had on the much younger other woman.
Lucy took a deep shaky breath and looked right into the redhead’s too green eyes. “You’ve got some nerve.”
“I most certainly do.”
“Slow down,” she shrieked, and not from pleasure. “You’re hurting me.”
“What’s the matter? I thought you liked my big dick.” He stopped moving and grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look at him. “I’m sorry you’re used to Graham’s puny little wee wee.”
She pushed away his arms, barely moving until her pussy adjusted to the girth of his cock. “Let’s leave Graham’s dick out of this.”
“As tight as you are, I’d say he hasn’t gotten anywhere near your pussy since the last time I had it. Four years is a long time to go without getting any from the wifey.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s closer to four months than four years.”
“If I had a wife as hot as you I’d be hitting it every night I came home.”
His hand went to her sex and she started to relax as his fingers expertly maneuvered to just the right spot. She closed her eyes, rocking back and forth on his dick while his fingers rubbed away her inhibitions.
“I’m guessing he still couldn’t find your clit even if I drew him a map.”
Lucy slapped him across the face. She looked at her stinging hand, as surprised as he’d been by the blow.
Still working her clit, he used his other hand to pinch her nipple. “You want to play rough?” he asked, “I’ll gladly oblige.”
She tilted back her head, savoring the quick jolt of pain. That pinch unleashed something in her. She ground harder against him using his cock for her own satisfaction. His dick might have been a dildo for all she cared, and she used it as if it were. He seemed to approve, meeting her thrust for thrust, while still working over her clit with his finger.
Lucy leaned forward offering him her breast. He teased her at first, taking her right to the edge by lapping at her tits before biting down into the pale flesh of her left breast just below her heart. It was as if something snapped all the way to her very core. It wasn’t just an orgasm it was an awakening of sensations.
She froze for a moment, so in awe was she of how damn gorgeous he looked lying there beneath her. Their first time he’d been baby faced and handsome in a way that made young fans swoon as he battled her evil husband and his even nastier brother. By then she’d stopped going to the matches with Graham, but she’d occasionally watch the highlights on TV, drawn to the all American good looks of the man who fought her husband in the ring. She knew enough to know that outside the ring they all got along. She wasn’t that naïve after all, but she enjoyed that suspension of disbelief as much as any fan buying a ticket to the matches.
Mark smacked her ass, urging her to keep riding his cock. She gladly obliged, trailing a hand across the plain of his chiseled abs as she arched her back and subdued him with the strength of her sex. There wasn’t anything boyish about him anymore. As he’d matured into his thirties his body had taken on a harder edge and he’d bulked up with more muscle. It wasn’t just his body, Mark had a tough mysteriousness about him that Graham had never possessed.
It had to be that drink, she thought as she marveled over just how beautiful Mark had become. Sex with him had always been amazing. But this, this was sensation to the extreme. She could almost feel her lust for him pulsing through her veins. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Nothing. It was all so very real, yet totally unreal.
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About the Author:Jezebel Jorge is a practicing witch, medium, and a Reiki light worker. She describes her genre as Witch Lit - Sizzle and spice and some things Not so Nice.
Unlike most authors, the Voices running amok inside her head are sometimes spirits reaching out to tell their stories from the other side. Ghosts like to embellish just as the living, but there is usually a bit of truth entwined within her fictional stories.
She lives in
with a spoiled rotten Golden Retriever /
Great Pyrenees mix named Harry Potter and Nashville, TN , a very vocal Spirit Guide with an
affinity for snakes. Odessa