Gorgeous Drew loves the ladies. His best friend tells him he's addicted to sex.
Marianne owns and runs a new age shop. She sells her spells and potions
aware of Drew's conquests and sometimes she wishes he'd look her way.
Marianne owns and runs a new age shop. She sells her spells and potions
aware of Drew's conquests and sometimes she wishes he'd look her way.
Magic is in the air. A series of events will unfold that changes everything.
An erotic romance, full of sex, romance and magic, this short story will delight.
Read a teaser 18+ ONLY
Drew ran down the two flights of stairs to the enormous kitchen. The strong aroma of coffee greeted him.
Marianne was already at work in one corner, weighing, mixing, stirring, and filling the colored vials for the shop. She bent over the table. Her shapely ass clothed in denim shorts immediately captured his attention. Sexual need slammed into him. His stomach clenched and his cock jerked. The spasm completed his erection. Drew’s gaze roamed over her shapely thighs—the way a V-shaped space formed between them at the top, the soft part at the bottom of her ass…
I could slide my fingers into that space. A handful of that ass is just what I need. Damn, she’s my oldest friend, and—not interested.
He turned and ran back up the stairs. His cock strained behind his zipper. He hadn’t reached the sanctuary of his own bedroom before he opened his jeans and sheathed his erection in one hand. He closed the bedroom door already gasping, working his cock to orgasm. He leaned on the door and gave himself what he knew he must. The orgasm ripped through him and buckled his knees. He slid down the door, his T-shirt rumpling up at the back, but catching on his chest muscles at the front, his breathing heavy. Fucking hell…Drew squatted there to calm himself. Sometimes the peace of having an orgasm didn’t last long these days, and he’d be looking forward to the next in minutes.
Drew stood and strode to his bathroom. He cleaned up and looked into the mirror again. Get a fucking grip. With that thought, he walked over to his bedroom window, a wide double door that led to a balcony. It was still early enough for the street below to lack the throng of tourists, or the writhing participants of a festival. Drew leaned on the pale green wrought iron balustrade and looked down. He’d fucked a young woman against the rail two nights ago. He pictured her hanging onto the rail moaning, as he fucked her from behind. Drew shook his head, trying to clear it. They love it … they always come … I’m tender … caring…He left the balcony and went slowly down the stairs to the kitchen.
Empty now of the enticement that was Marianne, Drew poured a cup of coffee and wandered over to check out the diary. They had a tour to conduct at midday in the cemetery. It would be full of potential conquests, young women throwing caution to the wind as they vacationed in the warm, historic city. Lovely sexy women in tiny shorts, or dresses that floated to the floor, as he took them off, they never said no to him. They sometimes asked to see him again, but no way was he going there. No woman wants to know she’s a one-night stand, a fuck. He’d smile his charming smile, nod a little, and tell them he’d find them. He knew the vague promise was enough in the heady atmosphere of New Orleans.
Drew sat down heavily on one of the carved wooden kitchen chairs. Lots of the furniture was antique. Marianne’s mom had left her not just the shop, but also the house, and everything in it. Her mom had provided the recipes for the spells they sold to tourists. These days, they sold other things too, Tie-dyed silk scarves, candles, watercolor paintings by some of the local artists, trinkets, and they conducted “spooky tours.”
Drew and Marianne had known each other since they met in junior high school. When he came home from NYU with degrees in music technology, she was there to welcome him. A frown creased his forehead. Was I addicted to sex then? I can’t remember it. When did it first start? He threw the remains of his coffee in the sink and placed the cup in the dishwasher. Maybe Marianne knows … maybe she noticed.
Copyright Elodie Parkes
