shoulder—a dark, pink nipple peeked through the silky black strands. “What else can you do?”
“I can love you.” She kissed his chest. “Come, bathe with me.” He could do nothing, but follow.
Before getting into the shower, he took another cloth and washed the evidence of his passion from the mirror. “I have never come that violently before. I didn’t know I could.” Then, he thought of the first night that he had dreamed about her—the volcanic eruption of his climax that night had almost equaled this one. The effect that she had on him was unbelievable. He swore the moment they climbed out of that shower, he would get to the bottom of this. But right now, his mind wasn’t in charge. His heart was.
She led him by the hand under the warm spray. Evangeline soaped his body, enjoying the feel of him. “Love, I can’t get it up so soon. You’ve drained me; three times in one morning is a record for me.”
“I know. I just love to touch you. Your body is magnificent. Even though, I’ve touched it many times in my mind, fantasy is a far cry from reality.” He filled his own hand with the liquid soap and began returning the favor. Turning her so that her back was to him, Eric used his soapy hands to luxuriously wash Evangeline’s neck, arms, breasts, stomach—everywhere. She leaned back against him, raising her arms above her head to caress his face. When his hands finally found the juncture between her thighs—it only took one touch—and she convulsed with a climax that had been building since she had watched him come by just the touch of her spirit.
But he didn’t leave it at one touch, he kept working her and she kept coming. “Eric, you are so—” She was about to say ‘wonderful’, but he finished the thought.
“Hard,” he said through clenched teeth. “I am so friggin’ hard, it’s crazy!”
He picked her up and sat her down on his cock. Moving her to the side of the shower, she rested her face on his shoulder as he pumped wildly into her grateful, aching pussy.
This time it was hot, hard, fast and totally satisfying. Even after he spilled his seed deep within her womb, he kept pushing, pushing, letting the final sweet contractions of her channel milk the last drop of molten lava from his spent shaft. “I’m convinced.” He panted. “I believe you.” He voice was breathless from the exertion.
Evangeline, still supported by his strong hands, held her breath and asked, “What do you believe, Eric?”
“You’re a witch,” he whispered. “I don’t really understand it, but I believe.”
Chapter Five
As she cooked, Evangeline remembered his words last night, he had believed her—that she was a witch. She knew he had no depth of knowledge. He hadn’t even realized what he had been saying. It was his passion speaking. But he wasn’t heading for the hills. He wasn’t running away from her. She had a chance. Evangeline prepared him a sumptuous breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage, hash browns and French toast. Then she watched him eat. She sat by him and he fed her every bite she would eat, but she mainly feasted on the sight of him at her kitchen table. Doing little things for him warmed her heart. When he was full, he was ready to talk. She put the dishes in the dishwasher and they went back to the living room. She sat on the couch and he surprised her by laying down on it and resting his head in her lap. They sat there for a moment, and she waited for him to ask whatever he wanted to. She didn’t have long to wait.
“So, you say that your family has power. What kind of power?” His eyes twinkled. The topic still made him uneasy. Since the death of his mother, this topic had been ignored or belittled. It was hard for him to take it seriously. But his mother…
“All the women in my family practice hoodoo, it’s the New Orleans form of witchcraft.”
Eric sat up. He couldn’t believe his ears. “Do you mean to tell me that round, sweet, little
“I can love you.” She kissed his chest. “Come, bathe with me.” He could do nothing, but follow.
Before getting into the shower, he took another cloth and washed the evidence of his passion from the mirror. “I have never come that violently before. I didn’t know I could.” Then, he thought of the first night that he had dreamed about her—the volcanic eruption of his climax that night had almost equaled this one. The effect that she had on him was unbelievable. He swore the moment they climbed out of that shower, he would get to the bottom of this. But right now, his mind wasn’t in charge. His heart was.
She led him by the hand under the warm spray. Evangeline soaped his body, enjoying the feel of him. “Love, I can’t get it up so soon. You’ve drained me; three times in one morning is a record for me.”
“I know. I just love to touch you. Your body is magnificent. Even though, I’ve touched it many times in my mind, fantasy is a far cry from reality.” He filled his own hand with the liquid soap and began returning the favor. Turning her so that her back was to him, Eric used his soapy hands to luxuriously wash Evangeline’s neck, arms, breasts, stomach—everywhere. She leaned back against him, raising her arms above her head to caress his face. When his hands finally found the juncture between her thighs—it only took one touch—and she convulsed with a climax that had been building since she had watched him come by just the touch of her spirit.
But he didn’t leave it at one touch, he kept working her and she kept coming. “Eric, you are so—” She was about to say ‘wonderful’, but he finished the thought.
“Hard,” he said through clenched teeth. “I am so friggin’ hard, it’s crazy!”
He picked her up and sat her down on his cock. Moving her to the side of the shower, she rested her face on his shoulder as he pumped wildly into her grateful, aching pussy.
This time it was hot, hard, fast and totally satisfying. Even after he spilled his seed deep within her womb, he kept pushing, pushing, letting the final sweet contractions of her channel milk the last drop of molten lava from his spent shaft. “I’m convinced.” He panted. “I believe you.” He voice was breathless from the exertion.
Evangeline, still supported by his strong hands, held her breath and asked, “What do you believe, Eric?”
“You’re a witch,” he whispered. “I don’t really understand it, but I believe.”
Chapter Five
As she cooked, Evangeline remembered his words last night, he had believed her—that she was a witch. She knew he had no depth of knowledge. He hadn’t even realized what he had been saying. It was his passion speaking. But he wasn’t heading for the hills. He wasn’t running away from her. She had a chance. Evangeline prepared him a sumptuous breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage, hash browns and French toast. Then she watched him eat. She sat by him and he fed her every bite she would eat, but she mainly feasted on the sight of him at her kitchen table. Doing little things for him warmed her heart. When he was full, he was ready to talk. She put the dishes in the dishwasher and they went back to the living room. She sat on the couch and he surprised her by laying down on it and resting his head in her lap. They sat there for a moment, and she waited for him to ask whatever he wanted to. She didn’t have long to wait.
“So, you say that your family has power. What kind of power?” His eyes twinkled. The topic still made him uneasy. Since the death of his mother, this topic had been ignored or belittled. It was hard for him to take it seriously. But his mother…
“All the women in my family practice hoodoo, it’s the New Orleans form of witchcraft.”
Eric sat up. He couldn’t believe his ears. “Do you mean to tell me that round, sweet, little
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