Page 14 of Witch Upon a Star
“No!” It was bad enough I lived with my parents and had led a relatively sheltered life. I didn’t want Quinten thinking of me as a child, even though I was almost twenty-five. “Absolutely not! I do not need a chaperone.”
My dad’s lips pursed into what was almost a frown. “As long as you’re sure. Just, please, be careful.”
The caution in his voice made it sound like he was telling me to use protection. At least he wasn’t trying to give me the safe sex talk again. There were just some things a daughter did not need to know about her father’s sex life.
“I will,” I promised.
The door opening downstairs saved me from having to continue talking about this. The fact that I had declined the date was likely what was keeping my parents from ordering me to cancel altogether.
“He’s going to propose tonight,” I told them. There was a twinge of jealousy in my heart, but overall, I was thrilled for my niece. My dad would not be offended that Pumpkin had not asked him for Dosia’s hand. He wasn’t traditional in that way. Dosia was her own person who could make her own decisions, regardless of his feelings. But I also knew that my dad liked Pumpkin and thought he was good for Dosia.
My mom clutched her hands to her chest. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I can’t wait to see the ring.”
I tipped my head like a curious cat, though I saw nothing beyond my bedroom walls. “He doesn’t have one yet. They’re going to go shopping tomorrow for one. I bumped into Mr. Colton at the fair, and he’s expecting them at ten tomorrow.” Mr. Colton owned an antique store on Main Street, further down the road from my new store and Dosia’s bookstore. Knowing my niece, Dosia would not want a flashy ring, but something with a story behind it. Normally, Mr. Colton wasn’t open on Sundays, but after I had warned him his wife shouldn’t keep putting off her annual doctor’s visit and they’d been able to catch her cancer early, he felt he owed me. I called in that favor.
“Why don’t you and I take the kids for the day?” Momoffered. “We can give them some privacy and time to celebrate, just them.”
I still had a lot of work that needed to be done at my shop, but I couldn’t say no to spending the day with my great-niece and new great-nephew. I did not tell my parents about my suspicions that Dosia was pregnant again. That was her news to share, not mine.
“Sounds like a good idea.” I pointed to my closet. “I already bought moving boxes for her. Pumpkin’s going to want to move her and JJ into his house as soon as possible.”
After they said goodnight, they went to greet Dosia and the others downstairs. I flopped over onto my empty bed gracelessly. I knew I had fucked up by bidding today. They didn’t need to scold me any more than I already was myself. This wasn’t the first time my parents had talked to me about keeping the balance. It was something I knew well in my own training. But why didQuintenhave to be my price? Why did my own happiness have to be placed on a scale?
Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I pulled up my TikTok app. My username was TheBeesKnees4527. I had a small following of people who liked to watch my beekeeping adventures, but I mostly used it to watch Quinten’s videos.
He posted every day, though I had doubted he recorded them the day of. He likely had a lot of archived videos that he used to fill in days when he couldn’t or didn’t feel like filming. His content followed certain themes like Thirsty Thursdays, Wet Wednesdays, and Teaser Tuesdays. And he did not disappoint. I’d spent many,manyhours with my hand between my legs watching his videos.
I might be a virgin, but I was not inexperienced. I knew what sex was. I watched porn and had a variety of toys that Iused to pleasure myself. Just because I didn’t want to be with any man other than Quinten did not mean I had not done extensive research to see what I liked, didn’t like, and wanted to experience when I finally could be with him.
He had a good music selection when it came to his videos. I didn’t know if he did the editing himself or had someone else do it, but unless the video was shot live, there was music and some editing involved.
Shirtless Saturday was today’s theme. It had posted earlier but I hadn’t had a chance to watch it yet. Sometimes it was a workout, other times it was him washing dishes or vacuuming or cleaning his bike or pushing one of his nieces or nephews on a swing or playing with some Pitbull puppies… It didn’t matter. Whatever the activity was, though, he was shirtless.
Today’s video was no different. My body tingled in anticipation as an image of his body shimmered before solidifying. He was standing in a dark corner, presumably a shower, with his back to the camera. Doja Cat’sStreetsplayed lightly in the background.
When I said my man was drool-worthy, it wasn’t an understatement. I wasn’t just blowing smoke becauseIthought he was hot. Hundreds of thousands of women agreed with me, but I knew something they didn’t. I knew that he wasmine.
He turned slowly under the spray, showing off his shadowed face, pecs, biceps, and tattoos. The camera was placed just so where he looked naked, though I doubted he was. But oh, how I wished the image would dip down just a centimeter more. That lick-able V surrounding his defined, soaked abs calledto my tongue.
My eyes glanced at my door to verify it was closed. I didn’t bother to get up to lock it. There was a very strict rule about knocking in my parents’ house. I hiked up my long, black dress, revealing my shaved legs and the white panties covering my most intimate parts. As the camera slowly panned up to his face, my eyes nearly rolled back in my head as the lighting and the water accentuated his tattoos.
My favorite, though, was the one on his right shoulder. He had no idea that he had a piece ofmetattooed on him already.
It was one of the reasons that I didn’t feel jealous about his videos or the thousands of very sexual comments left by his admirers. They could look, and while I knew that some got to touch him now, I also knew it wasn’t long-term. Once he was mine, he wouldforeverbe mine.
Quinten Miller was loyal to a fault, and our future was written in the stars.
As the camera came to a pause at his shadowed face, his lips started moving. It wasn’t his voice that came over the speakers and I had a feeling the words were from a BookTok video or something else equally as popular. My fingers dipped inside my panties to my soaked center as the voice and his lips told me what was about to happen as he watched me play with myself like the good girl I was.
Gods, if only he had a clue just how naughty I could be.
I dreamedof motorcycles and long mountain rides, of matching cribs and soccer games, of hidden caresses and soft kisses, of flesh and heat and moans of desire… As always, I woke up on my own a minute before my mom knocked on my door. No alarm clock needed for me. I never overslept, regardless of how much I tried during high school.
After getting myself showered and dressed, I helped my mom get JJ, who was five, and SJ, who was just shy of a year, ready. I wrote Pumpkin and Dosia a note so they weren’t frightened when they woke up to find their kids gone. In the note, I informed them about their appointment with Mr. Colton and also congratulated them on their engagement.
Once the kids were fed and dressed, we took them out into my apiary. JJ held onto Oolong for me while I checked on my hives. I was very lucky that my parents had a large backyard where I was able to keep my bees. As winter was approaching, they were preparing their hives for the cold weather. And while I know it is in their nature, I also felt bad this time of year when the hives started to kick the male bees, the drones, out of the colony. If the drones didn’t starve to death, they froze at night without the warmth of the hive to protect them.
My honey shed was a new addition. When I knew it was time to call Dosia back to Mount Grove so I could build my New Age store, I also got all the licensing and equipment I needed to start selling my honey outside of farmer’s markets. So long as I didn’t sell open food at my store, I didn’t need a health license there either.
