Page 16 of Obsession

But the eyes. The most beautiful shade of blue, I’d call them bright aquamarine.

I escort the ladies out and then I return to the dark séance room. As soon as I open the door, a delicious scent overpowers my senses. If temptation had a smell this would be it.

Lust overpowers me—my nipples painfully hard, my panties already drenched. Something doesn’t feel quite right, but I can’t put my finger on it. My feet seem to have a mind of their own as I step inside the room.

“What’s your name?” I ask, stripping out of my clothes.

“Damion Blackmon. But you can call me your king,” he smoothly replies, each syllable caressing my skin. I follow the melodic sound of his voice and the sinfully delicious smell until I’m standing in front of this sex god. “Tell me what I want to hear,” he commands, fisting his hand in my hair as I slide to my knees. “And then with my name on your tongue, you’re going to worship my cock.”

“Damion Blackmon, you’re the ki—,” I start, but then the realization hits me. “Damion Blackmon, you’re a child.”

Waking with a start, I reach blindly under my pillow, but I don’t feel my garnet. Jumping up, I snatch my pillow to find the crystal missing. That tricky devil, he must have swiped it the other morning while he was distracting me with a New Orleans contract and his cock! I grab my phone from my nightstand and fire off a message.

Me: Could you be any more conceited?

As soon as I hit send, Damion appears beside me, and I try not to jump right out of my skin. Or my panties, for that matter. I seem to have a hard time keeping them on around this Cambion—in the astral plane or any other plane of existence.

“Could I be? Yes,” he says, and I play elbow him. “How about a compromise? I’ll worship you with my tongue while you worship me with yours.”

He shifts us to where we’re in the perfect position for mutual worship. Who knew I was such a big fan of compromise?

Afterward, we throw on clothes and walk to the kitchen. “Morning, sugar pie. Damion. Here I was worried about you two.” She whistles. “I don’t know what was going on in there, but I can imagine a few scenarios.”

“Glad we could put your concerns to bed,” Damion says with a charming smile.

Nice pun, and you’re an enabler.

I’m team Daubry all the way.

Turning to my grandma, I say, “For once in your life could you try to respect healthy boundaries?” Seriously, is it too much to ask for my grandma not to quiz me on the details of my sex life, cause I sure as heck don’t think so.

“Vivian, you’re looking lovely as always. Where are you off to this morning?” Damion asks, unfazed.

“Hip-hop dance class. I would encourage Aubry to go with me, but my guess is her pelvis is already nice and loose.”

“Gross and goodbye.”

“Bye, Vivian.” Damion winks.

Don’t think you get out of puzzle training just because you’re a shameless flirt.

I’m only shameless when it comes to a certain wanton witch, he mentally informs me, nuzzling my neck. I thought I made that clear this morning.

Mmmm, he most certainly did, but I’m not going to tell him that. He gives me a tingly kiss and disappears.

Grabbing a bay leaf from the jar on the counter, I march to my room, a woman on a mission. Grandma and I own the building next door to the shop, and I’ve always dreamed of one day turning the second floor into my very own apartment. It’s time to do more than just dream.

I use a fine-tip permanent marker and write my intention on the bay leaf.

I am the happy owner of my apartment

next door.

My very own home is what I wish for.

Casting a circle and lighting a green candle for prosperity, I envision my apartment down to the tiniest of details as I light the bay leaf and watch it burn.

Chapter 8

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