"Of course you do." He began thrusting harder. Pounding into flesh and forcing soft sounds of delight and need from her lips.

He released her hair and slid a hand down and around to press his fingertips against her c.l.i.t. She cried out as o.r.g.a.s.m began to crest, the shimmering waves of intense pleasure growing in intensity, building, rising. She shuddered, moaning as she teetered on the edge of a vicious o.r.g.a.s.m.

"Your going to c.u.m soon, Chast.i.ty," he murmured breathlessly in her ear. "I can feel how close you are."

She felt a hand on her b.u.t.tocks, then a wet finger on the tight rose of her a.n.u.s. She whimpered softly. "No, please don't." She tried to push him out, but that opened her to his plundering finger. He pushed, invading her tight virgin ca.n.a.l, shoving past the snug ring to burrow into heat.

He moved his finger and she felt him through the thin walls of her c.u.n.t moving against the c.o.c.k that f.u.c.ked her. She screamed and bucked as the cresting wave of o.r.g.a.s.m took her. Her body spasmed powerfully around both the finger and the c.o.c.k within her. Moisture slithered down her thighs as she writhed with intense gratification.

"I thought you'd like that," Mr. DuLong said, and groaned. "My turn." He shoved his c.o.c.k deeply into her c.u.n.t and held her there, locked tightly against his sweating rigid body. Mr. DuLong choked and pulled partway out, then plunged again. "f.u.c.k, yes!"

Chast.i.ty felt her teacher's c.o.c.k moving within her as he pumped his load of c.u.m into her. Long creamy ropes of c.u.m slithered from her swollen c.u.n.t, down her thighs.

They separated, and Mr. DuLong dropped naked into his chair, only a few steps away. He smiled. "That was delightful." Mr. DuLong sighed as he pulled his trousers up, then shrugged into his shirt.

Chast.i.ty leaned against the blackboard in blushing humiliation, her crossed arms over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Tears slid silently down her cheeks. She had just been f.u.c.ked hard and long by her teacher, and, G.o.d help her, had gloried in every moment of it.

Chast.i.ty kept her back to the teacher as she pulled up her jeans, his c.u.m still sliding down her thighs. She fastened her bra, then put on her pink blouse.f.u.c.king a.s.shole.

"You have pa.s.sed your exam, you no longer need to complete this cla.s.s. My report to your sponsor will have nothing but excellent marks. Now, you may leave," Mr. DuLong said as he turned back to the manila folder on his desk.

"Sir?" she said, noting that he had yet to put his belt back on, "I have a sponsor?" Chast.i.ty said in astonishment as she gathered her books.This was deliberate?

"Why, yes. I was brought in specifically to instruct you."

"Sir, who is my sponsor, and what have I been sponsored for?" Chast.i.ty backed away from the desk.

What the h.e.l.l is going on here?

"I'm sorry, but I cannot reveal who your sponsor is, although I can say that you may be a.s.sured that your next instructor will be pleased to have such a diligent student. You are well on your way to qualifying for the Academy, once you graduate high school." He busily wrote in the folder then raised his eyes to hers. His lips curved in a tight smile. "Did you wish to continue with this cla.s.s?"

"Absolutely not, sir!"

"you should go. Your ride will be waiting at the school's front entrance."

Chast.i.ty fled, her sneakers making light sounds as she ran for the front doors. She burst from the school and dashed down the front steps. "Hey little girl, enjoy your cla.s.s?" Rob smiled as he leaned against the pa.s.senger door of his silver mustang, tall dark and imposing, his long hair flying in the brisk breeze.

"Are you my sponsor?" she snapped.

"h.e.l.l, no..." He chuckled as he opened the door. "I was a.s.signed to take your virginity and make you like it. I guess you can say that I was your first instructor."

"What?" Chast.i.ty stood frozen in shock on the bottom step.

"Come on and get in, I have to take you home." He grabbed her by the arm and shoved her into the car.

"Who's next to teach me?" she said as she sat in the car.

Rob slid into the driver's side and started the Mustang. "I have no idea, they haven't told me squat. I had no idea that you'd be seeing that kinky b.a.s.t.a.r.d 'til I got the call this afternoon."

"You know him?" she asked.How the h.e.l.l did Rob know about Mr. DuLong? she wondered as he drove toward her house.

"Don't ask, 'cause I'm not gonna tell you, but you can be sure that this was easy compared to what they've probably lined up for you next."

Phantom Highwayman.

A Ghostly Thief of Hearts.

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees, When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, A highway man comes riding, riding; riding; A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard.

And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred.

He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter,

Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

The Highwayman' by Alfred Noyes (Circa 1789) * Prelude *

Bess was dreaming of kisses.

Masculine lips moved possessively over hers, as a warm velvety tongue surged aggressively into her open mouth. She could hear her own moans as she returned the caress with enthusiasm. A pleased groan echoed softly as he made his gratification known.

She felt a hand on the back of her neck, gently but firmly holding her locked against his hungry onslaught. His other hand was curved under the weight of her breast, cupping her fullness. His thumb brushed lightly against her erect nipple through the thin chemise. She rubbed slightly against his palm and shuddered with flaring urgency. The rich musk of aroused male wreathed her senses, making her body hunger. His warm lips left hers, and Bess sighed with disappointment.

"Bess, my love, come down. Let's go for a ride in the moonlight," hoa.r.s.ely whispered a familiar and dear voice in a rich baritone.

Bess lazily opened her eyes and looked down at the horseman who stood boldly atop the saddle, gripping he window frame. Her heart jolted powerfully with the sight. He looked so handsome in his chocolate velvet frock coat. The frills of the Brussels lace jabot, knotted around the throat of his black silk shirt, framed his jaw attractively. The dark tricorn hat he normally wore was hooked to his saddlebow. The long golden waves of his hair, caught back with a black velvet bow, gleamed under the moonlight and spilled over his shoulders to curl at the center of his back.

Perched as she was on the windowsill, she had a clear view of the stable yard of the inn and the surrounding trees. Moonlight silvered everything, including his eyes as he wound his fingers in her long black curls.

"Aimory," she whispered back with a smile, "One day that horse is going to take a step whilst you're atop him and dump you on your a.r.s.e." The huge black thoroughbred took that moment to toss his gleaming head, jingling his bridle with a snort.

"Does this mean you're going to come down here or not, my beauty?" He tugged gently but insistently on her springy tresses. "Come down to me, my love, tonight I need more than just your kisses."

"You know I can't. If I'm found with you, My Da will skin us both!"

"Not if he doesn't catch us," Aimory smiled rakishly. " I need you in my arms before I go, Bess. I'm after a prize tonight, a Royal prize big enough to finally retire on."

"Is this the one we've been hearing for weeks about? The one no one is supposed to know about?" Bess bit her plump lip as an abrupt shiver captured and shook her. Bess's heart thumped hard in sudden fear. "I have a bad feeling about this jaunt, beloved." She reached out and caught hold of his warm hand. "You know my feelings are never wrong, Aimory. What if the magic spell that sorcerer gave you doesn't work this time? What if the Thief-Taker finally catches you...?"

"That's why I need to hold you, my love, to make sure nothing goes wrong with the spell. It's powered by your loving, remember?" He smiled to rea.s.sure her. "The spell the alchemist gave me makes me and Blackamoor here living ghosties; bullets can't touch us, and nothing can outrun Blackamoor. Come on down to me." He took both her hands in a firm grip and began to pull, gently but with determination.

"Aimory, you're pulling me right out the window!" Her whisper rose to an alarmed pitch. "I can't! I've never done. What if somebody sees us?" Bess tried to twist her hands from his firm grip as she began to tip out of the windowsill.

"What's all the fuss over?" Aimory leaned closer to the window to angle for a better grip on her wrists. "I intend to finally ask your Da for your hand tomorrow, though G.o.d and the whole county knows I've set my spurs for you. Please, Bess, this is to be my last run." He leaned closer and snaked an arm around her waist.

"Your very last run? You promise, Aimory, on your soul?" She was leaning halfway out the window, her knees on the sill.

"I do, my lovely Bess," he whispered hoa.r.s.ely, then tugged. "I promise. Give me your sweet body, just to make sure the spell won't quit and cost me my life at the last second. Grant me your first love, there's no need to wait any longer, I'm going to be your husband soon. I want to spend my days in your arms, raising Blackamoor's colts and our sons."

"I don't know..."

"Please, Bess? Come with me tonight, for my very last ride as a Highwayman? Tomorrow, I swear I'm hanging up my pistols. I've already told your Da that I'll take up that job in the stables he's been offering me, and I've put a down-payment on the Widow Rushkin's cottage." He reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist. "After this last ride I'll have better things to do with my time than robbin'." He reached up and kissed her mouth possessively.

Bess drowned in his kisses and felt herself pitch forward, falling. Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her to safety across the saddle, tight against a broad velvet chest.

"Maybe a small ride, my love." She whispered as she looked up from where she sat across his doeskin-clad thighs.

* Conjuration *

"d.a.m.n, I hate waking up right before the good parts," Bess grumped as she jerked awake from a dead sleep. She sat up groggily in the narrow bed, hearing what sounded like fading hoof-beats. She slid her palm down her oversized T-shirt. Her nipples were hard with frustrated s.e.xual excitement.

"s.h.i.t," she swore softly. "How the h.e.l.l am I gonna discharge this energy?" She could feel the low sensuous hum of erotic force that powered her particular form of magic. One of the drawbacks of being a Tantric s.e.x witch was that anything that made her s.e.xually excited, such as her almost-wet dream, charged up her magical energy. Now she'd have to burn that energy before things started floating across the room.

"Alright, what little tart conjured me?" bellowed a loud, masculine, provincial British and p.i.s.sed-off voice.

The sound of a teenaged girl screaming in mortal terror suddenly erupted from the next room.

"Mother of us all! What has that little pest done now?" Bess growled. Ever since cousin Alexandra had figured out that Aunt Bess was a witch, it had been one little incident after another trying to get Bess to do or teach her magick. So much for spending time with her British cousin, who was on vacation before her first semester at college. Alex's Mom was going to skin Bess alive for letting Alex even guess that Bess was a witch.

Bess thumped the bed with her fist, then threw the pillow on the floor. She rolled to get out of the narrow bed and tangled her feet in the blankets, nearly falling. With a frustrated growl, she yanked the covers off, then threw them across the bed. Her bare feet thumped on the hard wood floor as she stood.

The girl shrieked again, only louder.

"So much for my vacation in England," she grumped. Bess darted out her door and into the hall of the Bed and Breakfast, then burst through the door into the next room, where cousin Alex was staying.

Alex's room was good-sized, with wood trim and white plaster walls. The window shutters were wide open over the bed, letting in wisps of fog from the night. In the center of the room sat Alex's traveling trunk, surrounded by a huge chalked circle marked on the floor. Yellow candles burned in mismatched china saucers at the four points of the chalked circle.

A slender girl with straight blonde hair and cornflower-blue eyes ran about the room in flowered pajamas, yelling her idiot head off. Pandemonium was in full sway.

"What the h.e.l.l have you done now, Alex?" Bess shouted above the screaming. Silence dropped like a hammer. The girl was in tears. Alex pointed to a corner of the room, where the ghost was.

A slender man stood, or rather floated, two inches from the floor within a smaller chalked circle. Bess swallowed hard, her brows rising in appreciation. The ghost was rather good-looking in a rough kind of way.

Tall, heavily scuffed horseman's boots armed with very nasty spurs encased him to very shapely athletic thighs, stretching his worn leather breeches. He was dressed in a full-sleeved, silver-b.u.t.toned, ragged frock coat that must have been chocolate velvet in better days. A bedraggled red sash held his coat closed over a narrow waist.

Her gaze slid across muscular arms folded against a broad chest. The tattered remains of a silk and lace cravat, that might have been black once, were knotted at his throat. Sandy curls cascaded in a tail down his back held by a not particularly clean ragged ribbon. She gazed up a stubborn, clean-shaven chin on a sharp face and into slanted emerald eyes.

Whoa, what a hottie,thought Bess to herself and blinked.

"My, my, you're a pretty puss..." was his comment. He smiled at her, or rather leered with his mouth open, then he smacked his lips together. Bess blushed as she realized that she had run in wearing just a T-shirt that barely came to mid-thigh. She wasn't even wearing panties.

"Oh, great, she's conjured a letch!" Bess muttered to herself.

"What'd he say?" Alex whispered, tugging on her arm. Bess blinked in surprise. In her fascination for the cute ghost, Bess had completely forgotten where she was.

"Nothing I'm going to share with you."

"Hey!" Bess said as she spotted a heavy leather-bound volume in the middle of the big circle where it sat on the trunk. "That's my Grimoire!" Alex had been with her when she had found the old tantric spell-book last week in a curiosity shop. She'd done nothing but pester Bess about it ever since.

"What the heck are you doing with my new spell book?" Bess bent to retrieve her book and glanced down at the page. Oh G.o.ds, Alex had been experimenting with tantric magic-s.e.x magic, never mind that Alex was supposed to be a virgin! What is it with college girls and s.e.x?

"Nice view..." the ghost said as he bent to look down Bess's low-cut neckline. Her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s were clearly visible. He could almost make out her nipples. "What I wouldn't give for a flesh-and-blood c.o.c.k right now," he said with a shake of his head.

"Do you mind?" Bess snapped in annoyance, standing up abruptly. She lurched back as she realized that his lips were but a kiss away.

"What? Don't you like compliments?" He was practically drooling.

"That was a compliment? Are you always this charming, or is it just me?" Bess snapped sharply. She stalked stiff legged toward the cowering teen-ager who had run behind the bed.

"Wait a minute...You can hear me?" He dropped his arms in surprise. "You can b.l.o.o.d.y well hear me? Wait a d.a.m.n minute, you're the witch?" the ghost shouted to her rapidly retreating back. He reached out to grab for her shirt and his hands struck the boundary of the chalked circle. A flash of blue flared up. The ghost hissed in pain, pulling back sharply. Swearing creatively in French, he shook his burned hands, then tucked them under his armpits. "Hey you!" he shouted, "Come back over here!"

"What did I tell you about touching my stuff, and this book in particular?" Bess growled, ignoring the cursing ghost. The Grimoire was opened to a page showing graphically, how to draw a man using masturbation to power the spell.

Teenagers!If Alex's mother found out what was contained in her own tantric spell-book, never mind the newly acquired antique, Alex would be kept from her perverted aunt till Doomsday.

"It's just a book..." Alex flinched, blushing to her roots.

"Just a book, she says," moaned Bess. "You are not old enough to go looking through my spell-books, never mind an antique like this one. You are definitely not old enough to be experimenting with s.e.x. or anything else in my books, especially this one!"

"I only wanted to have a bit of fun before I had to go back..." she sniveled. "I just wanted to conjure a boy..."

"With tantric magic?" Bess's toe tapped on the wooden floor. "s.e.x magic?"

"I'm old enough to do anything I want, I'm eighteen!" she snapped back. "That's legal age in America, too!"

"I told you before, I don't know where this Grimoire came from, and it could be dangerous! Sorcerers are famous for writing their spells wrong to keep nosy people out of their books." Bess threw up her hands, then narrowed her eyes. "Have you any idea how glad I am that your mother is taking you back tomorrow?"

"I didn't mean any harm!"

"Tell that to him!" Bess said angrily as she pointed to the annoyed ghost. "How do you think he feels about being yanked from his rest?"

"Well it's not as if I had anything better to do..." grumped the ghost. He pulled his hands out from his armpits and examined them. "Actually, I could use a witch..."

"I thought the spell was only a..." she started, dabbing at her eyes with a corner of her pajamas, then sniffling noisily, "a spell to attract true love," she finished, very quietly.

"Now, put himback !" Bess finished with a shout.