View other author's titles

LENGTH: Short Novella
SENSUALITY: Carnal

Cover art (c) Jenny Dixon 2004
ISBN 1-58608-475-5
Download $3.99
(s&h not included in price)

WINNER of the 2003 Haunted Hearts Contest

When love and passion are cast aside in favor of Michael's career, he forces Samantha to take fate into her own hands.

Craving the long nights of love they used to share, she lures Michael to France to spend one scorching night in The Enchanted Castle....

Rating: Contains graphic, explicit sex and language not suitable for anyone under 18 and contains instances of voyeurism, anal sex, exhibitionism, and paranormal elements.

THE ENCHANTED CASTLE

By

Anita Verkerk

© copyright May 2004, Anita Verkerk
Cover art by Jenny Dixon, © copyright May 2004
New Concepts Publishing
5202 Humphreys Rd.
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com

CHAPTER 1

Once upon a time ...

The sunny beach was incredibly quiet. Samantha sat in the warm, soft sand beneath a palm tree, a gentle breeze caressing her sun-tanned skin. The wind carried the scent of blossoming flowers, and the whispering ripples of the sea promised only happiness.

She took a long, deep breath and smiled at the gorgeous hunk emerging from the salty waves in front of her. He looked so much like a Greek god. A damp, exciting hero. And he was all hers.

Without drying off, he sat down on the towel next to her and smiled. "Are you okay, my little bride?"

"I feel great. How was the water?"

"Salty." He stretched out his hand and caressed her lips with his fingers. She licked his nail and pressed a kiss on his warm, wet skin. "Hmm. You taste good, Michael."

His dark brown gaze held her own, making her pulse quicken. "Want to try the rest of me?" he murmured huskily.

Samantha looked around, seeing they were all alone in this cozy dip in the yellow dunes. She'd never made love in the open though. She’d never had the nerve before and couldn’t imagine that she could now with the fear that someone could disturb them at any moment.

"I would love to, Michael. But--let's go back to our room."

"There’s no one around. Except for some seagulls. They won't care."

Without awaiting her answer, he pulled her into his arms. His body was so strong, so masculine. Her fingers found the soft curly hair on his chest. "You're still wet."

He grinned mischievously, trailing his fingers over her belly, down, until he reached the edge of her bathing suit. Without a pause he slipped under the red cotton and ever so gently burrowed into her cleft until he touched her clit.

"You’re wet too," he returned, rubbing his thumb over the bud

Samantha arched against his hand. He really wanted to make love to her. Here. What could she do to stop him? Oh, what the heck. She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted to feel him too, touch his hard dick, smell his arousing masculine scent, and take him into her mouth.

Unable to contain herself, she trailed her fingers down his tight belly searching for him.

He grabbed her hand. "I’m first. I want to taste you. I want to lick your little clit." He smiled at her, and she saw the promise of lust in his wonderful eyes.

"You want me to lick you, don’t you? Tell me you want me to," he said, low and demanding. The gruffness of his voice make her sex clench with arousal.

"Tell me you’re as horny as I am," he whispered and his hot breath caressed her ear as he moved his fingers over the sweltering spot between her legs.

It was not fair. How could she ever resist him? Without thinking, she spread her legs, opening her lower lips to him, surrendering to his wishes.

"Please Michael," she begged him, "Touch me, eat me."

His lips met hers and as his tongue softly entered her mouth, he thrust two fingers into her burning wetness with demanding, deep motions.

Moaning, she spread her legs as wide as she could, using her left hand to hold her bathing suit aside.

"Deeper Michael, deeper ... Put another finger in. I want to feel you."

He obeyed immediately, and fucking her with three hard fingers, his mouth kissed hers goodbye and quickly moved down her body.

When his tongue reached her hot clit, Samantha gasped for air. His lips closed around her, nibbling. He thrust his fingers deep inside her, swirling a tight circle against her vaginal muscles.

"Let yourself go," he said, his voice muffled against her mound, his breath scorching hot. "Let me feel you come."

"Fuck me," she whispered. "Give me your big cock."

"Not yet," he teased her. As his fingers twisted, and thrust deeper and deeper, he sucked her clit. Pleasure shot through her nerve endings, making her gasp and her thighs tighten around him.

"Michael!" she cried out, "Michael!"

A loud, unpleasant beeping interrupted Samantha’s impending orgasm. The sunny beach vanished into thin air and was replaced by a dusky bedroom.

That rotten alarm clock. It could have waited for a minute. Only one minute. Was that too much to ask?

In frustration she touched her lower lips. Wet. Wet and hot as hell. Craving a cock.

But there was a great cock very near. Lying next to her in bed. Her husband’s dick.

She rolled over to the other side of the bed, snuggling herself into Michael’s arms.

"I’m so horny, Michael," she whispered. "My pussy’s on fire."

"Hush," he moaned. "Let me sleep. I want to sleep." The next moment he sat up straight. "What time is it?"

"Half past seven. Plenty of time to--"

"Half past seven?" he cried out, switching on the light. "I have a meeting at eight."

Samantha blinked in the sudden light and before she knew what he was about, he rushed out of bed, grabbed a towel from the wardrobe, and disappeared behind the bathroom door.

She heard the click as he locked himself in. Darn. There was a naked man three yards away and she couldn’t reach him.

She climbed out of bed and knocked on the wood.

"Michael, open up. I need you."

"Come on, Samantha, we had sex three days ago." His voice was mixed with the splashing of water.

"That’s not true. It was Friday, more than a week--"

The spattering sounds stopped, and the door opened.

"Friday, Saturday, whatever." Michael stepped into the room, using both arms to dry off his dark hair, giving her a great view of broad masculine shoulders, a tight belly, narrow hips, strong legs and.…

The lust that heated her belly stopped abruptly. His dick was still asleep.

Did she have a chance to wake it up?

"Make love to me, Michael."

He pressed a tiny kiss on her cheek, causing an exciting flush that ran through her entire body. He must make love to her. He must. But Michael seemed completely unaware of her feelings. He put on his boxer briefs and pants and winked at her. "Another time, sweetie, I have to go now."

"But Michael, is it really necessary to work so much?"

He shook his head, like a teacher judging an ignorant pupil. "You’re exaggerating again. Come on, honey, we don’t grow a money tree in the garden. I have to do something to earn money."

"I have a job too. Half an hour of making love won’t leave us broke."

He put on his shirt. Knotting his tie, he said, "I can’t leave Mr. Vandenberg waiting, princess. Sorry. We’re having breakfast together and he’s supposed sign a seventy thousand dollar contract." He kissed her cheek. "Tonight hon. I’ll try to be early."

"You’ve tried to be early for the last four months and you haven’t managed it yet."

He shrugged her outburst off. "I’m doing my best, sweetie. Gotta go, sorry."

He caressed her soft blond hair and rushed out of the bedroom. She heard the front door close behind him and her stomach clenched in frustration.

Putting on a dressing gown, she walked to the window and looked down. Michael stepped into his car, waved at her, and drove off.

So much for her desires.

What could she do now? Go back to bed and imagine he was still here?

She turned and looked into the full-length mirror inset in the wardrobe door. She caressed her flushed cheek sensually and stuck out her tongue at her image. Moving her body in a lascivious manner, twisting lustfully like a lady in a striptease show, she dropped the dressing gown and gazed at her naked reflection.

Her hands went over her breasts, and she saw her nipples get hard. Softly, she rubbed one of them between two fingers while her other hand moved down to the triangle of hair between her legs.

She stretched a finger, touched her clit and closed her eyes. Moaning. "I’m in the park," she muttered under her breath. "I’m all alone. All alone walking in the park. There he is. This man. A big man, in bathing trunks. He lowers them and I can see the swollen cock in his hand. He strokes it, he squeezes ... stroke ... squeeze."

She rubbed her wet clit between her fingers to the rhythm of her words.

"He has discovered me. He’s coercing me to open my legs for him. He wants my pussy."

She spread her legs. "No one can help me now. There’s no one around." She touched her swollen lips. "Oh no mister, please. Your cock is so big, so hard. Please don’t touch me."

She grabbed her folds and squeezed them. "Please," she muttered. "Please, let me go."

She bit her lip. "He doesn’t listen. He’s going to fuck me with that hard burning prick."

She pushed four fingers into her body and moved them up and down with quick, hard strokes, swallowing, panting loudly, licking her lips.

"Oh yes. Fuck me. Give it to me. Do it harder. Harder."

She moved her fingers in and out, twisting, thrusting, using her other hand to caress her clit.

"Michael," she moaned. "I have to come. Oh, I’m coming, coming ... Michael...."

She inhaled all the air she could get, then her body relaxed.

Taking another deep breath, she whispered, "Oh Michael, why do you always have to work? Masturbating isn’t fun at all."

She picked a towel from the wardrobe and walked to the bathroom. A shower would cool her down. And maybe, maybe, Michael would come home early tonight.