Jack-O-Lantern: Witch of Alloway Read online

  Jack-O-Lantern: Witch of Alloway

  Marie Treanor

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2006 Marie Treanor

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file copying or sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Changeling Press LLC. Willful violation of this policy will result in suspension of account privileges and will lead to prosecution.

  WARNING: Illegal files may contain viruses.

  ISBN (10) 1-59596-551-3

  ISBN (13) 978-1-59956-551-6

  Formats Available:

  HTML, Adobe PDF,

  MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader

  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  PO Box 1046

  Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Crystal Esau

  Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

  This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Chapter One

  Annie was a bad girl.

  Everyone had always said so and Annie knew it to be true. She didn’t mind -- she liked being bad. After all, there was nothing else to do in Alloway. But this Hallowe’en she felt especially, deliciously wicked. The hottest band in the western world was playing here in the Alloway Scout Hall, of all unlikely places, and without paying a penny, she had the best view. Backstage in the wings. And even better, she hadn’t actually come to see the band. She’d come to talk to Nick the Janitor about tonight’s Sabbat. That made her gleeful.

  Mind you, Tam was still a lot easier on the eyes than Old Nick, who was, for once in his life, obliging enough to be absent from his post. Crowded out by the young and muscular roadies no doubt, though most of them seemed to be now round the front of the stage enjoying the show, leaving Annie with nothing to do but ogle the band.

  Well, ogle Tam.

  Tam was the lead guitarist, and though he didn’t sing, it was he who always tended to steal the show. On and off stage. He still had the wildly rumpled black curly hair that she had longed to run her fingers through in high school. His face, lean and high-boned, wore the much publicized dissipation of rock and roll very well. A little harder, a little more lined and weary, he was still the most exotically beautiful male she had ever seen. And his body…

  Annie swallowed, watching the rhythmic swaying of his lithe hips inside the tight black jeans. He wore no shirt over his broad, tanned chest, only a short black leather jacket, completely open to reveal tantalizing glimpses of skin whenever his body swung in her direction.

  He played that guitar better than the Devil himself, coaxing wild chords and oddly sweet melodies from the raucous rhythms. He began to move around the stage, lifting the guitar high, crouching low, performing for the crowd with practiced ease, and yet his concentration on the music, on his art, was total. Sweat glistened on the side of his brow, ran back into his hair as he threw his head back.

  Oh yes, he was better now, far better than the last time he’d played here five years ago. Annie allowed herself to be mesmerized by the music as much as by Tam’s entrancing profile. With resignation, she recognized the return of that old ache she thought had vanished with adolescence. The ache in her stomach, her heart, her throat, the ache of not having Tam.

  The spell broke with the outbreak of enthusiastic audience applause. Annie curled her lip with cynical amusement at her brief reversion to that younger, sillier self. Tam the gorgeous high school rebel had been unattainable to a shy yet defiant fifteen-year-old. Tam the rock star was simply not on the same planet as the bored witch of Alloway. Even if he deigned to attend this tiny “homecoming” gig -- a PR stunt if ever she’d seen one.

  As Tam lifted the guitar and slid the strap over his head, Annie eased her shoulder off the wall and looked around again for Nick. Instead she saw one of the roadies approaching, a short, stocky individual with a shaggy beard and a beer stained T-shirt with joint burn holes dotted across the chest. He carried a white towel in one hand and a plastic bottle in the other.

  Amused, she wondered how he would deal with her, and rested her shoulder back against the wall to find out.

  Moving quickly, he gazed right past her on to the stage. Hmm, ignoring her presence? Novel technique. Then, with a jolt, she realized why. Although the band had started to play again, someone was coming off the stage, and the roadie was handing him the bottle. A scheduled break for…

  … Tam. So close to her she could smell the earthy scent and sweat of his body below the subtle, spicy mask of some far more expensive body spray than was common ‘round here. Her heart gave one serious lurch, and for the first time in years, Annie wanted the wall to open up and swallow her. And yet neither man had even looked at her.

  On stage, the singer -- Johnnie, another Alloway man -- was chanting out words to the relentless drum and bass beat.

  Tam’s hand, long, strong and capable, reached past her body and took the roadie’s bottle with a word of thanks. The roadie grunted, laid the towel on Tam’s shoulder and walked off the way he’d come. Not overly bright.

  Quickly, Tam swept the towel over his face and down his throat and chest before letting it drop to the floor. Then he lifted the bottle to his lips and drank.

  With conscious courage, Annie followed the bottle with her eyes, but he gazed straight ahead, apparently still unaware of her existence. For some reason this relieved her ridiculous tension. She relaxed more easily against the wall, let her head fall back against the cool bricks while she studied him in the shadowed half light. The keyboard had broken into the chant, supplying much needed melody on stage. And yet to Annie it sounded flat without Tam.

  Something stirred in the base of her stomach, twisting lower with a sweet, intense ache.

  Unhurriedly, Tam lowered the bottle and turned his head. His gaze struck her, hard. Those gorgeous dark brown eyes that had so troubled her adolescent dreams were more intense than ever, full of mocking amusement that seemed to be aimed at the whole world. Including himself.

  “Who are you?”

  He still had his accent, still spoke with abrupt directness. And yet he didn’t really care about the answer.

  “Nobody,” Annie said wryly.

  “Journalist? Security?”

  Annie curled her lip and won a faint smile in response. The mocking eyes glinted. “You need security in Alloway?”

  “Christ, I hope not. I gave them the night off. Are you looking for me?”

  “No.” She hoped it would offend him. He deserved to be offended, for ignoring her all those years, for not recognizing her now.

  He looked surprised certainly. Capitalizing, Annie glanced around her. “I came to talk to Nick.” He blinked as her gaze came lazily back to him. “The janitor,” she explained.

  “Oh, I know who he is.” Tam gave a breath of laughter. “He chased me round this hall often enough when I was a kid, up to no good. Who are you then? His granddaughter?”

  “No,” Annie said unhelpfully. Tam took another swig from the bottle, then offered it to her. Surprised by the action, she took it without meaning to. Tam’s gaze swept over her face and down her throat to her short, black dress, tight across the bust and hips, the neckline provocatively cut to show only a tempting morsel of cleavage. The tip of his tongue touched his lower lip and disappeared again. When his eyes lifted once more to hers, they were
hot and clouded. A spark of some yellow light seemed to flicker in their depths. Annie’s breath caught. A sudden release of sexual moisture flooded down her thighs.

  “Going to a party?” he asked huskily.

  “You could say that,” she managed to respond, running one hand down her side, over her breast and waist and hip. With relief, she remembered she was a bad girl, that she knew how to do this. “I’m a witch.”

  That funny breath of laughter came again. It was something she’d never associated with him before -- it enchanted and excited her.

  “Oh, I can see that you are. Can I come with you to your party, witch?”

  “No,” she said with perfect truth -- and not a little regret. Tomorrow she wouldn’t be able to believe that she had turned him down. Him. “You’re not allowed. Only witches. So if you saw us, I’d have to kill you.”

  “You’re killing me now. Don’t I know you, witch?” His gaze roamed her face, a faint frown of puzzled recognition on his brow.

  “Not in the Biblical sense,” said Annie brazenly. And at that, he smiled into her eyes, a rare, complete smile that deprived her of what little breath she had left.

  He moved nearer, resting one arm on the wall above her head as he leaned into her. She could make out the texture of his lips, feel the heat of his body so close yet so tantalizingly apart from hers.

  He said, “I’d like to change that, wouldn’t you?”

  God, he was blatant. Perversely now, she fought back. “Why would I? Because you’re a rock star?”

  But again he only laughed silently. His body seemed to crackle with excitement. A quick glance at his crotch proved it. Inside the skintight jeans, his cock stood out mouth-wateringly huge and thick.

  “You don’t give a fuck about that,” he said surprisingly. “Maybe that’s what turns me on. That and your… costume.” He reached out and in imitation of her own gesture, swept his hand down her side from breast to hip, making her gasp aloud. His hand stayed on her hip, hot and arousing. He leaned in so that his breath tickled her ear. Frissons of pleasure stole down her neck and back to center on her hot, aching core. “So much so that I can’t go back on stage until…”

  “Until you fuck me?” She meant it to be wicked, provocative, and was very afraid it sounded merely astonished. His hard cock brushed against her abdomen. His breath on her neck made her wriggle, bringing her into closer contact with him. She couldn’t help it. His big, lean body fit around hers like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. The touch of his naked chest, with its light covering of sexy black hair, against her breasts brought her pebbled nipples to aching peaks.

  “Please tell me that was an offer,” he whispered, and as her head twisted, he swooped and captured her mouth in his.

  It was instant fusion. His mouth clearly meant business, invading hers with tongue and teeth, demanding and receiving her passionate response. He knew how to kiss, doing everything she liked and more as if from instinct, a strong kiss, yet with gentle, sensitive lips and insistent, exploring tongue. Even his teeth caressed.

  Annie’s knees threatened to give way under the assault on her senses. She felt so weak with the combination of pleasure and lust he induced that she should have collapsed. Instead, she pressed back into him and twisted her lips under his until she could suck his tongue, moving her lips up and down it in deliberate simulation of oral sex before he groaned and retrieved control, clamping his lips back over hers.

  “If it was an offer, you couldn’t accept it,” she whispered shakily into his mouth. “You have to go back on stage.”

  “They can manage without me for a few minutes. Believe me, I couldn’t make this take long if I tried…”

  Both hands were on her hips now, roaming under the short skirt, pushing it up till it was rucked around her waist, revealing her black stocking tops and suspenders. Gasping, Annie caught at his head. He paused, breathing raggedly, gazing down into her eyes as she searched his face.

  Tam. It was Tam, who had never been hers except in her dreams. And astoundingly, he wanted her now. She could have this wicked two minutes with him, hard, fast and dirty up against this wall in full view of any passing roadies -- or janitors -- or any of the band who happened to turn this way.

  Or she could walk away and laugh. Which would be best all round. She didn’t need another ache to remember him by. It was an offer made without affection or respect from a well-known womanizer who already had a beautiful and talented girlfriend in the public eye. Like a hundred others, Annie had merely caught his roving attention, no doubt because he was on some sort of sexual high with the performance. She was a two minute break-filler.

  Lust fought with pride.

  Pride never stood a chance. Growling deep in her throat, she dragged her mouth across his chest, licking his nipple. His taste was even more arousing, strong and spicy, salty with sweat. Her arms went around him inside the jacket, sweeping over the hot, sweat-dampened skin of his back and down to the waistband of his jeans. His fingers caressed her inner thigh above the stocking top, touching the hot wet place between her legs. At once, a new flood of moisture drenched his fingers. They played her pussy like a guitar and she writhed on them, moaning aloud.

  Forcefully, she grabbed at his jeans, wrestling with the buttons of his fly until his big cock sprang free. She flung one leg up over his hip and he lifted her with both hands under her buttocks and pushed into her.

  Annie gasped and gasped again at the feel of him inside her, huge and hard, stretching and filling her. But he gave her no time to adjust. Nor did she want any. Moving within her already, his thrusts were long and hard and forceful. She had never known pleasure like it in her life. Her back against the wall, she met his furious rhythm, twisting on his cock as she fucked him, reaching desperately for her fast sweeping orgasm while she gazed rapt at his wild, blissful face.

  It hit her like a tidal wave, flooding her, knocking her completely out of reality with the sheer force of the pleasure. Each continuing thrust brought her impossibly higher and kept her there while his own climax shook his body and jetted into hers, setting off further springs of delight.

  As if from a great way off she heard a voice saying, “Tam? Tam, you’re back on.”

  Annie froze. A surge of laughter shook Tam’s already heaving body. “Oh, no, I’m not,” he breathed. Languidly, he let her feet slide to the floor, but despite the movement around them now, the approach of at least one set of footsteps, he didn’t withdraw from her. Instead, he slipped one hand inside the neck of her dress and brought out her breast. Aftershocks snaked through her body.

  “Christ, you’re beautiful,” he muttered, and swept his thumb over her nipple repeatedly while he kissed her mouth with long, sensual thoroughness. She wanted him again. She thought she might come again, right now, his cock still inside her while he kissed her. And people approached from all sides.

  “Well, you’re not so bad yourself,” she said breathlessly when he broke the kiss. “For a two-minute man.”

  His eyes blazed with laughter and something that was surely the return of lust. “If you hang around, I’ll see if we can’t make it a few more next time.”

  “Don’t think Kate would like that,” murmured a roadie, waiting patiently behind them. Annie knew who Kate was. Tam’s girlfriend. His eyes went blank.

  “Fuck off, Davie,” he said, and pulled her dress down over her hips. At the same time, he withdrew his cock and Annie felt empty.

  But she wouldn’t care for that, she wouldn’t. She smiled at him as he refastened his jeans. She’d finally had Tam -- her Tam -- and, God, it was worth it. The best two minutes of her life, if the truth were known. Because in those two minutes she’d had his complete, undivided attention.

  And an amazing orgasm.

  “Hey, Tam,” she said blatantly, careless of the roadies swarming around yet treating this like an everyday occurrence. She would probably hate that idea tomorrow. Tam picked up the guitar and turned back to her, his eyes still meltingly dark w
ith passion. “Great fuck.”

  He grinned. “Great fuck yourself.” He threw one arm around her, French kissed her, and then swaggered back on stage.

  Annie laughed and turned away to find Old Nick.

  Chapter Two

  Annie’s heart sang with happiness as she walked to the church -- the Old Kirk as it was still called. Even the nightly task of putting her grandmother’s shell to bed had failed to depress her. Instead, she hummed to herself, walking with a new pride that she knew was ridiculous. So she’d let some rock star screw her in the stage wings -- that hardly made her a celebrity! In fact, judging by the roadies’ laid-back reaction, it didn’t even make her unique. She didn’t want to analyze it. She just knew that, for tonight at least, Tam had made her happy. Tomorrow was another day.

  And this was all about power of another sort. Who knew where it could lead?

  Once she had been desperate for new experience, furious at a God who could take her grandmother from her without allowing the old lady the dignity of death, resentful and bored beyond belief by the subsequent thwarting of her own life ambitions. Then an unexpected chat with Sadie, her grandmother’s “young” friend, aged sixty-two, had opened new doors. It didn’t matter that the leading lights among the witches were Sadie and Old Nick, or that she already knew the others. As part of the coven they were different, mysterious, powerful, knowledgeable, all the things Annie wished to be and wasn’t.

  Not yet!

  But tonight she felt power coursing in her veins. Tonight, she knew they would make big things happen.

  The town was quiet, the guisers long since in bed. It was past chucking-out time at the pubs, and on a weeknight like this, even after the gig, late night revelers were few and far between. Those there were would take great take pains to avoid the ruined Kirk on Hallowe’en.

  Not Annie. The sight of its grim shape lifted her even further, and she almost ran the rest of the way, bursting through the gate into the yard with a smile on her lips.