When the cloak came off, the nakedness beneath it was colored a warm, dark umber color. Something he had never seen before. The shade was one of a kind, like the sun had made love with the melanin that filled her skin like it was her first love. The...
Y'all. This is almost six thousand words of insanity. And I wrote it all in about ten hours. context: the chapters I upload are between 3.5 and 4k words, This has literally been me:
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Sorry it took so long, but I hope you enjoy it, and of course, it's unedited. Hope y'all have a great rest of the week! I wanted to upload this on Monday because it was my birthday and I wanted it to be a birthday present for y'alll from me but i had a migraine that literally lasted from Monday until about ten o'clock this morning, so it's late but oh well, a chapter is a chapter, right? Lmao en-fuckin-joy!
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* * * *
How in the hell did they end up there?
The question was one of the most basic; and therefore one of the most simple questions to answer as well.
So Mahogany knew how to answer that question... she just didn't know the why...
Okay, so she knew the why, as well.
Everything about the man on top of her just reeked of masculinity. He oozed it like too much jam oozed out the sides of a hot biscuit on a cold morning; it was almost disgusting.
Mahogany had been working on resurrecting the ashes of her former talismans when he'd walked into the room. She'd been upset anyways- she'd left the book that she wrote her spells in back at home and she needed it right then. Mo knew exactly where it was, too. The thing was, she had an excess of power, like her mate had that excess masculinity, and that meant that her raw power ran through her veins just as thick as her blood, sometimes thicker, so she didn't actually have to use incantations like normal witches did unless what she was doing was so complicated that she finally needed the magic of the words of the old Wiccan language to fuse together her gift and give the final push that she needed.
Her door was locked like it always was, but this was his house. Of course he owned a key, and he used it.
Momentary defeat mixed with a smidgen of dramatics had left Mo lying on the ground on her meditation blanket, on her knees with her ass up in the air, and her face buried in the fabric. Where she'd screamed to muffle her frustration.
