Wet dreams

“Sex magick?” Damien asked, with a gleam in his eye.

“Hey, there’s always room for sex magick.”

The gleam turned into a grin. “Speaking of which…”

“Hello, boys.” Morag’s arm went around my shoulder as she gave me a peck on the cheek. “Miss me?”

“You’re always in my dreams,” said Damien. “And I’m sure I’m always in yours.”

She smiled sweetly. I’d been on the receiving end of that smile before. I knew what was coming.

“God, that makes me so hot, Damien, knowing that you lie in bed thinking about me. You want to go up to the roof?”

He should have known better. But base instincts often overrule logical thought. “Why not?” He held out his arm, elbow bent to guide her up the stairs.

“Why not? Well, how about the fact that you’re married?”

Still grinning, Damien was not one to admit defeat. “Don’t you worry your pretty head about that. What Julie doesn’t know, can’t hurt her.” The elbow waited, not quite patiently.

“You’re a pig, Damien. Go away before I throw up all over you.”

“That’s not the tune you were singing a few days ago, darling.”

“It’s what I’m saying now. Try to keep up.”

He waved his elbow one more time. “Last chance.”

Morag took a step to the side. Grabbed my beer bottle. Took a drink. Looked me up and down. Turned to Damien. Looked him over from head to toe. Took another drink. Handed the bottle back to me, with an apologetic shrug. Turned to Damien, took his arm, leaned in close and spat a mouthful of beer in his face.

To his credit, Damien didn’t react immediately. He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Opened his hand and tried to pull his arm free. But Morag wouldn’t let go.

“Happy now, loverboy? Plenty more where that came from.”

He tugged at his arm, but she held on.

“How are your dreams now, sweetheart? Wet, maybe?”

Extract from Burning Roses, a decadent tale of sex, drugs, rock n roll & magick. Available from www.amazon.com/author/burning

Till next time. Cheers.