The Flower Bowl Spell by Olivia Boler

Author:Olivia Boler
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: urban witches, asian american, Speculative Fiction, Witchcraft, smart heroine, Fairies, Magick, Romance, heroines journey, witty paranormal romance, witty smart, sassy heroine, asian characters
Publisher: Olivia Boler
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Tyson is covering my breasts with hot, wet kisses. We are naked, pressed up against each other, and I open my legs to encircle his torso. We grind a little, our sweat making us more slippery, and he reaches up and kisses me deeply. I am holding onto his hair with one hand, grabbing his ass with the other. With delicate probing, I guide him inside me. We are trying to be quiet—there are others nearby and we can’t wake them up, but it makes what we’re doing even sicker and therefore hotter. I groan, open my eyes, and the dream is over.

Fortunately, I didn’t wake Viveka’s girls with my X-rated reverie. They are already in the bathroom brushing their teeth and getting dressed.

I sit up in bed. I really need to pee, and I hope that when I do all this pent-up sexual tension will go away as my bladder shrinks.

What the hell am I going to do?

****

The girls are going to town on bowls of oatmeal, which they’ve doctored with copious amounts of brown sugar, honey, banana slices, and cream.

“Mama never lets us have this much bad stuff!” Romola says, licking her lips and spoon.

“Live it up.” I sip a cup of scalding black coffee and reach for a piece of dry wheat toast from the hotel’s continental breakfast bar.

We’re surrounded by a heady mix of fellow travelers in the lobby’s breakfast room: rotund vacationing families who barely speak as they turn their docile gazes to the TV, tuned to CNN; Middle Eastern businessmen wearing suit pants and white, open-collared shirts; aged bus-tour folk. None of the Yeah Right/Arsenic Playground posse has made an appearance yet. I would have slept until our 12 p.m. checkout as well, but the little lasses under my care had other ideas. To look at them, you wouldn’t know they’re operating on fewer than six hours of shut-eye. That can’t be healthy for little girls. Me, I’m used to insomnia nights, but I can’t tolerate hangovers and this is what I feel now, even though I didn’t drink a drop yesterday. This is a magick hangover.

After Bill scurried off to his bellhop post, I went back to the room and stayed up into the wee hours. I read tarot cards, meditated, and threw every revelatory spell I know at that damn locket. Someone really wants me to work hard at getting it open, as it were. Is it to protect that someone, or to protect me? I wonder. I even checked all of our hotel room’s vents for traces of fairy. Not a speck of pixie dust. Around almost four, I fell asleep only to dream about getting caught in an avalanche as I skied down a mountain toward a giant, pool-sized hot toddy. Underneath the rocks and snow and ice, I was paralyzed and could barely move or breathe, until Tyson miraculously pulled me out. Then the porno portion began.

As I blow on my burnt coffee, my dreamland Lothario slides into the seat next to me.

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