Wicked Familiar Chapter Four: In Which There are Skyrockets and Much Gushing

This is the ending to the spoof story that was the debut of the ALBTALBS + Cover Remix Super Fun Secret Project! Many thanks to Silver James for being such a great sport, and more, for being the first to bravely step up. I hope you’ve enjoyed this story that she came up with based solely on the cover art Jen created! (If you missed any of the previous chapters, just click on the book cover. It’ll link you to them.)

Chapter Four: In Which There are Skyrockets and Much Gushing

     He watched her from the mirror, disconcerted by being in two places at once. His heart remained in the rose but he could feel his soul reforming around his essence in the mirror. He wanted to break free, to return to his manhood so he could gather the woman into his arms, touch her, kiss her, burying his shaft into her womanly depths to the hilt. If he’d been wearing clothes, his cock would be straining any zipper that tried to confine his need.

     She had vowed to save him. To break his curse. No one had ever offered such before. He had hope. It blossomed in his chest like a spring bud ripening in the sunshine. Drake desired her. Like he had no other before. He wanted to rip the clothes from her body, to taste her, to kiss and suckle and lathe every part of her body. And then he would lave them just to finish the job.

     He knew her lady flower, her pistil, would bloom for him, opening its dewy petals to his stamen, her stigma sticky with her desire calling to him, waiting to collect the grains of his pollen. He would need no bee to climax, to pollinate this lovely witch.

     He shook his head, his long, midnight black hair waving about his face from the violence of the gesture. Storm gray eyes stared back at him from the glass covering the mirror. How long had it been since he’d beheld his countenance? His broad shoulders framed the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen, which tapered to muscular hips and hard thighs. The familiar tattoo, part of his family crest, stared boldly from his pec, just above his heart. The hard planes of his face could not be called handsome. He was a hard man. Even his shaft, twitching in its need for the lovely witch, was as hard as Toledo steel covered in Corinthian leather.

     Drake watched as she once more gathered up his physical self, cradling the rose to her breasts. She used her other hand to flip through the pages of the faux leather-bound book. The pages stilled and as he watched, she leaned over to read the words.

     “Ahhh.” The sound sighed out silkily.

     His cock knocked against the glass of the mirror and he watched as the thorn on the stem of his corporeal self hardened and twitched, seeking her succulent skin. Her name. He needed her name desperately.

     As if she knew he watched from the mirror, she craned her head to stare. Her eyes dipped to take in his body fully and she gulped right before she bit her lip. He gestured her closer. As if in a trance, she came to him, standing so close to the glass her breath fogged it.

     “Your name.” He mouthed the words, exaggerating them in hopes she would understand. She only blinked, confused, and breathing heavily. Once more the mirror fogged. He reached a finger as if to touch her cheek then saw the streak in the condensation. He traced one word. NAME.

     She stared, brows furrowed in consternation. “Eman?” she asked.

     Drake realized his error. “Breathe,” he commanded even as the letters faded.

     As if she heard him, she opened her mouth and she huffed her warm breath on the glass. This time, he traced the word backwards.

     “OH! Name! You want my name?”

     He nodded, breathless in his glass prison as he waited in agony for her reply.

     “Francesca. Francesca Is—” She stopped. There was power in names. But if this man was truly her familiar, then he was bound to her and he would need her name for her to work her magic. “Francesca Isabella Foxtrot.”

     Drake mouthed her name, tasting each one, his body shuddering with the need to touch her.

     “People call me Fizzy. And I’ve found a spell. You are ensorcelled are you not?”

     He nodded, his eyes glued to her mouth, savoring each movement. He flicked them up to her eyes and noted they’d turned cloudy and she now alternated between licking and biting her bottom lip. His cock twitched, hammering against the glass with need.

     “Oh…my…” She sighed, her breasts straining against her blouse as her hands trembled at her side. She opened and closed her fists as if holding back from reaching out to touch him.

     Drake groaned. She looked so innocent, but wanton at the same time. She had bewitched him. Could she break his curse?

     Fizzy held up the rose. “This is you, yes? You have been captured in the essence of this flower.”

     His eyes riveted on the rose and he nodded. His beguiling witch smiled.

     “Oh, dearest familiar! I know in my deepest, most secret part of my heart that you are my one true love, my soul mate and that I am the only woman alive who can break your curse. You must trust me.”

     He nodded, handing over his fate with the gesture. She carefully laid the rose on a table and his heart felt like it had been torn from his chest. The loss of her touch left him bereft. In moments, she had disrobed. In her rush, she had ripped the buttons from her blouse, sending them pinging across the wide-planked heart of pine wooden floors. Such was her hurry that she ripped the scant scraps of satiny lace passing for her undergarments.

     Drake sucked in his breath. She was magnificent. His cock strained against the glass separating them. His breath rushed out as she picked up the rose and brushed it across her pouting nipples. His fingers tingled from the sensation and his lips puckered as if he kissed their rosy ruching. Goddess but she was killing him softly.

     When she brushed the rosebud through her titian curls at the juncture of her silky thighs every one of his muscles clenched. She smiled at him. “Yes. This is the way. I was right.” She placed her other hand flat against the mirror and he raised hers to press against…skin.

     They gasped simultaneously.

     “I can feel you,” he rasped huskily.

     “It’s working,” she replied silkily.

     Fizzy placed the stem of the rose in her mouth and wet, satiny heat surrounded his cock. He groaned again as the head of his manhood weeped. How could this innocent witch know just how to use her lips and tongue like this?

     “I need you,” she sighed, pressing her breasts against the glass. He immediately dipped his head, licking and kissing them. She shuddered and almost dropped the rose.

     “Mother Earth, Goddess Moon, grant me this boon. Goddess Moon, Mother Earth, help me give birth. Form this man, make him whole. Bring him heart, bring him soul. So mote it be.”

     Drake’s body felt like it was going up in flames. A moment later, the mirror shattered and rose petals scattered as if blown by a whirlwind. Unmindful of the glass shards, he swept Fizzy into his arms.

     “Bed,” he growled.

     She pointed and his hard, muscular thighs flexed as he strode into her bedroom. Lowering her to the bed, he was almost sobbing in his relief. He lowered himself to her.

     Her lady flower weeped with her need for him. She buried her nose against his neck and his scent—rich and sweet like the rose he had been and something else, that illusive scent she could now identify. Man. He smelled of Man. Her womb clenched and she shivered.

     Fizzy knew. In that moment, a skyrocket whirred through her mind, as bright as a halogen light. “Make love to me. This is how we will break the curse.” She traced the rose tattoo inked just above his heart with her tongue. “Your name. I need your name.”

     “Rosenblum.” His voice rasped the word, as if that’s all he could manage as she watched his body hardened even more.

     “Mr. Rosenblum—” Her breathing hitched and a strangled cry made her pause for a moment. She swallowed hard and bit her lip before she could continue. “You are familiar in a very wicked way.”

     “Drake,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “Call me Drake. I will make you scream my name over and over before this night is done.”

     “Oh, Drake,” she sighed, his name hissing from between her plump, thoroughly kissed lips.

     He grabbed her hips and held her still. With a mind of its own, his cock kissed her lady flower. “Open for me,” he ordered. She widened her legs as he hovered above her. He thrust into her mightily and the world fell away. For the first time in his life, he felt like he belonged. He’d come home. They were one.

     Drake withdrew and thrust again, pushing into her heated depths. “More,” he growled. “I must have more.”

     His cock drilled into her feminine core and she met him each time, hips arched against him.

     “Come for me, darling Fizzy.” A muscle twitched in his face as he worked to hold in his release. So long he’d been without a woman and now he knew why. He’d been waiting for this one. “Come now, Francesca Isabella.”

     Her body tightened around him, her inner muscles slick with her juices, coating his steel shaft with evidence of her desire. She arched, her body alternating between hot and cold as her climax rocked her, fireworks blinding and deafening her once more.

     “Oh, my wicked familiar. I love you.”

The End

(Thank goodness!)


And remember, if you want to check out some of Silver James’s “real” stories – they’re listed on her website. And if you want to see more spoof covers – look to Cover Remix. And to this space at ALBTALBS for more spoof stories based on those covers soon. 😀

6 thoughts on “Wicked Familiar Chapter Four: In Which There are Skyrockets and Much Gushing

  1. Pingback: Rainy-Day Thursday | Silver James

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