Never make a bet with a witch.
The terms of the bet were simple, cut down the line of the gender divide. I was a man trying to prove that women didn’t have my urges. She was a woman who wanted to put me in my place.
And that meant that he became she. That I became a beautiful blonde, out for a night on the town and stuck in the middle of the meat market. I was on full display, and every man here wanted a piece of me.
Immediately I had regrets. With all those eyes on me and all those men intending to make me theirs for the night, I knew I was in trouble. I just didn’t know the real reasons why.
Because it’s me that’s the problem, it’s this body. It’s the urges that I’m feeling and the fact that my willpower is melting away.
It’s the fire that’s been under my skin since I opened my eyes as her. It’s the question that’s been brewing since the very beginning.
Do I want this? Do I want him?
Do I want to know how much I can take?
Excerpt
“Can you hear me?” he growled in my ear.
I shook my head, not trusting anything, and shouted out, “It’s so loud here.”
“Good,” he grumbled, “I’ve got other ways of showing you what I want.”
His fingers curled into my hips hard and pulled me back, grinding my ass against the unmistakable bulge I’d given to him. I felt it slip between my cheeks, throbbing and aching for attention and I could feel it even through the many layers of fabric.
I’d never made a man hard before and I’d certainly never felt a man who was hard before and maybe, if I had, then I’d have learned that my body’s response was normal. Because the moment I felt him pulsing against me I knew that I couldn’t leave and couldn’t run away. I needed to feel that cock explode. I needed to know what it was like to satisfy a man.
My hips started to move of their own accord, swaying back and forth and up and down. My head practically lolled as I bit my bottom lip and pushed back against him. I wanted to see if I could make him harder. I wanted to see if I could drive him wild. Wanted to feel him lose control that little bit and then make him explode, pulsing with sticky heat and covering me with the salty memory of his lust.
“Such a little fucking minx,” he grumbled, “A little tease. A little slut.”
His words were cruel but I loved them all the same. They set a fire in my belly that throbbed for my attention, begging me to have and to hold and to want and to need.
Swallowing hard I felt his hands move from my hips, apparently content that I wasn’t going to run away. His bare fingers touched my bare skin between top and skirt and moved up, one stopping on my breast as the other closed the distance on my neck and then grasped me, pushing my head to one side as his lips connected with my skin again.
And when the hand on my breast squeezed I moaned and wondered how my mind could fill the gaps so well. Because when he touched the place where I didn’t have breasts it certainly felt like I did and when he did my nipples hardened, begging him for more.
I moved now, spinning around but not leaving his space and pressing myself against him for a sudden instant. My lips connected with his and I pushed my tongue in for his eager attentions, flicking and sucking and licking and loving every ounce of contact with him as the deep bass of the music did little to hide that we were all but fucking standing up with our clothes still on.
That all this was heading to a fever pitch. That all this was on pace to an inevitable end. That I would forever lose this bet because she was absolutely right and I’d always been wrong.
I was a woman in all but body. But in spirit and in soul I wanted to get fucked.