Bewitching

Chapter 8: Bewitching

Chapter 8: Bewitching

-Salem-

Ian looked around my now unpacked house with interest. Really, it looked like a coffee house to me with earthy tones and comfort in mind. I lead him into the kitchen which too was cozy and homey: oversized mugs hung from hooks under the dark cabinets, cushioned stools were lined up along the bar, vintage food signs hung on the walls and there was a thick cherry wood table.

"Sit, and I'll be back." I commanded and went to the pantry.

Our pantry isn't, you know, normal. There's ingredients for food and potions alike. My mom being a caster is especially skilled in potions. I grabbed one of my mother's cleansing potions and peroxide and some bandages and hurry back into the kitchen. I grabbed a wash cloth and wet it with warm water.

I sat on the stool next to Ian and turned to face him. I took his left hand in mine and there was two split knuckles. I brought my knee up so I could rest his hand on it, and I began wiping away the blood. Most of it was Charlie's, but I was gentle nonetheless.

"What's this?" Ian said softly.

He was holding the cleansing potion in his Hans. The clouded vile revealed bright violet liquid.

"My mom makes her own medicines." I said truthfully, "They work wonders."

"My aunt does the same." He sent the vile down.

I took the peroxide and poured some over the cuts. After a quick pat down, I took the vile and set the cloth under his hand.

"This is going to sting." I said before pouring just a bit on his wounds.

He let out a soft hiss but didn't move. I bandaged them and brought down my knee. He didn't move his hand from my thigh though, and I felt a tingle from the contact. Trying to act normal, I took his right hand. This hand being his dominant one, the damage was more; it had four split knuckles.

I wiped with the cloth, but all I could think about was his hand that was resting on my thigh. I'm not an exactly thin girl but his hand seemed to fit perfectly on my thigh. I again poured the purple cleanser on his hand. He slightly squeeze my thigh as he felt the sting.

I felt my skin grow hotter, and a tingle was moving up my thigh. I made myself concentrate and bandage his knuckles.

"Done?" He asked.

"Yeah, I -" The rest came out as a gasp.

Ian had took hold of both of my thighs and brought me into his lap, bringing my legs on either side of him. I automatically grasped the edge of the bar on either side of Ian for stability. I was breathing shallowly, and I saw he was too. I've never been in a guy's lap before or straddled one before, so I was twitchy and nervous and excited. His big hands were holding me to him, pressing my chest to his.

Ian's green eyes were darker and intimate, his black curly hair flopped over his forehead, his shoulders and arms were strong underneath his dark shirt. But then he was kissing me and I was lost.

Ian kissed me like he was starving of it. He spread my lips and deepened the kiss. I was slow and hesitant, but it felt so good. Ian's tongue caressed mine, and his hands griped my thighs. I let out a rush of breath when he stood and laid me out on the bar. He leaned over me, and I was reaching for him; there was a need rushing through me and I wanted him. His mouth was back on mine, and his hands were touching and exploring me.

I arched into his touch, and I let out a moan when he bit my neck, marking me his. Ian's wonderful scent filled my nose and his body was strong under my touch. I never thought I'd be like this, dying for a guy's touch, but there I was.