Six Curses: The Sixth Cursed Halloween

Mechele Armstrong

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On Halloween night, Brad settles down to repot his Bonsai tree. After an argument with his girlfriend, he needs someone to talk to. He's not expecting the tree to talk back. Surprise! Diedre's cursed inside his bonsai tree. Sh...
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On Halloween night, Brad settles down to repot his Bonsai tree. After an argument with his girlfriend, he needs someone to talk to. He's not expecting the tree to talk back.

Surprise! Diedre's cursed inside his bonsai tree. She's been curled up watching him for years. This conversation's the first she's had in centuries.

Brad tries to set her free, but at the end of the night, he loses the ability to hear the woman with the sexy brogue. He vows he'll do what it takes to get her out, wanting to know the woman behind the voice. He even has erotic dreams about the woman she might be, for the five long years he searches for the saving spell.

Diedre hates men. All of them. Or does she? Brad's such an earnest hunk, so determined to do right by her. Maybe they have some redeeming qualities - like a sexy, muscular chest.

On the sixth Halloween, a woman from Brad's life turns Diedre's life upside down. Literally. That's not a good thing for a potted tree. Now she's getting a choice: a life with Brad without her magic or back to the trees, but she can work her curses and take her revenge. What will she choose this sixth cursed Halloween?

  • Note:This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable.
Excerpt
For a year, Deidre watched Brad pore over books. Saw him study Web sites. She’d never seen him work so hard, even when he’d been in something called “college.”

He was doing it for her. Doing it to break her incarceration in the tree. Doing it for a woman he’d never even seen before. A woman he knew from one night of discussion.

He often touched the pot of the bonsai with loving fingers. He’d always touched it in times of stress. But now it seemed to happen with more regularity. He’d always talked to the bonsai but now he rambled on often to the tree about everything.

Each time he touched her pot or told her something personal about himself, it made her tingly inside.

Yeah, from an upset stomach more than likely.

It couldn’t be anything else. After all, Brad was a man. Not anything more. So she kept reminding herself.

He had something he wanted from her. Something he hoped to gain by freeing her. All she had to was to find it, dangle it in front of him, and she’d use him to get out of the tree for good.

Only in the year that she watched him, she never heard him talk about what she could do for him. Only heard him talk about getting her out of his tree.

He took even more care of the bonsai tree than he had before. Always checked the pH of the soil, did whatever the tree needed, and watered it on a tight schedule.

One night, she’d been brought inside and rested in the living room. He brought her tree into the apartment as often as he dared. Bonsais did best planted in the ground, but that had never been an option for him. The only time she was sure to be kept outside was when he had a woman over.

This time, it had been the middle of the night when she awoke to deep moaning from the other room.

It was Brad.

Was he sick? She twisted around in her pot, trying to send out her feelers as far as they could go, which wasn’t far enough. Suppose he needed her? She was stuck, there but not there. She was a potted plant and could do nothing to help him. Not for the first time, she cursed her situation but this time with more feeling.

He didn’t feel sick to her feelers. Warm, yes, but not sick warm. His skin was flushed and sweat leaked from his pores.

She frowned. What was he doing?

His dick stuck out of his body like an exclamation point. He writhed on the bed.

Was that a seizure?

He whimpered again. And shivered.

While all she could do was watch whatever unfolded in front of her without a way to affect him or whatever was going on

* * * * *


Molten hands ran down his body, setting it afire like lava. She left a hot trail in her hands’ wake. Her mouth descended upon his skin to lave up and down his length. A torrent of wet and warm mouth centered on his rigid shaft.

His hips bucked wildly. He wanted to dive into her depths, which would be so warm. So welcoming. So damned wet. He wanted to spear her. Take her. Make her his.

She giggled at his eagerness. He felt the slight slacking off in her sucking to make the noise.

His hands gripped anything he could hold on to. He’d been waiting for this moment for too long. Needed her in any way possible. His hips continued their thrusting, showing her how much he wanted her.

Her mouth felt incredible on him. So hot. Like he’d known it would be. This would be better than anything he’d ever had before.

Brad let out a deep moan. He’d never been so turned on in his life. So much he wanted to do with his woman. He’d never make it everywhere at once. But it would be so good trying.

She didn’t use teeth but came up and down softly on him. Tantalizing him.

His pelvis thrust against her with a fast, furious pace. She took him in her mouth without protest. Took him down and deep throated him with ease even as he shoved himself farther in. He couldn’t get her close enough around him. He continued to rock against her with abandon.

Blue eyes stared back up at him. Tousled black hair flowed back from her head like a river over a waterfall. Her lips were cherry red as they closed and opened more around his heavy cock.

He’d never seen a lovelier sight.

And still her mouth moved on him, keeping his pace with his frenetic movements, never letting him choke her. Up and down. He let himself get lost in her ministrations. When she suckled him like a lollipop, he cried out again.

The pressure would build then ease as she backed off from him, only to build again with licks and suckles. She teased him with a mastery he’d never experienced before.

He threw his head back in abandon. Needed to release like a geyser. Only for her. His entire body tensed in anticipation. Going to be so good.

The eruption cascaded over him, enveloping him in the sheer pleasure of the moment. “Oh God, Deidre…”

He woke to find he’d creamed his underwear after a vivid dream of a blowjob done by someone he’d only seen in his imagination. Not anything he’d done since he was a much younger man. A teen. Over some actress that he couldn’t even remember now.

“Dammit.” He slid the underwear off and got up to visit his bathroom and clean the rest of himself off. Good thing that…

Dammit. He’d brought the bonsai in last night because of a sudden cold snap. How much had she heard of his dream? Wasn’t exactly like he could ask right now. Not covered in come from a wet dream. About her.

He grabbed a washcloth and patted himself off before grabbing a pair of clean underwear.

Taking a deep breath, he left his bedroom to move into the kitchen and get some water. He didn’t acknowledge the small tree, but went back to bed. He shut his door this time and crawled under his covers.

Drifting off again, he found himself in a relaxed state. His breathing slowed down. His leg jerked a time or two. Sleep would be good. It would restore him so that this emotion didn’t take him over.

The door opened to his room, waking him from dozing off. Who would be there at this hour?

He looked up to see her moving across the floor. There was only one her. Deidre. The woman he’d begun dreaming about. She hardly seemed to walk, so graceful were her movements. It was most like she floated across the room to him.

She was naked.

He got lost in looking at her bared skin. So beautiful. Flared hips and breasts so ripe he could almost taste them. She had a strawberries-and-milk complexion. Nipples as pink as what her pussy must look like. She looked as he’d always dreamed she would.

“Deidre… But you’re trapped. In the tree.” He knew that to be true. Much to his disappointment. If she were real, he’d find a way to screw it up. In the tree, he could at least lust after her.

Her smile set him on fire. So knowing and brutal with its sensuality, the smile captivated him. “Not anymore. I’m here.”

“It’s another dream.” He closed his eyes, blocking out the manifestation of the feeling that he shouldn’t even be having.

“Could a dream do this?”

Copyright © Mechele Armstrong

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