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spell I did cast beforehand is still working on him, siphoning his lust through my body as a conduit, sending his energy to the quicksilver pool through the tendril still attached to me, but that’s all it does. I have to inspire his release, usually with signs of my own pleasure, and so I do, moaning into the sheets.
    Mason throbs his response, knowing that I’m about to release as well, and moreover, that he got me there. I can feel the backlash building inside him. He doesn’t hold back, or wait for me get there first. It’s all about him, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. His need is greater than my own right now.
    I can feel the jism erupt through his length and fire out of him, and each pounding of his beating heart brings more. A jet stream fills me with milk and honey. There’s so much of him today. He doesn’t stop. He can’t stop.
    That’s when he pulls out of me, still coming, launching streaks of himself onto my ass. It slides down between my cheeks. I tense my stomach to gush the spunk out of me, Mason’s handiwork on display for him alone.
    I look back to gauge his reaction, but he’s not there anymore. He’s been replaced by my vision again. The red-eyed man with salt-and-pepper hair has returned. A brazen smile on his face. He’s no less horny than before.
    That’s when I realize he’s not done with me yet. I can only imagine where he will go next, and then I don’t have to imagine. I know. I can see it in his eyes, and I only have one second to recall a spell that I haven’t cast since I first became a witch.
    Since I was young woman embarking on my role as Maiden for the first time. It’s almost embarrassing to fall back on that spell now after all this time.
    “ Accommodo magnitudo .”
    Fit size.
    It’s the first spell to pop in my mind a second before the stranger plunges himself in my tightly lubricated backside.

8. The First Flight Out
    The spell takes effect in time, and thank the powers it does.
    The stranger that replaced Mason was just beginning to push into me when the magic enchanted my balloon knot. And just like that, he painlessly fits. I still have to grip the bed with all my strength, as his ramming speed is no less robust than before. Not only that, but he’s not letting up.
    None of this is making any sense. Why does the vision of this man keep blotting out Mason? And why is Mason fucking me in the ass? It’s not like him to be presumptuous. Not the Mason I know, at any rate. As for the man who keeps replacing his likeness, that could be totally in character for him.
    Which raises another question.
    Is the vision controlling Mason? Or is there another version of Mason behind the vision? I’ve already lost track of what’s real and what’s not. If this is the real world, Mason can’t keep going for much longer. My spell will siphon his lust until he passes out. If this is purely a vision, then who knows how long it can keep going?
    I close my eyes and focus on Mason in my mind. Not the robust, red-eyed stranger riding my ass behind me. He doesn’t matter.
    All that matters is how I feel about the werewolf I welcomed into my life. The one I summoned back to me with a painting. The one who brought me huckleberries and water in the palms of his hands. The one who makes me lunch before I leave for work each day. The one who greets me at the door when I come home. The man who painted my body with his fingers and then washed it off so gently. Mason, the man I love.
    I fix him in my mind. Hold on to everything about him that I crave when he’s with me and miss when he’s not. Only then do I take a deep breath and look over my shoulder again.
    It’s Mason, and he’s human. The hybrid wolf is gone. The look on his face, however, is barely conscious. It’s like he’s trying to stay awake but fighting a losing battle. My spell has drained him again.
    Mason teeters for a second, a little to the left, a little to the right, and then collapses on the bed, slipping out