Naughty Night of Halloween Sex: A Gothic Witchs Tale

Marlyn Chenel

Marlyn Chenel,Marshal Chenel

The ancient manor breathed with the chill of the autumn night, its stone walls holding the scent of damp earth and dying roses. She moved through the shadowed library, the heavy velvet of her black gown whispering secrets against the floorboards with every step. The candlelight, a flickering golden dance, caressed the curve of her neck and the soft, generous swell of her bosom rising from her corset with each steady breath. His gaze was a tangible heat upon her skin, a silent question that made her heart flutter like a trapped moth. When his fingers finally brushed against hers, a jolt of pure lightning coursed through her, stealing the air from her lungs. He turned her slowly, his hands settling on her waist as if she were the most precious and fragile of artifacts. In his dark eyes, she saw not fear of her power, but a profound and aching reverence that melted her defenses. A soft, shuddering sigh escaped her lips as she leaned into his solid strength, her head finding a home upon his shoulder. The world outside, with its cackling ghouls and false frights, faded into a distant, meaningless murmur. Here, in this sacred silence, they were the only real magic, two souls weaving a new, tender spell in the gothic dark.