My commercial-grade greenhouse with all the bells and whistles was my mental getaway.
Being surrounded by the fragrant herbs and flowers I used in my business gave me a sense of peace like no other place could.
It had belonged to my grandparents to extend the growing season of the ever-changing weather conditions of New England.
It was fashioned with a misting system, dehumidifiers, vents, a retractable roof shading system, and any other perks available when they had it installed.
It was a piece of art and allowed for abundant crops of organic herbs.
After Matt left, I sequestered myself to the rows and rows of greenery, plucking and cutting any in need.
I would dry most of them on stacked screen racks assembled in one of the spare bedrooms of my house, outfitted for the task. It was a one-man show on purpose.
I derived great pleasure in planting, growing, and harvesting my own products. I connected with Spirit when I handled the soil and plants. The greenhouse was my refuge—but not on this day.
No amount of busying myself with chores I loved could get the man out of my head. I was just as lost that moment as I’d been a couple of hours ago.
It was so tempting to believe he really moved across country to be with me. But why? It made no sense. He didn't even know me.
Of course, I didn't know him either, but that didn't stop me from thinking about him almost every night. Somehow, I must have misread his tea leaves.
He moved to be closer to his sister. That I could believe, although from all accounts, he appeared quite settled in California.
But he’d admitted he wanted me. Hadn't he? Or did I daydream that?
Two hours of solitude later and no explanation came to mind. It was time to pick my grandmother's brain.
I may have been the local love guru, but she was guru to all things spiritual and mystical. Maybe she could help me undo the unintended spell I had cast.
I should have been able to figure it out on my own, but my desire for Matt was too strong after turning him into my mystery lover.
I smeared the drying soil from my fingers onto my cut-off shorts and looked at the dirt under my nails. There was a reason I didn't get professional manicures.
With somewhat cleaner hands, I called her from my cell phone as I absently rubbed Italian basil leaves and inhaled the distinct odor from the tips of my fingers.
Not only was it my favorite culinary herb, but it was also one of my go-tos for all kinds of spiritual and magical work.
Which is why I supposed I had three-dozen basil plants growing, leaves curling to give a puckered appearance.
Grandma didn't answer the call, so I left a voice message basically telling her I had a situation that needed her insight and to call me back.
I disconnected the call when it struck me that I would have to explain all my fantasizing about Matt. Was that really a conversation I wanted to have with Grandma?
I pondered the thought and lightly chuckled at my predicament. I really needed to leave the greenhouse.
The sun was high, and the interior temp was rising. Beads of sweat trickled down my back making the thin cotton tank top I had changed into stick to my skin.
Just as I bent to retrieve the herb-filled basket, the greenhouse door flew open.
“I call bullshit,” Matt announced.
His stance wasn’t unlike that of Superman—without the cape, of course. His chest and shoulders were so broad, I wasn’t convinced he could enter through the narrow doorway without turning his body.
I swallowed hard as I stood, leaving the basket on the ground. “You call bullshit?” I said, hoping I sounded at least somewhat cheerful and witty and not as terrified as I felt.
I wasn’t convinced I could say no to him another time. But why did I have to say no?
I was unencumbered by a boyfriend. I wouldn’t be cheating. I was a single, grown-ass woman with desires, the greatest of which stood barely five feet away from me.
He lowered his fists from his hips and entered the greenhouse, shortening the distance between us. I fought the urge to take a step back. I needed to appear confident, even if I didn’t feel it.
“Yes, I call bullshit. I’ve been driving around for two hours trying to understand how I can feel this thing between us, and you don’t.” He wagged his finger between us. “This? This is not my imagination.”
He took another step closer, and my heart pounded so hard I suspected he might be able to hear it. But then the fans high up on opposing walls kicked on and all other noise was drowned out.
It was just the excuse we needed to come closer. His step forward was a long stride, mine more of a nervous scoot. To get within arm’s length of him made my chest explode.
He reached out and one large hand cupped the back of my neck, pulling me toward him, our bodies flushed together.
He looked into my eyes as I turned my head up to face him. Chocolate eyes so dark I could lose my bearings. Was losing my bearings.
But all common sense left when his perfectly formed lips hovered over mine and said, “I’m going to kiss you now.” He waited half a beat for me to say no.
What I said was nothing. What I did was nod.
Then his mouth was on mine and all objections disappeared. He pulled me tighter into his body and his lips and tongue consumed me, as if he was starving.
I grasped onto him, my hands clawing at the muscles in his back and shoulders.
I pushed my hips into his erection, and realizing just how turned on he was, the raw desire of daydreaming about this moment for months pushed me deadly close to a climax.
The passion was boiling over, and I wasn’t certain I could contain it. Nor did I want to. Jason and I had never had a moment like this one, even in the early days of our relationship.
But at that moment I didn’t care. How could there be any regrets with this fine sculpture of a man holding me tight and groaning from the base of his throat.
He didn’t ask me to go shower like Jason usually did, especially if I had been playing in the dirt and most definitely if I had been sweating. Killing the mood. That’s what Jason did. Killed the mood.
“Do you have a condom?” I managed to say between kisses, praying to all the pagan gods and goddesses that he did. He stopped kissing me and gently ran his hands over my cheeks.
His glistening chocolate eyes were wide, and he groaned the words, “There's more than one way to make you cum.”
I was stunned. If this was a one-and-done, it was by far more sensual than I could have dreamed.
Men in general, well at least in my somewhat-limited experience, made their own needs priority during sex. Matt was proposing something else altogether.
His hands, much rougher than those of an executive vice president of a large distribution company, slid down my face and followed the curves of my body.
Once they reached the waistband of my jean shorts, he went to his knees. His fingers ran across the waistband, grazing the tender flesh at my stomach.
He unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts with the ease of having done it a thousand times. But at that moment, I didn't care how many women he had fucked or licked or made cum.
It was my turn, and I was going to enjoy every last second.
I ran my fingers through his tousled hair, loving the thickness and length, just shy of being long, flipping in curls at his ears.
I wanted to close my eyes but couldn't stop watching him as he traced swirls and circles on my belly, around my navel. The heat between my thighs was excruciating pleasure.
Then in one fluid move he pulled my shorts down and looked at my panties—a frilly lacy thing because he had been on my mind when I redressed.
“Pretty,” he breathed. He ran a hand down the back of my thigh, my knee, my calf, and then my ankle. With his other hand he lifted one foot out of my shorts and then the other.
He raised his head and, staring like a young boy seeing a naked woman for the first time, gathered the fabric of my panties and slid them down, just as smoothly as my shorts, only slower.
After he had freed me of my panties, his lips and tongue started an anguishing trip up my leg, kissing and nibbling, moving from one limb to another until he hovered at my pussy.
“You are beautiful,“ he managed to say before he ravaged me, thrusting his fingers in and out of me.
The move was so sudden that white flashes of pure ecstasy pulsed through my entire body. No more running my fingers through his hair. I grabbed at it, willing my body to hold on to the orgasm.
But the explosion was fast, deep, and very, very wet.
He lifted me, pushing his face into my thighs, kissing and licking the flowing juices as I straddled the wood-framed plant bed.
He wrapped his arms around my legs and held me steady as I watched his obscene forearm muscles flex with the movement.
He continued the sucking and licking, defying my belief that I was capable of only one orgasm.
But I guess when a man makes you cum and then thinks his participation is complete, it's easy to assume one single orgasm was sufficient. But not this.
Matt continued furiously going down on me like it was the most important thing in the world.
The cascade of orgasms apparently delighted him as much as it did me, because he continued until I was completely streaked in sweat.
He lowered me so my feet touched the ground, but there was no way I could stand, so I slinked down, not caring that I was sitting bare-assed in compacted dirt.
He gathered me into his arms and held me while I caught my breath and sanity.
“Better than I imagined,” he growled.
I had to be dreaming. Seriously. No way in hell was this actually happening.
“What do you mean better than you imagined?”
“Woman, I have been thinking about doing that to you since the first time I saw your picture.”
Wow! I definitely was dreaming or was a much more powerful witch than I could imagine. Should I confess my own secret desires since I first saw his picture? Maybe it could wait.
My entire body was in a puddle, languishing in the aftermath of multiple orgasms and sheer pleasure.
I knew I should gather myself and bring him into the house where we could talk, but curled in his arms was the only place I wanted to be.
His knuckled fingers grazed my chin and lifted my head. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered and placed his moist lips softly on mine.
Although gentle and sweet, there was a hunger in his kiss. A desire so deep that my already slick pussy pulsated again.
With his lips still on mine, his free hand pushed between my knees and thighs, finding the sweet spot, and groaning as my body reacted.
Again, his fingers found their way in and out, his thumb rubbing my clit so I was climbing another rush of white orgasmic ecstasy.
He leaned into my neck and said into my ear, “You are so beautiful when you come. I want to keep going. I want you to come again.”
Two of his fingers went as deep as he could go, and a floodgate of my juices erupted. The sound from my throat was more of an animal than that of a woman.
His lips found my mouth again and devoured me with kisses as he continued pumping my channel.
Good God, I couldn't even count the orgasms, but I was spent. I leaned into his chest and felt more than heard his steady heartbeat.
He pulled his hand away and held me closer, his fingers now caressing the back of my neck where my hair had pulled out of the ponytail.
After a couple of minutes of silence, he said, “I like your greenhouse.” His body shifted as he looked around, and I pushed myself to a sitting position.
Common sense struck me like a lightning bolt. Maybe because he was in my space, my private space, or maybe because I had just used this man for my own pleasure.
“Matt?“
“Yes,“ he said, and directed his attention to me.
“We need to talk.”
“If that's what you want to do. But if I have a choice, I'd rather keep doing this.”
I smiled. I couldn't help it. The man seemed to take absolute pleasure in satiating my desires.
“I'm not sure I can stand, let alone walk right now. Pretty sure if you keep doing this, I will just pass out right here.”
“Then we'll take a break.” His voice was cheerful, but not for long. Once I told him that he was under an untended manifestation spell, it was likely he would be pissed.
I stood, using one of the tables to steady myself as Matt jumped up in a flash, putting his hands on my hips.
“You have the cutest ass I’ve ever seen.” His hands lingered on my hips, and I could feel him staring at my behind.
Yoga had certainly kept my tush in shape, but it certainly could not be the cutest one he had ever seen. The women he went out with were perfect models of the female form.
“Let’s go in and have some coffee,” I said as I moved away from him and picked up my shorts. I wrangled them on and tucked my panties into a front pocket.
“I don’t know about the coffee. Your idea of coffee is a bit stark for me.”
“Fine, you can have a water.”
“Sounds good.” He lifted an arm and gestured to the door. “After you.”
The distance to the kitchen door was short, but I dreaded every step. I didn’t want to tell him that he had just given me the most wonderful experience, but not of his own free will.
Maybe I could just figure out how to undo the spell and he would just become disinterested.
Damn. He moved across the country to be with me. He was going to be really pissed.
I opened the screen door and was startled by Grandma sitting in one of the kitchen chairs stroking Persephone, who lounged in her lap.
“Grandma, what are you doing here?”
The screen door slapped closed as Matt entered the kitchen.
“You called me,” Grandma answered, with, I swear, a little grin as she directed her attention to Matt.
Grandma didn’t stand but she did reach her hand out to Matt for a handshake. He leaned across the table, about to put his hand in hers when I grabbed his wrist.
“You need to wash your hands after helping me plant those basils.”
“Ahhh, yes. Good idea.” Matt went to the sink.
“The place looks beautiful,” Grandma said, and took an admiring glance around the kitchen, settling her eyes on Matt’s back.
“Grandma, I called you like half an hour ago,” I said, stunned. Did she see what was going on in the greenhouse? I felt the hot flush of embarrassment ride up my neck to my cheeks.
She brushed off my nervousness. “Well, you know my broom flies at the speed of sound.”
Matt chuckled at the sink and glanced over his shoulder at Grandma. Those damn perfect lips smiled at her, and she smiled right back at him.
He finished up, dried his hands on the towel hanging over the oven handle, and walked closer to Grandma. “Matt,” he said, and held out his hand.
“You have very nice hands,” she added before he could respond, holding his hand just a few seconds too long.
“Thank you,” Matt said, and glanced at his hand bewilderingly as she let go.
He looked back at me. “I should let you visit with your grandmother. Can I call you later?”
“Yes, please.” I managed a smile, although my heart was skipping in anticipation of telling him the truth.
I had the courage built up to talk to him right then and there. I wasn't sure how I was going to feel about it later.
He leaned in and kissed my cheek.
“Thank you for showing me the greenhouse. It's beautiful,” he whispered as he lingered the kiss by my ear. His breath so close to me made me want to grab him and bring him to my bed.
Fortunately, he pulled away before I could melt.
“It was nice to meet you, Lila.”
“And you too, Matt. Perhaps we will see you again soon?”
“I hope so.” He stole one more look at me and left through the kitchen door.
“You left your candle burning,” Grandma said as soon as the door smacked close.
“I did?” Sure enough, there was a puddle of dried melted wax on my tabletop. Poor candle looked like how I felt.
“How are the basil plants coming along?”
“Grandma, seriously?” I couldn't contain my chuckle.
“You know, your grandpa and I used to have fun in the greenhouse too.”
“Lila Rose! I am your granddaughter and do not need to hear about your sex life.”
“My sex life? Who said anything about sex?” Her devilish grin spread across her face.
This time I let out a full-blown laugh. “God, I've missed you!”
She stood, letting Persephone thud to the ground and scurry off. She took me into her arms and squeezed a hug so tight she could have broken my ribs.
She slid her hand down my arm and clasped my hand. She led me to the kitchen table. “Now why don't you tell me what's troubling you?”
