Rampant

Elspeth wasted no time. She pulled up the jersey sheath she wore so that Zoë could touch her bare skin. She had on a black G-string and she was maneuvering to straddle Zoë’s thigh, pressing her pussy against it.

Zoë could smell her arousal in the midst of the musky scent she wore, and it sent her into overdrive. Shocked at her own behavior, she was scarcely able to believe she was doing this, making out with another woman, and yet she was unable to stop herself. I’m lost to this, lost. She cupped her own pussy in one hand, pressing hard for relief while she squeezed the soft flesh of Elspeth’s breast.

“Oh, yes,” Elspeth said, “I knew I liked you when you arrived, Zoë Daniels. You’re perfect.”

Panting in unison, they quickly found release.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Elspeth said hurriedly as she shrugged her dress down into position, before helping Zoë.

Awash with release and drugged on it, Zoë was unsure what to do, and took Elspeth’s offered hand. Her body was still tingling wildly as they left the cloakroom.

The dance raged on in the hall, but Zoë didn’t want to go back in there. Elspeth led her the other way, toward the open door and the path into the forest.

Zoë was glad of it. From the moment she’d arrived, she’d wanted to go there. Maybe now was the time. She hankered to go back and find Grayson, too, to have it out with him and tell him what she thought of his secrets and duplicity.

Elspeth was leading the way, gesturing for her to follow.

Just for a little while, Zoë thought, let him wait.

Yes, he could’ve told her the truth earlier if he really cared about her reaction, she told herself, as she darted out into the night, into the forest.

17

THEY COULD STILL HEAR THE MUSIC FROM THE pub as they wove through the trees, and the sounds of bagpipes seemed to dash and fly alongside them, like a wild Scottish sprite delighted to have them here in its lair.

Zoë’s heart raced, liberation rushing in her veins as she and Elspeth moved through the tall trees and bushes. The sun had set and silvering moonlight spliced the dark shadows, eerily carving out shapes amongst the trees in the gloom. It was just as it had been in her dreams, mysterious and vibrant, filled with the secrets of all who had been here before.

Elspeth seemed to know the winding path well, and led the way quickly. The path soon got rougher underfoot, as if less frequented. Zoë stumbled and wobbled on her heels as she went, but didn’t care.

Even though it hadn’t rained in days there was a damp, earthy smell that intoxicated her, as if the humidity of the day had gathered under the foliage and in the rough ground. The creaking branches and scurrying noises in the undergrowth made the place come alive, and her senses responded, tripping somewhere between fear and elation.

Through the trees up ahead, she could see a fire flickering. Elspeth seemed to be leading her to it. The sight struck her oddly, because it looked like the place she’d seen in her first vision, the very night she’d arrived in Carbrey. As they closed on it she saw candles placed here and there on the rocks, lit and dripping wax, as if marking the path. As they approached the edge of the clearing she heard sounds, animalistic sounds.

The fire was built on a patch of ground strewn with sand and ashes. It stood in a circular clearing among the trees, and her breath caught as she stared at the scene. There, on the ground next to the fire was Crawford, and he was making love to a blonde woman on the forest floor.

“Stop, they’ll see us if we get any nearer,” Zoë whispered urgently, pulling on Elspeth’s hand in an effort to halt her.

Elspeth smiled.

She knew, Zoë realized, and it didn’t bother her. Elspeth already knew what they were doing when she’d headed up here.

“It’s only Crawford and Isla, they won’t mind.” Elspeth urged her on, beyond the edge of the clearing.

Zoë stumbled after her and stared in disbelief, unable to drag her gaze away from the couple shagging in the firelight, right there in the open air. The woman was panting and grunting loudly, clearly loving it, her fingernails scratching at Crawford’s back as he thrust into her. He had his jeans down around his thighs, and his arse looked fit and tight, flexing repeatedly as he thrust inside his lover. She had her knees drawn up, her heels digging into his buttocks, her skirt up around her waist. It was so lewd and debauched and it felt so odd to be standing there watching them, but Zoë couldn’t turn away. It was just like it had been in her dreams.

Elspeth squeezed her hand, and nodded across the fire. Following her gaze, Zoë saw that there were others watching, too, their faces eerie in the firelight.

The couple on the forest floor had reached their crescendo, and Crawford then let out an almighty roar, lifting right up on his arms, his body arched and his hips pivoting at the woman’s crotch.

His partner screamed with delight, her hips gyrating under him. She was milking him off, and Zoë’s sex clenched, identifying with that most innate action. She felt hot and restless, anxious and aroused, even while her mind questioned what she was doing watching other people fucking on the forest floor.

Peering across the fire, she could see that the others were talking amongst themselves. One man swigged from a bottle of wine and then looked from the couple to her and Elspeth. Crawford stood up and turned to face them as he did up his zipper. “Who’s next?” he said, with a lascivious, expectant grin on his face.

“Go easy,” Elspeth said to him, her voice low, and then she closed on Zoë, wrapping her arms around her and kissing her cheek.

Zoë wavered, her ability to respond appropriately to Crawford vanishing in the haze of her arousal. “I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.

She wanted sex, but her mind kept flitting back to Grayson. She scanned the faces of those present. Would he appear too, with all the other witches? Would he watch while Crawford fucked her, would he join in? The unbidden thoughts made her edgy and skittish. The urge to run crept up on her. Was this what people did, people who practiced witchcraft? The questions seem to wrap themselves around her, assailing her senses, making her feel light-heade