It had been a story as real to her as Tillie’s fear of the dark or Maggie’s brief but intense conviction that their house would catch on fire.

With time, she grew out of it—or perhaps grew into the…what had Carys called it? The materialism that realists insisted on?

But she’d never stopped hoping they were real.

Because if the scary supernatural things were real, then it stood to reason the wonderful, magical ones were too. And Greta had always, always hoped to be in the presence of magic.

“I don’t know about vampires and ghosts specifically. But I know that I want the chance to experience magic.”

The second it was out of her mouth, she braced for a feeling of foolishness, but it never came. Instead, Carys’ eyes burned and she found herself pressed up against the side of a tomb and kissed breathless.

A lizard scampered away between the sun-warmed stones.

A spark kindled between them, and Greta mapped Carys’ lush curves, sliding a hand from the small of her back down to squeeze her gorgeous ass. Carys shuddered and pulled away. She grabbed Greta’s hand and, with a fiery look, pulled her to the corner of the cemetery, into a circle of tombs overhung by the branches of a willow tree.

Carys backed her up against the brick wall, under the cover of the tree. She kissed Greta’s lips slowly, then with more tongue, until Greta was moaning. Carys’ touch sent fire through her veins and made her cunt pulse.

Carys slid a hand into her jeans and traced her damp slit. When she circled her clit with a clever finger, Greta gasped and buried her face in Carys’ shoulder.

“God, you feel like magic,” Carys murmured.

“You feel like magic,” Greta tried to reply, but it came out a lust-slurred garble.

She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on Carys’ fingers, teasing her flesh until she was wet and swollen and squirming, trying to get contact everywhere.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Carys said, voice gone low and rough. She pressed her hips against Greta’s thigh and ground against her, shuddering.

Carys’ fingers slid inside her, and Greta’s legs went limp. She squeezed around those fingers, and Carys worked her expertly as she murmured all the things she wanted to do in Greta’s ear.

“Oh, fuck,” Greta groaned. She was a tinderbox, a firecracker, a moaning, panting mess of pleasure waiting for the lick of flame that would explode her.

Carys leaned in close and scraped her teeth against Greta’s neck.

“Fuck, yes, please,” Greta begged against Carys’ skin.

Carys hummed her pleasure and sucked at Greta’s neck. Paroxysms of pleasure shot from her neck to her crotch, and when Carys closed her teeth around the spot and pressed her gorgeous tits against Greta’s, the spark flared.

“Oh god, I’m gonna come,” Greta said through clenched teeth.