Page 2 of Enchanted by the Gargoyle (The Crescent Coven #1)

Ezren

T he moment her hand touched my face, a jolt lit through my body, and my eyes snapped open - figuratively speaking, of course.

I was still stone but more alive than I had felt in a long time.

I watched her soft, curvy form walk away, straining against my stone prison, knowing that it was futile until the sun went down, which was still hours away.

Her long, light brown hair fluttered in the breeze, but I only got a glimpse of it before she tucked herself into her car and drove away.

My heart sank. Unless she came back, there would be no way for me to see her again.

I like the way her jeans hugged her rounded bottom, the way her bright eyes had roved over my body in appreciation.

Most people saw through me, or around me; no one really looked at me .

My mind began to drift again, solidifying itself away from the real world, building the layers back up.

It was no use; she wouldn’t ever have a reason to come back and see me, so I should just stop thinking about her.

But I have nothing but time until the sun goes down, and my thoughts are not letting her go.

I imagine her coming back, me pulling her into my office, pressing her down onto the table, legs spread.

Maybe I would pull her sweater off with my teeth and smooth my face over her soft belly over and over.

She would be supple under my hands, and I would be gentle.

Or maybe I wouldn’t be. What would she want?

My cock is hardening at the idea of perhaps she would want me on the table, her hands smoothing over my stone cock, eyes twinkling with admiration.

The sun is starting its descent across the sky, but it seems like forever since she left, and this is as far as my imagination has taken me, rubbing my face on her, or her hands gripping my now throbbing cock.

The truth is, I don’t know what she would look like underneath her clothes, or what she would feel like under my rough, stone hands.

I can only guess, having never been with anyone before, monster or human.

The thoughts are on a loop in my head as I watch the sun crawl along, until finally it dips down below the horizon. They flit from scenario to scenario, and in between those, I wonder if she did go home and touch herself thinking of me.

Twisting my head this way and that, I don’t see anyone or hear any noises, so I begin the process of moving my toes and standing up from my crouch into a long stretch, arms overhead.

She said she liked your arms . I look at them closely, never really paying attention to them before now.

Of course, she thought I was a statue, not a living, breathing monster .

A person says whatever they want in front of a statue.

I mean, people fart in front of me all the time, looking furtively around to see if anybody will hear before letting them rip.

I hop down off the dias and lope to my office before any of my guests see me.

Locking the door, I yank the blinds down, nearly ripping them from the wall, before sprinting to the bathroom and hop in the shower.

The water is freezing cold, but I barely feel it as I take myself in my hands, pressing a hand into the tile wall, the other gripping firmly, and start to pump my hips.

Would I feel like this in her hands? No, her hands were small, delicate.

She wouldn’t grip me like this, maybe she would tease me first, using the softest pressure, making me groan with need.

In my mind, she’s in the shower with me, slick and wet, but her body is a blur, unable to even conjure what she might look like naked.

But her sweet hands are torturing me; I grip and release, grip and release, edging myself, thinking of her over and over, until finally spurt after spurt of seed splashes onto the tile.

Grunting into the unyielding tile wall, feeling the emptiness inside of me expand until I think I might burst into flame with the utter loneliness of it all.

After a few moments, I wipe my face and rinse my seed down the drain, finally emerging from my bathroom ready to face whatever administrative tasks I left for myself the day before.

I put on some jeans, a deep blue plaid shirt, and shrug on my favorite winter jacket with the cozy lining.

Stepping back into the office, I see the incessant answering machine is flashing red at me, making my heart sink like a stone.

Every evening, I play catch-up from the day before, frantically returning messages or trying to book guests late into the night when most people are tucking themselves into bed.

I’ve just finished my to-do list of people I need to return calls to when the phone rings. Taking in a lungful of air to calm my nerves, my hand shakes slightly as I pick up the receiver.

“He-Hello? Uh, this is Wyrdwood Cabins, how can I help you?” I stammer. If I could blush, I would. Every single time I answer the phone, I get flustered.

“Ezren?”

“Uh, yes, this is me. I mean, this is him. Me.” My hand slides over my face. Get it together, just focus on your words before you say them, it’s not that hard! How I get any business done around here is a miracle.

“Oh, hi, my name is Tamsin. I was there earlier and tried to see if you were in, but you must have been out with a customer. Anyway, I found a kitten on your property, and I was wondering if anyone has come by looking for it? I don’t want to just take her if she belongs to someone.

” She pauses, waiting for me to respond.

My mouth falls open, words stuck in my throat. It's her, the soft woman from the parking lot whose touch woke me from my deep daytime slumber, and had me jacking off desperately not even an hour ago.

It’s just a woman, no big deal, I talk to women all the time when they call to book vacations, or like a couple of months ago when Simone moved her to open her store.

It’s cool. With a sinking heart, I look down at my notes strewn across my desk, a hodgepodge of sticky notes, torn-off bits of envelope corners, and something that looks like it might have been the back of a coupon.

People to call back, cabins needing repair, parts to order.

Everything is blurring together as I scramble to find a clean bit of paper to write on, just in case.

“Hello?” Tamsin breaks the silence, which I just now realized has stretched on for far longer than is considered normal by human standards.

“Uh-hmm, yes, sorry. I was looking over my messages. Uh, I don’t see any about a missing cat?

I could…” I grasp for words, what could I do?

I couldn’t do anything. I could go door to door?

But I’m not supposed to know what the cat looks like.

“I could go door to door and ask if anyone is missing a cat?” I say, finally.

“Mmm…I don’t know. People can be evil, I don’t want someone to take her if it's not theirs. Plus, you don’t know what the cat looks like.”

“Oh, uhm, well, in that case, you could come by. With the cat, that is.” Did I just say that? I did just say that. I invited her back like some creepy weirdo.

“Oh! That’s an idea. Okay, how about tomorrow afternoon?”

Shit . I won’t be awake in time.

“Tomorrow works, but could it be more towards the evening? I have, uh, errands to run, and I won’t be back until later. Plus, guests usually come back in the evening from whatever they were doing earlier for dinner.”

I'm hunched over the desk, lips pressed together, listening to her breathe on the other end of the line. At one point, I hear a minuscule meow, and I can imagine her very clearly sitting on the phone, probably with that tiny fluffball in her luscious lap.

“Sure, that makes sense. So, I’ll aim for eight o’clock then. Thanks so much, Ezren, I appreciate your help!” Her cheerful voice tickles my ear.

“You’re welcome, see you then.” I manage.

The moment the line goes dead, I sag in my seat and rest my forehead on the table before I faint on the floor.

That had to have been the most stressful conversation I have ever had with a human, and that is taking into account the one summer when an entire family tried renting all the cabins for their family reunion.

She’s coming here tomorrow! The thought surges panic through my body, and I sit bolt upright in my chair, looking around at my office the way someone else might see it.

It’s a complete disaster. The calendar tacked to the corkboard is from last year.

The list of guests on the whiteboard isn’t totally accurate, either.

She’s going to think I’m some sort of slobby, messy fool!

Launching into action, running from corner to table, to floor, and back again, picking up trash and stashing things into the file cabinet against the wall.

In the end, I know I’ll never be able to find anything again, and I’m out of breath, but it looks…presentable. Way better than it was before, at least. I undress, lock my office behind me, and sneak back over to the dias to my crouched position just as the morning sunrise crests over the horizon.

All I have to do is wait for Tamsin and act semi-normal. Easy.