Page 17 of Basket Case

I ran my fingers through the leaves covering his handle.

No plucking.

“I said I was sorry.”

You laughed.

“I apologised after I stopped laughing.”

A leaf tickled my ribs. I smoothed it down and let my hand rest against the warm wicker. The gentleness felt surprisingly good after being tied up and fucked senseless.

We lay there, eyes closed, him gently stroking me and me stroking him. Part of me wanted to go to sleep, but I wasn't quite ready for that. What if I fell asleep and woke to a simple basket next to me, one without a voice and life and a huge, amazing cock? What if the magic only lasted this one night? What if he never made it to Samhain itself?

“How long were you asleep?” I asked eventually.

Creel’s strands stopped moving.

“How long since somebody touched you while you could feel it?”

Ask your grandmother.

I checked the clock on my phone. It was quarter to four. Gran might have been enjoying care-home life, but even the surprisingly fit widowers wouldn’t keep her awake at this hour.

“Tomorrow,” I said. “I’m not calling my eighty-two-year-old grandmother before dawn to ask how long it’s been since somebody touched her basket.”

A leafy strand curled around my ankle and settled there. Creel had apparently decided that was close enough.

You should sleep.

“Are you going to turn back into an ordinary basket?”

No.

I closed my eyes and focused on the pleasant throbbing in my pussy. I could still almost feel him there.

FOUR

“Did he wake?” Gran asked before I had managed to say hello.

It was eight seventeen in the morning. I was still naked beneath the duvet; my hair had dried into a curly mess and Creel remained at the foot of the bed with one leafy strand wrapped around my ankle.

“That’s a very specific question to ask before I’ve had my first cup of tea.”

“Kathleen.”

“Yes,” I admitted. “He woke.”

Gran released a long breath. I couldn’t tell whether she was relieved or disappointed. “And he spoke to you?”

“He’s been doing quite a lot more than speaking.”

A leafy strand curled around my ankle. I nudged it with my heel, but it travelled beneath the sheet and stroked the inside of my calf.

“I don’t need the details,” Gran said quickly.

“That makes two of us.” I glared at Creel. “Stop that.”

“I’m not doing anything.”