The Widow Hooper held her breath as she listened to the heavy steps of fate tromp up the front steps of her homestead. When her lungs began to burn, she exhaled a thin stream of vapor from her lips. She had doused the fire in her simple stone hearth hours ago in preparation for the evening and the cold had since permeated every measure of the humble dwelling. The thudding steps slowed and then stopped. A wretched squeak and groan from the ancient timbers signaled a large body settling onto the boards just outside the knotty pine door. Fear prickled her skin. Her entire form started to vibrate. It was him.

Her summoning spell had worked.

She swallowed. Shallow breaths burst from her nostrils in misty puffs.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Molly's shoulders jumped as the door shook on its hinges. She struggled to quell the panic rising in her throat. Either death or deliverance had arrived. She was not confident she knew which she faced.

"I call upon the goddess moon," she whispered, "bathe this sanctuary in thy protective light. I call upon the goddess moon, bathe this sanctuary in thy protective light . . ."

Bang!

With that final slam, the door swung open with a faint wail like a mewling cat. She slapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a scream. It was most assuredly him. She cast her bulging eyes to his feet, unable to immediately reconcile his distinctive form. After a few nearly hysterical pants, she gathered her courage and lifted her gaze from the worn black leather boots to the muted sheen of a black cloak to the black brocade of a well-tailored waistcoat. Above that there were shoulders so broad, they nearly brushed each side of the door frame. However, that is where the man ended - at the base of his neck. In the place of his head, there was nothing save for the flipped up ends of a stiff collar.

She gulped again. The gaping wound was crusty and black as if seared with a fiery blade. Only a small arc of the top of his spine remained; the unnatural edge of a vertebrae that had been cleaved apart. Again she was struck by the absurdity of her situation.

For, the headless horseman stood in her doorway . . . at her behest.

Forward he moved like a nightmare while she shrank back. His deliberate steps reverberated throughout the small structure and shook the floor beneath her feet. She instinctively stepped back again and bumped into her bed. Internally she chanted her protective spell while he strode further into the room and slammed the door shut.

A kind of deep rumble preceded a disembodied, husky baritone intonation.

"Why have you urged me here, witch?" his supernatural voice seemed to emanate all around her and crackle inside her ears.

Molly curled her toes in her slippers. It was now or never, she told herself. With shaking hands, she reached up to the scooping neckline of her dress and awkwardly pushed the garment off each shoulder. Cool air instantly goose-pimpled the flesh of her collar. She shimmied a bit and yanked the fabric down to her waist. She gasped as the icy air shocked her skin and caused each of her nipples to tighten. With her eyes fixed to the form of the undead man, she completed the disrobing and finally stood naked in a pool of cotton at her feet.

"I . . . I want your seed, Hessian," she whispered.

The spectre's hands curled into fists at his sides. His form seemed to expand. Every muscle tensed as if he steeled for battle.

"Hnnnmmm," a deep growl rattled off every surface.

In a heartbeat, his hulking form crossed the room. She closed her eyes as massive, scalding hot hands grasped her hips and spun her in the opposite direction. His hands were rough and impossibly hot. For a moment, his fingers pressed into her waist as if he were contemplating breaking her in half. Then, his digits slid up her cool flesh to cup her breasts. Meaty fingers squeezed her nipples between knuckles to just the point before pain. She groaned. Her womanhood flooded with heat and sensation. Too long had she been alone. Too long had she been cast out and empty. Tonight she would have fulfilment - even if she had to coax it from the devil himself.

"Wanton witch," the voice reverberated hoarsely in her ears.

"Huh, mm, y-yes, I am," she moaned.

Molly closed her eyes. In her fevered imagination, she envisioned him as the man with the mass of curls in the painting she had discovered and stowed away in the trunk on the loft above them. Before he had lost his head, his was a face fit for a fallen angel with crystalline blue-green eyes under heavy black brows. Months she had been enamored with the otherworldly depiction of high cheekbones, a determined male jaw and plump, bow lips. Oh, how she had ached for the beautiful beast!

An excited shiver travelled her spine when she felt him nudge her legs apart. Then, hot fingers glided down over the curve of her arse, between her thighs and sought her cleft.

"Unh," she grunted as a large finger parted her folds and a calloused pad found her most throbbing point.

Her sex clenched and infused with a tingling warmth again. She could feel herself preparing, preparing to be claimed by the dark rider.

"You want my seed? For want purpose?" his voice hissed as he rubbed her clit. "Will you work your dark magic on me? Do you seek to enslave me, witch?"

She shook her head. Her hair fluttered over her bare shoulders. She kept sucking in breaths until her lungs felt like they would burst.

"N-No, I just want for you to remember the man you once were," she cried as the tension within her core increased.

In the next tick, that long, wicked finger of his and another probed into her body. She bit her lip as the coarse penetration of them pushed deep into her sex and pumped in and out of her tight chamber. His fingers soon became slick with her arousal. She pushed back on them, whimpering and keening for more. Again, she heard a rumbling tone of guttural satisfaction surround her and vibrate through her to where she most desperately ached. When she thought the teasing could not get any more pleasurable, his slippery thumb pushed up between her cheeks and rubbed around her other entrance.

"Ah!"

Molly cursed. The feeling was all sorts of sinful. Pleas fell from her lips like a longing rainfall. She begged him for more. More, she wanted,more!

His hand retreated then and she heard the rustling of clothing at her back. His cloak swished and slapped into her backside. In the next moment, she was pushed forward onto her hands and knees on the edge of her straw mattress. Something large and fleshy sprang up against her bum. She felt it slap lightly against her cheeks a couple of times before it poked between her legs. All at once, a searing heat and blunt, rounded head pushed apart her folds. Up and down, he rubbed it until it too was as wet as she. A hand pushed her down again until she was bent over with her bum high in the air. What followed stole her breath. With a jerk, the massive helmet breached her inner sanctuary and stretched her apart. He then buried himself in her cunt right up to the base of his rigid shaft. She choked on a cry as his fill felt like it poked out her belly-button. The top of his shaft pulled up and tugged the flesh between her entries. It was almost disturbing how viscerally he possessed her body, but over and above that, it was more satisfying than any hunger she had ever quelled.

She closed her eyes against the linens of the bed and squeezed along his length. She could not believe what was housed inside her body. Its heat was surreal. The musculature of it was unyielding. She sobbed in relief when it began to move. Her hips were gripped again in a vice-like grasp. Fingers pressed into her flesh. The horseman did not waste any time plundering her body. His thrusts came fast and hard, they were almost punishing as he pinioned her sex. Over and over he thrust until her body was sucking at him and his testicles slapped her cunt. The quick ratcheting up of her excitement left her breathless and wound to the point of snapping.

Molly's cries mixed with his grunts. The intense friction began to spark a magic within her and an awakening. Then, his hand gathered her up and back until she could feel the stitching of his waistcoat. His strokes shortened until he was jerking her up from the bed. One hand held her hip down on him while the other reached to rub her clit.

"Oh, unh," she cried when his fingers found her sweet spot, "ooooh."

That was as much as she could take before her womb contracted and her orgasm ricocheted throughout her being. Her core clenched and then quivered on his cock. Deep murmurs of satisfaction emanated from his form and with a final, upward thrust, he shuddered and came. His shaft twitched and emptied within her like a kettle boiling over. His torso echoed his release for several moments, jolting her form with his spasms. When his release faded, his slippery member withdrew with a slurp. Scorching hot seed ran down her inner thigh. Her legs shook. She collapsed down on the bed and turned to gaze at him. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of her dark lover.

He appeared to have a head with the face in which she had become so infatuated. She gulped down her surprise and gathered a blanket up to cover herself. Intense, narrowed eyes with glowing blue-green irises like the tail of a lightning bug regarded her as he rearranged his clothing.

"You have made a grievous error in summoning me here, little witch," he murmured.

She bit her lip briefly. "I-I promise I will not do it again. Y-You are free to return from wherever you came."

He strode forward and leaned down. His beautiful, pale face seemed almost translucent as his lips twitched.

"That is your mistake, little witch, I was never under your control. You called for me . . . but I chose to come."

Her breath caught. His head tilted. His luminous eyes burned brighter and then his voice dropped an octave.

"And rest assured, I will choose to come again."

Then, the ghostly image of his striking face flickered and disappeared from his collar once more. With a sweep, his monstrous, headless frame turned; flinging the ends of his cloak. He stalked to the door, yanked it open and disappeared into the night.