by S. E. Harmon
“You’re… so… dead,” I spluttered. It would’ve been more effective if I could’ve stopped laughing. “As soon as I get my wind back, I’m gonna—”
“Keep screaming like a little girl?” he suggested over my very credible threat. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
In my struggles, my left hand slipped free. I saw my opportunity to turn the tables and grabbed it—his nuts, that is. His breath whooshed out audibly as I held them securely in my palm, and suddenly I was in complete control. He didn’t seem to mind. He just smiled and arched the eyebrow with the barbell. “Just like that, huh?”
I nodded. “Just like that.”
He leaned down, bracing his hands on either side of my head, just far enough for his lips to hover a few millimeters above my mouth. I squeezed him gently, and his breath misted over my lips. He smelled like a mix of coffee and mint, and I ached for a taste.
I leaned up, still hampered by his much heavier weight, and he leaned back a little. His mouth quirked as I continued to strain forward. “If I don’t get going soon, our food is gonna be cold,” he warned me.
“I can work a microwave like a champ,” I assured him. “I majored in the Essence of the Hot Pocket in college.”
He let me win, meeting his mouth with mine, his lips soft but insistent all at the same time. It wasn’t a forceful kiss, just demanding, the way I liked it. I let go of his balls, intending to go for his zipper, but he took both of my hands in one of his and forced them above my head. Then his mouth was back on mine as he kissed me hard enough to press me back into the couch cushion.
He ran his tongue against the seam of my mouth, and even though I knew what he wanted, I didn’t comply. He made a sound of frustration as I held in a laugh. He nipped at my bottom lip gently and still couldn’t gain entry, and finally chuckled against my mouth. “You’re such a fucking tease.”
“Just the way you like it.”
The next time his mouth landed on mine, I opened up to everything he had to give me, and the sensation of his tongue sliding against mine, all rough and slick all at the same time, sent a shot of lust straight through my body. I let out a groan, a sound that was lower and more rumbly than anything I thought I was capable of. And just like that, I was rock-hard and ready to go.
Despite all my degrees and fancy education, I guess I was a slow learner. I kept expecting the intensity to wane, to settle, to grow comfortable and predictable, but the sheer want I had for him knocked my socks off. Fireworks. Every damn time.
“God, I love your mouth,” he groaned. He sucked and licked and nipped at my lips in a way that made my stomach tense and tight. “I want to fuck that mouth.”
Yeah, I wanted that too. I worked my hands free and my fingers practically moved of their own accord to his belt buckle. A glint of movement caught my eye, and my hands faltered. I turned to see a ghost in the armchair near the window looking at us, mouth agape, one finger holding the page in her book.
“What’d you stop reading for?” Another ghost appeared in the other armchair—my fucking armchair—with an irritated expression. He glanced over at us, entwined on the couch, and groaned. “Oh God, are they at it again? Like animals, they are.”
The other ghost seemed to regain her composure as she turned back to her book. “Just men being men, I suppose,” she said crisply.
“Not in my day,” he declared. “There’s no way anything like this would go on in my damned factory.”
“Curse again and I’ll wash your blasted mouth out with soap, I will,” she snapped. “And you don’t think I saw the way you looked at that Rawlings boy?”
He looked chagrined. “Sorry, Mother.”
Danny’s mouth slid off mine, and I blinked. “Why’d you stop?” I tried to pull him back down, and he balked. I pulled at his shoulders futilely, and it was like trying to get a pile of bricks to mount me.
“You’re not even paying attention.”
I scowled and bucked up against his ass. I had about seven inches of rock-hard proof I was paying attention—hell, I was his star pupil. “You serious right now?”
“Rain, you couldn’t be less focused on what we’re doing. If I wanted to fuck something inanimate, I’d fuck a plastic doll.”
“Just because I looked away for two seconds is no reason to throw a hissy fit.” I processed his caustic words. “Wait, you don’t do that, do you?”
“No!” Even with that naturally golden complexion, dusky rose color climbed his cheeks. “I mean, maybe I have once or twice. But that was when I was younger and curious.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I want to hear about it,” I demanded.
“Why?”
Why? Because I’d always wondered, that’s why. Danny didn’t fuck indiscriminately—it just wasn’t his style. He only had sex with people he thought he could build a future with. Sometimes that led to some long, thirsty patches in his history. I was almost afraid to ask who he’d been with during our split—not because I was so unreasonable that I wanted him to be a monk all that time. I was just afraid I couldn’t handle the answer of who. And how many times.
But the thought of Danny, wild with sexual desperation and lust, fucking some inanimate object in abandon? That I could handle. It was even better that he thought it was unseemly and kind of wrong. The picture of him rutting like a wild animal was so vivid, it felt less like my imagination working overtime and more like a memory.
The musculature of his back standing out in stark relief, skin all sweaty as he fucked into some hole until he shot his load… I swallowed hard. Yeah. I was going to make him fuck that toy in front of me at some point. Maybe even while I fucked him. The possibilities were endless.
My thoughts made my own situation harder, and he raised an eyebrow as my dick jerked. “Or should I even ask why?”
“Shits and giggles,” I managed.
I watched with rapt attention as he pulled on the waistband of my sweats and stuck his hand inside. He wrapped those strong, knowing fingers around my dick, and I bucked up into his grip with a surprised grunt. He stroked me then, his touch hard when I needed it soft, and gentle when I wanted it rough. I whimpered in frustration. I knew from that teasing touch alone that release wasn’t going to be quick, and it wasn’t going to be easy.
“Guess it takes some weird things to get your full attention,” he said, his voice all rough and scratchy, letting me know he wasn’t as unbothered as he appeared. Maybe I would get a fast and easy orgasm after all.
“You could say that.” I bucked up again and hissed as his thumb ran over the leaking head of my cock. “Now tell me about your fuck toy.”
“It was a gag gift,” he said, stroking the length of my cock leisurely. “A friend of mine thought it would be funny to get me one of those plastic butts. Everyone had a good howl over it. I put it in a closet and forgot about it.”
“And then?”
“I got horny and I was looking for my porn stash—”
“Some dusty Men’s Health magazines?”
“I wasn’t that bad.” His grip intensified, and I gasped. “I told you my porn was on DVD.”
“Wireless, external… hard drive,” I managed around panted breaths. “Much better. Can keep. Lots on there.”
“How much porn do you have?” he asked, amused.
“Enough.”
His strong, sure grip had a good rhythm at that point, slicked by my precum. We were both so busy watching the head slide through his fist and pop back out that I think we forgot about the story. Or I had at least, until an interested voice said over in the corner, “So then he stumbled across the fake butt in the closet and decided to start fucking it? Men are such animals.”
I jumped, startled, and Danny raised an eyebrow. His barbell glinted. “You okay, there?”
I wanted to lick that fucking barbell so bad, but not here. “Um, can we take this in the bedroom?”
His grip was part punishing, part stroki
ng, and one-hundred-percent pleasure. “Why?”
“Why not?” I was starting to sweat at my temples. His expert touch was so good I was going to blow, and I pushed his hand off. “I need to… I need… not gonna last.”
His brow furrowed in puzzlement as he took me in hand once more. “You don’t have to. You know that. I can get you there again.”
That easy confidence that he could give me a couple of orgasms, no sweat, made my situation mission critical. I pushed him off. Two strokes and I’d be done for.
“Jesus, Danny.” I blew out a breath. “I don’t want to come because I want you to fuck me. And I’d like to not have an audience when you do.”
“An audience?” His voice lowered dangerously. “Rain….”
I threw up my hands. “It’s not like I have control over them.”
“Fuck.” He stopped trying to recapture my dick and I let out a little whine, bereft. Fucking cockblocking ghosts. “How many?”
“Like two.” A shadow crossed my eye as another ghost meandered out of the kitchen, earbuds jammed in his ears as he hummed off-key, and I amended. “Three.”
“Oh my God.”
I threw an arm over my eyes. I was never getting fucked again. Sure enough, Danny pushed off me and stood. “I’m going to take a shower and then I’m going to get the food.”
“Danny….”
I might as well have saved my words as he disappeared down the hallway. A few seconds later, the bathroom door shut—not quite a slam, but close enough.
Window ghost clucked her tongue. “He is a sensitive man, isn’t he?”
Her son was more than ready to open his gob. “In my day—”
“Oh shut up, already,” I growled.
He scowled. “Well, you’re the one who told him we were here. It’s not like he can see us.”
“I can see you,” I said, suddenly angry with the entire situation. “And I asked you to go. Right now I’m trying to figure out why I bother to help you. Any of you.”
Danny’s phone buzzed on the coffee table and I glanced at the screen. The name that popped up made me do a double take. My anger suddenly had an outlet. I grabbed the phone, pushed off the couch, and stalked out of the room.
Kitchen ghost pulled out one of his earbuds. He watched me go with a perplexed look. As I headed down the hall, I heard him ask, “What’s his problem?”
I opened the bathroom door without knocking and stalked in, ready to give Danny an earful. I might’ve lost a little of my steam, staring at his body in the shower. He had his back to me, a well-muscled display, that winding tattoo on his back ending a scant inch or two above the crack of his ass.
Fuck. My mouth watered a little. A trail of soap and bubbles made their way down the path of his spine and slipped between full, muscular globes. My tongue wanted to hike that trail next.
His voice was a rumbly growl over the patter of water. “What?”
It took me a second to remember what I was all steamed about. “You got a call.”
“So?” He ducked his head under the spray. “Is it important?”
“You tell me. It was someone named the Great Magellan.”
Pause. “I’ll just call him back later.”
I narrowed my eyes at his sculpted back. “You sure you don’t want me to check the message? It’s not every day you get called by a magician.”
“He’s not a magician. He’s a Spiritual Adviser and Conduit.”
“Did you call my mother?” I demanded.
“No,” he said defensively. “Not exactly.”
“Then what, exactly?”
“She called me while you were conked out on the couch.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“You sleep little enough as it is. You’re lucky I don’t put knock out drops in your drinks. I told her things didn’t exactly go well with Master Spencer.”
“He chased me out of his dojo!”
He ignored that. “I asked her if she had any other suggestions, and she thought this guy could help.”
I glared as he turned around, slicking hair away from his face. If he thought looking at his naked, soapy body was going to distract me from… whatever the hell I was upset about, he had another thing coming. Now if I could just remember that thing, I’d be golden.
He started soaping up his dick and the surrounding thatch of hair—a little more thoroughly than necessary, in my opinion. I was just about to offer to wash his balls myself when the phone dinged with the voicemail reminder.
Oh yeah. Back on track, I declared, “I’m not going.”
“Give me one good reason why.”
“He calls himself the Great Magellan.”
He paused. “All right, give me two good reasons.”
“He calls himself the Great Magellan,” I stressed patiently.
He sent me a squinty-eyed look. “Rain.”
“Daniel,” I said pertly.
His voice was equal parts annoyance and amusement. “Rainstorm.”
Fuck, he did that voice so much better than I did. Maybe that was because he also applied The Look along with it. That face and that voice had forced confessions from hardened criminals. When you added the fact that he knew me better than anyone on earth, including my twin, I didn’t have a prayer.
I let out a pent-up breath with a whoosh. “Fuck, I’ll go.”
“Good. Thank you.” He let out a breath too. “This really is for the best.”
“Life would just be so much easier if I didn’t mind disappointing you.”
“I’m sure it would.” Those blue eyes crinkled at the corners in an achingly familiar way. “I love you.”
Ah, how sweet. I offered him my own particular brand of romance. “Drop dead.”
I closed the door on his loud and hearty laughter, a smile tugging at my mouth.
Chapter 18
The next morning, I lollygagged as much as I could before Danny finally ushered me to the car. If he’d entertained any thoughts of letting me skip my appointment with the Great Magellan, my nightmare certainly took care of that.
Talk about unreasonable.
I sent him a sideways look as he drove, casually navigating the streets with one hand on the wheel and the other on the gearshift. Apparently, it’s bad form to wake your boyfriend in the middle of the night by yelling in your sleep. Fighting said boyfriend when he’s trying to wake you up from that bad dream is also a no-no. Asking if you could fuck him until you can’t think straight is also frowned upon, as is taking him on the floor with no rug to cushion his self-proclaimed creaky knees.
Jesus, what a big baby. I did offer to get him a pillow.
I shifted in my seat restlessly, remembering how he told me to hurry up before one of my ghost friends showed up. He didn’t have to tell me twice. I had him lubed up in a jiff. I took a little time stretching him, even though I was tempted to just plunge in deep. When he gave me a short nod, I lined up my dick with his hole and pushed in slowly. His stubborn muscles fought me a little before I worked my way past, bottoming out with a sigh.
Danny tightened around me. “Good?”
His voice had been quiet and hesitant, which was so far from his personality it was unreal. But the strong, always capable guy disappeared when I fucked him; he wasn’t all that sure of his bottoming skills. He’d only ever bottomed for me, and it wasn’t something I requested all that often. I always cherished the unique opportunity when I got to do the reassuring.
But the grip of his ass around my dick had me at a loss. Good? Understatement of the fucking year. I tried to think of some other words, better words that would describe the nirvana—the feeling of tunneling into the slickest, tightest, hottest place on earth—and admittedly fell short.
I stopped rifling through my mind’s thesaurus. The only words I knew right then were good, ass, so tight, and fucking love you so much. I used them all as I settled my cheek against his back and fucked him slowly, my face buried in his neck, with his silky hair tickling my n
ose.
He tightened around me and gasped as he came, spraying the floor with his seed. I groaned in relief and started chasing my own orgasm. I bent him over farther and started pounding him hard enough to make the floor squeak under his damp palms as he tried to keep his balance. On second thought? Maybe I hadn’t given good enough credit—fucking Danny was as good as it got.
A sharp honk brought me back to the present and I shifted in my seat some more. My short jaunt down memory lane had my pants situation a little too tight. I glanced over at Danny to see if he’d noticed, only to find him fighting a smile.
I moved my messenger bag into my lap with a huff, and his smile finally broke through. “And what exactly would you be thinking about, Christiansen?”
“You know,” I accused.
He chuckled. “According to the GPS, you’ve got about ten minutes to rectify that.”
“You let me worry about my erection. You worry about the road.”
Strangely enough, our ME helped me on that front. I pulled out my phone to check email and he’d forwarded the promised articles on corpse wax. Because Saunders is dedicated to his job, he also sent enough accompanying pictures to make me grimace. By the time we reached Magellan’s neighborhood, erections were a thing of the past. My dick had died… or at least was in such critical condition, I should set up a GoFundMe page.
Danny wasn’t quite finished with the topic. “I meant to talk to you about last night.”
I looked at him blankly. “In regard to what?”
“The way we did things—”
“Oh God.”
“I’m just asking.” He huffed. “Is that something you need? Or want more often?”
“If it was, I would’ve said so.”
“I just want to make sure we can talk about things like that. That you’re not repressing anything sexually—”
“Oh God.” I flicked through some more photos designed to give me nightmares. How was an exceptionally thorough briefing on corpse wax not the worst part of my day? “If anyone is sexually repressed, it’s you. Wasn’t I the one who brought up ditching condoms four months ago?”
“Not really. You plucked the condom from my hands as I was about to roll it on and threw it.” His mouth quirked. “Then you said, and I quote, ‘Jesus Christ, Danny.’”
