Midnight Passions

by Leigh Ellwood

  Selfish bastard, sang John’s deep voice over the heavy metal music throbbing from Colleen’s stereo as she lay back on her mattress. She tilted her forward slightly and propped herself on her elbows, watching with increasing pleasure as Daryl’s tongue swirled around her clit, dipped low to tickle her slit, then lapped upward with one broad stroke. It felt so damn good, and Daryl was so damn good doing it…milking her cunt and giving her pleasure. How could anyone think he was selfish with the way he loved her?

  She rested her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes, centering her attention on the furious pace at which Daryl was eating her pussy. Seconds later there began fiery tremor between her pussy lips that caused her entire lower half to quake, and Colleen groaned her approval as her clit throbbed and the orgasm began to wash over her.

  Before the waves could completely crash, however, Daryl lifted his head and reached for his jeans and produced a condom.

  “Wha—?” Why didn’t he finish? Daryl knew when she had an orgasm; she could shatter porcelain figures with her voice. He knew better, and he was fumbling with a foil packet in the dim.

  Sheathing himself quickly, he sprang forward, pried her farther apart, and plowed his cock into her aching pussy before Colleen could react.

  “Daryl,” she gasped under his weight, and her ecstasy faded, replaced by a sensation that, although not entirely unwelcome, was in her mind premature. She hadn’t completely come yet; it felt as if somebody had turned off the spigot while she was in the shower, leaving her to freeze. That Daryl hovered over her as he pounded his cock into her proved no help. In this position, her clit remained untouched, and his cock felt bloated and ungainly as it maneuvered in and out of her without sufficient lubrication.

  “Oh, fuck yeah,” Daryl grunted, his hips working like speeding pistons. Colleen snaked her hand down her abdomen to stroke her clit, hoping to recapture the wonderful feeling that had been interrupted, but Daryl’s torso crushed her as he fell forward. He arched his back and, with one low bellow, climaxed.

  “Oh, yes!” With a deep, ragged breath, Daryl kissed Colleen’s cheek and rolled to one side. His softening cock seemed to slither out of her and across her belly. The heat from his body dissolved, leaving a naked Colleen grasping for the discarded comforter to regain warmth.

  Daryl lay on his back next to her, his chest heaving slightly. “Whoa, babe, that was amazing.” He kissed her again. “Think you’ll be ready for another round soon?”

  “Still waiting for Round One to end,” she muttered, but apparently Daryl didn’t hear her, as his attention shifted to something else.

  “That a door behind your dresser?”

  Colleen lifted her head and followed Daryl’s gaze to the opposite wall. The dark wood frame of the unusable door appeared darker in the shadow of candlelight flickering around the room. She nodded. “It’s sealed shut,” she said. “This used to be one house before it was split. Most of the walls were built, but for some reason that door was left.”

  “Where does it go? Where did it go?”

  “The professor’s house. Assuming the layout mirrors this townhome, that’s probably his bedroom.”

  Daryl sat up, a wicked smile curling his face. “Think so, huh? You think he’s listening in on us? The perv,” he chuckled.

  “Daryl, please.”

  But Daryl was out of bed now, scratching his bare ass and loping toward the highboy dresser. Peering behind the heavy piece of furniture, he drummed his fingers on the door. “Hey, buddy,” he called, “enjoying the show? Maybe I should knock down that door so you can watch?” He cackled.

  Colleen rolled her eyes, happy that it was too dark for Daryl to see her flush with embarrassment. “Daryl, knock it off. It’s late. He’s probably asleep.” She hoped the professor was in his living room watching TV or something. The walls separating their homes were paper thin.

  Daryl stepped back and scoffed. “Whatever. Hey, wanna take a shower? I’m feeling sticky.”

  A shower would feel nice, but any desire Colleen had for continued closeness was gone. Now she hoped to just sleep. “Go ahead,” she told him. Maybe she’d be asleep when he was done, and he wouldn’t bother her until morning.

  She sighed. What was wrong with her? She had been looking forward to this all week. Was it Daryl killing the mood, or the professor’s words ringing in her ears?

  She closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. It wasn’t until she heard the soft whoosh from the shower that she realized she hadn’t checked her e-mail yet. Colleen rose and padded to her desk. She was expecting an online money transfer from her ex to cover the month’s child support and wanted to be sure it arrived.

  What she didn’t expect, she saw when she shook the mouse to disable the screensaver, was an instant message blinking on the screen, a message for one “D-Licious.” That was Daryl’s online ID, and Colleen knew he occasionally checked his accounts on her ISP.

  Somebody using the handle “FoXXXy” had greeted him with, You there, sweetie?

  Curious, Colleen entered a benign greeting and clicked the mouse. She bounced a few more non-threatening pleasantries with FoXXXy—commentary about the weather and work—thinking nothing of letting the other user in on her deception. Not, at least, until the next sentence appeared on the screen, sending a shiver through down her spine.

  I’ve been a bad, bad girl.

  Colleen raised an eyebrow at that. Have you? How was Daryl supposed to react to that?

  Yeah, I need a spanking.

  Then, I need to feel your hand smacking my ass.

  Deep inside Colleen’s stomach, acid churned and bubbled up to her throat.

  Then, I need to feel your hands stroking my pussy.

  Colleen didn’t bother with the rest of FoXXXy’s pornographic soliloquy. In a cold rage she leaped from the chair and grabbed Daryl’s jeans with the intention of ripping them in two. His tattered wallet flew out of the back pocket as she slung the pants high in the air, and when it fell open on her rumpled bed she saw a fine, thick stack of bills peeking from the flap. They weren’t ones, either.

  “Fucker,” she spat and, kicked open the bathroom door. Daryl’s cry of surprise bounced off the tiles.

  “Fucker!” Colleen screeched, her voice snapping in two.

  “What? What’s going on?” Daryl blinked soap from his eyes and stared, incredulous, at Colleen, who cut the water supply with one strong pull of the faucet.

  “Hey!”

  “How does it feel to be left in the cold, you sorry sack of shit?” She thrust the jeans she held at his face. “Get out. Go bother FoXXXy for the rest of the weekend.”

  “Huh, who’s…” And the light of recognition dawned on Daryl’s face, and just as quickly morphed into a placating smile. “Oh, baby—”

  Colleen was at her bedroom door now, holding it open for him. “Word of advice: when you start cheating on your next girlfriend, it would help to log out of your Internet account so she doesn’t catch on to your cyber sex, and whatever else you’re doing.” She squeezed her hand around the jamb to stop her fingers from trembling. Like hell was she going to let Daryl see how hurt and upset she really was.

  “Get out,” she repeated, her voice like ice. “I’m not your baby, your sweetie, your schnookums, and I know I’m not your fox. That job’s been taken, apparently.”

  Daryl stood before her, naked and dripping and covering his shriveled privates with the jeans. His expression registered neither regret nor apology, and Colleen couldn’t decide if that hurt more than the actual knowledge of his infidelity.

  Hot tears rimmed her eyes and stung her cheeks; her resolve was shattered. “Why would you do such a thing?” she croaked. “After all the things I’ve done to please you…I could have spent the weekend with my daughter. I don’t get much quality time with her as it is.”

  Daryl huffed. “Yeah, well…” He looked away. “I like quality time, too. Spent having quality sex.”

  “Are you saying I’m lousy at sex?” Hi
s impassive, silent look spoke volumes of that.

  Colleen wanted to shrink to the floor and disappear. True, her experiences had been limited to two men, but she had not let that keep her from wanting to try new things. She hadn’t curled up in horror when Daryl had mentioned things like ménages and anal sex; that Daryl had been open enough to discuss such things with her told her he found her desirable. Apparently that was all bullshit.

  “How many times had I expressed interest in doing different things?” she accused. “You know how open I am to just about anything. And what we just did a while, you loved it. Or did you?”

  “I know, but…”

  “But, what?” Had FoXXXy taken his fantasies one step further, obliged to things Colleen would not do? How was Colleen supposed to know what she would and wouldn’t do if Daryl didn’t tell her in the first place?

  He grinned stupidly. “Jennifer, FoXXXy, you see, is…better…”

  Colleen nodded. Of course she was. She didn’t have to see FoXXXy Jennifer to know that the other woman was better looking, thinner, more experienced, and probably smarter. What a fool she had been to give herself, and her money, to this man. The money she might eventually recoup, but her heart felt damaged beyond repair.

  “Get out.” Her head hung low. “Don’t ever come back.”

  Daryl made no move to dress, but took a step forward. Colleen couldn’t believe his cheek; he actually looked like he wanted to slither back into her good graces! She would have preferred kicking his wet, soapy body down the stairs.

  “Baby,” he began, and got no further when the house started to shake. A low, mournful wail sounded through the room as pictures rattled against the walls and perfume bottles clattered on her vanity. The carpeted floor trembled underfoot.

  Earthquake? Colleen braced herself under the jamb while Daryl jostled about without restraint. It was possible, though the area hadn’t experienced a quake in years. It didn’t explain the candles extinguishing at once on their own, however.

  Or the deep, angry voice bellowing, god-like, in her ears.

  “Leave!”

  “The fuck?” Daryl gasped and looked at her. “Who said that? Your perv neighbor?”

  “Yes, my perv neighbor has a sound system piped through the house. He’s also making the whole house shake. I don’t know!” The anger in her voice was evident, but inside Colleen was terrified. That wasn’t John Spence, she knew. John had a deep voice, yes, but this…this sounded sinister, and otherworldly.

  Yet, it sounded almost protective…of her.

  “Leave!” the voice echoed, and Daryl dashed past Colleen for the stairs.

  “Don’t have to tell me twice,” he muttered in a scared voice. Colleen watched him negotiate the trembling staircase, one hand clutching the banister while the other pressed the jeans to his crotch. He hadn’t bothered to collect the rest of his things…surely he wasn’t going to leave like that?

  “Daryl,” Colleen called after him, then stepped carefully down the shaking steps. Her gesture was half-hearted; she wouldn’t have minded seeing Daryl humiliated as he streaked to his truck, but she didn’t need the added embarrassment of him leaving her house in full view of the neighborhood. Of course, with the earthquake she imagined anyone who happened to be outside would be more concerned for their own well being.

  “Daryl!” She got to the open front door to see Daryl had already hopped into the truck cab and was fishing his keys from the jeans crumpled in his hands. Seconds later the engine turned over and the truck bolted out of sight.

  Colleen stepped into the warm May night to discover everything was still. No car alarms sounded, no tree branches appeared out of place, no broken glass or debris littered the streets. All was calm, as if the earthquake had been limited to her property. How was that possible? Colleen shrugged to herself and rubbed the stickiness of the night air from her skin…

  Skin?

  Colleen remembered that she, too, was naked…and standing outside.

  A gruff ahem then broke into her thoughts as she detected a presence beside her.

  Oh, God. Colleen felt her entire body flush a deep red. Instinctively she crossed her arms over her breasts just as the touch of satin cooled her.

  John fixed the robe over her shoulders and politely turned his head away. Colleen swallowed. He must have seen Daryl running from the house, too. She expected a snide remark, an I told you so or something worse, and was somewhat relieved when all he said was, “Are you okay?”

  Colleen slipped her arms through the dripping sleeves and tightened the material around her body. “Thanks,” she said, now comfortable enough to look in his direction. She noted his open door and the glass of melting ice next to the plastic chair on the shallow front patio. John must have been sitting underneath his porch light, enjoying the nice pre-summer weather. She noted, too, he didn’t appear agitated or rumpled from any kind of disturbance.

  “You didn’t feel that earlier?” she asked.

  “Feel what?” John looked concerned.

  “The whole house shook just a few seconds ago. I felt it. I thought the top floor was going to cave in.” Colleen turned back to the house. From where she stood, nothing inside her half appeared out of order. It was like nothing had happened, but something had. She had felt it, heard it, and so had Daryl. It couldn’t have been a hallucination.

  “I’m sorry, Colleen, I didn’t feel a thing.” His hand palmed her shoulder. The touch sent a heated jolt through her veins. She wanted to shout at him, accuse him of patronizing her, but he sounded too sincere to be joking.

  “I felt it,” she insisted, “and there was this voice, it was so scary…”

  She looked at John; the lines on his face completely smoothed now, and he nodded slightly, his mouth set in a grim line.

  “What kind of voice?”

  “I don’t know, a human voice. A man, only it sounded so...”

  John sighed heavily. “Great,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  John leaned forward to pull his door closed, then escorted Colleen into her house. “I think I should come inside with you,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if I should say something, but since Melissa knows—”

  Colleen arched a suspicious brow. “My daughter seems to know a lot these days for an eight-year-old,” she said. “What the hell’s going on?”

  John eased her into the house. “There’s something that you need to know, yes. I just hope I can explain it in a way you’ll understand.”

  Chapter Four

  “Ghosts?”

  Colleen looked at the handsome brown man sitting opposite her on the couch. He was out of his tree.

  “Ghosts,” she repeated, and sipped from the warm mug John had handed her after making coffee. “This house is haunted.”

  “Not haunted, enchanted,” John said with a grim smile, “and it’s not the entire house, either. All of the activity is limited to the library on my side, which backs up against your bedroom.”

  “I thought your bedroom backed up against mine. That the duplex layouts mirrored each other.”

  John shook his head. “I sleep downstairs.”

  Colleen took another sip. So those sounds of pleasure she had heard weren’t coming from John? Interesting.

  “So,” she said, “these ghosts are literate.” And obviously passionate after dark.

  “They’re not ghosts. I never said they were ghosts. They’re...” John bit his lip and turned his head away. He was searching for the proper words to say, whatever would calm her down, Colleen knew. Tight cords in his neck pulsed as his jaw worked silently. His loosened oxford collar afforded her a nice view of flawless flesh, and Colleen noted the dip where his neck and collarbone met. It seemed like the perfect place to rest her head as he twisted his and bent low for a kiss.

  “They’re human beings, rather characters,” John finished, and Colleen snapped her attention away from the erotic image blossoming in her head.

  “I’ll say they’re characters,”
Colleen grumbled. “They ruined my night alone with Daryl.”

  John gave her a look that told her clearly that he wasn’t buying that remark, and Colleen had to give him credit. He had to have seen more than fear in her eyes as Daryl took off naked into the night. He had to have seen the anger of Daryl’s betrayal reflected in the porch light as he approached with the robe.

  She looked down at herself; she was still wearing the robe, and its loose vee neck rippled over her prickled skin. She wondered if John noticed the swell of her breasts, and if he would be willing to shift on the sofa to get a better look at her distended nipples, which now ached to be pulled and suckled between those full lips.

  Give it up. Daryl didn’t want her for anything more than a fuck to tide him over until he got something better. Why would this man feel any differently toward her? He was so gorgeous, and could have a line of beautiful women waiting outside his door.

  “Okay,” she conceded, “Daryl played a significant part in this disaster, but your ghosts didn’t help any.” And as John chuckled quietly Colleen recounted the events of the evening—omitting Daryl’s selfish lovemaking and focusing on the discovery of FoXXXy Jennifer and the ensuing minor quake. When she finished, John steepled his forefingers together and pressed them to his lips in deep thought.

  He nodded. “Okay. I know what it is, and it’s not ghosts.” Colleen couldn’t help but detect that he had said rather firmly. Was he denying the existence of something paranormal in his house? How could he explain the tremors and loud voices? No stereo system could have replicated that kind of terror, regardless of whether or not a man like John Spence could afford it.

  Did he think she would want to break the lease? The thought hadn’t occurred to her, but for Melissa’s safety she would consider it. What could he do legally to prevent it? All she would have to do is prove the house was unsafe.