Masque

by Lexi Post

  “Oh.” The shock of her tweaked nipple traveled straight to her cunt and caused her to squeeze her internal muscles. But then he rolled her nipple, scraping, pinching lightly and the tingles became continuous until her pussy flooded.

  She raised her hips. She needed release. “My pussy. Please.”

  Her wet dream didn’t disappoint. The hand that tweaked her throbbing nipple released it and stroked down her waist, across her hipbone to seek the wet warmth of her labia. The fingers pushed away her dollop of curls to explore each fold, dip a tiny bit inside, before spreading her juices over her clit.

  She raised her hips to press into his fingers while her hands stayed captured above her head. His lips found her nipple again as his fingers played a game of come-and-go across her clit, causing her to moan in pleasure. The tension between her legs built, and as she panted, her inner muscles prepared for release. The stirrings of a first wave of sheer joy seeped from her clit.

  And he disappeared.

  Rena woke, her breaths short, her pussy soaked and her frustration peaking. A dream. The whole damn episode had been a good-for-nothing, mind-blowing, irritating dream.

  She sat up and turned on the flashlight she’d bought earlier in the day. Sweeping the beam through the room, she found her clothes from earlier, the dresser and armchairs, the fireplace and the door, but no one was there. Nope. No nighttime visit from Synn. He had disappeared from the Abbey after sunset, much as he disappeared from her dream. What the hell?

  Pushing the covers off her heated body, she sat against the stylized headboard. She remained still in the hope of calming her sensitized flesh. Deep breaths in, out. That didn’t work. Her nipples remained tight. Well, hell. If her dream lover wouldn’t stick around to finish the job, it looked as if she’d have to.

  Leaning the flashlight against the headboard so it shone on the ceiling, making the room glow a muted purple, she took one nipple and squeezed. The tingle started again in her pussy and with her other hand she rubbed her clit. It wouldn’t be nearly as good as with her dream Synn, but she had to have release…now. Spreading her legs and bending her knees, she worked her clit, sticking two fingers inside herself before slathering her clit with more wetness. She held tight to her nipple, rolling it as her fingers stroked back and forth across her moist nub. She spread her legs and imagined Synn taking her.

  She increased the friction, rubbing more. Her body strung tight and ready as she pressed her clit against her body, her other hand joining the play as she inserted two fingers.

  A male moan brought her to a stop. She froze. Removing her fingers, she wiped them on the sheets, causing the flashlight to tip over, spreading light on the door. She grabbed it and focused the beam on the fireplace. A vanishing figure rose from the chair. Oh God, there had been a man in her room. She stared at the now-empty spot.

  Great. Now she had ghosts who were Peeping Toms. Her cheeks burned with shame. She may have sworn off sex until the renovations were done, but she had hoped to be able to pleasure herself at least. Damn.

  She turned the flashlight off and pulled the sheets to her chin. Sinking into the mattress, she prayed she’d have no more sex dreams. Bryce was right. She had crazy sexual ideas, but if she thought about him, she’d easily keep her sex demons away, or ghosts as the case may be.

  * * * * *

  Synn took the stairs two at a time as he raced for the wall-walk and its welcoming cold air. Bloody hell.

  He pushed open the door and strode along the battlements. Divesting himself of his shirt, he let the cold night breeze chill his overheated body. Blast the woman!

  He paced back the way he’d come before turning again at the corner. She shouldn’t make him lose control. He’d almost been caught. Twice now she’d made him so hard with her reactions, he’d lost the ability to stay invisible. He’d never lost control before. Why now? Why her? He had to remain calm. Too many souls depended on his success, and if she thought him a ghost, all chances would be lost. If she learned the truth… He shuddered.

  He stopped and leaned against the battlement, the stone hard against his lower back. He rubbed the back of his neck. What the bloody hell should he do?

  Lifting his face to the sky, he stared at the stars and searched for an answer.

  Chapter Five

  Rena dropped the History of Nova Scotia on the desk and put a hand over her eyes, as if that would help block the noise. How was she supposed to concentrate? The chainsaw outside and the drilling inside would help her open the Abbey sooner rather than later, but the sounds chipped away at her already short supply of patience. Not finding useful information about the Abbey in the book only added to her frustration.

  She sat back in the chair and closed her eyes. The sex book she’d originally looked at on her first visit to the library was missing, its place on the shelf eerily empty, holding a space open for its inevitable return. What were the chances Valerie took it? Pretty slim. It had to be Synn, or should she call him the magical, vanishing Synn. He seemed to appear when she least expected him to, and remain absent when she most wanted him around.

  The touch of his hands on her shoulders jolted her eyes open.

  “Can I help?” His deep voice slid through her muscles, soothing her nerves.

  She relaxed and bent her head forward to give him better access as he massaged her shoulders. He could talk to her in that bass tone of his any day and all would be right with the world, or at least her world. “Hmm, that helps a lot.”

  “What were you looking for?”

  What she was looking for was peace of mind, but her sexual frustration had worsened. She just wanted her urges to go away. Trying to lose herself in research was impossible with the construction. At least in addition to the History of Nova Scotia she’d found a number of Godey’s Lady’s Books, which helped her understand the fashions of her resident ghosts. “I’m trying to learn more about the Abbey for the website I want to create. That is, as soon as we have electricity, which if Valerie has her way, will be by the end of next month.”

  His hands moved into her hair, making short work of removing her clip as he rubbed her scalp. She forgot the myriad noises surrounding her while his fingers massaged her head.

  “I can tell you the history of the Abbey. I’ve been studying it for years.”

  She opened her eyes to find him gazing down her tank top. He had to stop that. She sat forward again, away from his hands and closed the book.

  He walked around the desk and sat his hip on it. “What is it, Rena?”

  She looked into his eyes and found him honestly puzzled. Was her own sexual frustration now ruling her life? She forced a smile and shrugged. “It’s just the loud noises. They put me on edge.”

  He stroked her jawbone with his finger. “On edge of what?”

  “It’s an expression. Oh, maybe it’s not common in Canada. What I mean is, it’s stressful.”

  His brows furrowed and he lightly grasped her chin. “Do you mean the sounds bother your nerves?”

  She nodded, watching his lips as his head lowered.

  “I can have them stop, if you like.”

  “No.” She raised her voice to be heard above the din. “I need them to continue.”

  He sighed, his breath passing over her lips. “Then perhaps I can distract you.”

  She closed her eyes and his lips touched hers with a featherlight kiss. When he didn’t continue, she opened her eyes to find him standing next to her chair, his hand held out to her. “Come. Let us go above, away from this cacophony and I will tell you more about the Abbey.”

  It took her a moment to realize he planned to distract her with information, not sex. She was low class. All the more reason to focus on the Abbey. “Great.”

  He grasped her hand and led the way through the Purple and Blue Rooms before taking the stairs two at a time.

  “Whoa, slow down. My legs are a lot shorter than yours.”

  He stopped midway up the first flight. “I apologize.”

&nb
sp; “That’s okay. If we walk ahh—”

  He scooped her into his arms and continued up the stairs. How Rhett Butler of him. Looping her hands around his neck, Rena held on as he strode through the second floor and without hesitation ascended the stairs to the next level. Once at the end of the hall, he stood her on her own feet.

  She didn’t want to be on her feet. She wanted to be in his arms, or rather in his bed. Holy crud, what was it about this abbey that had her every other thought focused on sex with the man next to her? He didn’t hesitate, but took her hand in his and at a slower pace climbed the spiral staircase to the roof.

  Once outside, he broke their connection and strode to the wall-walk.

  Her hand missed the warmth of his, but the sun shone and the temperature was perfect, so she couldn’t complain. But she wanted to. She wanted to be touching him. Fortunately for both of them, his thoughts were elsewhere.

  “Come. I want to show you a piece of history.”

  She followed him around the battlements, the uneven surface of the stones making it tricky even in her sneakers, but he glided over them as if he’d done so a thousand times before.

  He stopped at the rear corner, closest to the little chapel below, and pointed at the parapet. “Here.”

  She stepped around him to examine the wall and crouched at its base. Chipped into the stone, no doubt with significant effort, was the name MacAllistair and the number 1856. The indentations had become shallow after years of weather, but the name was clear. She glanced at him, surprised by the excitement in his eyes. Returning her gaze to the engraved word, it took her a minute. “Your ancestor built this abbey?”

  He always stood straight, but he appeared taller as he lowered his head once, pride radiating from him. “Actually, a MacAllistair designed it.”

  She stood. “So, that’s why you know so much about the Abbey. I bet the information has been passed down in your family for generations.”

  His gaze faltered, but he stepped around her to point again, this time past the castle wall. “You will find the stables there, the chapel here, and once this courtyard is cleared, a small pond.”

  She peered over the edge to view the places he discussed, but the graveyard next to the chapel caught her attention. An uncomfortable foreboding passed over her, but couldn’t keep her from satisfying her curiosity. “If the Abbey was complete in 1856 and abandoned in 1861, why are there so many graves?”

  Even before she glanced at him, she felt tension freeze his body. His stiffness, so complete, reminded her of a corpse. It didn’t help that a cloud covered the sun at that exact moment to complete the chilly impression. His stillness scared her, and she placed her hand on his arm to draw him from his focus. “Synn?”

  His words spit from between gritted teeth. “It was a sickness they called the Red Death, a plague brought from abroad on a British ship.”

  She wanted to know more, but every fiber of his being told her to drop it. So she strolled along the wall toward the area where he said a pond lay hidden beneath the tangle of forsythia bushes. “Are you sure there is still a pond there? It may have dried up.” She pointed to the overgrowth. She doubted that the flowering bushes allowed the pond to exist.

  Her distraction worked. He drew closer to view the area. “I don’t know. I haven’t walked down there in a long time, but there is a consistent water source beneath the Abbey, so it could be filled again. The privacy the yard offers makes the pond a satisfying experience.”

  The wistfulness in his tone had her turning to look at him, but his face remained stoic. He pointed to where the landscaper had cleared most of a courtyard. Stone benches could now be seen randomly placed throughout it. “There is where many a woman was secretly kissed.”

  She peered at the area, but became distracted by the workman’s naked torso. He was young, muscular and single. His name was Matt McMurray, according to what she and Valerie had gathered the other day when asking him to start work on the grounds. Though broad in stature, he was shorter than Synn, but clean cut and attractive in his own way.

  Synn’s hands on her shoulders startled her. “Do you like his body?”

  She flushed at his observation. Was she that obvious? “I guess, but it’s hard to tell from here. I’d have to get a closer look to make a judgment.” She smirked, but his raised brow made it clear he didn’t believe her attempt at humor.

  “I think you do.” He brushed her hair away from her neck and kissed her there.

  Was he jealous? No. Unless swirling his tongue on her nape while she watched the landscaper’s biceps was considered jealous. She almost wished he was upset, but then again, she didn’t want a relationship with him. She couldn’t afford the time right now.

  Rena pulled away. Synn’s sexual advances kept leaving her hot and horny. She wouldn’t let him do that to her again. She stepped farther along the battlements. “Tell me about the colored rooms. Each appears to have been set aside for leisure time or entertainment. I’m guessing the Blue Room was a parlor so people could converse.”

  She squelched the vision of the couple making love on the bed that first night and dared a glance at him.

  He remained impassive. “Yes. These parlors enabled people to learn about everything from the latest visitor in town to the best price for barley.”

  She continued along the walk. “But the Purple Room has a stage. Did they have plays performed here at the Abbey, or was it more for concerts and piano recitals?”

  He stopped her forward progress by catching her arm. “Step over here, that stone is crooked.”

  “Thanks.” He knew the Abbey well indeed.

  He continued to follow her. “The stage was used for any entertainment that needed an audience.”

  She looked back at him. “And of course the Green Room is a library where a visitor could read or research. I particularly like the desk. It feels very—”

  Rena gasped as she lost her balance and fell against the low embrasure. Visions of catapulting over the side passed before her an instant before Synn caught her to him and held her tight. She grasped him around the waist in return, her heart beating a flamenco in her chest as adrenaline rushed through her veins. She took deep breaths, clinging to him as her body calmed, but the quick heartbeat she heard against her ear wasn’t hers. She leaned her head back to look at Synn.

  His brow was furrowed and more serious than usual. His color wasn’t so good either. “Synn?”

  He squeezed her, but his gaze remained fixed to a spot beyond her.

  Having no objection to being in his arms, she rested her head back on his chest, but she used her hands to knead his back in an attempt to relax him. The man was more tense than a cat about to pounce. They stood there, embracing, until the puffy clouds gathered for their own party and the breeze blew cold. “Ah, Synn. I think we should go in now. It’s going to rain.”

  He loosened his arms but didn’t let go. “Yes, you should go inside before it rains.”

  He put his arm around her waist and guided her to the door. Once she reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, he released her.

  She headed down the hall. “The next room is obvious as it’s the billiard room, but what is the White Room used for?”

  When she received no reply, she stopped and turned. He was gone…again.

  “Urgh. That man is going to drive me to drink.” As she descended to the next level, she noticed a distinct lack of sound. “Finally, a little peace and—”

  “Rena! Rena, where are you?” Huh-oh. Valerie’s impatient voice pierced through to the second floor.

  She picked up her pace. “I’m up here. Be right down!”

  “You better be. You need to make some decisions…now.”

  She descended the final staircase into the entryway. Valerie stood at the bottom, one hand fisted into her waist and the other holding her phone.

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve got to find us a stone mason. I’ll be lucky if there is one in all of Canada. They aren’t
exactly a dime a dozen. And this boy here.” She pointed to Matt who stood nearby, still naked from the waist up, water dripping down his chest as he gulped a bottle of water. He was a feast for Rena’s frustrated libido. “He wants to know what you want done with the graveyard when the rain stops.”

  A bright flash lit the Abbey on all sides and a thunderous roar immediately followed.

  Matt grinned, but Valerie shook her head. “If the rain stops.” With that pronouncement, she strode off to the kitchen, leaving Rena with Matt. Overall, not a terribly bad arrangement.

  * * * * *

  “Father Richard!” Synn strode into the chapel, still shaken by Rena’s near fall. No matter how many times he told himself she wouldn’t have tumbled over, he couldn’t shake the feeling someone had instigated the episode. The question was why? If they lost her, their chances of resting in peace would evaporate. Could that be it? Someone didn’t want to leave?

  “Father Richard!” Where was the blasted priest? Synn sat in the front pew and stared at the altar. “Do you know what just happened? She almost fell to her death, that’s what happened.”

  He waited, determined to speak to the elusive man. Damn it, where was he? The priest, like him, didn’t fit the Abbey’s ghost contingent. The good father had never preached a sermon in the little chapel, yet here is where he appeared. “Father Richard. You must tell me what the blazes is happening.”

  Synn peered into the cloister behind the altar where Father Richard sometimes appeared. Nothing. He sniffed the air but no incense met his nose. Blast it. “Very well, I will assume our lovely guest potentially falling to her death isn’t important and go on about my business of seducing her.”

  He waited, willing the priest to appear. The flash of lightning caught him by surprise, but the thunder he expected. No priest, just a storm, albeit a very close one.

  It had never occurred to him a ghost would want to stay in the Abbey instead of crossing over. What if one of them didn’t want him to complete the Masque with Rena? Urgency and protectiveness overwhelmed him. He stood and looked at the ceiling to find Raphael’s usual disapproval, but his eyebrows appeared lower. At least someone besides himself viewed the situation seriously.