Hollowed: Return to Sleepy Hollow, the Complete Duology

by Candace Wondrak

  “Never,” Wash spoke the single word, which caused both Crane’s and Bones’s jaws to drop. Neither man had heard Wash speak before, but now they knew how rich and scratchy the timbre of his voice was. His hand tightened around my fingers, his thumb running over them more gently than I ever thought the Horseman was capable of.

  “See?” I said, breaking eye contact with Wash to glare at Crane and Bones. “He hardly talks, and yet he’s sweeter than either of you. How does that work, exactly?” Okay, so I might’ve been trying to stir the pot. Sue me. Personally, I thought it’d be kind of fun to have a few guys—all alphas in their own right—bickering over me.

  Minus the spirit and Katrina shit, this was the life.

  Beside me, Wash spoke yet again, slowly, carefully, having an accent I just couldn’t place, “I speak…only the truth.”

  “Getting more confident too, I see,” Bones muttered, dimples on his cheeks. Those dimples wordlessly told me he was having fun here, too.

  “As he should be,” I defended him, leaning against Wash’s arm and hugging it like a teddy bear. Like a big, warm, muscular teddy bear that I wanted to fuck.

  Okay, that analogy didn’t go where I expected it to.

  Bones let out a snort, while Crane got up and started to gather the empty plates. “On that note, I’m going to clean up.” He shot a pointed look at Bones, who was busy staring at me and the way I was clutching onto Wash’s arm. “Brom, some help?”

  Waving him off, Bones said, still staring squarely at me, “No, buddy. I’m good right here.”

  Crane muttered an exasperated, “Oh, good Lord.” He said nothing more as he walked away, carrying our plates into the kitchen. At least one of them knew to make themselves scarce. Bones, meanwhile, didn’t get the hint.

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re really going to sit right there and watch?” Not that I planned on doing anything with Wash—at least not right here—but I just had to egg him on a bit. He was asking for it.

  “Sure,” Bones said, shrugging. “I mean, I’m a little hurt right now, so participating is out of the question.” My cheeks turned cherry red at that, which made him laugh. “I’m kidding, again…or am I?”

  It was my turn to feel my jaw drop. I didn’t remember Bones ever saying something so…suggestive while in front of someone else. Granted, he liked to talk dirty when we were alone, but somehow it felt more mortifying for him to suggest watching Wash and I together.

  First off, Wash was…whatever he was, from a different time. I highly doubted he’d be okay with someone watching us as we got to know each other. Or, hell, maybe I was wrong. Maybe Wash would be okay with it just to make me happy.

  Would having Bones watch make me happy? I…no comment.

  It wasn’t something I had to worry about, because Bones got to his feet, rolling his eyes even though he was grinning. “Fine, fine. I’ll go make myself useful—which, when you think about it, isn’t fair, because I was the one who almost died today.”

  I laughed and released Wash’s arm, only to grab the nearest pillow, about to throw it at him. Bones knew what was best for him, for he hurried away, his hands splayed in the air in a surrendering gesture. Since he hurried away so fast, I clutched the pillow to my chest, moving to sit cross-legged on the couch as I glanced at Wash. “I’m sorry about them,” I said. “Sometimes they’re over the top.”

  Did he even know what that meant? Ah, well, I guess if he asked what over the top meant, I could explain it to him—but judging from his expression, he got the gist.

  Wash’s wide, thick chest rose and fell once, his dark eyes hidden beneath eyelashes so black they put the night sky to shame. “They…care for you,” he spoke quietly. Each and every time he used that husky, velvety voice, I felt like throwing myself at him.

  That voice, honest to God, was the best voice I’d ever heard, Liam Neeson and Jeremy Irons included. What could I say? I had a thing for the rough and scratchy voices, the kind of voices that could be whispering sweet nothings into your ear or detailing how they were going to kill you, and you still were turned on, either way.

  I set the pillow aside. The guys were in the kitchen, but it wouldn’t take them long to come back. This was my only chance to slip away with Wash, and damn it, I wanted to take it…but only if Wash wanted it, too.

  “Do you want to go upstairs?” I questioned, tentative. Being shot down by Wash wasn’t something I was prepared for, but fortunately I didn’t have to worry. Wash gave me a nod, and I gave him a slow smile as I took his hand and led us out of the living room and into the hall. I held his hand all the way up the stairs, practically dragging him to the room he’d been sleeping in ever since stepping foot on earth, ever since being whole. Crane and Bones were to thank for that.

  In a weird way, they were to thank for what was about to happen, too.

  Once Wash was inside the room behind me, I let go of his hand only to close the door. No peeping Toms. Not this time. I remained near the door, my hand flat against it, unable to move for a few moments.

  This…this was the point of no return. Once I was with Wash, I could never take it back. Was I really ready to invite him into the fold? I mean, yeah, I’d been more than ready when Bones was possessed, but I chose to call that time a moment of weakness. I only threw myself at Wash because I was so worried for Bones. Doing this, here and now, was a completely different story.

  Was I ready?

  I was measured in turning to face him, finding that he’d moved closer, his lumbering frame blocking out everything else. My breath caught in the back of my throat when he reached for me, trailing his fingertips along my jaw and then my collarbone.

  Who the hell was I trying to kid? Of course I was ready for this man. I was as ready as I ever was. Fuck, I felt a pull to him even before he reunited with his head. This, what we were about to do, was a long time coming.

  “Wash,” my voice came out airy and feminine, and I realized I sounded like I was already having sex. That was my sex voice. My holy fuck, pound into me harder voice. Wash wouldn’t know that though, but he’d soon find out. “Tell me if I’m going too far, okay?” Everything was so hesitant with him; I didn’t want to cross any lines or insult him by thinking that just because he came up here with me meant I could finally see what the Horseman had packing under the hood.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’d be disappointed if we didn’t do anything right now, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. I’d been horny for him for so long, what was a little longer?

  He said nothing, but his hands said what his mouth didn’t. The fingers grazing my collarbone fell, drawing down, right between my breasts, stopping only when they reached the waistline of my jeans.

  My heart was in my throat when I asked, “Do you want me to take it off?”

  Wash nodded, his dark eyes boring into me like no other pair of eyes ever could. The Horseman and I were connected in ways I wasn’t with the others; it was almost as if this, our union, had been foretold millennia ago. This was what the original legend lacked. The Horseman was the villain—though I was certain some would argue both Ichabod and Abraham were villains in their own right, too—but he was meant to be so much more.

  More than a villain. More than headless. He was supposed to be mine.

  Wash took a step away from me, giving me room to breathe. Not that I’d breathe for long, because the moment I reached for the bottom of my shirt to tug it over my head, I could’ve sworn I stopped breathing entirely. This felt momentous. This…there were no words to say how I felt as I dropped my shirt to the floor.

  I stood there before him in nothing but my jeans and a bra, and still I was bold enough to ask, “More?”

  He nodded again, but this time he added a few words: “All of it.” Well, Mr. Horseman was definitely going for gold, wasn’t he? All of my clothes…I didn’t have a problem with that.

  I went for my jeans next, wiggling out of them and kicking them aside once they were near my ankles. Standing in my underw
ear in front of Wash—not as awkward as one might think. My heart beat a mile a minute as I reached behind me, working to unhook my bra. Once the pads were off my chest, my breasts hit the cool air of the room, my nipples instantly hardening.

  Wash’s black gaze fell to my chest, raking over my body, not lingering anywhere too long as I hooked my thumbs around my panties and tugged them down, too. I now stood before him, utterly stark bare, and yet I was anything but uncomfortable. The way he stared at me, studying my naked form, as if his eyesight was able to eat me alive, made goosebumps rise on the back of my neck.

  His head tilted, and I felt insanely small when he returned to my side. Somehow, being naked before him made me feel even smaller than I already was. A hand made its way to my side, so warm and rough compared to the hands I was used to. Wash’s fingers curled around my hip, just another sign of how huge he was compared to me. I mean, I was five feet two, which was short—I was used to being short. But before him? I was a fucking dwarf and he was a giant.

  He didn’t touch me anywhere else, but I could tell he wanted to. The way his dark gaze traveled all along me, eating me up, staring at me so intently it made every part of me flare up in heat. If I was a cat, I’d be on the floor with my ass in the air, begging him to take me.

  But I wasn’t a cat. I was a human, and right now, only one of us was naked. Now…oh, fuck, now it was his turn to take it all off. Finally, finally I’d see just how big the Horseman truly was.

  “It’s your turn,” I told him, lifting my chin to meet his stare. I had to angle my head nearly all the way back to look up at him; the height difference was that great. Wash’s hand fell from my hip, and he took a step back, repeating the same steps I did, minus the bra bit.

  His shirt was the first thing to go. Wash yanked it up and over his head just behind his neck, a gesture I’d never be able to repeat—because boobs—and I felt my jaw drop to the floor, yet again. This time, it was for an entirely different reason.

  His chest was…

  I mean, his fucking abs were…

  God, no sensible thought was coming to me. All I could do was stare.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d seen a nice chest; Bones had a well-built stature, too. But it wasn’t the same. Bones looked like he worked out, spent time taking care of his body, a weightlifter. Wash, on the other hand, looked like a warrior from old times, thick no matter which way you looked at him, having muscles without being overly toned. He was a fighter, a man unmatched. He was a fucking mountain, and I was about to climb him.

  Wash’s dark gaze met mine, and we watched each other as he unbuttoned his pants and slid them down his hulking, long legs. He wore black boxers—not exactly what I would’ve guessed he chose as his choice of undergarment, but I didn’t even care. Right now, all I could see was the big erection pressing against the fabric of those things.

  When he then went to take off the boxers, the moment I saw Wash in his full, naked glory, I started to wonder if I bit off more than I could chew. He was…a behemoth all around, which I had felt during our spontaneous make-out session, but still. Feeling it and seeing it were two totally different things.

  Seeing it made me gulp. A bit.

  Was it even going to fit? No, no. I was an optimist—or I could become one. That monster was going to fit, and I might be in pain during it, but either way, I was going to enjoy the hell out of this.

  I still stood near the door, and I was about to head to the bed, but Wash stunned me by sweeping me into his arms and carrying me to the bed like some kind of gentleman carrying his bride over the threshold. Wash set me on the bed like I was some precious thing, and as he crawled on top of me, his body blocking the world out, I realized I was.

  I was Kat Aleson, Katrina 2.0. I had everything she never could, and I was going to fight like a raging bitch in heat to keep it, to keep them. She wasn’t going to win this. I had Crane, Bones, and now Wash. I had this in the fucking bag.

  My hand ran down Wash’s chest, his muscles tensing under my touch. Though he was on top of me, though he was much larger than me, I had the power here—but to this man, I’d gladly surrender every ounce of it. We met eyes, and I hooked my other arm around his neck and brought his lips to mine.

  Wash remembered how to kiss. There was no fumbling, no freezing or tensing this time. His hips ground down on me, and I moaned into his mouth when I felt his length press against my thigh. I lost myself in the feeling of his large body above mine, his chest heaving against mine as our mouths devoured each other. When I gently bit his lower lip, Wash let out a moan that sent a shiver down my spine. Such a low, rough sound. Music to my ears.

  I found myself spreading my legs unconsciously, almost desperate to feel him inside of me. I needed to know what he felt like, and I needed it now. I didn’t care if Wash wasn’t always human. He sure looked human right now, and I needed him more than I had ever needed anyone before.

  Certain things were instinctual, and this, coming together as a man and a woman, or woman and man-looking-spirit, was one of them. Wash didn’t need instructions, but he did tear his mouth off mine and glance down, watching as he positioned himself at my entrance.

  In a few moments we would be one.

  When he pushed himself inside of me, I let out a groan. His monster of a dick was going to either rock my world or break me. Once he was fully inside, once my body had time to grow used to his impressive size, I knew it would be the former.

  Wash let out the lowest, deepest moan a man could make when he was fully inside, and his eyes closed. He panted as he slowly withdrew himself, not far enough to take himself all the way out, but enough to tease my opening with his bulbous tip before thrusting back in.

  When my eyelids fluttered shut, I gave into him utterly and completely. Anything he wanted to do to me, I’d gladly let him. My hands found his sides as his thrusting grew steadier, more confident, and each time he filled me up, I bit back a cry. His wide, muscular body trembled above me as he rocked into me over and over, his cock always eager to get back inside of me when he withdrew his hips. A burning ache grew inside of me, and I couldn’t stop it from taking over.

  A hot, searing orgasm dominated me, much like how Wash was currently taking control. This time, I could not hold myself back. This time, I cried out, my back arching and my chest heaving with a breath I just couldn’t seem to take. Heat flooded me like a tidal wave, and I was awash in the feeling for what felt like ages, a post-orgasm high that lingered, mostly because he wasn’t quite done with me yet.

  I wrapped my legs around his, trying to get his cock even further inside. Deeper, harder. Wash was being gentle, but right now, I felt like an animal. I wanted more—more, more, more. I wanted everything this man could give me, and I wanted it now.

  I managed to speak a single word. One word was all I needed to say to get my point across: “Harder.”

  Wash heard me. Oh, he heard me all right.

  His thrusting grew almost carnal, animalistic in every way. Harder, faster, rougher. It was almost a painful kind of movement, but I loved every second of it. I might ache a little bit in the morning, but who fucking cared when Wash was above me, having his way with me? It was everything I ever wanted.

  He leaned down, his chest in my face, and through half-open eyes, I could see the sweat lining his muscles. The impressive chest let out a thunderous moan, and the thrusting between my legs became an urgent, frantic thing. Quick, successive bursts of speed, filling me up over and over. When Wash came, when his cock spilled its seed inside of me, coating my inner walls with his hot, slick cum, he nearly collapsed on top of me. His arms barely held himself up, and I had never felt fuller.

  Once his orgasm passed, Wash was unhurried in pulling out of me, and I saw that his dick was covered in our juices. He rolled beside me, breathing hard, his black eyes on me beneath those thick, dark eyelashes.

  I reached for him, beyond content, giving him a gentle kiss. A chuckle escaped me when I felt the sweat lining his face. “A
workout, huh?” I asked, my voice sultry and low. I snaked an arm through his and cuddled against him, smiling to myself. My body was still craving more, but I knew better than to overload it. Breaking myself having sex with Wash was not something I should do while Katrina was out there, plotting. Tomorrow I had to be able to walk around, fit enough to do a spell to find her, to at least see what face she wore.

  My body was still tingly, and I relished in it. I just had sex with the Horseman, and I wanted to do it again. If you would’ve asked me, two months ago, if I thought I’d be fucking a man-slash-spirit, I would’ve called the cops and had you hauled away. Then again, if you would’ve asked me about having multiple boyfriends at once, I would’ve given you the craziest look.

  Besides the shitstorm regarding Katrina and this place, besides what happened to my dad and the fact that he was now a spirit in the otherworld, my life wasn’t too bad. As long as we beat Katrina, it only had the propensity to get better.

  I closed my eyes, smiling to myself. It wasn’t nearly time to go to bed yet, but as it turned out, fucking the Horseman was kind of tiring. And that dick…man, that dick was either the thing of nightmares or the jewel nestled in the best dream you could ever have. Some women might see a dick like that and want to close up shop and run the other way—to which I’d say, fine. Go. I can more than handle this dick.

  That dick, and the sexy man attached to it, was all mine.

  Chapter Thirteen

  My eyelids struggled to open, and when they did, I saw daylight streaming in through the curtains of my studio apartment. I held the side of my head as I sat up, creasing my eyebrows as I looked around. From the bed, you could see everything in the apartment. The small kitchen area, the even tinier space I used as a living room, with a TV and a futon, and the door to the bathroom. A small area, and I hated living in it. I really wished I could afford something nicer…or that I had friends who’d stuck around.