by Ellen March
Breece settled his lips over her nipple and sucked hard. Her moaning urged him on, and he tugged at his cock. He was on the brink … just a little bit more. His hand swung around her body, teased around her ass, and tickled at her star.
* * *
Grace almost screeched. She could feel a sensation she couldn’t explain. It was if hands were moving over her. Pulling and drawing her forward for sexual foreplay. She flicked her eyes open. She was still standing in the bath, the water swirling around her calves. The sensations hadn’t stopped. She was desperate to give into them.
To thrust back against the assault on her ass.
Breece grinned and moved back, concentrating on his hand job. He fisted himself, keeping his heated gaze on her, and growled, coming hard. A heady flood of come dribbled over his hand.
Grace tilted her head and listened to the sultry moan echoing through the air. Then she dragged in a shaky sigh. She was listening too much to Amy. There wasn’t anyone there, no ghosts, nothing.
She was simply sexually frustrated, she decided. If so, it has reached a crisis point, because now she was experiencing not just extraordinarily vivid dreams, but also sensory and auditory hallucinations while she was awake.
Taking a step out of the bath, she shivered, goose bumps sprouting across her skin.
At the soft drape of fingertips that skated over her.
* * *
It was over an hour later when Sage entered the house. Letting himself in with his own key, he let the door click quietly behind him.
He padded in on silent steps and looked down at Grace, dozing on the settee. The remote hung loosely in her hand, her head was thrown back, and a trail of saliva dripped along her cheek.
He nudged her. “Come on, honey, time for bed.” He tried not to stare at the track of dribble.
“Oh, hi, is it that time already?” She rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, and then snatched it across her mouth to wipe away the spittle, struggling to sit up. She narrowed her gaze as she took his measure. He was tuxed up and looked as if he’d just stepped out of Harper’s magazine. Hot and sexy.
“Yep, let’s go to bed,” He said.
Grace sat up and yawned, placing a hand over her mouth. Her eyes felt weighted down, and crinkled lines fanned and feathered at the sides.
“Won’t get an argument there.” She stumbled to her feet, gripping his arm.
He steered her out of the lounge. “You haven’t been drinking again?”
“No! Why on earth ask that?”
“Well you’ve got a penchant for wine. I’ve checked the bins, the ones for glass.”
“Jesus!” Grace tried to think of a retort but was suddenly swamped by exhaustion. She switched off; she had some vacation days to take and intended to make the most of them. Preferably to slob and laze around in bed. To have late mornings and catch up on her reading. She loved romance, also to ring some of the girls she hadn’t seen in a while, get them round for a coffee morning. Maybe even arrange a pamper day. Her friend Jade was a beautician; perhaps she could offer some tips. The more she thought about it, the more excited she became as a germ of an idea began to flourish.
The trouble with her circle of friends was that they all worked, and some were in relationships whilst others had children. As they got older it became more and more difficult to arrange to get together. Instead they relied on texting and emails, but that wasn’t the same as a good old fashioned girls’ night in. A fast food delivery, wine, and a good old gossip. She kept her fingers crossed that they’d be free. Even if they couldn’t make it this time, then she determined to arrange a pamper evening at the earliest opportunity.
“Grace?” She almost jumped. Her mind had been elsewhere, thinking about how she’d rather be with her girlfriends.
“Are you listening?” Sage continued. “Because I’m trying to make a point about your drinking. You don’t see the livers that Jonathan the transplant guy insists on showing me. You seem to be headed that way.”
“For God’s sake, I like a drop of red wine. What’s the problem?”
“You’re killing your insides; forget all that ‘one glass a day will do you good’ nonsense. It’s definitely a case of negative alcohol. None, that’s what will help you.”
Grace stared up at him. “What the hell are you talking about? I like a drink, okay? I’m not an alcoholic. I can’t afford to be. So what if I want a glass or bottle now and again. Is that a major crime?”
Sage sighed and shook his head. “You really don’t see where I’m coming from, do you?”
“Spoiling my fun time?”
“No, I’m trying to stop you from having an early death.” He gripped her elbow and propelled her towards the door.
“Whatever, but Sage, you need to chill out. Stop being so stiff and unyielding.” The few glasses she’d had were making her brave. “Hell, you’ve only one life; you’ve got to try living it!”
“I can tell you’ve been drinking. I think you’d better get to bed and sleep it off.” He steered her out of the lounge.
Breece sat on a chair, watching. Then followed.
* * *
He stared in disbelief at Sage; the pyjamas he wore conspired to hide every inch of his body. The buttons reached up to his throat. Then he spotted what Grace had on—hell he couldn’t miss it. The hideous nightdress was grotesque. It resembled a shroud. Nothing could damp his cock down any harder than that monstrosity.
Yet he experienced relief that her body remained hidden from the eyes of Sage.
He watched them lie down, side by side, yet there was no intimacy, no jumping on each other. Breece realized that if he was alongside her, she’d have his cock in her hand and his fingers would be scoring over her fanny. She wouldn’t be wearing the resigned expression she had on now; instead her face would be bright with anticipation of the wicked orgasm to come.
Sage glanced over to Grace. “Goodnight. See you in the morning.”
“Yeah, okay.” Grace lay on her back, counting the seconds. She’d gone from drop dead tired to fully awake. She paused, sucking in a breath. “So how did it go?” Grace didn’t move; instead she remained staring up at the darkened ceiling.
“Excellent, as was expected.”
“Hmmm … so who was there?”
“The people who count.”
“Not me?”
“Not in that context, no.”
“Oh!” Grace felt a fleeting glut of misery sludge over her. What life did they have if they couldn’t even go to a function together? It hadn’t even been a major one. Yet it was major enough to stop him from taking her.
She recalled her early ambitions—wanting to work with animals. She adored them, always had. She’d even looked into what was required to work for the RSPCA so she could help prevent animals from being abused. There were two obstacles. One was the need to hold a full driving licence. The second was the requirement that you had to swim fully clothed fifty metres within two and a half minutes. She couldn’t swim at all, even without her clothes.
When she’d spoken to Edie about it, her friend had urged her to do it. Grace thought just maybe she should reconsider learning to drive and swim. At least then she’d have a chance of fulfilling her dream. Yet still she hesitated.
If she was happier in her work, could she then do without Sage? Would a life alone be better than this one? She shuddered, unwilling to take that chance. Instead she clung to the idea that Sage would change, that he could become the man she wanted him to be. Okay, he could keep some of his arrogant habits, just so long as they were sexually compatible.
Was that too much to ask?
Sage gave a sigh, turned over and squeezed her hand. “Night.” Then, releasing it, he snuggled into his three pillows, bashing and pummelling them until they cradled his head perfectly.
Grace lay there for a while, listening to his breathing. He puffed and panted, eventually settled into a sonorous rhythm.
He slept.
She sucked in
a ragged, hungry sigh, and turning into her pillow, thumped it hard. She pretended it was the face of that prick of a doctor she loathed and gave it another slam. Then nestled in and closed her eyes, warming to her dreams of her warrior Breece. Hoping to carry on where she’d left off.
Breece watched them, his cock ached. Dare he try and sneak in? It was a tempting thought, yet he knew he couldn’t. Why Sage wasn’t humping her was beyond him. Yet he was glad, because his feelings were mixed up, his emotions skewed, and he didn’t know how he’d react to that sight.
Grace had a restless night. Images of her warrior Breece floated through her head, along with those of Sage and stethoscopes. There was no repeat of her sexy dream.
Faint rays of early morning light streamed through the room, taking it from stark, inky black to a murky, pre-dawn, muted gray. She looked across at Sage, who still lay with his back to her, his breath shuddering out in soft puffs.
Even in sleep he was perfection.
Grace thought of her own appearance; she must look a mess. She heaved a miserable sigh, accepting that she was wide awake and likely to stay that way. She decided to have a shower, maybe even make a brave attempt at breakfast, try to get past the porridge he insisted on making. Along with enduring the lecture about how oats made her heart strong. Yeah, she knew what “oats” she wanted.
And they didn’t come out of a packet.
Quietly flicking the sheet back, she spared him another glance. He hadn’t moved. She tiptoed out of the room and headed for the bathroom. Once inside she tugged the hated nightdress off and threw it in a heap on the floor. She turned the shower on, and a mass of steam swirled around, obscuring her vision. Stepping inside, Grace closed her eyes and began to wash herself, throwing her head back. Then she couldn’t resist sneaking a hand between her legs.
This was an opportunity Breece wasn’t missing. He’d been hard watching her sleep all night. He shrugged out of his clothes, and not for the first time, wondered why he needed them at all. Then he remembered seeing the other ghost, not to mention the ghost in the Regency era costume, and decided that perhaps ghosts didn’t necessarily want to see each other naked. Eventually Grace would be able to see him—if what the Jane Austen ghost had told him was true—and he didn’t want her thinking he was some kind of uncivilized savage or half-daft nudist.
Grace didn’t hear the door open and almost screamed when she felt the heat of a different kind. A body wrapped around hers, a chest leaning into her back, and large hands winding around her. Soft butterfly kisses stole across her shoulder, nibbled across her neck, and licked her throat when she threw her head back against him.
“I’m going to fuck you hard, Grace, you okay with that?” The words whispered over her, through the tinkling splash of the water hitting the tiles.
“Oh God, yes.” She couldn’t believe this was really Sage, the Sage she’d dreamed of, had wanted with a wild abandon. And was determined to show him how good he made her feel, what he’d been missing these last eight months.
She turned into him, and for a brief scrap of a second a vague image of dark hair stood before her, before a hand covered her eyes.
“Keep them closed, you hear? I want you to feel me with the rest of your senses. On no account open them.” Again the words were whispered, so softly she strained to hear them.
Grace nodded her head and shut her eyes. Her hands were shaking because at long last she was able to roam them freely over his body. Grace delighted in the heat of his skin, the bulge of muscle, and she was greedy in her quest. A sprinkling of coarse hair scored beneath her palm, and her fingers dropped down farther, across a ripped torso, and lower.
Her hand gripped a very large, keen cock. She ran her hand down its length and shuddered. He hadn’t felt so big when he’d slipped it in …. The thought quickly fled in the wake of his lips teasing at her nipple. He sucked and bit down hard, and she arched into him.
Breece swallowed. His own hand slid down and crept between her legs, and his fingers traced over her clit, rubbing and teasing, and then slipped inside just a bit. He baited her just at the spot that was guaranteed to excite her, get her juices flowing.
And they were. She was hot, moist, and oh-so-ready for him.
“Oh God, please?” She thrust against him, her arms hooked around his neck, and her fingers scrunched into a glut of hair. From somewhere came the thought that his hair was shorter; she had never felt it brush against the nape of his neck. But then, she reasoned, she’d never been tangled up with him like this.
Breece slammed her back against the tiles, circled her waist with his arms, and lifted her up, pulling her legs around him. His cock slid between her thighs, but then the reality of Sage walking in and spoiling his jump hastened him on.
In one swift lunge he powered up, filling her. He was balls deep, drawn up hard against her ass.
Grace groaned, gripping him tight. She couldn’t believe he was holding her. Neither could she believe how big he felt. He filled every inch of her.
Then he began to move, his hips grinding against hers. His lips slated across hers, stealing their softness with an eager need in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. He tasted divine, and she realized he’d never thrust his tongue in as he was doing now, driving her insane.
She couldn’t get enough of him. Her hands scored over deliciously round buttocks, could feel them bunch and tense as he thrust up. Grace tried to buck back, but the ferocious assault on her meant she couldn’t move, only take as he thundered into her writhing body. A heady heat burned deep in her stomach and it lit a trillion flares that exploded one after the other.
His lips left hers, and his tongue licked a slow, lush trail to her shoulder, where he bit down, sucking hard. He continued to plough deep inside her as her sex gripped him tight. His stomach muscles clenched, and he uttered a low growl.
His mouth returned to hers, covering her groan and swallowing her scream as she shuddered in an orgasmic eruption of such intensity that her thoughts splintered into a thousand pieces.
She rested her forehead against his and could hear his gasps beneath the cascade of water that broke over them.
Breece dragged in great gulps of oxygen, and his legs trembled in the aftermath of their momentous coupling. What he’d enjoyed with this woman was beyond anything he’d ever known. Breece didn’t need anyone to tell him that. He’d come with the speed of an out of control freight train. He slowly released her, let her legs drop to the floor.
Seeing her eyelids flicker, he covered them with his hand.
“I’ll be seeing you later, believe me.” Again his soft voice coasted over her in a whisper.
A few seconds passed and she opened her eyes. The cubicle was empty. She hadn’t heard the door open, hadn’t felt the gust of air that would have accompanied it. Leaning against the wall, she felt the tiles cool against her back despite the heat of the shower. With a slow languorous action, she turned off the water, a dreamy smile curving her lips.
Now that was what she called fucking!
Still experiencing orgasmic aftershocks, she towelled herself dry and thought of Sage. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought it was a different man in the shower. By keeping her eyes closed she’d noticed things about him she’d never realized before. How his hair edged on the side of long, how his body was far brawnier than it appeared. He was much more fit than she’d imagined. She recalled his toned abs and the way her hand had rippled over them.
She stopped drying herself, reliving the sweet sensations his cock had given her.
It was the first time he’d allowed her to touch him, and still she couldn’t believe the size of him. It was also the first time that he hadn’t used the damn condoms she hated. She wondered if that was why he felt so different.
When he’d made love to her in the missionary position he preferred, she had never experienced the satisfaction that now swamped her. Leaving the nightdress on the floor, she wrapped the towel around her and headed back to the bedroom.
Would he be lying there naked, waiting for her?
Would they have another session?
She felt sore between her legs, much as she’d felt that morning after her wet dream, but knew if he was up to it, she wasn’t turning him down. For too long she’d waited for the real Sage to appear.
And now the miracle she’d waited for had finally happened.
Chapter Seven
Grace paused, her hand clutching the handle of the bedroom door in nervous anticipation. Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open. And stared at Sage, who lay in bed as she’d left him. He hadn’t moved.
Wearing a confused frown, she snuck in beneath the sheet and dropping the towel to the floor, turned to him, and moved her hand over his waist. She shuddered at the soft cotton beneath her fingers but continued her quest. Her hand covered him; she squeezed down on his cock. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped; it had felt so much bigger hard.
When Grace gripped his prick, Sage’s eyes flew open and he woke with a start. Snatching at her hand, he rolled over onto his back and demanded, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His gaze trawled across her, taking in her nakedness. “And where’s your nightdress?” His cold, green gaze splintered over the pendulous tits that waved in front of him. “This is not what I want to greet me first thing in the morning.”
Grace stared back at him, confused. She narrowed her eyes, trying to work out what game he was playing. And why. She cricked her head. “You know where, on the floor in the bathroom.”
“Why would I know that? Have you been at the bottle already?”
“What are you talking about? You were with me. We made love.” A shiver skated over her skin. She glanced around, certain she could hear soft laughter, a chuckle that continued on a wicked roll.
“It wasn’t me, Grace. I think maybe you were dreaming.” He frowned and stared at her shoulder. “What’s that?”
“What?”
“It looks like a bite mark.”
