by Ellen March
Breece eyed them with suspicion. He had his evening mapped out, and it didn’t include any time in purgatory.
“From wherever you came from, before the séance,” said Grace.
“What if I don’t want to go?”
“You don’t have a choice; you can’t stay here. Think of this as your eviction notice.”
Grace tried to explain as clearly as she could, but she had mixed feelings. If he could stay and shag her with no commitment and without getting involved, then fine. But at some point she had to live with a real person, such as Sage.
Someone she could actually see.
“Hey, you’re the one who invited me here, and I for one don’t want to go anywhere.” He folded his arms and dropped to the sofa. Laying his head back on the pillow, he glared at her. His chocolate gaze drizzled over her, hot and silky.
“Tough.” Grace decided to ignore him. “So what happens now?”
Amy looked around, still searching for him. “Can I say hello first, before he goes, I mean?”
“Breece, can you do something to Amy to prove you’re here?” Grace peered around the room, not sure where he was. “Please? And stop pouting.”
“No,” he snapped, in a voice that could freeze a hot toddy. Nevertheless he moved over to Amy, slunk an arm around her, and squeezed her nipple. Satisfied at her shriek, he moved away.
“What did you do?” she said, annoyed. She’d guessed what he’d done and didn’t approve.
“He pinched my nipple,” breathed Amy, her hand covering said tit. She glanced around, wearing a stupid smile.
“Okay, that’s enough. Let’s get on with removing the randy bastard.” Grace was suddenly angry, angry that he’d dared to touch her friend that way, and confused. Why wasn’t she relieved that he would soon be out of her life?
That she wouldn’t have another sensational fuck with him?
“Touchy!” he whispered, close to her ear, his breath skating across her throat.
“Get lost.”
“This is Dolores,” Amy said. “She’s a medium and a friend of mine. She’s the one who can exorcise Breece—send him back to where he belongs.”
“Tell her I belong in your bed,” he whispered.
“Shut up!”
“What?” Amy raised her head. Her cheeks blanched at the vehemence in her friend’s words.
“I wasn’t talking to you. Carry on.” Grace shrugged her shoulders, relieved to find his hands no longer on her. She wondered where they’d settled.
Dolores nodded her head, a brief dip, then placed her bag down with an awed reverence. Her head bent, she rummaged deep in her bag, pulling out a number of items.
She placed two bunches of sage on a tray, lit it and left it to burn and smoulder. As it crumbled to ashes, she walked around the room. The scent of the herb permeated the air. With each step, she chanted, “We mean you no harm. Please leave this place in peace.”
* * *
Breece lay on the sofa, resting his chin in the cup of his palm, his brows raised in speculation. He shook his head. “She’s lost the plot.”
“Shut up!”
Dolores turned to her and tilted her head. “I beg your pardon?”
“Sorry, wasn’t talking to you.”
Dolores heaved an exasperated sigh and gestured at Amy. “Can you spread salt on the windowsills?”
Grace stared at her. “Whoa, what for? “
“It represents positive energy,” said Dolores, producing a small bell. She began to ring it quietly, moving to each corner of the room.
“Who the hell does she think she is—a bloody Morris dancer?” There was laughter in Breece’s voice.
Having silenced the bell, she moved on to a candle.
Breece smirked and tapped his fingers on the arm of the sofa. Now this could be interesting, he thought, and waited. Delores scribbled on a jot of paper, placed it beneath the candle, and lit it. Boring. He waited for the next part.
“Place this down and leave it.”
The medium paused, sweeping her hair back and tangling it in her scarf. She glanced around and reached out. “Come, hold hands.”
Amy and Grace complied, gazing about the room questioningly. Delores began speaking, her head thrown back. “This is a house for the living, not the dead,” she said in an oddly theatrical chant. “You are dead, so we wish you would seek the light and move on to where you ought to be.”
Breece shot her a glare and checked out his nails. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
She repeated the words, this time sprinkling holy water out of a small vial. She continued her chant.
Breece gripped his chest. “Oh God, I see the light! I’m leaving. Everything’s fading.” His voice dropped to a murmur. “I’m going.” Dramatics had never been his forte, and yet Grace seemed to be buying his act, judging from her startled glance.
She whispered to Amy, “I think it’s working.”
Dolores glanced over and nodded. “Wait here.” Then crossed to her holdall, and produced a mass of garlic cloves. The pungent scent wafted through the air. “Here, put this around your neck; it will keep the spirits at bay.”
“Thought that was for vampires,” said Grace, wrinkling her nose at the necklace.
“It also works for ghosts,” said Dolores, dismissing her scepticism with a disdainful glance.
Amy glanced around. Nothing appeared different. “So, what happens next?”
“Now I ask him a question.” Dolores sucked in a snatch of breath, held it, and released it slowly. She swivelled her head slowly from left to right, taking in each and every inch of the room. The drama was rising, intensifying with each moment.
She paused, in full performance mode, and clutched her throat. “Are you happy to have moved into this house?” Another pause. “Tap once for yes, twice for no.” Her head tucked to the side, she listened. The silence was deafening. Grace and Amy held their breaths.
“Grace,” Breece said, “will you tell her I’m more than happy to move in and fuck you?” He continued to lie on the settee. He was bored and not a little randy.
Again.
He casually fisted his cock, running his hand up the sheer length of it.
“No, I won’t!”
Dolores glanced at her. “Are you talking to him again?”
She nodded.
“Then ask him to leave. Be firm but forceful. I’m sure he’ll listen to you.” She glanced around. “Because so far nothing else has worked.”
Grace stood and cleared her throat. She was asking for something she didn’t want, but needed. It had to happen.
“Breece, leave me! I don’t want you here anymore. I don’t need you. I never wanted you, never meant for you to come to me. Now go!” She closed her eyes, tried to stop the tears that sprang to them, the sadness that raided her thoughts. Pain had exploded into her reasoning. She didn’t want him to go, yet he couldn’t stay. She needed her sanity. “Please, Breece, listen. Leave me, and go back to where you came.” The words screamed out.
The tears streamed down her face.
“I’m gone.” The two words were muttered close to her ear, and she shivered.
Seconds passed. Grace looked around, and finally there was no sign of him, no heady aroma of male pheromones, and no sense of belonging. Emptiness invaded her body, poisoned her thoughts. More tears swarmed her eyes, and she choked down the sobs that threatened to throttle her.
Dolores paused and held her breath—listening, sensing—then asked again, “Is anyone there?”
Silence drifted back.
“I believe your ghost has gone.” A smile flashed from her blood red lips.
Chapter Nine
Amy leaned back on the oversized easy chair. Dolores had left and they’d opened a bottle of red. “So what do you think of our Ghostbuster?”
“Truth?” asked Grace, taking a large swig from her glass.
“Yep.”
“I wish I’d never done it, wish I could have kept him to ser
vice me.”
“What, like a stud?”
“Call it what you like, but the feeling would be mutual.” She almost choked on the mouthful she’d gulped.
Amy glanced up at her. She was slumped in the chair, one leg looped over the edge, a glass in her hand. “You got a thing for him?”
Grace smiled, a sad grimace, and held up her glass in a salute. “Yep, you could say that. I don’t know what I’m going to do now, or even why I made him leave.” She swiped at an errant tear.
“I wonder what he looks like?” Amy swirled the contents of her glass.
“By the feel of his body, he’s got to be good looking.” Grace’s sigh was shaky. “But you know? I really don’t give a toss what he looks like, what I do know is he’s got a wicked cock and knows how to use it.”
“So, why didn’t you say you wanted to keep him?” Amy shook her head, knitted her brow in confusion.
“Because he’s not a bloody stray dog? He’s a ghost. A concept, I’ll add, that I had a lot of trouble getting my head around.”
“And when you did, you ousted him.”
“Nope. That’s what you told me to do, remember?”
“Hey, you didn’t want a ghost living with you.”
“You didn’t give me much choice. It was, like, ‘Whoops, hell, a ghost! let’s get rid of the sucker.’” She knocked her glass of wine back, and closed her eyes as the pungent red coasted down her throat.
“You could have said no at any time.” Amy sighed and stared at her. “Are you sure he’s gone?”
Grace nodded. “Yep, but to make sure, I’ll try calling him again.” She blew out an exasperated puff of air. “Shit, it’s like I’m calling a dog.” She raised her voice. “Breece, are you there? If so, answer me! Please?” She felt her heart stop and her breathing become shallow and rapid as she waited, the seconds dripping by. Not a sound echoed back.
“He’s gone. Shit! Why did I do it?” Pouring another glass of wine, Grace necked it back.
Amy frowned, staring at her friend. “You really liked him?”
“Hell, yes, he was brilliant in the sack. He gave me more than any man ever has. And now he’s gone, along with my explosive orgasms.”
“Well, you should have said you wanted to keep him to service you.”
“How? He’s dead! As much as I loved his prick, and as wonderful as it was to finally realize what a healthy sex life might be, it helps if both of you are alive.”
“And you’re sure about Sage—that he’s alive, that is? The way you describe him in bed, he seems to be dead from the waist down.” Amy finished off her glass. “I still can’t get over it. A real to God ghost tweaked my nipple!”
Grace shot her an evil glare then shook her head, trying to stave off the tears. “I hate to admit it, but I wish I’d kept hold of Breece a bit longer.”
Amy sighed. “If you had, it would have become more difficult over time to let go. A clean cut is the best way.”
Grace nodded, her face awash with sadness. “Yeah, guess so, but if you don’t mind, I want an early night.”
Amy shook her head. Her friend was hurting, and she couldn’t do a thing to help, had in fact caused it.
She rose and set the glass on the table. “If you need anything, give me a ring. If not, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Grace didn’t bother looking up. The loss of her sexy ghost had plunged her into abject misery. She wondered what she’d do if by some miracle he actually appeared again. Giving a brief nod, she rose and walked to the door with Amy.
They gave each other a quick hug, and Amy left, the taxi already parked up.
Grace heaved another long, ragged sigh as the car pulled off. And quietly shut the door. She was deep in thought and brooding in a wretched melancholy.
Grace paused and glanced around the lounge. Nothing, neither a scent nor a sensation, not a clue that he was still there. Because he wasn’t. She’d sent him away. Switching the light off, she wandered into the kitchen, filled a glass of water, and trundled up the stairs on heavy feet. Her head was muzzy with the wine she’d knocked back.
She entered the bedroom, half expecting him to be there—to be loitering, invisible, waiting to pounce and grab her ass or tits. But all was silent. She closed the door and with leaden strides crossed to the bed and sat just at the edge.
The tears began to fall, and miserably she swiped at them. How could she mourn a man she’d never seen? Okay, they’d fucked, which she had to admit was delicious, but it wasn’t as if they’d built up a relationship. Hell, he hadn’t been in her life two minutes and she was mourning him like a long lost lover.
Her head bent, she thought about how he’d made her feel. A drizzle of dampness edged her knickers, and she wished she’d not gone along with the exorcism. At least not until she’d had her fill of his delectable cock. But then, she would have just wanted more.
She raised her head, her gray eyes reminiscent of stormy seas, her pale face awash with tears. She swallowed hard, and in a trembling voice, said aloud, “Breece, if you’re there, will you answer me?”
Her heart hitched and missed a beat. She waited, her breath bated, and listened, straining for any tiny sound. None came. She stared down at her feet, feeling a wave of profound bleakness raze over her. Finally she shed her clothes until she was naked and crossed the room to flick the light off. Then she trod the familiar path back to her bed, slid under the sheets, and tugged them up around her neck.
She laid a hand beneath her cheek, again wet with tears. Her chest rose and fell with her sobs as she surrendered to her grief. Drenching her pillow, she snivelled and wept for Breece.
In deep mourning for what she’d sent away.
She’d been a bitch to do it. He hadn’t wanted to go. She’d forced him. If it was for the best, why was she feeling like such a shit? And more to the point, where was he now?
She curled into a foetal position, crunched her arms around her body, needing the familiar sanctuary.
Suddenly she froze, sensing Breece.
“Don’t cry baby,” he said. His hands wound around her, twisting her until she was facing him. He gently stroked her face, sweeping the hot tears away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Breece?” The one word choked out.
“Yep, afraid I played ’possum, pretended to leave. But honestly, I didn’t mean to upset you.” His lips found hers, traced over them with a gentleness that made her want to cry some more.
“Where did you go?” She couldn’t stop her hands from racing over his body. They stole over his skin, sank into his muscles, memorized every inch that she’d tracked with her fingers.
“For an aerial view. I’ll explain sometime. I just needed that nutty woman out of here.” Again his tongue slaked across her throat in an arousing sweep. “But, baby, I didn’t think you’d ever imagine she’d managed to get rid of me. That you believed it.”
“But when I sensed you weren’t there, then ….” she snatched in a breath. And gulped. “It was only then I realized I didn’t want you to go, to leave me.”
Breece grinned, a cheeky one that pulled at one side of his lips. “Why?”
“Because you’re such a good fuck?”
“Well, that’s a start, anyway. So you want to keep me around?”
She nodded. “How about reminding me of what you can do?”
“I haven’t got a problem with that, baby.” He bent his head, and taking her nipple, sucked hard on it. It rose and puckered. Her hand swept over his head, holding him tight, and she arched into him.
“Oh God, Breece, make love to me?”
“That’s what I’m going to do.” His lips painted a host of hot kisses across her shoulder, and his tongue licked in a sweep down her throat.
She decided there was something supremely erotic about having sex with an invisible man. The senses relying totally on the sense of smell and touch.
He pushed her onto her back. His fingers traced a path between her tits and his
teeth grazed against her nipple as she curled into him. A zip line pinged down into her fanny, and she mewled softly. His hand slowly slid over her, into the dip of her waist. It swept over her hip and edged along the crease of her groin.
His fingers coiled around her pubes. He gave a gentle tug, then filched inside, slipping his fingers around her clit. And up, teasing along the edge. She clutched his hand, pushing against it. His lips curved into a smile against the heat of her skin.
“I’m going to suck you right there.” He pressed his fingers hard against her. “And there.” He thrust his index finger up.
“Oh shit, Breece, if you don’t hurry, I’ll be coming.”
“Not yet, babe. First I get to lick you out. I want your juices in my mouth, drenching my tongue.” His words were whispered, and they soaked over her. Grace bucked her hips, trying to urge him on.
Breece slid slowly down her body, nestling between her thighs. He scraped his fingernails lightly up her leg, scoring the inside of her thigh. His mouth followed, administering a series of nips and sucks. He moved with a leisurely ease, his destination her deliciously moist fanny.
The scent of her sex coated over him, and his cock strained hard. “I want you badly, baby, but first I want to taste you.”
Every part of this woman sent a blast of excitement through him. He bent his head over her fanny, and his tongue pushed through, flickered in a succession of lustful licks, up and down. Finally he sucked hard on her swollen labia, her clit hot beneath his tongue.
Again Breece knew somehow that he’d never experienced this level of lovemaking. The sheer intensity could blow his balls. Yet it was more that sex; he’d felt a strong connection with her from the first. Breece couldn’t explain it. Then he was lost in the moment, beyond thought, the urge to fuck her overtaking his brain.
* * *
Grace held his head, her own thrown back as she strained against his mouth. What he was doing to her had to be illegal.
She thrust hard against him; he was driving her wild. Her hips gyrated against his wickedly skilful tongue and a surge of heat exploded in her stomach. She knew she was about to come, and how.
