by Ellen March
A blast of electricity swept through her, muscles she didn’t know she had clamped taut, and she uttered a loud deep groan, followed by a whimper. Holding Breece’s head tight, Grace climaxed hard against him. She prayed she wouldn’t suffocate him, then reasoned he was dead anyway and continued holding him as wave upon wave smashed over her.
* * *
Breece eventually raised his head and grinned. She really was responsive in bed. Maybe being a resident ghost wasn’t so bad. Under these circumstances, anyway. Sex on a regular basis … he couldn’t fault it.
But then a sudden sense of unease washed over him. When he’d seen her sobbing, something deep inside him had responded to her pain. He couldn’t name it, but whatever it was made him want to take her tears away, bottle them up so that her thoughts would always be happy ones.
Fleeting pictures of women swept his thoughts, along with a feeling of selfish arrogance. Breece knew he was getting a glimpse of what he’d been, and he didn’t like it. Again came a flash of silicone-hard tits, and the way they’d felt beneath his palms. Along with a wash of disappointment, the conviction that everything was false, that he never got to see the true woman. He knew there had been lots in his life. Yet not one had caused his heart to hammer, to react with a heady shock as did his Grace.
He didn’t know how he knew, but he did.
And now, for the first time, he wanted to put another person before himself. There was something so sweet about this woman. He never wanted her to experience pain, to have to deal with the type of man he had been in life—a user. Shame surged through him, but then his thoughts once again misted over, suppressing the memories.
* * *
Grace lay back, her body limp, in a satisfied orgasmic bliss. She could feel him moving back up and wished she could see him. Experience that sensation along with the rest. His lips dipped over hers. She could taste herself on him as his tongue drove into her mouth. Twirling with her own tongue, he thrust in deep, scoring every part of her mouth.
“And now, I intend to make love to you.”
“Christ, Breece, I don’t think I can, not so soon.”
“Yes you can.” She shivered beneath him when he flicked her nipple with her tongue. He took her hand, leading it down. “Feel me.”
Grace covered his cock. It was huge and hard, and at that moment she wanted him again. To feel him thundering deep inside her. She ran her hand along the length of him, admiring the silky texture, the drizzle of pre-come at the top. Raising her finger to her lips, she licked it.
“Fuck, Grace,” he muttered, and covered her, and taking her legs by the shins, pushed them up and apart. She was totally open to him. He leaned forward, suckled on the one nipple then the other. Her hands greedily pulled him close.
“Take this, baby.” He thrust up—she was already moist—sweeping deep inside. Her wickedly seductive little grunts filled the air.
“Oh God, that is so good.” She hitched her hips impatiently against him, and giving him a rub, writhed against him.
“You don’t know how good.” Breece leaned his forehead against hers, clutched at her shoulders, and felt her arms steal around his waist.
And drove into her hard.
His hips pummelled and punished into her with a wicked speed. He bit down on her neck and sucked with each passion-filled plunge. “Shit, I’ll be coming now; it’s too soon,” he moaned. And continued to thunder into her, his balls slapping at her, travelling in deep, pushing and striving to keep it up. He’d meant to have an uninterrupted ride, but his cock had other ideas.
He began to spurt, coming with the intensity of a river bursting its barrier.
His mouth fastened to her neck, and with not an inch of daylight separating them, he climaxed hard, his hips gyrating up sharp, rocketing into her. Her sex continued to clench, sucking up the last of his sperm.
* * *
Grace flopped backward. She hadn’t come, but she’d had the most amazing sex. Her chest rose and fell as she strived to get enough oxygen. She felt him move and guessed she’d have another mark on her neck. He really did have a thing for biting her. Yet somehow, when he was sucking hard and driving into her, the love bites intensified the lustful thoughts that flooded her mind. What she wanted him to do, what he actually did.
And again wished she could see him.
“That was fantastic, Grace.” His arm snuck under her, and he pulled her to him. Her head rested on his chest as he filtered his fingers through her long hair, snatching it around till it lay across them both.
“This is so surreal,” she chucked. “I can’t believe I’m lying in bed with a dead man. One who’s made me feel more alive than I ever thought possible.”
He rested his chin on her head. “Good, I’m glad. So what about your ex, Sage?”
“Ex? Who said that?” She would have raised her head to look at him … if she could have seen him. But as it was, she didn’t bother.
“Well, surely now you’ve got me, you don’t need him in your life?”
“Just one thing you’ve overlooked Breece: you’re dead, a ghost. Whether you like it or not, I need a partner who’s alive.”
“You’re telling me you’ll be fucking the both of us?”
She chewed on her lip. It didn’t sound too good, but hell, there wasn’t much she could do about that. The circumstances weren’t exactly normal. “Put like that, yes.”
She could feel him stiffen, and his hand ceased stroking her hair. She tried to make him understand. “Breece, I’m not going to be having a life with you. We’re not going to be able to share meals, walk in the park … all the stuff couples do together.”
“Don’t you think I know that!” His voice rose; he didn’t want to hear the truth. For the first time in his life … or death, he wanted to experience the things that other people took for granted.
He wanted a proper relationship, one with Grace. Her sweet nature, her naturalness, everything about her moved him. Hell, it hit him hard. He’d never shared himself before, he knew that—he’d mocked happy families—yet now he wanted to do the normal things. Like eat popcorn and watch a film before bed, to drive down to the beach and watch the surf roll in. To do nothing of importance, except be with the one person who mattered … Grace.
Except some twat of a driver had fucked things up.
“Look Breece, what do you want?” Grace pleaded. “Hell, I can’t even see you.” She was frustrated and angry, too, angry at the fact that he was dead. “Don’t you think I want it to be different? For you to be alive? But the fact is you’re not. So we either decide we’re going to be fuck partners or nothing at all. It’s up to you.”
Breece moved away from her, and a cold draught swept the room, a tangible iciness. Grace shivered. “Where are you?”
“Over here.” His voice drifted across the room. The curtains were shifting, blowing. “So, what do you suggest, a rota? We’re going to take turns?” His sarcasm was lost on her. She felt only relief that he still remained, that he hadn’t disappeared, that he was contemplating her words.
“Actually, yes. Sage comes over on Friday and leaves on Sunday, early part of the evening. That leaves you with Sunday night till Friday morning. You come out on top.” A hint of humour infused her words.
“Whoopee fucking doo.” Breece was not at all happy with sharing her, and had already determined to do what he could to split them up. Because he wasn’t standing by and watching his girl get fucked by another man.
“Well?” Grace pushed.
“Well I don’t have much choice, do I? But what am I expected to do when lover boy visits?”
“Anything you like, so long as you behave and don’t come into the bedroom at ten on Saturday night.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s when we do it.”
“It? What, you play cards or something?”
“Yes, it!” A red heat suffused her cheeks. “You know, make love.”
“At exactly ten? Are you for real?”
“Yes, now can we leave it there?”
“Don’t you do ‘it’ any other time?” Suddenly he found the conversation extremely interesting.
“That’s none of your business.”
She jumped when he nipped her shoulder. “You are my business.”
“And will you stop biting me?”
“Nah, can’t do that, I like the taste of you too much. Especially there.” He swept his hand between her legs.
Grace swiped at him. “Will you behave?” And wished again she could see him. She was relieved when his arm snuck back around her.
Their brief spat over, he snuggled up close.
“What do you look like?” She was desperate to have some sort of description.
“Don’t know. Guess it’s hard to talk about yourself. I’m six foot three, dark hair on the long side, brown eyes. And baby, so handsome you’re not going to know what’s hit you when you see me.”
“And modest with it.” Then she picked up on his words. “When I see you?”
She felt him nod. “Don’t know when that will be, but I hope it’s real soon. Maybe then you’ll knock that asshole into touch.”
He added silently, Before I do.
Chapter Ten
Grace rolled over. She lay on her back, one arm flung out, the other buried beneath the pillow. She couldn’t open her eyes, yet felt the heat of the sun pouring through the window. It burned across her and she wondered how that could be, guessed the window was open. A soft waft of a breeze tickling her skin confirmed it. She sensed that Breece was already out of bed and flapped with her hand at his side of the bed.
“Why have you got the window open?” She asked the question without opening her eyes. They’d made love again, twice. And each time he stole a little bit more of her. He really had it all, she thought.
Except a pulse, which was her only other requirement. Was that too much to ask?
“It’s a nice day,” he said. “The sky is blue, the sun is hot, and the birds are singing.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll take your word for it, but they’re playing on my flaming nerves with all that twittering.” She was grumpy. Grace had never been a morning person, and she needed a huge surge of caffeine to stir her to life. “Can’t you throw something at them? Like a cat?”
“You’re a bitch.”
“Yep, especially before noon, so live and learn.” She pulled the sheet over her head and tried to dive back into darkness and her dream. Then flinched when she felt the sheet dragged off her and a hand deliver a healthy slap across her ass. Her eyes flew open and she rubbed at her bum. “What the hell did you do that for?” Rolling over, Grace was determined he wouldn’t whack her again.
She rubbed tiredly at her eyelids, which felt leaden and scratchy. Yawning, she pushed her hair out of her face. Grace felt hot and sticky and knew she needed a shower. She reeked of the scent of Breece. On the plus side, at least they could do what they liked.
She wouldn’t be getting pregnant; his sperm was as dead as he was.
“Come on, sleepy head, wake up.” He gripped her foot and drew a nail across the sole.
She screeched out, laughing. Breece pounced on the bed and tickled her ribs, which sent more of her laughter peeling through the air. She slapped at his hands. “Please, no more, no ….” She was struck speechless.
She stared up into the face of a dark haired man, grinning down at her.
The grin faded. “What is it?”
Grace hesitantly raised her hand and cupped his chin, a dark dusting of beard sprinkled over it.
It was a strong chin on a beautiful face.
Chocolate eyes melted over her, fringed with a mass of dark lashes. Far too many for a man. Black hair, so black it was tinged with a raven’s wing of blue, fell almost to his shoulders, long and scruffy.
She started to gasp for breath, overcome by awareness of his overpowering sexuality. Christ, he wasn’t just good looking, he was picture book awesome.
“My God, Breece, I can see you, actually see you!”
His gaze ripped over her, and with a devastating smile, he stood back, hands on slim hips. His cock at semi lob, he let her drink her fill.
One thing Breece knew; he had a good body. Hell, he’d cared for it like a temple. Until that morning …. Some wanker had hit and run, the twat. Accident or no, they could have called the ambulance. Just maybe he would have had a chance.
His morbid, useless thoughts were tucked firmly away. “And …? What do you think?”
Grace’s mouth dropped open, and her hot greedy gaze covered him from the top of his six foot plus height, all the way down, over a well-honed muscular body, tanned and fit. Also, she noticed, no tan lines. He was obviously comfortable with nudity.
An odd thought occurred to her—that if you ended up killing yourself on sunbeds through skin cancer, at least the tan would go with you. Not that she’d ever bothered with them. With skin like hers, she didn’t tan, only burned.
Grace continued with her blatant scrutiny. She hooked onto his impressive cock. Even soft it was big, and lay against a muscled thigh, covered by a light dusting of hair.
He was all male, pure masculine force … a hard, stunning fucking machine.
And all hers. She forced her head up again to look again at his face.
Sage was handsome, but this man exuded an almost primal aura. His lips were lush and red, his teeth white and straight. Then her eyes were drawn back down; his lazy lob was growing.
“Well?” he prompted. His chocolate gaze melted over her, and he had a wicked glint in his eyes.
“You’re beautiful.”
She rose to her feet and clutched his cock. It lay in her hand, and she began soothing her palm up and down. All the while her gaze didn’t move from his face. She feasted on the emotions she saw written there.
“Now will you ditch that doctor?” His eyes darkened as her hand continued to tease and torture him. A sharp intake of breath hit the back of his throat when she cradled his balls.
“No, but what I will do, what I want to do is have a shower.” She released his cock and took his hand.
Breece cricked a brow. One way or the other she was kicking that mealy-mouthed doctor into touch. But first he was going to fuck her.
Once in the shower Grace turned to him and warned, “Don’t move. I want to do this, you hear?”
“Will I like it?” he teased.
“I’m counting on it.” Grace flicked the water on. She stared with fascination at the rivulets meandering on various paths down his chest. Dropping a glut of shower gel in her hand, she followed with her fingertips. With each stroke, she chased it up with a blaze of her eyes that darkened with each touch. “Turn around.”
He was just as sexy from the back end. His shoulders were broad, and a smattering of hairs glistened down his back. His narrow waist dipped and curved over rounded buttocks. It was the best ass she’d seen on a guy, muscular and flawlessly shaped. It begged to be sucked on. She slipped her hands across his wet skin, and dropping to her knees, applied her lips to a cheek, nipped and sucked.
“Grace, what the hell are you doing?” His fists clenched and he knew he’d be driving into her too soon if she didn’t stop.
“Taking a bite. You do it to me.” At last she rose reluctantly; she had something else she wanted to taste.
“Never on your ass,” he said.
“Feel free. Now turn back around.”
When he did, she glanced down and could see the effort it was costing him. The cords in his throat stood out in his neck. His hands were curled into fists, his fingers white. Grace continued, deliberately rubbing her chest up against him. She was hungry for every morsel. He hitched one leg forward, and she straddled his heavy thigh, sliding up and down, swiping her fanny along him.
She was beginning to feel horny as hell and moved back.
Because she was determined to take him deep in her mouth.
Dropping to her knees, she glanced up and wished she h
adn’t. His heated gaze blistered over her; his hands stroked her head. And he shifted his hips, impatient. Grace cupped his balls—they were hard—and squeezed gently, scraping her nail along the ridge of flesh, teasing him.
Judging by his reaction, she’d scored a hit. His hips began to thrust hard. Grace took his cock in her hand and dragged it up and down, slowly increasing the speed. Then she bent her head and licked him from the tip slowly down to where the root was buried beneath a lush tangle of black pubes.
Again she repeated her action, before soldering her hands on his hips. With a cruel ease, she slowly went down on him. Grace devoured every delicious inch, and when she gagged, adjusted her throat, determined to take his whole length deep in her throat.
“Dear lord,” groaned Breece. He tried not to thrust, knew how big he was, yet wanted to slam in, fuck her mouth hard and fast. But he refrained, only too aware he had to go at her speed.
At last she began to move her head, trying to accommodate all of him as she sucked him in and out. Breece thrust into her mouth as she held him. “Oh Christ, Grace, I hope you can cope with this.” He held her head and fucked her mouth as he drove into her, his hips twisting and writhing. She took him deep. Her one hand moved and crept around the back of his ass. He could feel her kneading and cupping.
His eyes shot open when he realized her intention.
Too late. She inserted her finger into his ass and his intestines crunched into a splintering explosion as his world spun. He was going to come; he couldn’t stop now. And then she topped him, sliding in and screwing his ass with her fingers.
“Fucking hell, Grace baby!” He arched his head back. “I just hope to Christ you swallow.” A deep roaring groan emerged from his chest, and his hips still surged against her mouth as he came with the force of a hurricane. The sensation swept every thought, every scrap of sanity aside. He emptied himself, and after a timeless moment, he shuddered to a stop.
Still holding her head, he smoothed her hair. She slipped his cock out, and still on her knees looked up. Wiping the dregs of sperm with the back of her hand, she asked, “You liked?”
