by Ellen March
“Where did you learn to do that?” He knew it wasn’t with the good doctor. The only thing he’d have up his ass would be a thermometer.
“An old boyfriend of mine liked it.”
“Hmmm.” He didn’t like to think of her fingers up someone else’s rectum; however, he reasoned, that was in the past. It was the present, mainly Sage, that concerned him. His removal was going to be swift; it had to be. Because Grace embraced sex with a genuine earthiness he discovered he loved. Breece hauled her to her feet and sat her on his thigh again. “You want to come, baby?” His arms rocked around her. His lips sought her neck, and he swept them down her throat. She’d thrown her head back, and a soft mewl purred from her.
“Please, Breece, I wish I could have your cock in me.”
“Why can’t you?” He continued to nuzzle her, sprinkling a row of kisses across the line of her jaw.
“You won’t be hard.” Groaning, she rubbed herself up and down his thigh, the smattering of hair tickling her.
“Grace, believe me, I’m hard for you. I’m not questioning the whys or wherefores. But I want you now.” With lightning speed, he spun her round, placed her hands on the tiled wall, and edged her thighs apart. His arms coiled around her waist, and he dipped his knees and lanced upwards, impaling her in one long, smooth lunge.
“Oh God,” she screamed. Leaning back, she arched forward, keeping her hands hooked around his neck as he held her in a grip of steel.
He began to thunder into her, fucking her with the drive and determination of an express train. This time he didn’t touch her fanny; he wanted her to come with simply his cock thrusting deep inside her. Again his mouth snatched onto her throat and he sucked hard with each driving stroke, pushing her to her limits. His buttocks strained and clenched with each wholehearted plunge.
Grace bucked back against the writhing hips that jostled against her ass. He filled her so incredibly …. Every part of her sex was stretched to bursting, and she loved the exquisite sensations scrambling over her. She dragged him in, and her muscles held on tight, binding him to her.
“Oh shit, Breece.” A sudden panic filtered through her voice as she began to experience an earth-shattering fire burning deep in her stomach. It spread and roared along each nerve, splintering through her body. A sudden blinding intensity ignited every cell in her body as she roared into an orgasmic explosion.
Grace screamed, and her voice echoed around the shower. The intensity was too much; it soaked and bled over every inch of skin, tearing her to pieces. She stiffened in his arms as the last of the climax crawled over her and she struggled to catch her breath.
She couldn’t breathe. Her chest burned tight and her throat contorted with an effort to swallow.
The room swum; dizziness overtook her and darkness descended. She collapsed against him, her head rolling to one side.
* * *
“Grace?”
Breece stared down in horror. She lay draped across his arm, unconscious.
“Fucking hell.” He withdrew and scooped her up into his arms. The shower still sprayed, and her long hair hung low. He prayed there was nothing wrong. He laid her carefully on the bed. His fingers shook as he scrubbed the back of his knuckles across her cheek.
“Grace? Baby, are you okay?”
No, asshole, he thought, she’s bloody out for count.
She groaned, her eyes fluttered open, and she stared into the worried face of Breece, who hovered protectively over her.
“What happened?”
“You fainted.” He breathed a sigh of relief she was conscious. He’d heard of women experiencing such intense orgasms they fainted. He’d also heard of women who wet themselves. And so he was glad she’d only passed out. That he could cope with; peeing over his hand might have been more difficult, more because of the embarrassment it would cause her.
* * *
Confusion clouded her silver eyes, and a frown wrinkled her forehead. She remembered having the most amazing sex, and then the orgasm. How it had taken over her body to such an extent that she’d actually forgotten to breathe. And then, when she’d tried, she couldn’t ….
“You’re okay now. That was some response, baby.” His lips curled into a satisfied smile.
“Yeah, well, don’t get too big-headed. It’s not the first time I’ve had such an intense experience,” she lied, determined not to encourage his male arrogance. She dragged at the wet hair sticking to her back and pulled it to one side.
“Really? Tell me about it.” The smirk remained.
“No way.”
“Does your doctor make you come like that?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Okay. I’ll be watching at ten on Saturday, I can judge for myself then.”
That provoked a response, and she rose to lean on her elbows. “Don’t you dare! I mean it, Breece.”
“I might pick up some tips.” He teased his finger around her lips, edging along the contours.
Without thinking, she responded, “No you won’t.” Then wished she’d shut the hell up. One look at his smug expression said it all.
* * *
Amy glanced down at her mobile, where a text message flashed up. Only two words, but she dropped the files she held and rang Grace back, still staring down at the words: “He’s here.”
She strummed her fingers on the counter, impatient.
Grace glanced down, and answered, relieved it wasn’t Sage calling. He’d already rung and told her he’d arranged for an appointment, one they’d had a vicious argument over. For the first time ever she’d attempted to stand up to him. However, as usual, he swung the argument around, making her doubt herself. He really would make a great politician, Grace decided.
She’d been glad that Breece wasn’t there to witness her defeat. He had gone for a walk, or to get “an aerial view,” as he liked to call it. She could imagine the sarcastic response he’d come up with. Her date with the shrink was arranged for Monday at ten. What the heck was it about the number ten? She wondered if Sage had opted for that time on purpose.
“You mean he’s still with you?” Amy’s voice sounded excited.
“Yep, and intends to stay.”
“Can I come over tonight? Sage isn’t due till tomorrow, is he?”
“Yeah, guess so. There’s only so much shagging I can fit in.”
“You haven’t.”
“Oh yes I have. He’s wonderful. I had such an intense orgasm this morning I passed out.”
Amy slapped a hand over her mouth. “You are kidding me!”
“Not at all. He’s the grand master of cocks—knows exactly what a woman wants. And delivers.”
“You lucky bitch,” Amy said. Now Grace had the two things Amy most wanted in life, regular sex and a genuine ghost as a companion.
“And there’s more; I can see him now.”
“Don’t lie!” She let out a long whistle. “What’s he look like?”
“Think Sage and then think a hundred times better, more rugged, more …. How shall I say it?”
“More fuckable?” His voice broke behind her. His lips sucked across her throat.
“Shit, where did you sneak in from?” She was embarrassed to have been caught out singing his praises. A hot flush stole across her face. She knew he’d heard everything from the cheeky twinkle in his eyes, the bad-assed grin.
“Who are you talking to?” asked Amy. “Is it Breece?”
“Yeah, he’s back.” She slapped at a wandering hand. “Will you cut it out?”
“What’s happening?”
“He’s getting fresh again.” She mouthed at him, Will you behave? And was rewarded with a naughty boy wink.
“What time shall I come over?”
“Make it about seven-thirty. I’ll make us a chilli, fancy that?”
Breece perked up. “Who’s that, Amy?”
Grace held a finger to her lips, silencing him. “Yeah, okay, you fetch the wine, see you later.”
He tilted
his head, crossed his arms and leaned against the door jam. She suddenly noticed he was dressed, that he actually had clothes on. Sexy clothes. A gym workout pair of joggers hung low on his hips, and a T-shirt cut across his body, showcasing rather than hiding a mound of muscles. His feet slipped into a pair of open-toed sandals. He was relaxed yet primed, waiting.
“Who’s coming here tonight? I thought this was my time?”
“Calm down, tiger, it’s Amy, the woman whose tit you squeezed.” She frowned and raised an eyebrow. “I hope we won’t have a repeat of that?”
“You told me to prove I was there.” A smile tugged at his lips. “And don’t worry, she hasn’t got a patch on you, I like them big and brown. Just like yours.”
“I’m not worried.” The lie spilled out with ease. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go shopping. I’m making a meal tonight.” She paused and looked up at him. “So don’t you ever get hungry or thirsty?”
“No, oddly enough, the only thing my body craves is sex. With you.” He flashed another wink.
She didn’t have a problem with that. And gave him a dirty grin in return.
* * *
Grace pushed the trolley, trying to ignore Breece, who had insisted on coming. Despite the arguments she’d offered, he’d had his way.
Grace wondered why she was such a walk-over, unable to say no.
She watched his sexy ass-swinging swagger as he loped along the aisles. Every so often he’d pause and check what she’d put in the trolley. She cursed when he deliberately stood next to a statuesque blonde and let his eyes rove over her. His approval was obvious; his cock had stiffened and ridged beneath the material of his shorts. Grace felt an insane desire to ram the trolley into his erection, smashing it to pieces.
But realized she’d only be injuring herself.
Instead she tossed her head and stormed past him. Veering around the corner, she almost crashed into Dr. Connell.
He shook his head, his eyes narrowing in lustful appreciation as they dropped to her heaving chest. “Well, well, fancy bumping into you. Doing a bit of shopping?”
“Obviously. It is a supermarket.” She tried to steer past, not interested in a conversation, not even wanting to acknowledge him.
He deliberately stayed in the way and peeked into her trolley. “Making anything nice?”
“Not particularly.” Pushing forward, she attempted to squeeze past. Grace almost squealed when she found his hand drifting along her waist and sliding along the underside of her breast. She slapped him away. “Touch me again and I’ll scream so damn loud you’ll be dragged out of here.”
“Touch her again, you bastard, and I’ll fucking kill you,” Breece said in chilling voice that came from just behind her.
“Leave it there, Breece,” she whispered. The last thing she wanted was him going off in a supermarket. Shit, they’d have ghostbusters racing up.
“The name’s Rory, but I’ll answer to anything you want, even Breece.” He moved towards her, and taking a lock of hair, twirled it in his hand. “How about I come over? We can get to know each other a little better, if you know what I mean. To hell with that idiot of a boyfriend. You need a real man.”
Suddenly Graced felt herself catapulted forward, clinging to her trolley. Seconds before a huge stack of tins collapsed atop Dr. Connell. His arms flailed, and his screams resonated. Grace tried to stifle a laugh, until she happened to glance up at Breece.
The absolute fury in his face frightened her. Childish prank or no, Dr. Connell could have been hurt.
She had a feeling he wanted to do a lot more to him.
“Breece?”
He flashed a murderous glare at the man on the floor, then with a brief nod trod towards her, the anger that had coursed through him subsiding. It had shaken him, the white hot intensity of the emotion that had racked his body. He’d been consumed with a possessive rage at the sight of that man coming onto her, touching her. How the hell was he going to cope with Sage fucking her?
“You got everything?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, are you okay?” Without thinking she cupped his face, worried.
* * *
Dr Rory Connell staggered to his feet and frowned. He wasn’t hurt physically, but his pride was damaged. He squinted, slapping at a well-meaning helping hand. From where he stood, Grace looked as if she was speaking to someone, touching him or her. Her head was tilted with concern. Whatever was up, he was going to find out.
Those tins hadn’t simply fallen of their own accord.
Chapter Eleven
“You were pretty angry back there.” Grace took a sip of wine and continued stirring the mince. Breece sat perched on a stool, watching her.
“Yep, I was.” He refused to be drawn out. His reaction had him confused and he tried to assess the reason for his loss of control. Yet every thought came back to Grace, to protecting her. He felt an overwhelming need to be there for her. Always.
“I can’t stand the man.” She added some mushrooms and onions, followed by a deluge of diced chillies. “None of the nurses can. He’s a creep.”
“What did he do?”
She paused mid-stir. “What?”
“Where did he touch you?”
Until now they hadn’t spoken about it. Grace had pretended it hadn’t happened and he had gone along with her subterfuge so that his temper wouldn’t flare up again. The actual fury that had fired through him had scared him. He’d never experienced such an intense emotion in his life. He wondered if it was because he was dead. Maybe ghosts experienced stronger emotions. Yet somehow he doubted it.
This woman screwed with his self-control, left it in tatters. And yet nothing was contrived. Maybe that was the attraction, the strong draw. Her honest nature. Aw, fuck! He didn’t know. But he did know he’d take out anyone who hurt her.
“It doesn’t matter,” Grace said. “It’s over, now behave.” She turned to add tomatoes, and continued to blend everything together. The cooking was therapeutic, a type of cleansing. Grace tried not to grin. Anyone would swear she’d been raped instead of given a quick grope in a supermarket between the tinned aisle and the cereal section.
“What does lover boy say about that twat?” Breece wasn’t happy. He was still fighting his barely contained fury. And it was all focused on the randy doctor. On Monday he was going to go to work with her. Let him say one word out of place, put just the one hand where it shouldn’t go ….
Then the lecherous bastard was going to have an education.
“Sage doesn’t say anything. I haven’t told him, and besides, I can take care of myself.” She knocked the chilli off, took a final taste, almost held a spoon out to Breece, and then remembered he was dead.
She sighed. This was getting more and more difficult.
“Your man should take care of you,” Breece growled, “and if that fucker won’t, I will.”
Grace shivered and glanced up. A definite chill was in the air. She looked for Breece, but he’d disappeared.
Only a cold emptiness remained.
At spot on seven thirty, Amy knocked on the door. Grace pulled it open, “Why didn’t you just walk in?”
“I’m polite.”
“Bullshit,” she laughed and closed it. “Help yourself to a glass of wine and pour me one?”
Amy glanced around. “Where is he?”
“Pouting, having a childish tantrum.”
“Fuck off, Grace, I’m not.” His voice resonated through the room.
“Oh, so you’ve decided to come back?”
“I’ve never left, just decided to fade.”
“You can do that?” She didn’t like that piece of information. It meant all the cards were stacked in his corner. He could hover and observe without her knowing he was there. She could always sense when he was close … unless he’d decided to fade.
“Yep,” he said, “apparently. Just found it out.” He gradually came back into focus.
Grace shook her head. He was stretched out on
the sofa looking at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head.
“Amy, that’s Breece.” She pointed at the sofa. “And before you ask for reassurance that he’s a ghost …” she tossed him a glare, “no clutching of tits or nipples. You got that?”
“That sounds like jealousy,” he said with a grin.
“That’s called not sharing. If you dabble, you will be done with me.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Got it?”
“Loud and clear, baby.” His wicked laughter echoed about the room. “So what about Sage?”
“That’s different. We’ve already discussed the situation.”
Amy grinned and turned to the empty chair. “It’s nice to meet you again, Breece.” She dropped the large carrier bag she toted.
“I told you, he’s on the settee, looking at you and laughing.” Grace raised her brows.
Amy turned without a flinch and ran her hand along the sofa, seeking him and the afterlife she craved.
“Yep, he’s there,” said Grace. Then happened to glance at her bag. “Please don’t tell me that’s what I think it is.”
Amy grinned. “Thought, as it’s a ghost of a night, to fetch along a bit of extra. The tool that brought him through. Except this time, you don’t ask them to prove themselves. Okay?”
“Whoa, I don’t want you doing this,” Breece said, sitting up suddenly and deadly serious.
“You don’t have a choice,” said Grace, and turned to Amy. “We’ll try it after dinner?”
“Yep, then it will be time to play.” Amy poured herself a glass of wine.
Breece glowered at her. He was alternately fading and appearing, and guessed his anger and frustration had something to do with it.
“Guess who I bumped into while shopping?” Grace said, and without waiting for a reply, answered herself. “Randy Rory.” She placed the bowls of steaming chilli and rice down on the table.
“Oh my goodness, not Dr. Connell? Did he speak to you?” Amy took a heaping spoonful and blew on it.
“Yep, and tried his usual.” Grace glanced over to where Breece had been, although he’d faded again.
