by Ellen March
“Because … You … Ruined … Them.” He said the words slowly, as if explaining something to a child.
She didn’t utter a word; she couldn’t. She struggled to swallow her temper, debating whether to wrap the iron around his head. She once again began to wonder why she put up with his shit. He truly annoyed her, irritated her to the very core.
He flashed her a smile. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Then paused and checked one of his shirts. Slowly, deliberately, he examined it. “This needs to be done again. It’s got a few creases. We can’t have that, can we?”
“No, we certainly can’t!” She ground her teeth whilst gripping the iron in a death hold.
“Good. Well, think I’ll just ring Bob. Got to sort out our game tomorrow, then I’m heading for a shower.” He turned to leave, but came to a stop and pivoted about. “Don’t forget that whatever you make for food has to be light and healthy.” His mobile rang, and he dragged it out of his deep pocket. “Hi Bob, was just going to ring you.” With the phone stuck to his ear, he sauntered up the stairs.
Grace stared at the shirt. Then, reaching up, she tore it off the hanger, screwed it into a ball, and flung it onto the floor. She jumped all over it, stamping her feet and grinding it with her heels.
“Had a bad day?” Breece appeared beside her, wearing a bad-assed grin.
“Don’t go there.” She slumped down into a chair. “I am never, ever doing this again.”
Breece stood behind her and massaged her shoulders. “How does this feel?”
“Mmm, that’s lush. Ah yes, that’s exactly the spot. Just there … ooh … harder.”
“I’m not making love to you now.” His tone was teasing.
“Breece, you are the perfect lover. You give me everything I want.” She purred into his hands like a cat. A flurry of shivers passed over her as his lips nuzzled her throat.
“I’m glad you approve.” He licked her throat, tasting the saltiness of perspiration. “Mind if I wash you later, in the shower?”
She paused. It didn’t seem right, screwing Breece hours before Sage. And shook her head. “I can’t, just this one night. Please, Breece, can you understand?”
“No, I can’t.” His fingers dug in hard. She winced and yelped. “Sorry.” He instantly eased up. “Do you use protection with him?”
“Yes, why?” She grasped his hand and held it to her mouth, gently kissing his knuckles. Grace heard his sharp intake of breath.
“It makes me feel better to know that his cock isn’t on your skin, rubbing into you, making you come like you do with me.”
She pressed another kiss on his knuckles. “What would you say if I told you I’ve never come with him?”
He ceased his massaging, his one hand falling still. “What?”
“It’s true. He thrusts in ten times, and that’s it. He’s made an appointment for me to see the psychiatrist, but I think he’s the one who needs to see a shrink.”
“Why?” He still didn’t move. His heart slammed into his chest. Breece didn’t like the idea of Sage inside her, full stop. But … she’d never come with him?
“Because he’s got a thing for the number ten. At ten o’clock we have sex, and he comes on the tenth thrust. And on Monday my meeting with the shrink is at ten.”
“Will he be going with you?”
She shook her head. “Can’t see it. He’s busy, but no doubt he’ll still want the report.”
“Can I share a shower with you? I promise to keep my cock to myself.”
“I’ll think on it.” She was more worried about her own reaction; this man could twist her inside out. “And, Breece, please don’t come into the bedroom tonight.”
“I’ll think on it,” he echoed.
* * *
When the ironing was finally complete, Grace threw a salad together and left it to chill in the fridge. Wisely Sage for once kept quiet when he saw his crumpled shirt still on the floor. But in collecting it, he shot her a withering glare and packed it away in his car. He had an early start in the morning.
He inspected the fridge. “What’s going with the salad?”
“You decide. I’m going for a shower.” Giving him no chance to respond, she turned on her heels. She was hot, sweaty, and in a foul temper. She didn’t know what she wanted.
Yes, she did. Breece.
But he was dead.
She couldn’t build a relationship with a ghost. What prospects did they have? Apart from sex, they had nothing in common. Not that she had anything in common with Sage. He was a twat, an egotistical bastard, but he was good-looking and more importantly, alive. She continued the debate in her mind, but it gave her a headache. Tentacles banded around her head, squeezing in. She tried to switch off, but for the first time ever dreaded the coming night.
She wondered where Breece was. Probably out on a haunting. She tried not to grin. Most partners might be out playing golf, walking, or reading. Any number of possibilities came to mind. But with Breece, she could only see him haunting … when he wasn’t making love to her.
She stripped and flicked the shower on. She couldn’t wait to wash the stench from her body, which reeked of stale perspiration. She checked beneath her tits and noticed the familiar red sweat rash.
“Mind if I wash your back?”
“Shit, Breece, I wish you’d stop sneaking up on me like that. You’ll give me a bloody heart attack.” She clutched her throat in mock despair. Her heart hammered in her chest, but for all the wrong reasons.
“Maybe that would be for a good thing. You could join me then, forever.” His words, so softly spoken, skated over her, and for the first time ever Grace wasn’t afraid of death. Not if Breece waited for her.
“Forever is a long time. You’d soon be fed up with me.” She tried not to tremble as his hands soaped her shoulders.
Breece didn’t answer, because he knew he wouldn’t. What he’d give to be alive, to be more than a ghost! Hell, he’d sell his soul if it meant having Grace in his life.
Forever.
He ran his hands through her hair, and adding a splodge of shampoo began to wash it. “Don’t ever cut this, Grace.”
She leaned back against him. His hands were creating a wicked magic. “I won’t. I like it long.”
He rinsed it clear. “Turn around.”
Automatically she obeyed, and her eyes strayed to his cock, which was as usual up and ready for business. It glistened beneath the sheen of water spraying over it. Once his hands touched her chest, she couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped, but she clenched her hands tight, determined not to give in.
Breece could see the conflicting emotions skimming across her face. His hands caressed each tit, noticing the red marks below. “What’s this, baby?”
“A sweat rash. Ah, the joy of big tits! It stings a bit in the water.”
He nodded, and with infinite gentleness soaped each tit, his hands palming them in turn, weighing, flicking his thumbs across the nipples. His concern centred on her, on taking the pain away.
She arched into him, greedy for his mouth, his tongue, and trembled at the graze of his teeth nipping lightly. She leaned against the cold tiles, closing her eyes. Maybe if she couldn’t see his beautiful face she wouldn’t be tempted. He barely touched her, his fingers only dusting over her, and yet she felt on fire. They dipped into her waist, over wide hips, snaking down behind, caressing and cupping her ass.
“Breece, shit! Will you stop it?”
He leaned into her. His tongue flitted across her lips, tasting her, pushing inside. The kiss claimed her mouth as he took, demanded, invited himself in, and plundered her soul. His cock pressed into her stomach, and her hands slipped over him of their own volition.
She couldn’t not touch him, not give in to the need to run her hands over every delectable inch. She squeezed his buttocks; he had a beautiful ass, peach-shaped and hard. She groaned when his kiss became harder, almost frenzied, and then stopped. He pulled away, gasping, panting.
L
eaning his forehead against hers, he said in hoarse voice, “I can’t do this, Grace.”
“What?” For one horrible second she thought he meant he didn’t want her.
“I can’t touch you and not make love to you, baby. All I can think about is giving you this.” He took her hand and placed it on his cock.
Grace opened her thighs and guided him to her. Then, raising her one leg, she hooked it around his hip and thrust him into her. “Breece, take me hard, I need you.”
She threw her head back and whimpered aloud as he clasped her hips. Holding her one leg high, he dipped his knees and slammed up.
“When he’s having sex with you tonight, think of this, think of how I feel, what I do, how I make you come.” He thrashed his hips against hers, and with a punishing drive, plunged into her. Biting down on her neck, he sucked with a fury till she came.
Chapter Fifteen
Sage closed the book he’d been reading. And checked the time. Grace, he noticed, appeared engrossed in some reality programme on TV that disgusted him. Full of self-important narcissists who enjoyed playing up to the cameras, exposing themselves to the voyeurs watching from their homes. He wished she’d show a bit more interest in real culture, not the pop kind. The only time he’d seen her read, it was a trashy magazine full of gossip.
He needed to educate her, push her in the right direction. If he decided to marry her, she’d need a lot of work. The type of woman he wanted as a wife had to be the epitome of elegance and good taste, just like him. He would need to mould her, show her what pleased him.
Sage did wonder if she was worth the trouble. Yet the fact that she was biddable suited him.
“Come along, Grace, it’s time for bed.”
She nodded and flicked off the remote, relieved that Breece had done another disappearing act. She collected her obscenity of a nightdress and changed in the bathroom.
As she lay in bed waiting, the sheet turned to its usual forty-five degree angle, Grace wondered if Sage measured it with a ruler. The bathroom door opened then closed with a thud. The condom and the tissues sat on the side table. The bed dipped as Sage joined her in the darkness, the only noise being the crinkle of the plastic as he opened the condom. No words were spoken. It was almost Victorian, the way they went at it.
Then her thoughts switched to Breece and she felt damp.
He spoke the two words with all the intimacy of a drill sergeant. “Open wide.”
She did as he asked, feeling like a lump of meat waiting for seasoning, except that the meat benefitted more than she did. At least with him. Suddenly she saw a pale blue aura, and Breece appeared, his faced contorted with anger. Yet he remained where he was. Leaning against the wall, watching.
She closed her eyes, not wanting to see him, mentally counting the six seconds he took to fill her. Sage began his regular thrusts.
Breece began counting, “One, two, three ….” out loud.
Her eyes flew open. “Will you stop that!”
Sage faltered. “What?”
“Sorry, not you,” she said without thinking.
“Grace, you’ve made me lose where I was. Now I’ve got to start all over again.” He settled into his rhythm once more. “Please concentrate and don’t speak.”
“Seven, eight, nine,” there was a hitch in Breece’s deep voice, “ten.” He couldn’t believe what he’d just seen, couldn’t believe he hadn’t decked the twat, but knew he had to abide by her rules.
The side light flicked on, and Sage meticulously pulled the condom off and cleaned himself with the tissue from the box besides the bed. He reminded Breece of a baboon grooming himself. Grace shot him another reproachful glare, her nightdress already down, it covered every inch of her. While he thought it ugly, he approved.
Sage thumped each of his three pillows and turned his back with a brief goodnight thrown in. He flicked the light back off. Breece waited. He knew she’d be coming to him, but not for sex. He hadn’t missed the threat in her black eyes. Already he’d discovered they’d turn that colour when she was hot or angry.
A few minutes passed, and as expected, she slipped out of bed, headed to the door, and quietly opened it. Sage already breathed deeply, having fallen into a comatose sleep almost at once.
* * *
Grace was furious. She couldn’t believe he’d had the audacity to stand there and watch while she got fucked.
Since Breece’s cock had made its appearance, she’d realized that she’d never had it so good. Hadn’t known what she’d been missing.
She stormed down the stairs, almost going ass over tit when she tripped, catching her foot in the hem. She fell forward. And smothered a scream when a pair of arms caught her, stopped her from tumbling down the entire staircase.
“For Christ’s sake, Grace, look what you’re doing!” Breece could smell Sage on her and immediately released her.
“Shut the hell up and come with me.” She hauled her nightie up and continued her tirade, marching into the kitchen. She spun on him, spitting furious. “Just what part of ‘don’t come in there’ didn’t you understand?” She jabbed her finger at him, hitting his chest.
“I said I’d consider it, and I did. I wanted to see what was so special about him. Why you insist on staying with him.”
“You had no right to be there. And to actually count!” A flush suffused her face, a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
“Grace, I can’t work out why you remain with the guy. Hell, he can’t even make love; he’s got to count each thrust. He doesn’t care about you, your needs, or if you come.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
He scrubbed a furious hand through his hair. It was too long and ended up looking like he’d just got out from bed, tousled and sexy. “Well, leave him!”
“Why? So I can stay with you? You’re dead, Breece.”
“Must you forever remind me?” Frustration rolled over him. “You don’t need him, baby. He’s not good enough for you.”
“And you are?” She was still spitting.
“At least I can make you come,” he said with conviction. “Can you say the same for him?”
“No, I told you that. Which is why I’m willing to share. You give me what I adore, whilst Sage … well, he’s alive.”
“Leave him. He’ll never make you happy.” He took her by the shoulders, forcing her to face her issues.
“Oh, and you’d know that.”
“I saw him fuck you. He was pathetic. He might just as well have been humping a corpse. Come on, Grace, tell me what you felt?”
“No.” she hung her head.
“You will,” he insisted.
“What do you want, the gory details or just a general summary?”
“Shut up, Grace, I don’t appreciate sarcasm.”
“Well, don’t act like a dickhead.” She paused. “You want to know what I feel, what I experience when Sage sticks his cock in me?”
He nodded. His veins stood out in his neck, the only sign of stress.
“Nothing! His body moves over me, and I feel like a receptacle for his needs. There’s no foreplay, no fun, no talk, just … nothing.” Her voice broke as she thought of their Saturday night jump. “He seeks out his own gratification without bothering to give anything in return, which is why I never come.” She hesitated and finally looked at him. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Breece shook his head. “Yes … and no. I’m still confused why you would put up with that. I’m glad you don’t feel the same way you do with me, yet I’m sad for you.”
She dragged in a ragged breath. “It doesn’t matter. We’re together for fucking—nothing more.”
“Why don’t you kick the asshole into touch?”
“What? And then there’d be just the two of us? Happy horny ghost and randy human?”
“Put like that, I don’t see a problem.”
“Breece, see it for what it is. Will you age? I doubt it, but I will. If I give up on Sage and stay solely with you
, what do I get? No life, no meals out, no children if I decide I want any. I get nothing.” She burst into tears with the suddenness of a cannon shot.
Breece grasped her shoulders and held her to him. Her head lay against his chest, along with her hands clenched into fists and clutching his T-shirt. “Breece, can you imagine thirty, forty years down the line. Will you still want to fuck me when I need a Zimmer frame to walk?” She sobbed against his chest, thumping her fists against him. “I can’t handle that! As each year passes, everyone would assume I was a lonely old spinster. And all the while I’m aging, you’re staying the same, always young in body and mind. Whilst all you get with me is incontinence and senility.” She collapsed against him, unaware of the smile that tugged at his lips.
He kissed the top of her head. “Grace, baby, you could die tomorrow, next week, next year. Why do you think you’re going to live until old age?”
“What if I do? Breece, you’ve got to understand: we can’t be together. It’s for a short while only. I need someone alive!” Suddenly she reared back and pummelled his chest with her small fists. “Why can’t you be that?” she sobbed. The pain was eating into her—the reality that they couldn’t stay together—and the bitter frustration was making her lash out.
Breece pulled her to him and she collapsed against him. Her tears didn’t drip; they raced out, streaming down her pale cheeks “Why can’t you be alive? Why did I have to meet you now when it’s too late? Oh God, Breece, just hold me, please?”
Breece gripped her tight, cradling her in his strength; he couldn’t speak, because if he did he would be as tearful as Grace. He let loose a ragged sigh because he knew she was right and could fully understand her pain.
And he hurt big-style. He wanted to stay with her so much, the pain was physical. She gave and showed him what he’d always wanted, yet it had come too fucking late.
He had to admit that life was two things—one, a bitch, and the other, it sucked.
Now death had given him a teaser of what he’d secretly wanted when he was alive, what he’d only dreamed about before life had been snatched away from him years ago. All that remained to them now was enjoying their short time together before parting. The thought ate into his soul, and he knew with certainty that he would never want to leave her.
