A Ghost of an Affair

by Ellen March

  With a mighty effort, Breece tried to hold back the pain he felt, for her sake. He couldn’t begin to reveal his true state of mind to her. How he felt twisted and mangled, his intestines dragged through a shredding machine. How could he reassure her, make it better, make her want to live?

  “We’ve got tonight, baby, and then ….” He couldn’t say the words, not when she was weeping silently. No more gut-wrenching sobs. Simply ineffable and absolute despair.

  “No, Breece, I won’t let this happen. It can’t.” She clung to him, her eyes wild. “You’re mine, I’m yours, we’re meant to be!”

  “Yes, baby. Look at this as a break, a short break before we’re back together.” He didn’t believe his own words for one minute. But if the lies soothed her, helped her stay alive, he’d say them. “But I need to ask you … no, not ask, tell you ….” His voice broke.

  She waited, her black eyes fathomless wells of despair.

  “When I’ve gone, much as I detest the twat …. Please, Grace, I want you to live.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When I’m gone, I want ….” He paused. “I want you to have someone to look after you.”

  “I can do that myself.”

  “No, you can’t.” He lifted her face so she was looking up to him. “I want you to experience life, to live it fully. When I’ve gone, I mean after tomorrow.” He closed his eyes, stumbling over the words and damning the tears that weakened his manhood, insisted on breaking through. “I want you to forget me, forget the ghost you loved.” He stopped, his voice breaking. “I want you to continue your relationship with Sage.”

  “Are you for fucking real?”

  “He loves you, Grace. If I hadn’t appeared and he’d said that, by now you’d be ordering your trousseaux.”

  She didn’t say anything. What he said was true. She’d have carried on, praying that he’d eventually turn into the man of her dreams. And continue trying to be the woman he wanted.

  “But I can’t stand him anymore.”

  “You did at one point give him a chance. I just want to know that you’re safe.” He couldn’t believe he was asking her to stay with him—Mister Once-a-Week-on-Saturday-Nights. He was ashamed of his ulterior motives, his selfishness. It suited him that Sage wouldn’t be giving her what they’d experienced.

  “Breece, I’m not going to settle for Sage, ever again. I can’t let you go, not now, not ever.” She turned into him, burying her head in his chest. “When you go, so will I.”

  “Don’t ever think that!” Now he spoke in anger. “I’m dead! I’ve lived my time. It’s fate. But Grace, you’re not finished yet. And don’t you ever think of taking your life before your time.”

  “Why not?” she screamed at him, suddenly grasping the notion that she was seeing him for the last time. That this was their final night together. Anger surged through her. “Breece, if the only way we can be together is for me to die too, then trust me, it’s the only option.”

  She threw herself against him, pouring her emotions into every stroke and kiss.

  Breece pulled her away. He wanted to shake her. “Grace, you will stay alive! I don’t want any arguments. I want to make love to you. I want to hold you. To make this time together count.” His arms snaked around her. They were both quivering and shaking. “Whatever comes, never doubt my love for you, not ever, baby.”

  Her fingers swarmed and skated over every inch of his body. “Take me to bed,” she told him. “Fuck me senseless! But trust me, sweetheart, you’re never leaving me—I don’t care what your friend says.” She reached up and bit down on his earlobe, thrusting her tongue deep inside his ear. “Take what I’m going to give you, because we’re not parting, not ever! At eight I’ll be with you. Wherever you go, I’m going too.”

  Grace felt Breece scoop her up, still amazed that he did it with such ease, not a humpth or a grumpth. She looped his arms around his neck, and while her stomach roiled in grief, her clit clawed with sexual tension, the bittersweet agony of desire.

  She kept her unwavering gaze on him. He was her Adonis, her love, and he wasn’t going anywhere. At five past eight he would still be with her. She couldn’t allow the fact that he was leaving to infiltrate her thoughts. It would ruin what time they had together, send her skidding on a suicidal slide.

  Together they slid into bed, suddenly awkward, like virgins on their wedding night. Doubt tainted them. Their actions were slow and languid, their gazes fused, each one encouraging the other in wonderment. Knowing this was their last time together, they savoured the sensations as never before—the softness of skin, the hardness of muscle.

  Breece saw how her black eyes remained dry and knew she was holding back for him. He wished he could do the same. He blinked back his own tears, determined not to show her how he hurt. He needed to be strong for her, to be her rock.

  Reverently his hands caressed her body, moving with unhurried ease, committing every dip, curve, and bump to memory. The way her belly curved, smooth and soft, the delicious swell of her wide hips. And down to her full furry minge that lay as dark as any forest, inviting him to explore. His fingers snuck across soft petals to her folds. He edged a finger deep inside, pushing and teasing.

  Grace lay on her back, gazing steadily at him, unable to look away. She loved every part of him but was sad that his wicked smile was gone. There was no sign of his cheeky humour. The eyes that usually drizzled hot chocolate were now splintered, dark chips.

  She ran her fingers over his muscled chest, wandering down, searching for a different path. One she knew he wanted her to revisit, over and over. She would drive him wild so that he would never forget her.

  Sadness ate into her heart. She knew she could lie there and do nothing, that he would still love her the way she loved him.

  Her eyes dropped to his cock and she clasped it in her hands. Her hand looked so small holding his shaft, which instantly came to life, thrusting into her palm.

  He smiled. “Lazy love, baby?”

  “Lazy love, sweetheart, all night and into the morning.” She gripped the back of his head, twisting her fingers into his overlong hair. It was soft and silky like his cock. “You up to it?”

  “Try and stop me.” His lips smashed over hers, no longer tentative and questioning. Harsh, demanding, he pushed into her mouth, thrusting his tongue inside. He needed to taste her, to feel her response as she sucked him back.

  His fingers continued to push into her, across her clit, and she arched against him in response. He covered her now, sliding his big body over and nudging her thighs apart. They didn’t break their kiss, and their eyes remained open. Reading each other’s thoughts, they ignited in a flame of love, lust, and devotion.

  Breece bent her knees, and holding them by the shins, swept them to the side to leave her wide open. He broke their kiss, but not the contact.

  “I want you to look down, baby, to see my cock impaling you. To watch it fuck you.” His arms bulged and strained as he pulled her to the edge of the bed and glanced down. “You like what you see?”

  Grace nodded. Her hands fused to his hips, she stared in fascination as his dewy cock, coated by her juices, disappeared inch by succulent inch deep inside her. She couldn’t believe how she could take him. She closed her eyes briefly, but they flew open again as he took her to the edge. She grunted as he slammed into her, and leaning forward, retook her mouth, claiming her, fucking her hard. Her hands gripped his buttocks, the muscles taut beneath her palms. He thrust in deep, slamming in so that his balls slapped against her.

  All the while he kissed and sucked at her mouth. Leaving her lips only to whisper sweet loving words. But his tenderness was her undoing. Her orgasm blew and she screamed into him. Against him, against God, against the forces of fate that were stealing her man away from her.

  Breece held her tight, his climax following close behind. He thundered into her writhing body, his hips smashing against hers. Holding his forehead against hers, he tried to comfort her
as she sobbed. “Shhh, baby, it will work out. You’ll see.”

  “How? Tell me, Breece! Because I sure to hell don’t know how. I never believed in ghosts till I met you.” She sniffed and sniffled, swiping at her tears, but still revelling in the feel of him, deep inside her. He hadn’t gone down. His prick was as hard as it had been before he’d come. “Can you promise me you’ll come back? That we’ll be together?”

  Slowly he shook his head; he couldn’t lie to her. “I don’t know, but if there’s a way, I’ll come back to you.”

  All through the night, Breece made love the lazy way, his way. Grace at one point thought he could write a book on sex—forget tantric, do it the Denson Way. She clung to him, thinking that if she clung hard enough, he wouldn’t be able to leave her.

  But eventually early morning banished the night, and a shaft of light blazed into the room.

  It was dawn, a scant few hours from the time he’d be snatched from her. They’d made love in every possible position. A blush stole over her as she thought how she’d fucked his ass with her fingers while she sucked his cock, taking him deep. Then the heat in her cheeks increased as she remembered how he’d muff-dived, his finger pleasuring her ass, treating her to such exquisite torture.

  She had pleaded for more.

  Breece lay on his back. He wanted to ask her a question but was unsure how she’d take it, how she’d receive his request in light of the situation. He shifted about, restless, his nerves on edge.

  “What’s up?” She lay with her head on his chest and could feel his hair tickle against her cheek.

  “I want to ask you something.”

  Her heart lurched, her first thought he wanted to marry her. But of course that couldn’t be it; their parting was imminent, inevitable. But she was sure it had to do with some sort of commitment. He’d promised to come back—if he could—and she clung to that thought. Otherwise she’d go insane.

  “Go ahead,” she said and swallowed hard. She knew he loved her, so what else could he say? Why was he so on edge?

  He took her hand, linked fingers with hers, and took a deep breath.

  “You ever done anal?”

  She blinked, wondering if she’d heard right. They were both devastated at their parting, had fucked all night and sworn undying love. And he was asking if he could fuck her ass?

  “Why?”

  “Thought we could try it.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. Hell, this was turning seriously weird. “It’s what you really want?”

  “Wouldn’t say no. After eight we’ve had it, so to speak.” His attempt at humour went over like a lead balloon.

  “Glad to see you find this situation funny. Maybe you’re glad that you’re moving on. Is that it?” She flung her hair over her shoulder and made as if to rise but found herself catapulted onto her back.

  “Don’t ever fucking say that,” he said. “Don’t even think it!” He was deadly serious now. “I love you so goddamn much, it’s tearing me apart. I told you I’ll be back if there’s any possible way.” He cupped her quivering chin. “The only woman I want is you.” Leaning forward, he kissed her with a slow, deliberate ease, a kiss full of tenderness and longing.

  “Breece, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. It’s just that ….”

  He swept her into his arms, holding her, licking at the tears that coursed down her face. He tried to take her mind off what was to come, desperately trying to reduce the sting, the horror of their parting.

  “And the answer is?”

  “What?” She peered up through a glaze of mist.

  “Anal?”

  She couldn’t stop the sinful grin. Only Breece would be concerned about having every kind of sex possible at a time like this. But perhaps that was the point. He would own every inch of her. “You want it with me?”

  He nodded.

  She shrugged. “What the hell, you might as well before we, before we …. Oh shit, just do it.” And tried to resist the next assault of misery that scaled her walls.

  Breece didn’t say anything. Under normal circumstances he would have. Instead, he reached for the lube he’d found in the bathroom. That was what had given him the idea. “Turn over, on all fours.”

  At once she obeyed, checking her watch. No much time remained. She flinched as he creamed her ass, anointed it in awed reverence with oil. His body spooned over her. His cock was already hard, and his hand was gliding over her tits, turning her nipples into tiny popsicles.

  He dipped further, along her belly and further, snatching between the glorious pubes that he loved. A gardener’s delight—a full bush of lusty surprises. And all the while he nipped at her shoulder, rubbing his cock between her legs. It snaked in on a smooth river of need. He waited for her hips to churn.

  As soon as he felt her response, he slowly nudged against her star, his breath whispering against her throat. “When I say push back, it will hurt, but baby, you’ll be fine once I’m deep inside you.”

  “Why do I get the feeling this is all one way?” she muttered, loving his strokes against her clit, the way her tits were connected on a line to her fanny. As he tweaked and snatched, an electric current ran through her body. From fanny to tits, it zipped back and forth.

  He held her hips tight, pushed forward—Christ, she was tight—and plundered her, thrusting hard. “Push out,” he told her. Her ring was rigid, allowing no access.

  She did as she was told and he delved in, his cock a thief of the night, diving past the sentry. He squeezed forward—encouraged by the fact that her groaning had stopped—and pushed home.

  “God, Breece, that hurt!” she yelled, but then she realized she was getting used to his cock filling and stretching her ass while his fingers continued to taunt her clit.

  “No more, baby. Now I fuck you!” He held her tight, his hips moving and surging against her ass. “God, you’re so tight, baby, I could come now.”

  Grace closed her eyes at this latest assault, amazed by the pleasure he was giving her. It was strange, but she loved it. “Harder,” she breathed, grunting when he answered with a deep thrust and a sharp bite to her throat. “Oh shit, that’s it, don’t stop, don’t ….”

  She arched her back. An orgasm was brewing deep in her core. It whirled and burned, a hot eddy stoking the bottom of the ocean. Grace exploded, crying out his name as Breece came with the force of a jet stream. His spunk flew out of him, smashing into her ass, and his hand dripped with her come. He put his fingers to his lips, slowly sucking and slurping each one.

  He wanted to take her taste with him, along with the memories.

  The hours had passed in a rush of sexual bliss, and now she was curved into him as the appointed time approached. It was almost eight, with only minutes to spare.

  Breece glanced over. There was Frank, tapping his foot.

  He tapped his fob, waiting.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Grace, I want you to listen to me.” Breece’s voice was quiet; she was still recovering from her latest orgasm. Forgetful of the time, of everything, except Breece and his deliciously satisfying cock.

  “I want you to lie still, your hands on the bed and your eyes closed.”

  Her eyes flew to his and fear clouded her vision. Her hand cupped his chin with frantic urgency. “Why?” Her heart hammered in her chest as if trying to escape. She knew the answer; it was time for him to go. Yet she couldn’t accept it.

  “Baby, listen to me. We haven’t got long.” A single solitary tear rolled down his cheek. He didn’t try to stop it. “Please?”

  Grace stared up at him, her eyes roaming his face, wishing she had photos to remember him by, a lifetime of happy, normal memories instead of just this brief though amazing time together. Then she nodded. His lips covered hers, so soft, as though a butterfly’s wing dusted over them

  His words whispered over her, “I love you, Grace McGillis. Somehow, some way, I’ll find my way back to you. Forget what I said about Sage. Don’t waste your life on that twat.” H
e flinched, felt a stab of pain. He was already fading. “Wait for me, you hear? Wait for me, because I’m so in love I can’t exist in any form without you.”

  “I love you, Breece. I’ll wait … as long as it takes.”

  “Grace.” Her name was borne on a whisper, vanishing into an eerie silence.

  She opened her eyes to a lifetime of misery.

  He was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It had been two weeks since Breece had left her. And for every minute that had dragged into hours following into long lonely days, Grace dropped deeper into abject misery. Even after fourteen days and six hours her tears hadn’t abated.

  They appeared at the oddest moments.

  Any little notion could remind her of Breece, and she’d well up. A whisper of a breeze would stroke her arm and she would hold her breath, convinced it was him.

  She couldn’t think, she couldn’t eat, and she couldn’t live. She didn’t want to.

  Not without Breece.

  She served time at work like a robot; even Amy worried about her. The only plus side was that randy Rory was off on long term sick. Depression and a nervous condition were the reasons provided on his notes.

  Sage didn’t give up. He continued his ineffectual attempts to get her to change her mind. The only thing that pleased him was the amount of weight she’d lost. He was convinced she was purposely slimming down in readiness for their wedding.

  Although he had to admit it: she hadn’t said yes to his proposal. Hell, she was all but ignoring him. The hurdle he had to jump was getting her to agree to go out with him again. But he’d keep at it; confidence was his middle name.

  * * *

  “Grace, you’ve got to stop moping about Breece,” advised Amy, her face lined with worry. She felt as if she was staring at an impostor. Gone was her friend’s ready laugh, her raucous giggles and wicked wit. Grace was a shadow of the person she’d known.

  “I can’t,” Grace insisted. “I need him as much as I need air to breathe.” Grace held a hand to her stomach. Since he’d left she’d suffered from a constant headache and sickly stomach that alternated between stabbing pains and nausea. Either way it stopped her eating. Which was worrying in itself. Not even her favourite chocolate biscuit could tempt her.