Abernathy Manor, Williamsburg, Virginia
Friday, 9:09 p.m. Daylight Saving Time
ASH COULD BE the death of her. Figuratively and literally.
“I told you,” Grandma whispered in Ivy’s head as she and Ash walked with the others taking the ghost tour. “He ain’t right in the head.”
Why, because he decided he wants me after only knowing me for less than a day?
“It’s not that, honey.” Grandma sighed. “What kind of man tells you he’ll make sure you can’t run from him?”
That’s not what he said.
“Then what did he mean by ‘only death will separate us’?” Grandma asked.
At that moment, Ash took her hand in his. “Scared?”
“He ain’t right,” Grandma repeated. “He’s moving too quickly and saying all the right and wrong things. Why aren’t you worried? Are you that desperate?”
Ivy wasn’t desperate. While she was ready to settle down and find a man she could marry, that wasn’t her ultimate goal. Yes, it had—at one time—been part of her five-year plan. But that plan had been made nearly ten years ago, after she’d graduated college. So much had changed since then. She’d lost loved ones to death, had moved a few times and had reinvented herself as she’d settled in each new city. And while she wasn’t desperate, a muffled alarm rang in her head. Ash was dangerous, it told her.
I don’t care.
“He could do more than burn you.”
After hitting her internal alarm’s snooze button and telling Grandma to shut up and leave her alone, she moved closer to Ash. “My mom, grandma and brother rest side by side, next to my dad and grandpa’s empty coffins. So I’m not a fan of cemeteries, but they don’t scare me.”
“Again, I’m sorry you lost your brother.”
“I miss him,” she said, remembering Reed’s smiling face. “He talked like you. We always swore that no matter what happened with our parents, it’d always be us. He’d have my back, and I’d have his.”
“How is that similar to what I’ve said to you?”
“You talk in extremes. Reed used to, as well. The thing is, I went along with him and believed what he believed. We’d always be together.”
Ash stopped her and let the other tourists pass them. “Are you just going along with me now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you just going along with me, or do you actually want to be with me?”
A cloud crossed the moon, blocking out its light and making it difficult to read his eyes. “I want to be with you. What I meant about Reed was that he and I stuck together.”
His warm hands cupped her cheeks. “That’s what I want.”
“Run, honey,” Grandma urged her. “Run as fast as you can. He’s a fire you can’t tame.”
She didn’t want to tame him. She wanted him to make her wild with desire. He had her not caring that he was…different. After spending over two years working from her rental, occasionally dating boring men and having no luck making friends, she was looking for a change.
“I want me and you,” he continued. “I envy your relationship with Reed and wish I’d had a brother or sister. Someone who’d always be there for me.” He kissed her. “I’m sorry, baby.”
Her eyes misted and her throat tightened. She usually buried her grief, and not wanting to ruin the night, she would now. “Thank you.”
“I can’t see your tears,” he murmured, his mouth close to hers. “They’re hot against my fingers. I didn’t intend to make you cry.”
She hooked her arm through his. “I know. Don’t worry about it. In one day we’ve managed to accomplish what it takes most couples to do in a few months. Now we’ve gotten the tears out of the way.”
“Don’t make a joke of it,” he said as they followed the dozen or so other people and their tour guide. “I care about you and don’t want you upset. If you’d rather go back to the room or have another drink at the bar—”
“No, I’m good. I’ve never done one of these tours. Remember, it’ll be spook-tacular fun.”
“I don’t know about the spooky part, but at least I have an excuse to hold your hand.”
“You don’t need an excuse to do that,” she said, as the others in front of them stopped. They stopped, too, his hard body pressing against her back.
“Do I need an excuse to do anything else to you?” he asked, his breath heating her ear and cheek. “Better yet, do I need permission?”
“No excuses are necessary,” she whispered, and couldn’t stop herself from arching slightly, until her rear was nestled against his groin.
“And permission?” He moved his hand inside her lightweight jacket, then grazed a taut nipple with his thumb. “Should I ask if I can do this?” He gave the hard peak a gentle pinch and tug. “Or this?”
When her breast filled his palm, she wished they were alone, lying in the grass, the moonlight kissing his naked body as he spread her legs and filled her.
Her breath quickened and her sex pulsed with need. As he moved his hand from her breast, she was hit with both relief and disappointment. She hadn’t wanted him to stop, yet she’d worried one of the tourists might catch them. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t care less about these people. She cared what Ash thought. Would he think she was an easy lay? A slut who would screw just about anyone? Or maybe he smelled her desperation? Not for love or marriage, but for someone to ease the loneliness.
As the guide gathered everyone around, Ash kept them on the fringe—close enough for them to hear, but a couple feet from the nearest tourist. Instead of taking her hand in his again, he ran his palms over her hips. “Unbutton your jeans,” he whispered in her ear.
Her labia swelled against her damp panties. Other than the half-moon high in the sky, the night was inky with very few stars. Dark clouds periodically blotted out the moon as the wind gave an occasional gust. Unless the guide pointed his light right at them, no one could see where his hands were, or where they might go next.
She’d never had the desire to have a stranger catch her doing anything indecent, and she still didn’t. But she wanted Ash’s hands on her.
“Dangerous,” Grandma hissed.
Yes, he was. For her heart and head. If he could make a snap decision and declare she was his alone, he could just as easily decide he was through with her. Men left.
“Why aren’t you obeying me?” he asked against her ear.
“Let’s just wait until we’re in the room.”
He nipped her neck. “You are scared. What happened to the woman from the dining room? She liked when my hand was on her, and had no problem letting the pretty little blonde see.”
Damn it. The blonde had been pretty, and had a nice figure and large breasts, much bigger than her own. Obviously, Ash had noticed. Would he think of the blonde when he was touching her?
“If you think she’s so pretty, maybe I should go back to the room and let you head to the bar. I’m sure she’ll have no problem coming to your bed tonight.”
His grip on her hips became painful and possessive, just as it had when they’d been at the pasture. “Unbutton your fucking jeans, or I’ll rip them open,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. But it was his tone that had goose bumps coating her skin. A disturbing and impatient undercurrent not meant to be tested or defied. Yet, she wanted to disobey and see if he followed through with his threats. The problem was they were the only jeans she’d packed, and they were her favorites.
“Back in 1796,” the tour guide began, as Ivy pushed the button through the hole, then slowly slid down the zipper. “Beaumont Abernathy’s granddaughter, Maribelle, snuck out of the manor to meet a young, handsome stable boy right in this small clearing. The two were said to have had a passionate love affair, but Maribelle had been promised to the grandson of Beaumont’s wealthy friend, and they were supposed to marry the following weekend.”
While she pictured lying on the grass with Ash, sneaking kisses and making love under the moon, he worked h
is hand into her jeans, then cupped her sex. “Should I have asked for permission to do this?” he asked, sliding one side of her undies over her labia.
“Desperate to be together,” the guide continued, while Ash caressed her with his finger, “Maribelle came up with an idea. She would steal a bit of money, pack her jewelry which they could sell, and they would run away together. The young couple celebrated their plan by making love here in the grass.”
In her mind she saw Maribelle’s flouncy skirts shoved above her waist, her lover above her, driving himself inside the young woman’s body. Then she imagined Ash doing the same to her. Desire rushed through her, leaving those butterflies in dazed confusion. They shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t allow a man she’d just met to be doing this.
“Give me permission,” Ash demanded.
“Danger,” Grandma shouted as he nipped Ivy’s neck again.
Her clit throbbed for his touch or tongue—it didn’t matter which, so long as he gave her the release she needed. She pressed her rear against his erection and her hand against his, encouraging him to take this farther.
The guide aimed his flashlight away from the tourists and toward the trees behind him. “As the young couple were in the final throes of passion, Henry, Maribelle’s younger brother, fell from a nearby tree.”
Ash grazed his finger along her labia, then teased her clit with a barely-there touch. “Say it.”
Too turned on to speak, she nodded her permission. But he didn’t enter her.
“Maribelle’s screams woke everyone at the manor,” the guide said with theatrical flair. “The Abernathys and servants rushed from the home to find the scantily-clothed young couple, and poor Henry, who was on the brink of death. But before the boy took his final breath, he told his grandfather Maribelle’s plans. Beaumont was known to have a cruel streak. Right then and there, with tears of grief and rage, he ordered his servants to beat Maribelle’s lover, and forced her to watch. When the beating was over, he had his grandson’s body taken away, but ordered his people to leave the lover’s.”
“Please,” Ivy whispered. She was on the brink of something sinfully catastrophic. Her body trembled as ripples of pleasure developed low in her belly. “Please touch me.”
“You didn’t give me the proper response,” he said, making no move to take his hand away.
“Back then,” the guide carried on, “the topography and wildlife were much different than they are today. Cougars and bears were not uncommon. And when young Maribelle awoke the next morning to rush to her lover, she found him dead, his flesh torn, his limbs missing. Based on bloody paw prints, a cougar was suspected to have killed and eaten him.”
The grisly story barely registered as Ivy tried to come up with the proper response. Then it hit her.
“Don’t say it, Ivy, honey,” Grandma implored. “It’s too risky.”
She’d rather take risks than continue living a lonely existence. After telling Grandma to go away again, she rested her hand once more along Ash’s and pushed it against her sex. “It’s yours, remember?” she asked in a hushed tone. “You don’t need permission.”
“Maribelle was beside herself,” the guide said with sadness. “Holding what was left of her lover’s torso and head, she wailed. Crying his name over and over: ‘Jed! Jed! Jed!’ Then, as her grandfather watched, she pulled a knife from her boot and slit her throat.”
Ash drove two fingers deep within Ivy’s heat. A delicious wave of desire shot through her. She gasped. The crowd did, too.
“They say Beaumont never got over that moment.” The guide took a few backward steps, while Ash thrust several times. “Apparently Maribelle hasn’t, either. Some nights, when the wind is just right, and the night creatures are extra quiet, you can hear her crying and calling her lover’s name. She’s even been spotted during the day wearing a white nightgown soaked with blood oozing from her neck. Okay, then, let’s head over to the cemetery.”
The other tourists murmured during their departure. As they walked off, their thin beams of light slowly being swallowed by the darkness, Ash forced Ivy toward the woods. When her back hit a large tree, she rested her head against its bark.
“Come for me,” he said, now in front of her, his mouth close, his breath coming in short spurts. “Imagine the two lovers, his cock buried deep in her pussy. Can you see it?”
“Yes,” she said on a groan.
“Imagine her pain.” He grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged her head away from the tree. “Could you love someone enough to slit your throat?” he asked, pushing a third finger between her swollen lips. “Would you take a knife to your soft skin? Let the blood trickle onto your naked breasts?”
The gruesome image mingled with the one she’d created of the two lovers and her orgasm neared. It shouldn’t be, and neither should her heart be racing. Desire shouldn’t be coating his fingers. She should be terrified, not titillated.
He dragged his mouth along her throat, then placed open-mouthed kisses to the area where she imagined Maribelle had sliced her own neck. Her eyes watered as he tightened his hold on her hair, the pleasure his fingers were giving her outweighing the pain. “You’re so wet,” he murmured. “Come on my fingers.”
She rubbed her hand along his crotch and gripped his thick erection through his jeans. “Are you turned on because of what you’re doing to me, or because you’re imagining a gash where you’re kissing my throat.”
He pushed a fourth finger deep inside her and captured her moan with his mouth. His hot punishing kiss made her dizzy. Loosened her muscles, her thoughts. As he kissed her and her orgasm continued to build, she didn’t care if anyone caught them. Except for Ash, no one else mattered at that moment.
“Come,” he said, his voice rough, commanding. “I want to feel your pleasure wrap around my fingers. Then I want to taste you.”
She instantly imagined him kneeling in front of her, spreading her labia apart and spearing her sex with his tongue. The erotic picture had her core coiling, then shattering. Before she could cry out his name, just as Maribelle had cried out Jed’s, his mouth was on hers, muffling her moans. Pleasure rocked her body, her mind and heart.
When he withdrew her fingers, leaving her empty and longing to have them back, she sagged against the tree. As she fought to catch her breath and slow her heart rate, he tore one side of her flimsy panties, then the other. The clouds moved past the moon, allowing its light to shine on Ash. A small smile played along his lips as he licked his fingers, then he yanked the torn cotton from her jeans, leaving her panty-less.
He stuffed them into his pocket, then righted her clothes. “Mine.”
God, the man was domineering and so damned hot. Her sex came alive again.
“Let’s go join the others,” he said as if he hadn’t just made her orgasm or shredded her underwear.
She took his hand. “Maybe I don’t want to continue the tour.”
“Anxious to go back to the room?”
If any other man had asked her that, she’d have thought him arrogant. But Ash, as he’d said and proven, wasn’t like other men. “I’ve never gone without panties before. I’d like to put on a new pair.”
“Why? Given the chance, I’m just going to rip them off you.”
While the undie-ripping had been hot, she hated shopping and didn’t want to have to buy more. “Then I guess we’re off to the cemetery.”
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “If going there brings back…if it bothers you, we can head into the manor. The bar is still open and—”
Touched by his concern and pleased to know that he cared about her, not just what he could do to her body, she stopped. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“You’re sure?”
She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “I’m with you. That’s all I need,” she said, meaning it.
He kissed her again, then they continued to catch up with the tour. As they did, Grandma cleared her throat.
“That’s all I need,” the old wom
an said, echoing Ivy’s words. “What you need is to have your head examined.”
Shut up, Grandma.
“Why, so you can continue down this depraved path you’re taking with a man you don’t know?”
There’s nothing depraved about what I’m doing. Leave me alone.
“Ivy, honey, listen to Grandma. Men leave. You know this better than anyone.”
As they neared the others, she glanced to Ash. Shadows played along his profile, making his hair, beard and skin darker. When he met her gaze, his eyes glittered in that sinfully wicked way she loved. Banked within them was promise. Trust. Affection.
Only death will part us, she reminded Grandma.
“I remember. But whose?”
Chapter 6
“WHAT DID YOU think of the tour?” Ash asked as they entered his room.
She couldn’t think about much of anything except the way the rough denim of her jeans rubbed against her sex. The exquisite friction had been driving her insane. Rather than listen to their tour guide’s ghost stories, her focus had been on Ash. On what he’d done to her against the tree, and what he might do to her later.
Now that it was later, she wasn’t sure what to do. Sex would be fantastic. Again, she also didn’t want him to think she was an easy lay. Considering how she’d behaved today, he probably thought that anyway. Still, she didn’t want a relationship based solely on sex. And if he was as into her as he’d claimed, he would understand and allow their relationship to take a natural course.
“It was fun, but a little tame,” she replied.
“I was trying to be a gentleman.”
She grinned. “I wasn’t talking about you being tame—which you weren’t. I don’t know, I guess I was hoping to see or hear something unexplainable.”
“Maybe Susannah Abernathy will visit you tonight.”
“Oh, God, don’t say that. I don’t mind walking around outside with ghosts, but I don’t want to sleep with one.”
He chuckled and shrugged out of his coat. “I’m not into that, either.” He glanced to the nightstand clock. “Do you need anything else before I go to bed?”
Stab at Love Page 5
