The smoking husk of Elcar's body lay in front of her, smoldering from the heat of her and Dorian's combined passion. A flash of flame, a puff of smoke, and the husk dissolved into a pile of ashes to be blown away by the swirling ribbons of gold surrounding them.
Grace looked back over her shoulder and smiled weakly at Dorian. His long dark hair was wild and tangled, sweat glistened on his chest and his eyes had the sated look of a man well screwed. Grace knew her face wore exactly the same expression.
"Elcar's gone,” Dorian murmured. He slipped out of her, his thick cock now only semi-hard. He helped her straighten up, and Grace moaned at the twinge she felt in muscles she hadn't known existed.
There was a roaring sound, and Grace felt herself ripped out of Dorian's grasp. She screamed in protest. She fell back, the colors rushing past her before darkness swamped her.
Grace slowly awakened. Green eyes gazed back at her, and sexy lips smiled at her from a face that had come to mean everything to her.
The smell of antiseptic slowly entered her awareness. The heat of a hard body lay under her. She levered herself up in the hospital bed until she straddled his hips, the hospital sheet and a scrap of lace the only things between his sex and hers.
"Hi.” Dorian smiled up at her, and she could feel his cock lengthen underneath her. She smiled with joy. Okay, so everyone had made it back, apparently in perfect working order.
"Hi. Glad to see you're back in the land of the living,” she commented dryly.
He rocked his cock against her pussy, and Grace could feel the sheets dampen with her moist heat. “Glad to be back."
Her breath quickened as she recognized the darkening of his gaze, the intensity of his stare. “Maybe I should get out of here before the nurses catch me,” she whispered as she answered his hips with a little rocking of her own.
His hands grabbed her thighs. “I'll tell them you've cured me.” He grinned, lifting her skirt. His green eyes smoldered when he saw her light pink lace thong.
"In your dreams, buddy,” she quipped, gasping as he raised her hips slightly to kick away the sheet before lowering her onto his groin. He hissed at the contact of the lace against his cock. He tugged the scrap of underwear to the side, and Grace moaned as he turned her lace thong into a restrictive binding for her clit.
His cock slid slickly down the cleft of her labia, her immediate desire providing a moist channel for his shaft.
His gaze locked with hers as he slowly entered her sex.
"Always in my dreams, love,” he promised.
Her eyes blazed as her pussy welcomed his cock with a hot liquid embrace.
"Always,” she whispered back, as Dorian made slow love to her, this time for real.
VOWS
by
Rusty Wicks
Chapter 1
She moved through the inn with the grace of a dancer, flying on slippered feet over thick carpets as noiselessly as if she didn't exist. But everyone knew she did, in fact, exist. And she had done so for far longer than any—well, almost any—of the other occupants at the Harbor Street Inn.
Mariah turned a corner and nearly collided with James, a tall, dark and exceedingly handsome fellow occupant. It was an event that he had, unbeknownst to her, engineered. His hands, large and wide, reached out and steadied her. They lingered on her slim shoulders, massaged the creamy skin that rose above the low-cut bodice of her hunter green dress.
"Why, you nearly ran me down, sweet Mariah,” he said, his gaze dropping to the swell of her bosom. He licked his lips, imagining for an instant that he could see the rosy edge of one nipple as she inhaled. His staff thickened slightly and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hoping she wouldn't notice the tightening of his trousers. “But that's all right. Hell, it would have been fine if you had knocked me over. Then I could have held your body on top of mine, pressed myself to your soft skin and inhaled the lovely scent of your thick golden tresses. Yes, it would have been a good thing, indeed, had we collided."
A sweet smile toyed at the edges of her pink lips. Mariah's hazel eyes flashed and she giggled, a sound that put an end to any spare room inside James’ pants. “You're incorrigible, dear James. Just a devil, aren't you? Why, I'll bet you put yourself here, hoping I'd run right into you. You did, didn't you?"
His penis pressed against the fabric that struggled to restrain it. All he could think about was the hunger within him—the hunger that grew stronger with every night that passed, every night he yearned to sink himself into her soft, warm body. It took every ounce of self-control for him to gather his wits and find his voice.
"I must confess, I did indeed stand here, waiting for the chance to feel your body smack against mine with a speed that would knock us both off our feet. Do you mind?"
"You know I don't mind,” Mariah said, bending a bit from the waist to close the distance between their faces. By leaning forward her bodice parted from her skin and, if James was quick enough, he'd get a peek at her nipples.
He was quick enough.
"Why, then?” His voice was hoarse when he lifted his gaze to hers.
"You know why. You've always known why,” she answered. Reaching out one hand, she caressed his face gently, stroking his chiseled cheek beneath her delicate fingertips. “It's just something I've got to do, James. A chance I've got to take. Don't tell me you wouldn't want the chance—I know you would. It's only natural."
Pulling her fingertips between his lips, his tongue brushed them before he released her from his mouth. When he spoke, his voice was roughened and he pulled her to him, pressing his erection to her hips.
"No, it's not natural. It's an obsession, that's what it is. An obsession you've got to release from your mind if we're going to move forward—don't you understand? Give it up, Mariah,” James said, thrusting himself against her without regard for the frozen look on her pretty face. “This is real—this is what you should concern yourself with. Nothing else."
With a final thrust, he released her and stalked off, leaving Mariah alone at the end of the corridor.
Turning the corner, James opened the first door he came to and slipped inside the room. It was a linen closet but he didn't care. Any space would do.
Wasting no time, he unfastened his pants, reached inside and grabbed his hard cock. Pulling it into the open, he moaned as his hot flesh jumped beneath his fingertips. With single-minded determination, he began to stroke himself. His hand on his penis wasn't gentle. It wasn't soft and slow, but firm and rough. There was only one thing on his mind, and it didn't require finesse.
Damn it, when am I going to make her see the truth? How long can it take? How long can I stand being this close to her without burying myself in her warm, wet pussy?
Damn! I wander the halls looking for her—wanting her every minute of every day and twice as much at night. My cock—my poor aching cock—is constantly hard. It's in my hand more than it's in my pants, and it's all because she won't see reason.
What the hell am I going to do? What the hell—ahh, yes. That feels so good, so damn good.
James rubbed the drop of moisture that seeped from the tiny hole in the center of the pink tip over his taut skin. His cock was so hard that it was nearly painful but he felt, deep within him, the first twinges of pleasure. With his free hand, he reached for a thick, monogrammed towel.
When his cock began to shake, James pointed it toward the towel, catching the splashes of his orgasm neatly. Arching his back, he clutched his cock and watched the evidence of his desire surge from his body. Regret mixed with pleasure and as the final drops of his climax fell, he felt no satisfaction.
Pushing his softening penis back into his pants, James again made the promise he'd made hundreds of times before.
I'll have her. If it takes forever, I'll find a way to make Mariah love me. If it's the last vow I ever make, then so be it. But I'll do it—no matter how much she resists.
She will love me. This I promise.
Chapter 2
/> She'd chosen carefully. He was blond, blue-eyed, with the lean, hard look that comes from being no stranger to manual labor. His body was rippled in spots evident at first glance and in others, too. Places that required a bit of undressing to witness.
Mariah watched him undress. He'd just returned from a fishing expedition and he was hot, sweaty and bronzed. The instant the door closed behind him, he'd begun to strip, leaving his shirt and jeans in an untidy heap on the floor. Shimmying out of his boxers, he walked naked toward the bathroom.
Following him, she waited beside him while the water in the old shower heated. One hand, placed on his firm buttocks, connected them until he stepped into the shower.
"Did you have a nice time fishing? Did you catch any marlin—I hear they're running now,” she asked.
When he didn't answer, she chalked it up to the sound of the shower and shrugged philosophically.
Later. We'll talk later. For now, I'll just sit here and wait. I wonder what you'll want to do after you shower? Yes, I'll just wait.
His fingers caressed his soapy body but didn't linger. With greed in her eyes, she saw him lather, speedily scrub, then rinse his hard form. Water streamed across the planes of him, through the light, golden patches of hair that covered him in places, across his long, thin penis. Hypnotized by the sight of bubbly droplets of water that fell from the end of his manhood, she was surprised when he turned the faucets off and stepped from the tub.
The rest of the evening was spent in quiet companionship. Blake watched a baseball game on television while Mariah read a romance novel. When the game ended, they prepared for sleep, slipped into the wide bed and snuggled beneath the lightweight paisley quilt.
With more assurance than she felt, Mariah turned to Blake and placed her lips on his. Their kiss was brief but opened the way for further exploration. His penis began to grow and, when he rolled onto his back, she slipped her head beneath the quilt and put her mouth on his warm, sea-scented flesh.
Swirling her tongue over his penis, she felt warmth radiating through her as he stiffened. Her folds became slick and a tremor touched her, racing up her spine as her nipples peaked and her heart lurched.
Mariah raised herself above him and pushed herself onto his erection. Riding him swiftly, she let the desires of her body take over and she came in a series of small shudders. Tightening in his testicles, an anguished moan from deep within him and the first jerky motions of Blake's penis let her know his release was nearly upon him and she prepared for the inevitable.
When he climaxed, he filled her wetly, a burst of short, fast squirts of molten heat that gave her hope for their future. Blake's eyes opened and fixed on hers as he shook for the final time. She dared not move. Could this be it?
His cock still trembled when Blake sat up in bed, reached for the light and switched it on. A puddle of creamy liquid lay on his rippled abdomen and his penis bounced above it.
"What the hell?” Blake's voice, groggy from sleep, echoed in the empty room. Reaching for a tissue from the box beside the bed, he chuckled. “Man, that was one helluva dream!"
* * * *
James waited for her in the downstairs parlor. A fire burned low in the grate and the room was empty. The guests were all upstairs and the staff had turned in for the night. This was the way he liked the inn the best—the way he'd remembered it from so long ago. Quiet. Uncluttered. Homey.
With a familiar expression on her face, Mariah walked across the carpeted floor and sat beside him on the rump-sprung antique sofa. Her head hung, her face covered by a wall of soft blond hair. He pushed it aside and saw the flush in her cheeks.
For an instant, he was angered.
So you did it again. You slept with him. You let him plant his cock inside your body, let him fill you with his seed. Damn him! Damn him—and his cock—to hell!
Remorse flooded him within seconds. He saw the unshed tears, the trembling lower lip, and felt her disappointment. Reaching out, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, nestling her to his side.
You believe it every time, don't you, darling? You truly believe a mortal man will pull you back to his realm. How can you ever be happy in our world when your one desire is to return to the one we've left behind? Or at least, the world that most of us have left behind.
"Didn't work, did it?"
Silently, she shook her head.
"And you thought it would, didn't you?"
She nodded and he heard her gentle sniff.
Once, a long time ago, he'd made the mistake of watching Mariah couple with a guest of the inn. Her body was exquisite and his penis was rock-hard as he watched her undress. But when she'd gone to the other man's side, put her mouth on his member and had begun to writhe, her desire evident, he'd nearly lost his mind. And when Mariah's glistening sex had swallowed the other man's penis, he'd nearly strangled the man as he slept. He'd stayed in the room, watched every spasm of the fellow's orgasm, and when he'd left, he'd vowed never to watch her with another man again.
And he never had. It was too difficult to see another cock inside her, too harsh a punishment for loving her. Now he was content to wait for her to come to him, resigned to consoling her after her latest disappointment. It was a job he was good at.
"Mariah, my love, when will you forget about returning to the land of the living? When will you find contentment—perhaps even love—among those of your own kind? When?” James stroked her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of lavender uniquely hers. He'd heard several guests comment on the lavender-scented rooms, to the consternation of the inn's management. James knew it was the essence of Mariah that they experienced.
Her head lifted and she locked her gaze on his. “Never! How can I be content as a ghost when there's the slightest possibility I could return to our old world? This world, the one we watch every day from a distance,” she said, waving her arm through the air toward the room around them. “How can I be satisfied to be unseen, unheard, unfelt—for eternity? Bah! I won't do it! I will find a way to love again. To live again. I will!"
Despite her words, James refused to become annoyed. Their conversation varied little after one of her sexual forays and he figured that eventually, he'd either get tired of waiting for Mariah or she'd come to her senses. In any event, he'd given up arguing with her a long time ago.
"All right then,” he said soothingly. James dropped his gaze to the bodice of her gown, to the hastily-tied ribbons that barely held it together. With a small smile he tugged on the end of one of the ribbons, opening her neckline wide enough to get a view of her breasts. “Ahh, that's better. Such beautiful breasts, Mariah. Why do you waste them on mortal men? They're not bright enough to see their beauty, to taste their ripeness. Why, then?"
James trailed a fingertip beneath the edge of her dress, running it over her soft nipple. It rose, and she shuddered as his fingertips tugged on her tingling nub. He knew how much she enjoyed having her bosoms fondled; she let him touch her nearly every day—to a point. Mariah had her own set of rules for them. No kissing. And no below-the-waist touching. They were cast in stone and James’ only choice was to abide by them.
He didn't have to like her rules but at least he got to touch her body—even if only a little bit.
"Some day, James,” she answered, arching her back to give him greater access, “one of them may touch me the way you do. Who knows? It's possible, don't you think?"
Hell, I'll agree to anything if you let me touch these. My mouth—I have to taste you, Mariah.
As he bent his head to suckle her breast, Mariah pulled away and tied the ribbon securely. “Oh, no you don't, James. No kissing, remember!"
With a tinkling laugh, she stood and walked toward the dining room. James knew she'd go in search of an after-sex snack in the empty kitchen now that she was over her disappointment.
"Damn—here I am again with a throbbing cock,” James muttered. Standing, he headed for the front door and walked through it without bothering to open it. He sto
mped to the edge of the front walk then turned and strode toward the lake. Beside the lake there was a small tree-lined hill and from that spot he could see the inn.
James stood on top of the hill and watched the inn. Nearly all of the lights were doused but his stare was fixed on the large kitchen windows. He knew that Mariah was in there eating her fill—probably plotting her next round of make-me-mortal-again sex.
His blood felt like it was boiling when, without looking down, he pulled his penis out of his trousers. He gave it a hard shake before he began to stroke it furiously, his stare locked on the kitchen windows.
"Damn it, Mariah, you can't keep doing this to me. Night after night. Day after day. Year after year. How horny can one man be? How much can I love you without losing my mind? Without losing my—oh!"
Lowering his eyes, he watched as his cock convulsed in his hand. A thick spray of creamy whiteness flew from him, landing in iridescent splotches on the dark green grass at his feet. When his cock subsided, James held it loosely in his hand and looked back up at the inn.
His voice was no longer filled with anger or frustration. Instead, his words were low and heartfelt.
"How long can I do this, Mariah? Love you—without being loved in return? I don't think that I can spend eternity like this. I just don't think I can do it. No matter the vows I've made."
Chapter 3
For ghosts, as for some mortals, years pass quickly. Decades fade, one lost to the next, as time passes.
At the Harbor Street Inn, life was no different. Guests came and went. Years faded into obscurity. Outside, the world changed, but inside the inn's walls, all days and nights melded into one huge block they simply called Time.
James and Mariah kept to their vows. He to wait and make her love him. She to find love with a mortal man. Neither vow was fulfilled, despite the passing of time.
She ran on slippered feet as swiftly as ever and when she rounded the corner in the upstairs corridor, James was waiting for her. He was always waiting for her.
Summer Solstice Scorchers Page 15
