Leaning against the bookcase, she struggled through a lazy haze of pleasure to catch her breath and focus her attention on him. He watched, amusement and hunger obvious on his face. "That was…that was nice," she stammered finally and immediately felt stupid. Nice didn't begin to cover the sudden intensity of what had just happened, and they hadn't taken off a single piece of clothing to get there. "I mean. it was—"
"It was magnificent watching you writhe like that," he interrupted, helping her when he could see she didn't have any idea what to say. "The next part will be even better," he assured her. He wrapped a hand in her long black hair, twisting it through his fingers and tugging her close to claim her lips in a kiss that seemed to last for hours.
When she pulled back for air, he kept a tight hold on the handful of strands, looking at her with an intensity that made her weak. "Let's go to bed," he said. The look on his face made it clear that he wasn't talking about an early night of sleep, and she could only nod. Her mouth was suddenly dry, probably because all the moisture in her body had rushed in a southerly direction, and she just let him pull her towards the door without protest.
They were like newlyweds, barely able to keep their hands off each other for even a day. If the cameras hadn't held her back, out of shyness, she wasn't sure they'd even get dressed most of the time. But when he was near her, she wanted to touch him constantly, to assure herself that he was real and solid, even if only to her. She wondered if that would fade, in time, the excitement and the need to feel him.
He was half-turned, holding her hand to pull her along as he stepped into the hall, and she was smiling with her eyes locked on his, when, suddenly, a banging sound rolled through the house like thunder. She turned back to look at the library in confusion and her mouth dropped. A heavy old book, probably a first edition, by the look of it, had hurled itself off the shelf and landed across the room. "What—"
Just as she started to ask what was going on, another one launched itself through the air and crashed into the opposite wall. John moved quickly, pulling her out of the room and pushing her towards the stairs. "Go up to the bedroom," he ordered, and then he vanished like the ghost he was. A tornado was hitting the library, judging by the sounds coming from it, and she hesitated, not wanting to leave him, but an especially loud crash sent her scurrying up the stairs quickly.
Whatever was going on, she wasn't skilled to handle it. She could see ghosts when they wanted to be seen. She could sense their presence, but she didn't have the training to do anything about them. And she wasn't going to get herself in trouble with John by trying to get involved. She went straight to the bathroom, where she thought she'd be safe, and just to be sure, she set the expensive mantle clock on the floor just outside the door.
When the house had been remodeled by the owner, Elizabeth, she'd had the bathroom stripped down entirely and redone. New plumbing, new wiring, new everything, and once that happened, the bathroom had become a dead zone as far as paranormal activity went. It was the reason why that room, alone in the house, wasn't wired with cameras. There had been no reason to bother.
The mantle clock, which she'd borrowed from the library, was an original antiquity that John had told her to bring upstairs. As soon as she'd placed it on the counter in the master suite bathroom, John had been able to enter. She wasn't entirely sure why, but it had to do with having a connection to the original house. At the moment, she thought it would be safer to make it a no-ghost zone again.
She left the door open and settled down on the wide marble steps of the tub to wait, thinking he'd be right up, but the minutes ticked by and, finally, she got tired of sitting there. She turned, leaning down into the large Jacuzzi tub to start the water running. It filled quickly from multiple spouts and she slipped out of her clothes as the water rose. She almost stumbled as she was getting in; a scream pierced the air from some distant part of the house and it startled her. She sat down quickly and then hissed as the water, just a touch too hot, covered her.
It didn't help that her backside seemed almost perpetually tender lately. It was hard not to jump back up but she forced herself to wait, and after a few seconds, her skin began to adjust and she felt less like she'd been scalded. She settled back and turned the jets on high; the loud rumbling muffled any sounds from the rest of the house so she could relax.
Before she'd arrived at the mansion, she'd read into the history—all the reports of haunting—and she'd been nervous. It had gotten worse when she stepped inside and could clearly feel the ominous presence of angry and restless spirits. Her senses had picked up multiple energies, and the chaotic emotions they put out had been overwhelming, but she'd been fairly confident that she could handle things.
It wasn't because any of her special skills would protect her; they weren't especially useful in that regard, but curiosity over her powers had led to research and she knew that most spirits weren't evil or harmful. They were little more than shades of the people they once were, doomed to act out their traumas but rarely interacting with the real world. And the house held many of those, without a doubt.
But there were other things there, as well; poltergeists, the science team would call them, most likely. She'd had a few run-ins with them so far. They were angry and destructive, and from what John had told her, they had good reason. But somehow, John's special connection with the house allowed him to control the others. Every so often, something would incite them, and there would be terrifying moments as things were thrown and destroyed, but he was always able to protect her.
This was probably only the fourth time she'd actually been afraid since she'd entered the house, which wasn't too bad, considering it was supposed to be one of the most haunted properties in the country. She sank lower in the water, soaking up the heat to melt the fear that had formed a ball of ice in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't realized she was trembling until then, but it wasn't from cold. She couldn't help but wonder what would happen if, for some reason, John wasn't able to get control of the other spirits.
She forgot, sometimes, that she was in danger. John's presence in the house had come to mean everything to her. It absorbed, in one way or another, all her attention and she felt safe with him, so it was easy to forget that she wasn't. It added another item to the list of things she needed to consider if she was going to spend her life here. What if, someday, he lost control? What if?
She sighed and let her head drop back, staring up at the clouds of steam that rose towards the ceiling before dispersing. As if she needed other things to worry about with only nineteen days left. She closed her eyes and tried to put it all out of her mind as she let the water jets massage her back and she began to doze.
The water was cooling when John appeared. She was considering sitting up to add more heat when she heard a sound at the door. She sat up, turning to look, and saw him leaning casually against the frame, watching her with a soft look in his eyes.
"Everything okay?" she asked tentatively.
"Yes, they've settled back down, for now. No damage but for a few book bindings. I've left everything for the professor. He'll most likely be pleased," he said calmly.
"I'm sure. Every time something especially ghostly happens, he acts like a kid in a candy store. Oh, that reminds me, he wanted to try an experiment with you sometime, if you don't mind," she told him, suddenly remembering Dr. Marlowe's request.
John shrugged elegantly. "If he likes." He had nothing against the research team and some small interest in anything they might discover. "Why did you remove the clock?" he asked.
She'd almost forgotten about that, and it explained why he hadn't come in to join her. "Oh, I wasn't sure how bad things were going to get. Figured keeping them from coming in here might be smart," she explained as she stood up and reached for a towel. She wrapped it around her as she moved to the doorway and stopped just in front of him. A mischievous smile lit her face and she tilted her head. "Of course, it occurs to me that any time I want to avoid one of your spankings, I can jus
t hide in here," she teased.
"Ah, but you'd have to come out, eventually, and then imagine how much trouble you'd be in," he said, chuckling as he took a grip on her towel and tugged her forward into the bedroom. "You know I'm a banker, or was, and debts always accrue interest. Best to pay off what you owe as quickly as possible so you don't end up over your head," he said. It wasn't quite a warning but there was a serious tone to his words and she understood the point he was making.
"I'll be sure not to run up too many bills then," she replied as she let herself be led to the bed. He stripped the towel from her, drying the water from her skin with gentle strokes that relaxed her. From the far side of the room, the camera probably wasn't seeing much of it, but Elizabeth had gotten enough footage to satisfy her from the library so April was just fine with that.
She slid into bed, under the covers, and John joined her. "Shut the lights off please?" she asked him. The cameras could pick up some with night vision but it wasn't nearly as vivid in the dark and she needed a respite from the constant watching.
He snapped off the lights and then turned all his attention to making love to her slowly, playing her body like an exquisite instrument he cherished. It was so different from the frantic excitement in the library as she'd brought herself to orgasm by rutting against his leg. That had been all need and desire, this was about love.
Lights on or off were of no difference to him; he could see every inch of her. His hand stroked over her body, tenderly caressing her skin and raising little bumps of excitement in its wake. She shivered as his palm moved, skimming flat across her smooth belly and moving up to her breasts. He stroked the pad of his thumb over one nipple and laughed as it jumped to attention. Then he leaned in and captured it in his mouth, sucking the stiff peak and teasing it with his teeth.
"You're wonderful," she mumbled as her arms slid up over her head, back arching slightly to lift her breasts for his attention. Her legs parted in subtle invitation and his hand was immediately drawn there like a bee circling the brightest rose in the garden.
Skillful fingers slipped between her thighs to reignite the excitement that had been put on hold earlier. It didn't take much to start the slow fire building again. He found the seat of her pleasure, circling the nub with gentle pressure, and she lifted her hips to give him better access. A soft moaning sound vibrated in her throat and, in that moment, everything was perfect.
"I love you, John." The words came out as a desperate plea, rising in pitch as his fingers worked their magic. If he replied, she didn't hear. She was lost in her own world and her own ability to speak coherently disappeared soon after and, except for the occasional word urging him not to stop, she was speechless with the intense feelings of pleasure and desire that rolled over her body.
She was almost desperate for him to give her more when he finally moved between her legs. His hands slid under her, grabbing her ass with both hands and dragging her body closer, lifting and settling her backside on his thighs with her hips canted. She expected him to take her then, but he wasn't quite ready to drive his hard length into her. He wanted to hear her sweet voice begging for it.
He grasped his shaft in one hand and began to tease her, dragging it along the soaked slit of her womanhood. Her lower lips were swollen and sensitive when he pushed the head between them to glide easily over the slick flesh, stroking over her entrance to find her clit and circle it. She lifted her hips, wordlessly demanding that he take her.
His cock jumped in response, throbbing almost painfully, wanting to sink between her thighs to the hilt and claim her, but John shook his head, a slight grin curving his lips. "Not yet." If he'd been flesh and blood, would he have been able to hold out against the feast that was spread before him? Maybe not, being dead did give him a few benefits. His body, such as it was, existed only as a force of energy, a projection, and he had some control over it. Still, even so, he could only hold out for so long. "Beg, girl. Beg for what you want," he growled.
As he demanded that token of submission, he began to rock his hips, keeping his shaft nestled in the wet folds as he stroked forward and back. A trill of pleasure ripped out of her and her whole body contorted as he began to slide over her clit in long, slow, teasing movements. "Please! Please, John, now!" burst from her lips in desperation.
He continued and then slowly eased back. As the hot length of flesh slid down, he pressed it against her entrance and nudged it just inside. He let it sink in, no more than an inch, before withdrawing. Not quite pleased yet, he wanted more, and she had to bite back a whine of frustration knowing that an attitude wouldn't get her what she wanted so badly.
The teasing was driving her wild. Her hands clenched the bedcovers in tight fists and her body was taut with need. "I need, please, please, I need this," she begged pitifully, rocking her hips in an attempt to impale herself on him. But the position didn't allow that. With her body tilted and resting on his thighs, he was in complete control.
"Tell me what you need, April. Tell me," he demanded.
"I-I need to…I…" she stammered, trembling. She had no experience with describing what she wanted, with asking for things like this. She couldn't even talk dirty without flushing like a high school girl.
His hand cracked down on the outside of her thigh, a sharp flash of pain to encourage obedience, and she cried out in surprise, body writhing and involuntarily triggering another wave of pleasure, not enough to bring her to peak, just enough to make her even more desperate.
"Fuck me, please, John. Hard, I need you in me. Hard, fast. Now, please!" The words spilled out in a rush, and he stared down in silence, not moving for a long moment. A chill of fear struck her, as she realized she'd been vulgar with her plea. John, with his old-fashioned manners, wasn't a fan of swearing, and though he'd grudgingly agreed that it was unfair to hold her to the standards of his time, he still had a tendency to punish her when she overstepped his idea of what was appropriate.
But not this time, this time, he was pleased with her response. He'd made both of them wait long enough and, suddenly, he had shifted her position and was thrusting his whole length into her. Hard, desperate strokes that plowed her into the bed, and she loved it. She'd never felt such intense pleasure before and she lost herself in it.
Her hands found his forearms and gripped them, nails digging in without noticing as he gave her exactly what she'd asked for. The slow, tender making love had long since given way to a hard and fast fucking. He pulled his hips back and then slammed into her again and again, while she clung to him, head tipped back and her mouth spilling out a series of animal noises. Growling, purring, choked cries and gasps—sounds that she'd never have pictured herself making—and she didn't notice any of it.
All her focus was on the length of flesh plunging in to fill her. So thick, so hot, it took over her world until there was nothing but the quickly rising tide of pleasure that grew, until finally, a hard thrust sent it crashing over her, and she gave full voice to it. Her cries were so loud that it pulled her out of her haze long enough to shoot an embarrassed glance towards the camera, but his pace picked up and pulled her right back in.
The sound of bare flesh slapping against bare flesh was no longer smooth and steady. His hips began to jerk; a spasm went through his body and he slammed home one last time as her walls clenching around his length sent him over the edge. His whole body tensed, the line of his back stiff and his face screwed up in an expression that could have been pleasure or pain and then her name spilled off his lips. Not in a shout or a scream, but in a low, hungry growl.
For nearly a minute, he didn't move and, when he finally did, it was a slow fluid motion as he slid from her body. She shuddered as it stimulated an aftershock, and she instinctively clenched to hold him inside her a few seconds longer. He should have been panting; she was, but he didn't need to breathe. She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him, noticing he wasn't glistening with sweat, either, but more bemused than anything.
She trailed her fin
gertips over his chin, sliding up across his cheek and feeling bristles. Scruff but no sweat, such an odd dichotomy. "You don't sweat, but I've seen you breathe before," she commented.
He turned to look at her. His eyebrows rose. "Both true. Breathing is a habit; I don't need to, but it seems natural, so I do."
"But you should be panting, breathing hard, after all that work." She pulled his hand over, pressing it against her chest so he could feel it rising and falling quickly. Her heart still beat frantically under his palm.
"Does it bother you? I am merely a spirit, after all; breathing is mostly just an affectation for me now," he reminded her.
"No, well, maybe sometimes. You're so real and solid, I forget, and then I'll notice something that's not quite right and it reminds me that you're—" She stopped there, no need to say the word.
"I'm sorry," he said. It didn't sound like an apology but more of an expression of sympathy. He wished he were alive like she was. He leaned in and caught her lips in a gentle kiss.
She relaxed, letting her head fall back on the pillow with her long hair spilling out around her like a midnight halo. "Me, too. I'd like to travel the world with you. Maybe have kids with you, someday. I wish—" She gave him a sad smile.
"I know," he said softly. There wasn't much else to say about something that would never be, so he wrapped an arm around her, shifting her body closer for sleep. Well, for her to sleep, he would simply enjoy holding her while she did.
Chapter 3
The professor was elated over the footage the next day, pleased and all smiles as he examined the scattered books in the library. "Look! They seem like they're chosen at random, but perhaps not. Make a list of the titles and put them in order of when they were launched off the shelves," he ordered Carson. It was easier said than done.
The woman rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh and spent the morning drawing a diagram of where the books landed and in what order. She had to rewatch the film repeatedly to get it accurate. Then she took it to the library and tried to match the descriptions and placement to the books on the floor. It was a complicated puzzle, and when the professor finished with April, she decided to offer her help.
Awakened with a Touch (Gifted Affinities Book 2) Page 6
