And then his lips were there, kissing every mark and red splotch that his hands had left. He massaged her legs, working all the way down to the ankles and then back up again while his lips and tongue were busy teasing the hot, spanked skin. He worshipped her body. Her hips swung and her fingers scrabbled fruitlessly across the flat, glossed surface of the instrument, finding no purchase to grab onto.
"John, please. I need you. Please, fuck me," April begged.
John had found that a request formed in such a lewd way was actually arousing for him and no longer even frowned about it. On the contrary, it made him want to slam his body against hers, plunging in to the hilt and taking what was his, but he held back.
"Not yet, April. You're going to have to be a patient girl," he said, chuckling. It was the last time he was going to have to put on a show for invisible watchers, so he'd make it a good one to secure their future. He knew all the places on her body to stroke to make her wild and he used that knowledge until she felt like she was going to explode.
Her whole body felt stretched tight, swollen and tingling with a hunger that food could never fill. She didn't feel patient; she was at war with herself, wanting to please him so he'd give her what she craved. But also, part of her wanted to grab him and take the pleasure. She wondered, idly how the dominant spirit would react to such boldness on her part but wasn't willing to test it, just now. Someday, though, she intended to turn the tables on him sexually, if only to see how he reacted.
For now, she was content to let him lead, and if she'd thought they'd done and tried everything over the course of the past month, she soon found out she was mistaken. He stripped off her clothes, one item at a time, until she was naked, bare breasts pressed flat against the slick wood that she was bent over. She was getting used to being bent over various pieces of furniture, either for spanking or sex, but John had a different idea this time.
She'd suggested something special for the cameras, something 'ghostly', and he'd come up with something. They hadn't done it before, and it was eye-catching on film, as she'd suggested. She had cause to regret it the next morning when they reviewed the footage.
"Is he? Are you?" Carson asked. For once, the feisty woman was at a complete loss for words.
April couldn't blame her, watching what was happening on the screen was making it hard for her to breathe. "Y-yeah," she mumbled.
Four sets of eyes were locked on the images filling the large center monitor. No one was saying much or even blinking. April wasn't sure if John had put thought into what would be the most attention grabbing sexual pose possible, when one partner is invisible, or if he'd stumbled across it without planning. Either way, the sheer graphicness of watching her body writhing several feet above the dance floor, her hips thrusting against air was enough to knock them all into silence.
She wasn't sure a mortal man could have held her up like that, driving his length up into her while carrying her. Then she reconsidered; his arms were hard and muscular. She'd asked him, once, how a banker had ended up looking so rugged, and he'd explained that banking was his profession but what he loved was horse breeding. He'd owned a small stable outside of town and a small staff did the day-to-day work, but he'd spent all his free time there. He preferred to have a hand in the training and breaking of colts. Apparently, that led to well-defined muscles and a lean physique.
Whether it was strength that had carried over from life or some paranormal gift he'd received afterwards, he had no trouble holding her weight. His thrusts were unfortunately shallow enough at that angle that they were more teasing than filling and she'd wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, trying to give him more purchase as he moved, almost danced, them around the room.
At the time, it had been romantic, sexy, and altogether a new feeling to move like that with him inside her, but now, watching it on camera, it bordered on obscene. Her legs were hooked on nothingness, knees spread wide apart as she worked her body up and down. Between her thighs, her folds gaped wide as he penetrated her. But they couldn't see his long hard shaft working its way in and out of her body; they could only see the results.
She flushed a brilliant shade of red that was obvious even against her tan skin and, despite her humiliation, or maybe because of it, she felt her body reacting. Turning away from the screen, she tried to compose herself, pressing her trembling hands against her thighs and leaving damp spots on her jeans. Luckily, the professor merely thought she found the images upsetting, and she did. He didn't suspect that her body was getting aroused from watching herself being thoroughly screwed by a ghost.
"April, would you like to step out? Maybe get a glass of water?" he suggested solicitously.
She nodded, sneaking a glance at his face to find him looking flushed, as well. She slipped out of the room and into the kitchen for some privacy. The cameras had already been taken down in there; Jerome had started on that, first thing, while she went through her final debriefing.
Once she'd disclosed the ballroom scene to Ben, he was quite insistent that he see it, and that led to them all crowding into the small equipment room. Carson had been there already, going through the footage from the day before, and it took her only a few minutes to pull up that room on the main monitor. From there…well.
April filled a glass with tap water and drank slowly as her face cooled. What was wrong with her, getting turned on essentially by watching herself? Had she really become such a sexual being that even that was arousing? She sighed, but despite that, looking up to see the cameras gone and knowing things were about to change was such a relief. She could deal with being horny all the time, if no one was around to watch it.
She tried not to think about what they were seeing now, but of course, she knew exactly how it had gone. He'd eventually carried her to the wall, balancing her there and pinning her in place with her legs still wrapped around his waist so he could slam into her—at last able to reach the depths of her with one long thrust after another until she'd finally screamed out her orgasm. It was, she thought, a fitting end to the month. They'd talked several times about using the ballroom, the largest room in the house, but had never gotten around to it until the grand finale. Elizabeth would be pleased.
She got herself in order by the time they'd finished the viewing and went back to dismantling all the equipment. Jerome and Carson did the hard work of taking care of the upper floors and carrying the equipment down, room by room, while April offered her assistance to Ben. He was sitting on the floor carefully wrapping each camera and recorder and packing them away; it was easier with two people.
Halfway through the morning, the lawyer arrived and she reluctantly got to her feet to greet him.
"Good morning, April. Congratulations." He paused and cleared his throat before finishing delicately, "On lasting the month. I've got all the paperwork here; if you'll join me in the library, we can get started?"
He was on his best professional behavior in front of the professor, but Ben didn't look the least bit fooled, and neither was April. She nodded and followed him, though, grateful that this would be the last time she needed to see him. She stopped in the doorway, reluctant to enter. Her experiences with Charles had been unpleasant and, suddenly, all her joy at seeing the cameras taken down was gone. She felt vulnerable to be alone with him now, even more so than before.
But there were no whispered threats or innuendos today, nothing but business. He presented her with a stack of pages. Her final check was right on top and she was happy to fold that up and put it in her pocket. With that and what she had in the bank, she felt very rich now, even though she knew the money would drain away quickly with this giant monster of a house eating away at everything she'd worked so hard to earn, but that was a problem for another day.
The rest of the pages were divided into two packets. The first pertained to her contract and said that she'd successfully completed a full month's stay. Affidavits, swearing she hadn't left the property or tampered with any of the equipment and had done her be
st to cooperate fully, were on top. Under that, were contracts and documents for the house. Each line she signed made her want to cheer. Until that moment, she'd never truly believed that Ms. Hagmaier would hand over such an expensive piece of property.
She saw Elizabeth's signatures already in place on all the pages and only the lines for a witness had been left blank. She wondered about that, but as she signed, Charles stepped out and asked the professor in to witness. It took a while to get through all the paperwork, but once it was done, Charles separated it into two piles, pushing one towards her and safely stowing the second set in his briefcase.
He dropped two large rings of keys on the table and a remote for the ornate front gate. "These should open every room in the house, though that skeleton key works on almost everything. This," he said, dropping a folder on top of them. "This includes warranties, appliance info, and information on the monthly cleaning service and the lawn company. They are aware there's new ownership so you'll need to engage them, if you intend to keep their services," he explained.
She'd always wondered who cleaned the house. Everything was so shiny and polished and it was far too much work for one person. Now, she knew, but with the knowledge came another bill she'd have to consider. Two, if you counted the yard. She'd never even peeked in the detached garage since she'd been there; she'd have to hope there was a riding mower in it so she could take care of that much herself.
"I believe our business is concluded, Ms. Cassidy. Do you have any questions?" he asked in a bored tone.
She looked down at the papers in her hand and then up at him. "So, it's mine now? The house and everything in it?"
"Completely and legally yours. Ms. Hagmaier has kept the taxes current, of course; you'll have about six months before you receive the first bill. All utilities have been transferred to your name as of today and you'll be responsible for them now. I would suggest you get insurance on the house immediately, today would be wise," he added.
She nodded slowly; she hadn't thought of any of these things. She'd never owned anything more than a used car, and it was all overwhelming. She might have come up with other questions, but he seemed to be in a hurry to leave, and in a few moments, he was gone, leaving her in possession of her new home.
"A bit much to take in?" Ben asked, patting her shoulder in a kindly way.
"Just a bit," she said weakly.
With the formalities out of the way, there was just the work of packing up the research team and then, at long last, she'd be alone with John. She was ready for that, more than ready, but there was a slight hitch in her plans for her first afternoon without watchful eyes.
"Um, there's no way that's all going to fit in the van," Carson said. She snorted and shook her head as Jerome tried to cram another box into the back.
The professor looked like he was going to have a fit over the expensive equipment inside the boxes. "Mr. Walker, I'd like those in one piece, if you don't mind," he snapped.
Jerome sighed and put the box down. "We'll just have to make two trips. We'll drive back and unload and then Carson and I can come back and get the rest of the boxes later," he said.
So, it was going to be just a little longer. She sighed and waited for their return impatiently, but once they had packed up the last of the boxes, she had a sudden pang of sadness. She was going to miss Carson with her changing hair and the quiet Jerome who never said two words when one would work. The goodbyes with Carson, especially, were more emotional than she'd expected.
"Don't be an idiot; we're going to come visit! You've got like a million fucking bedrooms and a bunch of spooks to study. You'll be lucky if we don't move in," she snorted as she gave April a fierce hug.
As they rolled down the long winding driveway and turned out of the gate, she kind of wished they would. The house was going to feel so lonely during the day without them. She was going to need things to keep her busy, but she suddenly remembered that she could actually leave the house herself now, whenever she wanted, and that was going to make her life a lot better.
Chapter 7
The first night in the house felt like a honeymoon, but without the sex. Not so strange, really, considering the past weeks of excessive sexual adventuring. It did include a lot of talking and some romance. The silly stuff she'd always held back, knowing that the cameras were always watching. And it was nice to be able to lie in his arms and relax without worrying about whether they'd given Elizabeth enough material for the day.
It felt like it was the first night she'd relaxed since she'd arrived. Even the restless spirits seemed calm and the usual bangs and clatters were absent. She really was going to need to do something about them at some point. She didn't have the skills or knowledge, but her grandmother did, and as soon as she got the chance, she was going to beg her to visit. Finally, she was ready to learn about all the things she'd spent her whole life denying.
She suspected that with John's help, clearing the house would actually be possible. If he could rein the others in and keep her and her grandmother safe while they did whatever they had to do, it should work. He seemed complacent with the other spirits being sent on, as long as no one tried to dislodge him, and she certainly had no intention of that.
At the top of her to-do list was the lawyer's advice about getting insurance on the house. It wasn't just that it was a valuable asset that needed to be protected, it was that it was her only access to John. If it should burn down, she had faith that his remains, safely sealed in the basement floor, would remain untouched, therefore, his spirit would remain anchored to the house, no matter its state. But if it burned to the ground, she needed to rebuild it or else she wouldn't be able to stay with him.
It had all hit her rather suddenly, that her life with him depended entirely on keeping the house whole and in her possession. There was almost a sense of panic as she'd called around to find an insurance agent who was able to work with her immediately. The very value of the property made this difficult. They would need to come and assess both it and the expensive furnishings inside before they could give her such a hefty policy. The next day was the best they'd been able to do and she had scheduled a morning appointment. She'd be relieved when it was taken care of.
There were no spanking and sexual romps to keep them up late, so she was up bright and early to greet the team of insurance adjusters who showed up at her door. Even with four of them working, it took them hours. The folder that Charles had left her was invaluable, though, as it contained information and invoices on the most expensive pieces that Elizabeth had purchased for her dream home.
"Well, this saves us a lot of time. Frankly, I think you should have a professional antiquity dealer come in to appraise a few of these pieces that aren't listed. I'm going to list them as a basic estimate with photographs for our records, but you might find that they are worth much more and we'll need to revise the numbers," Ms. Garlow, the woman in charge, suggested.
April sighed and nodded; it was both good and bad news. Someday, she might need to sell some of the furniture to keep the house afloat, so if it was more valuable, that would be a good thing, but at the same time, it was another thing on her list.
After several hours and a lot of forms, she was left clutching a handful of documents stating that her new home was fully insured against all manner of disasters, and that was a weight off her mind. She decided to celebrate by going out for lunch and was surprised to find that just a few weeks of being trapped behind the giant iron gates had given her a touch of agoraphobia. She pushed past the hesitation about leaving the grounds and pulled her car out onto the street.
She took her time driving around to familiarize herself with her new city. Her house was on the outskirts in a quiet area that was dominated by large, expansive houses with extensive grounds to give them privacy, but as she moved further downtown, things were less quiet and more densely packed. She finally picked a small cyber cafe and stopped for lunch.
Despite Elizabeth's disdain for the local restaurants, A
pril thought the food was fine, and she had plenty of e-mail to catch up on so she lingered long enough for dessert, too. While she was at it, she decided to look up Harold Tiding. She was curious about his fate after he'd lost the house that he'd killed John for. The things he'd done there—the murders, the torture—she hoped he'd had a short and miserable life when he'd lost everything.
She found quite a bit online about the history of the house, though she wasn't sure how much was factual. Little blurbs, brief mentions of rumors about the haunting were the most common. There was usually a paragraph or two about Harold and the deaths of his wife and children but nothing about what happened after he'd been forced out of the mansion. She did find one page that discussed all the subsequent owners of the house. It was a long list; no one had stayed in the house for more than a year, from what she could see. The very first owners after him, in fact, had complained of all kinds of odd occurrences, and one of their servants committed suicide just a few months after they'd moved in. They sold it, and it remained empty for a couple of years after that.
She leaned back in her seat, frowning. There was no obituary or death record of Tiding available, and she was usually pretty good at hunting things down online. Of course, it was over a hundred years ago and most places hadn't digitized their records going back that far. She toyed with the idea of stopping at the local library; they were bound to have records of such a prestigious landmark, but it would have to wait for another day.
She took time for another cup of coffee and a little unproductive web surfing, before she finally packed up and left. She wasn't really avoiding going home; she was just enjoying the return of her freedom. Still, she had errands to run and she couldn't sit there all day. She had a very specific plan for the afternoon, and it was going to require a few tools.
One trip to the hardware store later, she was the proud owner of a sledgehammer and a crowbar. They were just the backup plan. She fully intended to get into that upstairs room and see what was in it, but she was hoping to do it without bashing a hole in the wall. But if she had to—well, it was hers now and she could break it down if she wanted to.
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