My Kinky Valentine: Volume 2 - In Spirit

by Liz Gavin

  Marcel turns his back to me, still straddling me, and backs up until his hard member is over my head. I laugh when I understand his intention and swat one of his bottom cheeks.

  “Who’s naughty now, my gorgeous ghost?”

  I stop talking when he spreads my thighs apart until my knees reach the mattress and buries his tongue inside me.

  “Why are you still talking? If you don’t want to play I’ll just go,” he chuckles against me and the vibrations that rippled through my body almost throw me tumbling down over the edge.

  “I’ll behave,” I promise in a very feeble voice.

  “Please, don’t.”

  He laughs again but I silence him when I grab his erection in both my hands and swirl the tip of my tongue around his head sucking the moisture that had gathered there.

  “Yes, sir.”

  I insert the tip of his member inside my hot mouth before speaking because I know the vibrations will also make him gasp. And he gasps; then, he moans and thrusts his hips up and down, but I’m so enthralled in the delicious sensations his fingers, teeth and tongue are creating in my own body that I just go with the flow.

  He swirls his tongue around my hard clitoris before sucking at it and making me see stars. I mirror his movements and graze his shaft a little before licking and sucking it. In the following minutes, our gasps and moans are the only sounds filling the room.

  When I cradle him in the palm of my hand, I feel his body tighten. I know his about to climax, but so am I. My inner walls are clamped tightly around his fingers and tongue. He looks at me, both of us are out of breath, and the light twinkling in his eyes tells me he doesn’t want to unload himself in my mouth. Neither do I.

  He repositions himself to hover over me, planting his hands on either side of my head, spreading my legs with his body. I guide his erection to the entrance of my sex. He closes his eyes when I help I him penetrate me with a couple of inches of his hard member. Then, he opens his eyes wide when I let go of his body.

  “Your turn, Marcel.”

  I smile, wrapping my legs around his hips and locking my feet behind his back, pulling him down. He doesn’t waste any more time. Instead of penetrating me inch by inch, as he usually does, Marcel buries himself to the hilt inside me, in one swift movement. I think he stabs at my womb but I don’t care.

  “That’s it, Marcel! Take me. Fuck me as hard and as deep as you can go.”

  He kneels on the bed and sits me up on his thighs. I whimper at the exquisite sensations this position creates. I grab his shoulders for support and kiss his eyelids, his brow, his nose, his cheeks and his lips, as Marcel thrusts his hips upward and I move my body down on him, swaying my hips.

  “God, you fit like a glove around me. You’re so tight!”

  “You’re huge, that’s why. I’m not complaining, mind you.”

  I throw my head back and close my eyes to savor the emotions. Our bodies are sleek as a thin layer of sweat covers our skin. My body starts to contract so fast around his member that I find it difficult to move. I shout out when a harder wave of ecstasy steals my ability to think. Marcel explodes inside me, and the jets of his hot liquid hitting my womb and inner walls intensify my orgasm. At the same time, my body’s spasms make his pleasure stronger.

  “Clara, you’re amazing. You feel fantastic.”

  He seizes my mouth in another deep, passionate kiss as we embrace and rub against each other, riding the overwhelming waves of pleasure that fill our bodies and souls with a fire that scorches and soothes at the same time. We soar as high as the moon and stars, our limbs are entangled and our bodies are hot and sweaty. When we slowly return to the reality of the room, the bed with its twisted sheets, our mouths are still locked in a never-ending kiss. As his body softens inside me, we are still holding on to each other, like two drowning people in the middle of a stormy sea. We tumble together on the bed, Marcel turns me on my side, fitting my back to his front and throwing an arm around my waist to keep me close. He kisses my nape and I shiver but fall asleep right away.

  I don’t know how long we slept snuggled up like that but it feels like centuries because I’m refreshed and recharged when I wake up. I turn to face Marcel and discover he is fully awake. I stretch out in his arms, laughing at his smug expression.

  “What happened? Did I say something incriminating in my sleep?”

  “No, you didn’t. It’s just that when you look at me with your sparkling green eyes and stretch like that, you remind me of a happy, satisfied cat.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m happy and satisfied and that’s probably why my eyes are shining, too. As for stretching; well, let’s just say that I need to do it if I ever want to walk again,” she smiles and kisses his lips. “Besides, I’m getting ready for round two.”

  He laughs and kisses my cheek when I reach down between our bodies and close my hand around him.

  “You are incorrigible, you know that? It’s a good thing I’m dead or I don’t think I’d survive your sex drive,” he strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. “I need a breather if that’s okay with you.”

  “Of course it is, honey,” I turn my head and kiss the palm of his hand.

  “Tell me about those bodyguards. Why do you need them?”

  “It’s just that Peter, my manager, and Henry, the PA, are like two old grannies - afraid of their own shadows. Some fan mail got them all worked-up and they decided I needed protection. But it was nothing and I’ll soon get rid of the bodyguards.”

  “Have you read the letters?”

  “No, I haven’t. Henry deals with my mail. To be honest, I don’t get many letters. Nobody writes letters anymore. People send emails or text messages.”

  Marcel laughs so hard that he’s eyes filled with tears.

  “What? What’s so funny? I know I’m not in real danger but I don’t see why this story’s so funny to you.”

  “If you had read the letters you would,” he kisses me and wipes the tears from his eyes before speaking again. “I sent them.”

  “What? How? And why did you threaten me?”

  “Don’t look at me like that. And, please, don’t get angry before I get a chance to explain myself.”

  We sit up on the bed but I need to wait until he controls his fits of laughter.

  “There’s a new kitchen boy at Club Desire who is sensitive to my presence. He’s not like you, though. He can’t see me and hear me as clearly as you can. However, I can influence his actions quite easily. The best part is that he gets in a trance when I do it and can’t remember anything afterwards.”

  “I still don’t see why that’s funny.”

  “Because, my darling, I described all the things I would do to you once I got my hands on your soft, ivory skin. They are exactly the things your Master has been doing to you for years here at Club Desire. I even used your pet name - ‘cat’. If you had read them, you’d know I had written them somehow.”

  “Oh, my! That actually makes sense. A two-hundred-year old ghost would write a letter instead of sending an email.”

  “You see why that’s funny now, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t think it’s funny. It may be ironic but not as funny as you think,” I smack his chest but he only laughs harder at my tantrum. “Besides, it means I’ve been dragging around a handful of bodyguards just because I have somebody who sorts out my mail for me. That’s not fair!”

  “Ah, the plight of the rich and famous! I never thought you paid somebody to read your mail for you.”

  “Henry does more than that, actually.”

  “I bet he does. You said he’s your lover too, right?”

  Marcel laughs but I get off the bed when he tries to pull me back into his arms.

  “Oh, you are unbelievable! Stay away from me, Marcel. I’m furious at you, right now. I’ll get a shower to calm down.”

  I march into the bathroom, half expecting him to follow me, but he keeps his distance. He’s a smart man because I could pluck his eyes out or
do something else equally gruesome. As the water cools my temper down I start to see the ridiculousness in the situation and a smile spreads over my lips.

  “So you agree with me that it was funny.”

  “I shouldn’t but I do.”

  I’m laughing out loud, but I stop when Marcel steps inside the shower booth and pulls me against his solid chest for a kiss. I kiss him back and in no time the water feels cold against our hot skins. He lifts his head and I see the flames of desire in the depths of his stare.

  “We still have round two to deal with, love.”

  “And three, and four, and five,” I shower him with light kisses as I count. “It’s Halloween, my sweet ghost. We need to make the most of this night. It comes only once a year.”

  I feel his body reacting to my caresses as his member hardens against my thighs. I lift a leg, wrapping it around his hip and he grabs my knee to help me stand up as he pushes me against the tiled wall. He grinds his body against mine and I gasp. I kiss him again and Marcel moans as he penetrates me again. Only an inch and he stops. I smile against his mouth.

  “That’s my Marcel. Slow and easy. Inch by inch. Give it to me, baby!”

  He goes in for another precious inch or so before stopping again. His thighs tremble from the effort and my leg isn’t very firm, either. I thrust forward at the same time as I lift my other leg around his hip and he impales me.

  “That’s more like it. Take me hard. I’ve been a slut. I ruined somebody’s wedding, remember. I need to be punished.”

  I quote one of his letters to tease him and it works. I get the reward I was hoping for when he moves deeper inside me before pulling back almost all the way out of my sex. He goes in again and sets a rhythm, moving in and out of me. His big hands cup my bottom, supporting my weight, as I slide up and down the cool, wet wall in rhythm with his sharp, strong movements. They’re not exactly painful but they’re hard and rough. I love the friction his movements create inside me. I close my eyes when my walls quiver around his member once more.

  “It’s coming, Marcel, I can feel it. It’s going to be another big one. Oh, god! Yes! Deeper. Harder.”

  He grunts in response, explodes inside me, and throws his head back, shouting, “Ah!”

  He keeps on hammering me and I clench his shoulders as tight as I can for fear of falling. I wail when my own orgasm steals my ability to speak. We kiss and stifle each other’s moans as the last contractions subside.

  I slip my legs down but they can’t support my body when I try to stand. Marcel grabs my waist and chuckles when we almost stumble down to the floor. We regain our balance and stare into each other’s eyes, laughing and giggling like kids. I don’t want to remember our bliss is going to be over tomorrow morning. I ignore the truth and surrender to the illusion that we could stay together like this forever.

  “Happy Halloween, my gorgeous princess,” he kisses the tip of my nose and smiles against my cheek.

  “Happy Halloween, my sweet ghost.”

  I kiss him softly, and swiftly, on his beautiful, delicious mouth, as the shower water running down our faces hide my bitter-sweet tears.

  Luck of the Irish

  Keira Ashe’s parents are great but her mother has overprotected her for years. Now, this twenty-two-year-old Bostonian has graduated from college and can go on a trip she has been planning for years. She fears her shyness may get in the way of her enjoying what could be a life-altering adventure. However, Keira feels her luck is about to change when she meets gorgeous bartender Declan Slane.

  Declan Slane is twenty-six and works at a hotel bar in Dublin. He hasn’t been very lucky in his love life so far. Also, he has got a troubled past he has chosen not to revisit in order to keep his sanity. Because he isn’t looking for a girlfriend, Declan isn’t very pleased to meet a certain breathtaking American who walks into his bar one afternoon.

  Get a taste of adventure and heartache as Keira spreads her wings and matures while she gets to know her great-grandparents’ home country – Ireland. Hold your breath when she faces tough decisions and dangers. Root for Keira while she weighs up the consequences of making love for the first time. Bite your nails when she comes across unforeseen threats.

  Liz Gavin’s second full-length novel is hard to put down just as it is hard to pinpoint its genre. She has woven an intricate web around her characters that will leave readers breathless. In the sizzling concoction, this talented new author poured heart-warming romance, heart-stopping suspense, and a dash of heart-searching paranormal. Take your pick. Regardless of the literary genre you might favor, Liz Gavin’s writing will take you to a whole different side of it.

  Luck of the Irish

  Liz Gavin

  Copyright 2014

  Published by Elessar Books

  Sneak Peek

  “How was she murdered?” Kerry wanted to know.

  “Multiple stab wounds.”

  A brief silence fell on the group as each one processed the information.

  “We watched Connor’s interview last night.” Keira broke the uncomfortable silence. “The host said his team had tried to contact Ms. Green, but weren’t able to do so.”

  “Do you think there’s a connection between her murder and Connor’s article?” Declan asked.

  Dwyer’s arrival, at that moment, interrupted the conversation.

  “Good evening, everyone.” He nodded at Heller. “It’s all set in the house.” Then he glanced to Murphy. “I didn’t have time to buy any food, though. You’ll have to take whatever you have in here.”

  “That won’t be a problem, sir.”

  “Thank you. Please, give Kerry the keys to the SUV. I’ll drive you back.”

  “Don’t you think we should take them to the safe house?” Dwyer suggested.

  “There’s no time for that.” He lowered his voice, highlighting his frustration. “This lunatic has eluded us for far too long. We have to find all the leads he’s left behind this time, while they’re still fresh. It took the Garda years to find O’Hallon the first time. He eluded us for so long that we thought he must be some kind of criminal mastermind, but he was no bloody Houdini. I’ll be damned if I let him get away with one more murder.” He paused, and seemed to recover himself. He gave a sheepish look toward officers Kerry and Murphy. “Set the GPS with the address to the safe house. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  He turned to Declan to address his previous question.

  “It’s impossible to establish, for certain, if Connor’s article had anything to do with Ms. Green’s murder. We have no way of knowing if O’Hallon read the article or not. On the other hand, we can’t rule out any theories at this point. And, that is a valid one.” He glanced then at Dwyer. “We should head back to the station.”

  The two detectives stood up to go, and Heller turned to Keira. “Don’t worry about your family. You know we’ve been in contact. I’ll call them as soon as I get to the station to advise them of the change in your situation. I tried to talk to them earlier today—I was afraid they would read about Ms. Green in the media, but I couldn’t reach them. Fortunately, the time difference between Ireland and the U.S. will work in my favor.”

  “Thank you, Inspector. I don’t want them to worry about me more than they already do.”

  Heller nodded and cleared his throat. “Kerry, Murphy, Morris—you know the drill. Pack up the essential and leave the rest behind. Tomorrow, I’ll send somebody to pick up whatever you leave here.”

  “Yes, sir,” the three officers replied.

  “Murphy, contact me when you get to the safe house.” He looked at his watch. “It’s a fifteen-minute drive from here. I’ll give you half an hour to get there and call me.”

  “Understood.”

  “See you tomorrow, Miss Ashe. Slane.”

  Heller and Dwyer rushed out of the house, and Keira and Declan went to their bedroom to pack the few belongings they had with them. None of them wasted any time and everybody got busy.

  “I’ll
pack the things in the kitchen,” Murphy told her colleagues.

  “We’ll take care of the bedroom stuff,” Kerry said.

  Kerry and Morris opened the closet and threw things inside the bags without wasting time to arrange them properly. The first suitcase filled up in no time.

  “Take this to the SUV, will you? I’ll finish packing the other,” Kerry asked Morris.

  “I think we’ll need another suitcase for Murphy’s stuff. She’s busy in the kitchen and won’t have time to pack it herself.”

  “Good thinking. I don’t think we have another one in here. I saw Murphy bringing some boxes in the other day. On your way in from the car, ask her where those boxes are, will you? We’ll make do with them.”

  “I’ve got this.”

  Morris finished packing the second suitcase before Kerry returned with the boxes, so he decided to take it to the car and get the boxes himself. He passed Murphy in the living room as she was coming from the kitchen—her arms loaded with a huge box full of food and other supplies.

  “Is Kerry in the kitchen with you?”

  “No. I thought he was packing up things in the bedroom with you.”

  “He was. I told him to take some stuff to the car a while ago. He hasn’t come back yet. I assumed he was helping you out, because I’d told him to ask you about some boxes.”

  They dropped everything to the floor as they realized something was wrong, and drew their weapons. A search around the room didn’t produce any signs of an intruder, which didn’t mean there wasn’t one in the house.

  “Check outside.” Murphy lowered her voice. “I’ll check on Miss Ashe and Mr. Slane.”

  When he moved to the kitchen, she explained, “I’ve already bolted the kitchen door. Nobody will come in through there.”

  “Fine.”

  “Be careful.”

  “You, too.”

  They went their separate ways. Morris headed off to check outside the house. It was dark so he crossed the small garden carefully, and got to the sidewalk. The SUV was parked in front of the house, but he couldn’t see anybody near it. The trunk had been left wide open and Kerry wasn’t there. Morris moved around the car and discovered Kerry lying unconscious, in the middle of the street, a few feet away from the car. Fresh blood pooled on the ground beside his partner. More blood oozed out of a gash in his lower abdomen.