by Jada Turner
Manik let his lips wander from her mouth and nuzzled at the thick waves of hair that fell upon her shoulders, then explored with his mouth and his hands the many parts of her that he wanted to know: the swell and pout of her breasts, the beaded hardness of her nipples, and down to the part of her where she became a pear. He nuzzled the round parts of her flesh, tickling them with his nose--and all at once, he began to purr.
Yes--he purred. It was not a human imitating a purr; it was an actual feline purr, the purr of a cat, but much stronger, much deeper. It was surely the purr of a tiger. It rumbled into Lara with strong, deep fingers of vibration, like a quake of passion rolling into her body. "Oh my God," she gasped. "That's amazing."
"You're so beautifully round," he said, purring even as he spoke. "Tigers are meat-eaters, but you...you're like a round, ripe fruit. A fruit I've wanted to taste all evening. I want to know the sweetness of you. And I'm going to be inside you and fill you with me."
Lara trembled at Manik comparing her to a fruit. He was the most beautiful, exotic, and extraordinary of men, too good to be true because he was not truly human, and all the more wonderful because he was not. And he was the rarest of men, a man who craved not the lean fruit, but the succulent, round pear.
Manik stood up, presenting his maleness to her. Lara looked at it, branching out and curving down from between his legs, and wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. She touched it, and a surging feeling in the shaft felt almost like a tiger's pounce. She ran her hand up and down its fantastic, thick length, and let her fingers grow slick with the nectar exuding from its tip. She reached behind its base and carefully teased the berries in his pouch. Manik let her get the feel of him, purring ever more deeply, until he took her hand in his and said, "Climb up onto the bed and let me taste you."
Without hesitation, Lara did as she asked and presented herself to him lying down as he had shown himself standing up. Manik climbed up after her, crawling up the bed like a tiger stalking in ambush, his eyes blazing green fire, purring carnally at her. He spread Lara's legs apart and crawled between them, bringing his head to the fruit he most desired. Nestled in the pear was the pink and glistening fruit of Lara's womanhood, which Manik began hungrily to lick.
Lara tossed her head from side to side on the black satin pillows and quivered on the comforter, letting the predator claim what he had caught. Her world became the sound of him purring, sending the vibrations of his predator's desire from the wetness between her thighs up into her core. She trembled inside as much as she did on the bed from the way he plundered her petals and licked inside her passage, and licked up from there to the fleshy bulb that was the center of her pleasure. Never was prey so ecstatic at being devoured as Lara was at the tender mercy of Manik's mouth. Her breaths turned to rattling gasps from his licking and sucking and purring. And the greatest rapture of all, she knew, still awaited her.
As if sensing that thought, Manik took her entire flower in a deep, sensuous, probing kiss. She cried out for joy, her back arching, her knees bending, giving herself into this sensation of pleasure beyond belief. He kissed her down there long and luxuriously, savoring every second of this shared delight. When at some length the wave of euphoria subsided, Manik slowly, reluctantly moved his mouth from Lara's opening and started to kiss his way up the pear of her middle, back up to her breasts to tease the pearl-hard nipples with his tongue, and at last settled the lean, hard, beauteously sculpted perfection of his body on top of her. Overtaken with wonder at the press of that incredible physique against her softness, at the way he pinned his captured prey onto the black satin beneath them, Lara licked her lips just before he took them in a kiss to match the one he had given her below, and she braced herself for what she wanted most of all--and which he did not hesitate to give her. There was a feeling of her innermost being expanding to accept him, even as her inner walls did likewise at the long, smooth, sure stroke of his entrance. Lara gasped in mid-kiss with the head-spinning feeling of Manik moving his length and hardness deep inside her, penetrating her for the first time.
Manik pinned her wrists to the pillows with his hands and drove his crotch against her mound, sending his throbbing length as far into Lara as it would go, making her put her head back against the pillows, open her mouth wide and release the pleasure that was almost more than she could bear as a long, passionate howl. He lay atop her, responding to the sounds of her incomprehensible joy by enveloping her gaping mouth with his own and feeding her his eager tongue. Ecstatic to be so helpless, so powerless, against a tiger's desire, Lara let his mouth muffle her outcry, while her entire consciousness focused on the beating of his erection in and out of her, the slapping of his hairy crotch against her entrance, and the mix of her slippery wetness with his the woody rigor of his shaft. Her tunnel expanded inside and her womanhood flooded with moisture as she received him. He slipped into her again and again, thrusting ferociously, relentlessly, capturing her as surely as if she were something he had stalked and leapt upon in the jungle. Lara wished that she could pry her hands free and clutch at the tight firmness of his buttocks, which she was sure must feel almost as exquisite as what he was pumping within her. For want of grasping his urgently heaving rear and feeling it rise and fall with each delicious stroke of his erection, she instead tightened her thighs around his hips and savored his beats that way. And still his mouth slid against hers, and still his tongue penetrated her there, rolling voraciously in time to his thrusts down below.
All at once he tore his mouth from hers, raised his head into the air, and gave a sound that was the roar of both man and beast. Lara knew that his moment was hitting. Keeping her pinned beneath him, he rammed himself all the way in her once more and held himself there. His wet, white seed burst forth at the opening of Lara's womb, pouring wave and wave of man-tiger juice into her depths. He pressed himself against her opening, relaxed only for a second, and pressed again and again and again, ensuring that she received every last drop of what he was giving. Lara loosened her legs and let her body go limp under Manik. She was at the point of weeping from pleasure. Kissing her ravenously, he grunted, "Did you come? Did you get it? Did you come?"
She half-sobbed, "Almost. It was close."
"Not good enough," he said in a sated, rasping voice. The feeling of him sliding all the way out of her almost made Lara want to weep out loud--until he climbed back down below and gave his tongue to her tender bud once again. Manik licked at it with a steady rhythm that brought her back to the precipice where he had taken her while was lay on top of her. The swirling of his tongue did the job it was intended. Lara felt as though she were flying up through the top of a forest canopy into an endless blue sky of bliss. She arched her back and pushed herself into his face, wailing for joy. He French-kissed her womanhood one last time before she collapsed back onto the bed and he rested there with his face between her thighs. The tiger's hunt was thus complete.
After a time, he climbed back up rest his head with hers on the pillows and take her in his arms. No words passed between them, only smiles and lingering kisses. Lara traced the lines of the stripes on his arms and shoulders with her fingertips and he smiled a feline smile at her. "You like my stripes, then."
"I like all of you," she answered with a sigh.
He drew her into yet another kiss and sucked hungrily at her lips. "Good," he said. "You're going to keep having all of me. I'm going to do it to you again tonight. And again and again and again..." And to emphasize that he had caught her and meant to have her to their mutual content, Manik put Lara on her back and climbed onto her and nestled between her thighs once again.
Shutting her eyes and taking in the amazing feeling of Manik entering her once more, Lara wondered at the odds of such a thing happening. What in all the world were the chances of her finding a predator and a carnivore...with a taste for pears?
Ghosting
An Erotic Ghost Romance
1
“New England Paranormal Society,”
she answered, stifling a bored yawn. “How may I help you?”
“H-hello...?” came a man’s frightened voice. “I...I think my house is haunted.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, scribbling everything he told her onto a piece of paper. “And how long has this been going on?”
“I can’t be sure,” he said in exasperation. “It started after we moved in.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t!” he shouted through the phone, making her wince. “You don’t know what it’s been like with that thing running about destroying my house! Get out here and do something about it!”
She let out a weary sigh and did as she was instructed to do. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll inform my boss and someone will get back to you shortly. But if you want my opinion…”
At that moment Carl strolled in munching a bagel. He snatched the receiver out of her hand. “Listen, we’ll be out there tomorrow.” Carl flashed her a look
Jenna Scott hung her head in shame. “I know,” she sighed. “He seemed so helpless. I’ve been working here a year, I can handle cases.”
Carl finished his bagel and made himself a cup of coffee. “Someday,” he said, patting her on the back. “You’ve just got to learn to tell the difference from the ghouls and the nutjobs.”
“You mean there’s a difference?”
“Ha-ha,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “You have a big imagination and you get too obsessed with the cases, but listen,” he began, as he eyed her large breasts through her low cut shirt. “How’d you like to get away from the phones for a while?”
Jenna sat up with renewed interest. “What’s up?” she asked as she pulled her sweater on to avoid Carl’s gaze. Men had trouble looking her in the eyes.
He guzzled his coffee before setting the cup down on her desk. “How’d you like a case? A real case.”
“But you said I wasn’t ready.” Jenna frowned. Carl looked shiftier than usual. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was plotting something. “Alright, what’s the deal?”
Carl blanched. “Deal?” he repeated nervously. “What deal?” He whipped out a hankie and mopped his brow. “I just thought you wanted out of the crypt for a while.”
“Sure,” she replied slowly. “I do.”
“Then don’t ask silly questions. This case is a chance for you to show the boss what you’re made of.”
“So spill it.”
He leaned forward and began reciting with unabashed glee. “It’s a haunted castle. In England!”
“A castle!”
“Sure enough,” he laughed. “But listen, We can’t get anyone out there. No one will touch it with a ten-foot pole.”
“What do you mean no one will touch it?” she demanded. He got up and rifled around in the file cabinet for a folder and tossed it at her. “Everything you need to know is in there.”
Jenna dragged the folder towards her and eyed him suspiciously. “Why won’t anyone touch it, Carl?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Read the file.”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“Because I want to sleep at night,” he snapped. “We need someone out there stat. Randy won’t go and Brad hates to fly.”
“So why don’t you go?”
“Look,” he said irritably, “I’m doing you a favour by offering you this. The guys don’t think you’re good enough anyway. Refuse this and they’ll be right.”
“I’m plenty good enough,” she retorted. “You idiots think just because you can hold a camera straight you’re experts. Well, you’re not. I helped you out with Waverly Hills, remember?”
“You did,” he admitted. “But that was a lucky break. The bossman wanted to take you up to that house in Concord, but the guys said all you’d do was scream.” Carl shuffled his feet in embarrassment. “I sort of agreed with them.”
Jenna was hurt. “Carl! I thought you were my friend!”
“I am,” he sighed. “Just look at the file and get back to me. This could be your big chance, don’t screw it up.”
She picked up the folder and a cassette fell out. “What’s this?”
“The EVP’s they got when they investigated in ’94.”
“So, no one’s tried to go back?”
“Not that I know of.” Carl handed her a tape player. “The place has a habit of driving its owners nuts. The last guy strung himself from the rafters.”
“You’re joking.”
“I wish I were.” Carl glanced outside. “It’s getting late. Take that stuff home and see what you think. The boss is willing to send you up there, all expenses paid.”
Jenna nodded, tucking the folder and tapes into her bag. “So if I go, what’ll I take with me?”
“Just you and a strong stomach.”
“You mean I’ll be on my own?”
Carl paled. “Well, you’ll have Marcus.”
“I thought you weren’t afraid of anything, Carl. You look like you’re about to wet your pants.”
“Shut up!” he snapped angrily. “You should be on your knees thanking me. I could have gotten those yahoos from the university.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Carl looked at her and said grimly, “He didn’t want them.”
“What are you talking about?” Jenna replied uneasily, not caring for the way he was acting. “You’re scaring me.”
“Good.” He helped her on with her jacket and walked her out. “You want the job or not?”
Jenna sat behind her steering wheel and answered without thinking, “I do.” She was just as surprised as Carl and added hastily, “I mean, sure I’ll go.”
Carl nodded. “I’ll tell the bossman. Make sure you get a good night’s sleep. You’re going to need it.”
Jenna drove off feeling oddly content. This would be her first solo investigation and hopefully, not her last.
2
Twenty-four hours later, Jenna was on her way to London. Of course, Carl would have to stick her in coach. After a lousy dinner of cardboard salmon and limp asparagus, she read through the file and immediately asked why she didn’t pack a parachute.
Blackmoor Castle. Just the name was enough to induce a cold sweat. Built in 1266, the stone behemoth had braved enough murders and invasions to render it uninhabitable. Jenna shivered as she read horrific tales of beheadings, torture, and dungeons. Numerous husbands had offed their wives in gory and messy instances in which the heads or bodies were never found, while recent tenants fled screaming into the night with nothing but the clothes on their backs.
“Carl,” she muttered to herself. “What did you get me into?”
Page after page of police investigations, broken leases, and mysterious accidents swam before her eyes. At one point Jenna listened to the EVP’s recorded during half-hearted ghost hunts. What she heard was enough for her to rip the earbuds out and shove the tapes back into her purse. As she flipped through the pages her eyes caught a photograph of a painting of a handsome man. His eyes looked familiar and she felt heat rising in her body.
“Calm down, Jenna” she whispered to herself. “I know its been awhile but there is no sense in getting turned on by a ghost.”
The plane would be landing soon, and Jenna decided to take a nap to avoid the feelings that picture had stirred within her. She slipped a pillow under her head and closed her eyes. As she did so, she tried not to give too much credence to the horrors that she’d heard on the tapes. She fell into a restless sleep plagued by sex dreams. Unseen hands, caressed her body, moving slowly. The hands slid along her jawline, fingers softly traced her mouth. She reached out to suck the fingers gently but they disappeared. She lay still and the hands returned, urgent, searching. She longed for that touch. A touch like she had never experienced in her real life. The hands appeared at her feet, gently sweeping that amazing touch over them and up her legs. She parted her legs, wanting desperately for that touch. The hands disappeared again. Frustrated, J
enna lay still again. But the hands did not return. Just a man’s voice whispered to her. He only said one thing.
“Jenna”
3
They lost her luggage. She was supposed to meet her assistant, Mr. Niven from Cambridge, but he seemed to have fallen into a black hole.
By the time the rickety cab pulled up, Jenna was ready to strangle a man; any man who resembled Carl. The grizzled driver deposited her on the doorstep of a rat-infested hovel as her boss had ran out of money when he was booking accommodations.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she groaned. “I was better off at the airport.” She flung her backpack onto the stained carpet and unrolled her sleeping bag. She didn’t bother to undress.
Jenna wasn’t staying.
* * * *
After finally getting in touch with Mr. Niven, Jenna risked pneumonia by taking a cold shower in a tiny bathtub, while breakfast was a meagre offering of sugary tea with a side of soggy buttered toast.
When she met her hapless assistant at the train station, Jenna was groggy and felt a nasty migraine brewing. He was nice enough, she supposed, with tortoiseshell glasses and a head full of frizzy curls. But since she hadn’t slept well and hadn’t had a decent cup of coffee, Jenna was feeling bitchier than usual. The poor boy wisely decided to keep his distance while he debriefed her.
“I’m Marcus by the way,” he said cordially.
Jenna winced and offered her hand. “Jenna.”
He smiled, revealing a set of dimples in his soft cheeks. “Well, is it normal for Carl to send a newbie all by herself?”
