He took the time to build up her excitement and let her get used to the idea all over again before he actually began to push into her. His flesh sank into hers as though they were merging into one person, slowly stretching her virgin canal as he sank into her. She shifted under him nervously and tensed until he stopped and waited for her to adjust.
In truth, he'd only been with an untouched girl once before. He'd never been married and his dalliances had been with experienced women, but there had been one. A plump kitchen maid who worked in the hotel he'd been staying at had seduced him into tumbling her in the coach house that stood beside it.
She'd been fresh as a daisy and twice as pretty. Full of eager excitement she had been, but when he'd pushed into her, she'd shrieked that he was splitting her down the middle. She'd cried, and a trickle of blood had leaked from her, but she had told him not to stop. Insisting he continue, but slowly, she walked him through it like she'd been breached a dozen times before.
Afterwards, as they had sprawled together on a pile of lap blankets, she'd laughed and explained. "Don't you know? It's always like that on a girl's first time, John. A woman's pain to bear. Men get to enjoy, while we bleed and ache, but I enjoyed it, too. Don't you worry about that," she’d said with a saucy wink. She'd gotten over the pain quite quickly, in fact, and before they’d left, she was ready for another ride, and other than a wince as he seated himself fully in her, she'd made no complaint that time.
April didn't have even that much pain. There were no tears and no blood. He pushed slowly into her body, pausing after each inch so she could accept him. Her tension and fear slowly faded when she realized he wasn't hurting her, and then he was able to move, hips rolling in a gentle motion as he plowed in and out of her willing body. At first she just lay there under him, letting him do all the work, but as she got more comfortable, she began to respond, moaning softly as he rocked in and moving her hips to encourage the motion. It was slow, gentle lovemaking, not what she'd been fantasizing about or dreaming about, but when she whispered, "Harder," to him, he'd shaken his head.
"No, love, not this time. Take it slow. I promise the next time we'll go as hard as you want," he assured her with a small chuckle.
She trusted him; the oddness of trusting a ghost aside, he seemed to know more than she did about this. The slowly rising pleasure was frustrating. She could almost grasp what she wanted, but it stayed just out of her reach, and she perched right on the edge of what she knew would be an incredible orgasm. She just needed to get there.
She began to move faster, tilting her hips and raising them so that he could slide in deeper. When that didn't work, she shifted her position until, suddenly, the hot length filling her found a spot that made her gasp. Her back arched involuntarily as she fought to stay right there.
His hips rolled, snapping quickly forward with each thrust and at just that perfect angle. Her pleasure began to rise. A soft, molten warmth built and flooded out across her body until every nerve was aflame. She panted, making a soft little keening cry that he found enthralling.
The idea that he was drawing those sounds out of her— It had been so long since he'd had a woman, he'd forgotten what it was like to drive the cries out of their body.
His balls tightened, drawing up closer to his body, and he knew he wasn't going to hold out much longer, but he wanted to bring her first, wanted to watch her face as he wrung the pleasure out of her. She'd seemed very turned on by the spanking, as aroused as he had been, and it occurred to him that a little pain might add some spice to the moment.
He shifted, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her up until she was straddling his lap. She blinked in surprise; her mind had been so foggy and focused on pleasure that the sudden change of position confused her. He gripped her by the waist and moved her up and down the length of his shaft until she got the idea and began to ride him with a tentative rocking motion that soon picked up speed.
She realized that he was able to fill her deeply in such a position and that being on top allowed her to control the tempo and she took advantage of this to pull herself towards the peak. But there were other benefits to this position, which she discovered immediately.
Her breasts swayed and bounced as she rode his shaft, and he leaned in and caught her left nipple in his mouth, suckling it with a firm suction that made things tighten down low in her belly. She groaned, and her eyes slid half-way shut.
"This is amazing," she said distantly, as though she wasn't addressing him directly, but speaking to the air around them.
He caught the tightened bud between his teeth and slowly closed them until she sucked in a slow breath of pain, and then he relaxed and went back to sucking. The pain had made her muscles clench around him, and he groaned as he tried to stave off his impending orgasm.
He moved to her other breast, pulling it taut as he sucked the nipple into his mouth and biting down with a slow and painful pleasure. A cry burst out of her as the edge of pain sent a wave of sensation crashing over her, thrusting and rolling across her mind like a seashell in a hurricane. Her clit spasmed and her walls clenched tight around his shaft. For a moment, she stopped moving, but he didn't want her still, so he began snapping his hips upwards, with his hands at her waist helping her to rise and fall on his shaft.
He released her breast, and his sapphire eyes locked onto hers for a split second before his body tightened and, with a sound that was a cross between a grunt and a growl, he came. He was glad for the position then; it controlled the violence of his thrust when he would have been unable. His shaft jerked inside of her as her orgasm caused a rippling caress when she clenched around him.
She held his shoulders, trembling and trying to calm the rapid shallow breathing as she gathered her scattered wits from the orgasm that had rocked her world. She continued to move against his thrusts, but slower, more gently, and her body jerked as shocks pinged through her long after the tide of pleasure had settled. Without the urgency to reach more, there were still enjoyable sensations from the ride itself.
And there was a special closeness she hadn't expected as she held him inside of her, with her body pressed against his and her head resting on his shoulder. The slow rocking movement and the feeling of his flesh contained within hers made her wish it would last forever.
Eventually, he softened and slid out of her heat, and a languidness flowed over both of them. They ended up sprawled on the towels, with her lying across his chest. His hand settled on her ass, and he caressed the silky skin lightly and inhaled the scent of her hair. Strawberries. Her hair smelled like strawberries, he realized.
She played with a curl of his hair, feeling peaceful and relaxed. "I have so many questions," she said after a time had passed in silence.
He slid his hand up, rubbing her back gently, his chest rising and falling under her, just as though he were breathing. "I know. I may be able to answer some of them, darling, but there is much I don't know myself. I have hopes that your men of science might provide some of what you seek. Over the years, godly men have visited, and they failed to clear this house or explain it."
She hesitated; so many things to ask—what was the most important? Well, perhaps the first question was an easy one.
"Am I allowed to tell them what you say? The professor, and his team, I mean."
The professor, when she'd admitted that the man had spoken to her and that she could understand him as clear as day, had insisted she write down everything she was told in the future. Technically, she'd be in breach of contract if she didn't, but of course there was no way for them to know, so she'd leave it to him.
"You may tell them whatever you choose to tell them. The dead have no secrets. Not really, but there are things you may choose to keep to yourself," he said. He took her chin in his hand, turning her head and lifting it so he could look into her eyes. They were so unusual, with a deep brown ring around the pupil that melted into shades of green. They reminded him of pine bark covered in lichen. "The owner of this house wanted me out rather b
adly, I'm afraid. She brought in a medium to find out what I needed in order to move on. I told her, of course, that I'd no intention of moving on. This is my house."
A slight frown crossed April's face. "But—"
"Shhh, listen. The medium grew quite insistent. I believe there was promise of a large sum of money if she could make me leave, and it made her most anxious to help me to the other side, against my will, if necessary. I'm afraid I lost my temper with the pair of them and taught them a lesson to encourage better manners. The owner hasn't returned to this house since that day, and I think it rather likely that the medium refused, as well."
He smiled, and it was a wicked look, full of satisfaction. It was obvious he felt no regret about whatever lesson he'd taught them.
She was desperate to ask what that had entailed, curious beyond belief to know if they'd suffered the same fate she had in the kitchen. He seemed rather set on politeness, though, and she was hesitant to interrupt him to ask after he'd hushed her.
"She sent a series of strange people to the house, one after another. Each of them tried to shake me loose of my property. Most of them were fake. It was entertaining to watch the show they put on trying to contact me. Most of them couldn't see me at all, and wouldn't have been able to hear me if I shouted into their ears, but the last—the last actually had a gift. She saw straight away that this house was filled with many ghosts and she shook with fear. She wanted to run, I could see it in her eyes. She was old; maybe she feared joining us. At any rate, she listened and she spoke. She came with an offer; can you guess what that was?" he asked softly.
April shook her head slowly, but then she paused. She shifted her position, sitting up next to him so she could see him more comfortably. "Did she mention the video game?" she asked.
"The vid-e-o game?" He sounded the word out like it was foreign to him. "I suppose she did. She offered to give me back my house the only way she could, by letting me choose the next owner. In exchange, I would provide them with evidence that we were here, over a period of time. She would send people to study and record these things. I had no interest in what she does with this evidence, only that this house remain mine, and that I am not troubled by rude people demanding I leave."
His eyes narrowed as though just thinking about it was making him angry, and she placed her hand flat on his chest, soothing him.
"So," she said carefully "you've chosen me?"
"If you wish to stay, yes." His hand slid over hers and then encircled her wrist, tugging her firmly until she was leaning into him, just a few inches from his face. "I am not a modern man, April. I've watched your television. Hours, days, weeks of it. I've seen your news, your talk shows, and the fictional stories they create to entertain. I understand this time as much as I ever will, but I'm not from your time, understand this."
Her eyes dropped to her wrist and the strong fingers that gripped it. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt a panicky flutter in her chest. She tried to pull back, but his free hand slid into her hair and wrapped around a handful at the nape of her neck, holding her exactly where he wanted her. She wouldn't be able to break free without causing herself pain, and she suddenly realized the point he was making.
"I-I understand," she said softly.
"Do you? Because while I think we both enjoyed the playful spanking in your dreams, it won't always be like that. I have no regret over what happened in the kitchen, and you can be sure it will happen again whenever necessary."
The firm and decided tone made it clear that he felt it would be necessary at some point, and she felt an instant urge to promise to be good. The childishness of such an answer kept the words off her tongue; instead, she dropped her eyes, flushing with embarrassment.
"Did it turn you—" She paused and then corrected herself in case he didn't understand the slang, "Did it excite you to—to punish? The way it did when it was for fun?" She'd felt his hard length pressing against her belly in the dream and known he was enjoying the spanking as much as she was.
"No." The answer was short but more thoughtful than annoyed, and she waited to see if he would say more. After a few moments he expanded upon his answer. "I was too angry at the time. I don't like being called a liar, and then you threatened me with a knife. I was too furious to enjoy it then, but I think I could take a great deal of delight in punishing you."
"But what if I don't do anything wrong?" she protested weakly. If he was planning to hold her to the standards of decades ago, chances were good she'd be doing plenty of things wrong.
He laughed and loosened his grip on her hair, letting his fingers slip through, playing with the strands. "There's punishment—and then there's punishment. I won't let you think you're in trouble when I just want to amuse myself, because play should be enjoyable for both of us. When you're in trouble, you shall know it, I promise you."
She frowned, forehead wrinkling as her eyebrows met in the center. She considered this and what it would mean in the future. She'd found the bedroom play exciting in her dreams, and the little spanking he'd given her in the library had been fun, too, but that was different from agreeing that he had the right to punish her whenever he chose. She'd be setting back women's lib generations if she agreed to it.
But there was something appealing about an alpha male who called the shots. Earlier times were simpler times, and that was attractive in some ways, but how could she give over all control of her life to someone who wasn't even alive? He may have watched TV twenty-four/seven, but did he really understand what it was like living in today's world? She doubted it, when his experience was limited to watching and not doing.
"You said—" She paused, biting her bottom lip as she tried to think of a way to phrase it, and suddenly the words she needed burst out of her. "You said that you might know about the modern world but you're not from it, right? Well, I'm not from your time, either. I know about it, from history books and school. I could study it all day long and memorize facts about how people lived, but that just gives me information, not experience. I'll never be a simple girl from the eighteen hundreds or—whenever?" She tilted her head in question.
"I was born in 1850," he replied.
So she'd guessed right; he was at least a hundred years past his sell-by date. She did the math quickly.
"That makes you one hundred and sixty-six years old?" she said. Her tone was faint with shock. It wasn't that it was a surprise; it was just actually adding up all those years. He nodded, saying nothing, and she took a deep calming breath before she continued with her train of thought.
"I'm not used to obeying men, and I'm not sure that holding me to standards I never lived with is completely fair," she finished, looking away from his face nervously.
He was silent, and when she peeked back to check his expression, he only seemed to be lost in thought.
"You've made good points and you are obviously an intelligent woman. I think you'll find me easier to live with than you'd expect. I've never believed women were less intelligent than men, April, only less educated, which could hardly be considered their fault. My mother was one of the rare few who was learned. Oh, yes, even back then there were a few women who attended university. My mother held a degree in Natural Philosophy. It would have made her completely unmarriageable, except that one of her instructors fell in love with her, and she with him. It took him a year to convince her to marry him. She was against marriage and saw it as a type of bondage, you see."
Her mouth opened in a silent O of surprise, and she turned to look him in the face. "Really?" she asked incredulously. She'd always thought all women back then depended on men to take care of them.
"Yes, it's true. And I'll tell you also that my mother ruled our household. My father was a good man but not a practical one. A daydreamer, I think you'd say. However." He put a stern expression on his face. "I'm not my father, so don't think to rule this house." And then he let his expression relax as he stroked her cheek with a fond look. "I suggest that since you are from one time and
I from another, that we meet somewhere in the middle. Agreed?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, tilting her head with a confused expression.
"I mean let's make an agreement between us. I believe that every household needs one person to be the head, to make the decisions and dole out the punishments as needed, and that will be me. But I accept that you are not used to obeying and that the world you live in hasn't prepared you for it. So I am willing to negotiate. Does this seem fair?" he asked, watching her face carefully.
She nodded, her sleek black hair slipping over her shoulder to pool on his chest as she shifted position, waiting for the offer.
"Very well, then; as pleasure is meant to be enjoyed by both, you may decline, as you choose, any punishments that are not real punishments. When I deem you've earned a true chastisement, I give my word that if you do not agree it's earned, I will listen to such explanations as you may have to explain the behavior before proceeding," he said solemnly.
She had the feeling that when he gave his word, he meant it, but he'd only said he'd listen, and she noted that he wasn't agreeing to skip the punishment if she didn't agree with him. Her lips pressed together tightly, and her eyes narrowed.
"What if you don't think my excuses are enough?" she demanded.
One eyebrow went up at her tone and suddenly his hand was moving around to her backside, to rest there lightly in warning. "I will listen fairly and give your words weight, but if they don't convince me, then I will assume that it's because your heart doesn't truly believe you're innocent of wrong, and I will proceed with the punishment."
She was practically scowling, but the warm weight of his hand on her ass made her think twice about snapping the remarks she wanted to make. Instead, she debated it silently. She had liked the idea of him being in charge. She'd been attracted to the role of submissive; it was a turn on for her, for sure. True, it was unexpected, but she couldn't deny it.
It was also obvious that he wasn't capable of not dominating her. He may have had a dominant female influence in his life and he might know that women could be intelligent and capable, but that didn't change the fact that he was a straight up alpha male who was unable or unwilling to be anything else.
A Haunting Experience Page 7
