Chapter Six
Lying beside her, on top of the blankets she’d wrapped herself in, he listened to her breathing. Her satisfaction pleased him more than any orgasm with any other submissive.
Might be hokey, but she was made for him.
The idea that one day she might move on, find a lover who hadn’t died, have a life he couldn’t deny her, stabbed at him. She should move on. Have kids. Have a life.
Have a man to hold her in the darkness and kiss her in the light of day.
If he had it to do over, he wouldn’t waste another moment. Carson was his, he’d take her. Whatever she needed him to be, he would be. He already protected her, loved her, he could spend the rest of his days satisfying her physical hungers, too.
If I had days left.
The helpless frustration contradicted everything he’d known while alive. There was always more time, more chances. That remembered desire for her, an opportunity which would someday present itself, licked at him and taunted him after death.
He’d wasted so much time with her. He’d loved her, but protected her from himself. Kept her pure and on a pedestal in his thoughts, dreaming and hoping and never pushing….
Loving her and unable to love her, all at once, the conflict ripped at his core.
Yeah, funny that the one thing he would change would be her. He touched her hair and she shivered in her sleep. His touch must be cold. Nipples puckered, skin shivered…she reacted as if he stroked her with ice when he ran his hands across her. Not that he felt it, but he didn’t want to resist touching her, even if it chilled her a little.
And it kind of made him want to try out ice with her. How would she respond…?
Wondering about other sex games to play with her seemed a practice in futility. He didn’t have one more day. A fucking ghost, he’d never know what her skin felt like under his fingertips or feel her breathing steadily in his arms.
Closing his eyes, he wished he wasn’t. He wished he could try again.
And for the first time since dying, Randall slipped into sleep.
***
Rolling over, Carson picked her cell phone off the nightstand and glanced at the screen. She’d slept in. Shit. Late for work.
Guess sex with a ghost is a good reason to forget to set your alarm.
Shoving out of the rumpled bed, body slightly sore, she got in the shower with a sigh of relief.
The hot water soothed muscles not used to being dominated by a man like Randall. A smile teased at the corners of her lips. Could it have been a hallucination if it left me aching, muscles sore from arching to meet his touch?
It felt so good to be with him like that.
If only it was real….
Memories of the night before triggered tiny aftershocks, and she rubbed her hands across her breasts with more force than needed. The best sex she’d ever had was with a ghost.
Sliding her fingers against the lips of her sensitized pussy, she shivered, wondering if he watched. If he’d speak or touch her again.
Laughing at her overactive imagination, Carson toweled off and dressed. Her cell phone beeped with new message, and she thumbed it open to read it.
I hope you enjoyed your date. I try to deliver every fantasy exactly the way every client wants, even if they don’t know what they want when they request it. I’m very sorry for your pain, but sometimes we don’t realize what we have until it’s gone. –Madame Eve
Weird. How would the 1Night Stand service know about her twisted little fantasy?
Back in her room, she glanced at the Happy-Bunny-A-Day calendar on her desk.
And froze.
Was she in such a haze since he died that she hadn’t remembered to remove a single page? She could have sworn….
Ripping off the page, she ran through the apartment. She rushed through her front door and across the hall before grinding to a halt.
His door, looking like it had the day before.
But, what if….
Before she could knock—not that she expected an answer—the door opened. Her knees crumpled and she fell to the carpet.
Realest-looking ghost ever….
“Carson.” He pulled her to her feet, tugging her into his arms. His strong and very alive arms.
His scent folded around her, warm and fresh from the shower.
“You’re not dead. I thought—”
“Yeah, me too. Come in here before the neighbors think we’ve gone nuts.”
Unable to think, to process, she allowed him to guide her inside before closing the door. Everything—his sofa, his TV, his things—arranged the way it had been before he died.
As if none of it ever happened.
Biting back a sob, she wasn’t sure whether to be thrilled or to commit herself.
“You died.” The words choked out of lips gone numb as she stroked a hand across his table, as if feeling it would make it more real.
“Yeah, but something tells me we’re the only ones who know that. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I can tell you I’m not taking the bike out today. Actually, I called off work. I’m not leaving this apartment at all until tomorrow, just in case.”
Blinking at him, she struggled to make sense of it “So, you remember all that?”
“Dying? Yeah, hurt like a bitch and then I haunted you. Weirdest shit ever.”
Shaking her head, she stared at him. “How can you just—”
“What? Say it? You’d be amazed what being dead does for your tact. I’m going to say exactly what I think from now on, about everything. Life’s too short for bullshit.”
Shoving a hand through his thick, dark hair, he looked almost rueful. Wearing jeans and a T-shirt, he looked….
So wonderfully normal.
And completely off limits.
Loss screamed through her and she tucked her arms around herself, seeking comfort. He was alive. Her best friend was still there.
Back in the friend zone.
“I know that look, too, blondie.”
“What look?”
“That look.”
“What, the you’ll-be-back-to-fucking-half-the-town-now-that-you’re-not-dead look? Not sure how you can know this look. I’m pretty sure I’ve never had quite this expression before.”
Shoving her hands in her pockets, she couldn’t make herself meet his gaze. Yeah, she was a fucking submissive. Which meant, sexually, she submitted. She wasn’t ever going to be aggressive enough to get his attention or….
“Carson!”
“Yeah?”
“Would you fucking look at me?”
She raised her face, obeying his command even then.
“I’m not interested in half the town. Did you notice who I chose to haunt? You. I want you. You’re mine. Would you believe before I died, I even hired a dating service to try to fulfill my fantasies about you? Got an email from them this morning asking if I liked my date, to add to the strangeness of today. You’re the one I’ve always wanted and if I have to teach you that, well, I’m alive now. And have the dick to prove it, dammit.” His eyes glittered, almost like he fought back emotions as strong as the ones buffeting her.
“You want me?” The needy words slipped out and she bit her lip, unable to meet his eyes, to face possible rejection.
“Take off your clothes.”
“Now?” She wouldn’t be a pity fuck. Doubt for herself and his feelings for her, swamped her in misery.
He didn’t reply and, by not answering or giving her an order, caused a thrum of heat to ripple across her flesh. Glancing up, she met his gaze.
His slow smile told her she’d disobeyed. “You’ll pay for that.”
Stripping while he stayed fully dressed, fully alive, ratcheted up her vulnerability.
And turned her on.
Which was the reality? Him being gone or being there?
Her hand reached out, as if propelled by her need to feel his touch. When he curled his fingers around hers, she fought back a sobbing laugh.
His eyes feasted on the curves she bared and he released her fingers to crack his knuckles. A shiver tracked down her spine.
Once she stood before him, waiting, he pointed to the couch. “Bend over the back of the couch.”
Obeying, she bent. He spread her legs with a nudge of his foot at her ankle then shoved her head down to rest on the cushions.
Then he waited. “Hell of a view. Too bad I owe you one.”
His palm cracked her tender ass and she clutched the pillow to keep quiet. He’d managed to curve his fingers around her slit, hitting her clit, leaving a burning handprint of desire in his wake.
“You also forgot to call me Master.” Another crack followed the first.
By the third crack, her ass had to be glowing pink and she fought not to writhe. Each hit, wet with her desire, stung more than the last, moisture increasing her sensitivity.
The edgy peak of orgasm loomed, out of her reach, and she bit the pillow, seeking an outlet for her tension.
“Very good. You’ve learned to stand still and be silent. I should reward you.”
When his tongue parted her aching slit, she melted into the couch. Finding the release for her tension, she orgasmed.
“Carson?”
She couldn’t answer. Shaking, her muscles refusing to obey, she panted.
“I’m going to fuck you now. I’m going to ride you right here. Don’t say a word.”
The rip of the condom wrapper sounded like a promise of more. A moment later, he tugged her ass into the air, the nudge of his cock against her opening almost too soon. Too much. She resisted begging him to stop.
He pushed inside her.
The feel of him, thick and throbbing, tipped her over the edge and she came again. He caught her breast, tugging her flush with the length of his body, his rough fingers tweaking the nipple while the other hand parted her slit to find her clit unerringly. As he moved, the last vestiges of her orgasm clutched at his cock, stretching her to accommodate his unyielding size.
“I’m going to get you a collar. One of those ones that say ‘owned.’ You’ll wear it for me, won’t you, Carson?”
Nodding, she reveled in him, so alive, so real, so there.
“I love you.” The words she longed to say, but couldn’t before, vibrated with joy. Days and years of pleasure in his arms stretched out full of possibility. The hope for what tomorrow could bring blossomed in her chest, filling the hole losing him created.
“Love you, too, blondie. I’m sorry I waited to take you.” His voice trembled a little. His hands, the smell of him, surrounded her, taking her pain and washing it away on a tide of desire.
He rode her, became one with her.
And she’d never felt so alive.