by Sable Hunter
Patrick’s words silenced her, but she began to vibrate. He flipped the skirt aside and spread her legs apart a few more inches.
Purr.
Savannah bucked her hips one more time and her mound made contact with his hand. He glanced back up at her and fit his mouth over hers. Her tongue split his lips and swirled around his. The kiss was slow, but forceful, telling him how bad she wanted him inside of her. When he opened his eyes she was staring at him.
Still playing with her beneath her dress, he felt the garter belt she had on and slipped a finger behind it. “You’re so unbelievably sexy; I should have known you’d have on something like this.”
“I bought it for you. Never owned anything like it before.”
Patrick groaned. “My cock just went to a whole other level of hardness. Shit, I may pop the button on my pants.” He nudged his erection into her softness. “I can't take it anymore; I need to feel your pussy.” He pulled back from the kiss, but Savannah bit his bottom lip gently and he went back in for more. Hooking a finger into her underwear to pull it aside, he grazed her swollen clit in the process.
“Oh, fuck," she said again, and Patrick took the opportunity to pull his face back. He rubbed the wet lips between her legs and she whimpered, tossed her head to the side and bit the air.
"Oh, fuck is right, Savannah Baby. I want to tear every article of clothing from your body, lift you up and impale you on my dick, but I've lusted after a taste of your sweet pussy all day and that has to come first.” His words made her shiver. Patrick pulled her off the wall and scooped her up into his arms. “You’re so tiny; it’s like you’re not even here.”
“I’m here,” she assured him.
“Thank God.” The bed was entirely too far away so he opted for the desk. “Just let me put your perfect ass down right here.” She reached for his belt. Patrick took her hand off if it. “Not yet, Savannah."
He pushed her back until she was lying down and he went to his knees. Anticipation made her shake and she gripped the side of the desk so hard her knuckles were white. “I’m so glad I’m the only one who has ever done this to you. It makes this pussy all mine.” He flipped up her skirt and planted a kiss on her inner thigh.
"Ohhhh," she moaned softly and slapped the desktop.
Patrick kissed his way up to her satin covered treasure and licked the moist fabric of her underwear, she smelled like the sweetest candy – he licked her again.
Savannah bucked again and he had to place a firm hand on her tummy just to keep her still. "Take me, Patrick," she begged.
He ignored her pleas and tore her underwear in two like wet paper. A second later his tongue was on her pussy. “Cream for me, Baby. I could lap at you for days and still want more.” He flicked her clit a few times just to make her squirm and the sexy landing strip she had tickled his nose. Savannah squirmed and he moved further south licking every inch of her lips on the way down. “Your slit is so tiny that I have to force my tongue into you. That’s why my cock loves you so much.” She clamped down on his tongue and he swirled it inside her.
"Oh God, Patrick!"
"Cum for me, Savannah."
"Yes. Yes."
She climbing the mountain fast and released his tongue from her grasp. Patrick licked back up her clit and wrapped both hands around her thighs and pulled her tight to him. She reached down between her legs and tried to grab his hair, but it was too short for her to get a grip. "Oh God!!"
Savannah came hard, grinding her pussy into his face. It was a struggle for Patrick to keep her pinned to the desk she thrashed around so hard. "Ohhhhhhhhh God!! Yessssssssss!!!"
He held her tight, peppering her inner thigh with soft kisses while she came down, using the time to free his hard cock from his pants. Savannah looked down at him, skin glowing, struggling to regain her breath. “I could lick you again right now, but I need to be inside you.” He pulled her up off the desk.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him and he carried her to the bed. As he walked with her, she could feel his stiff cock rubbing in the wetness between her legs. The sensation made her moan and she kissed his neck with abandon. Patrick put her down on the floor and she stood there looking at him – just waiting. He bent over kissed her neck, then instructed. "Bend over."
Not waiting for her to obey, he turned her around and pushed her onto all fours on the bed. “You have the most perfect ass. I could cum just from looking at your ass.”
"What are you waiting for, Baby?" she asked, looking back over her shoulder at him. Patrick stepped in behind her and grasped his cock. He rubbed the tip over her lips and she arched her back for him.
"I will never tire of doing this. You are my woman. Right?"
"Lord, yes. Now fuck me, Patrick. Give me every inch."
He spanked his cock against her ass before putting the tip inside and she drove back against him forcefully, accepting every inch deep inside of her.
"Oh, God!!!" he bellowed. “I wanted to tease you so more, but I can’t. It feels too good.” She slammed back against him one more time and then put her pussy to work.
"Shit, Savannah.” He exhaled in ecstasy. She buried her face in the pillow and wiggled her hips back and forth. Grabbing her hips, he pounded away at her furiously.
She screamed into the open air. "Oh, God!!!"
“Feel good?” Positioning his cock, he pushed in, letting it slide slowly in all the way – then out – then in. He did this about five times before he groaned, “I’m gonna cum!” Striving to maintain control, he kept the same slow methodical pace until he couldn’t. The force of his orgasm ripped through his body like a tornado and Patrick lost control of his body, violently convulsing. “Savannah!” he bellowed. He pulled out, collapsing forward on her back, too weak-kneed to keep his balance, amazed that tiny Savannah could hold his weight. She lifted her head up off the pillow and turned her head to kiss him.
"I love you, Patrick."
"I love you too, Baby."
Patrick kissed the side of her mouth, then rolled off of her and collapsed on the bed.
"That was amazing," he told her. "You are amazing." She smiled at him tenderly and then rested her head on his chest like it had been there a thousand times before and would be there a thousand times in the fure.
*****
Gradually, Savannah came out of her trance like state. She wasn’t unaware of the danger. It wasn’t healthy for her to exist so much in the past. Years of loneliness and grief had left her but a shell of who she used to be. If it wasn’t for the baby and her promise to Patrick, she would rather just drift off into the sea of forgetfulness. Another email alert made her rouse from the couch, put down her new ghost hunting equipment and move to get her laptop. Ciara was back at her post, looking out the door. Really, they were two of a kind. Both of them clung to yesterday and refused to face tomorrow. “Why don’t you come sit with me awhile, Girl?” All her invitation garnered her was a sideways doggy glance of patient disregard. Oh, well.
Settling back into the corner of the sofa, Savannah opened the computer and clicked on her account. And what she saw literally made her heart stop beating in her chest. She had mail, but who it was from was totally shocking and totally impossible.
It was from Patrick.
With trembling hands, Savannah clicked the email open and read it as her whole world screeched to a complete and utter standstill.
My Savannah
How I have longed for you. Do you still love me? Am I welcome? I will come to you if heaven permits. Forget me never, Savannah. I love you.
Patrick
“Patrick?” she whispered as tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn’t know what to think. Was this some cruel joke? Was someone playing a horrible trick on her? Why now? Why wait three years? Savannah got up and paced the floor. Amazing, confusing thoughts were pounding through her head like a herd of wild horses. A rush of nausea had her running for the restroom. Barely making it, she sank down in front of the toilet and dry-heaved until her
tears were splashing into the bowl below. A whimper from Ciara made her raise her head. “It’s okay. I’m okay, Girl.” That’s wasn’t exactly true. The pain of loss knifed through her afresh, she hadn’t hurt like this since the day word came that Patrick had been killed in Afghanistan.
Resting her head on the crook of her arm, Savannah wiped the moisture from her eyes. Thinking hard, she tried to come up with a logical explanation. There were internet email services that allowed you to leave messages for your friends to be released after death – but it had been three years! Besides, Patrick was not the type of person that would have done something like that. He would have known how much a gesture like that would have hurt her. And he never wanted to hurt her. Patrick O’Rourke had loveher with all his heart. She never, ever doubted that.
A harsh breath escaped her lungs, a sob that ended with a whispered prayer. “Oh, Patrick. I miss you so.” Steadying herself by holding the seat, Savannah stood. Another thought barreled into her consciousness followed by yet another. What if it were supernatural? What if Patrick was finally contacting her just like she had begging him to for years?
In her paranormal research there were records of communication from beyond the grave by haunting telephone calls or voices caught in the night on digital recorder. Even the Frank’s box that she had left haphazardly on the couch was a way of luring the dead to speak a final word to the living. Could an email be any more miraculous than those things? All of these ways were spirit communications using some type of energy – electrical or otherwise. Was a computer any different?
But the most miraculous possibility of all was the one she clung to with every fiber of her being. Could Patrick be alive? Honestly, she was afraid to hope. She needed her friend. Making her way to the telephone, she placed a call to the one person that she knew would understand. “Harley, this is Savannah. Do you think I could come over tonight? I really need to talk to somebody.”
“Of course you can, I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”
Ever since she had been called to investigate the haunting at Willowbend Plantation, she and Harley had been fast friends. “Ciara, let’s go.” Shaking – literally shaking with nerves, Savannah loaded the black lab in the car and drove the few miles to Breaux Bridge. Almost afraid to consider what was going on, she made her mind think of other things.
Both her cottage and Harley’s refurbished plantation home set on the banks of the Teche. And today, she needed to sit by its soothing waters more than ever. Harley’s home was called Willowbend. It was a showplace – and very haunted. The spirits that resided there were left over from pre-civil war times. A slave mistress and her children had been murdered for no reason other than being who they were. What fascinated Savannah was that it was an intelligent haunting; the spirits actually communicated with those who attempted to reach them. Some hauntings were just stains on a location left over from some traumatic event that forever warped the very essence of a place. She had been lucky enough to see a residual haunting, as it was called. When she had been trying to run from Patrick’s memory, she had taken a trip to the East Coast and found herself drawn to go to Gettysburg. There, on a misty spring morning, she had witnessed something few ever have. She had been alone – with no camera – so it wasn’t something she could even tout as proof, but she had seen it and it had changed her life forever. Back in those days, grieving for Patrick had stolen her ability to sleep. So, she had been at the park early, before any of the normal tourist traffic had begun to flow. Meandering through the park, she had stopped at the wheat field. The Wheatfield. This one little sot of ground had seen one of the bloodiest battles of the war. Gettysburg itself was a cataclysmic event where fifty thousand died in three days and the wheatfield had been changed from a plot of golden grain to a tangled bloodsoaked piece of ground that would forever bear the mark of death and agony and grief at the extinguishment of so many young lives who would never know what it was like to breathe or love or live again. She had been standing beside her car, drinking a cup of coffee when off to her right a shout had echoed out of the silence. From out of the woods a group of soldiers on horses had emerged. She could see the insects that took flight out of the grass from the stomping of the horse hooves. Savannah could hear their voices as they made conversation, she could see their dusty uniforms of grey. One had even looked over at her and she had half expected him to lift his hand in salute. At first she had thought to be seeing re-enactors, it happened fairly often on special days she had been told. Lifting her hand in greeting, she presumed she was speaking to a business executive or a lawyer or a mechanic who laid aside his everyday life to take part in a time of immersion in a day and way of life that was long gone. Until they disappeared – right in front of her eyes. One moment they were there, she could hear the horses snorting and see the wheat part as they rode through it – and the next moment they were gone. Completely. She hadn’t run or fainted or screamed in terror. Savannah had felt a peace and assurance that death was not the end, that those who lived and loved and died survived somewhere just beyond where our eyes could see. God, she longed to find that place. And that was the reason she so desperately sought answers in the hunt for sprits. Because she was hunting one in particular. Savannah was always trying to contact Patrick. She just wanted to tell him that she loved him – one more time.
As she parked, she saw Beau and Harley walking hand and hand toward her from down near the bayou. Getting out to join them, she brought in her totebag that contained her laptop and the Frank’s box. Ciara stayed close. If it was up to the dog, they would never leave the safety of the house. “Savannah, it’s good to see you!”
Savannah had to smile. They looked so happy together. She knew they had gone through a tough time. Harley had been the target of a madman and Beau had moved heaven and earth to protect her. Now she had semi-retired from her EOD firm and was serving as a consultant only – this made Beau a happy man.
Beau whistled for Ciara and the dog ran to him. Animals loved Beau. “I’m glad you both are outside. Let’s sit down by the water, if you don’t mind.” They stopped where they were and let her catch up so they could head back to a bench under a big oak near the edge of the bayou. The dog dashed down to the edge of the water and began barking. “Good Lord, is that an alligator? Come back here, Girl!”
“Ciara!” Beau called, also. “It’s just Amos Moses. He’s as gentle as a lamb and doesn’t have a tooth in his head, but he might slap at her with his tale if she makes him mad.”
“Good gracious, Beau. I never know what to expect from you.”
“You’re right. Believe me,” Harley agreed. “I’m never surprised at what creature Beau brings home. We have baby possums in the garage!”
“A gator got their mama; I couldn’t leave the little mites to starve.” Beau explained as Harley winked at him. Clearly he could do no wrong in her eyes.
“Savannah-Banana, I’ve been needing to talk to you.”
At Beau’s use of the absurd nick-name, Savannah’s heart almost stopped. This was what Patrick had called her. Fighting for control she forced herself not to react. She didn’t want to make him feel bad. “What about?” She sat her bag down, wishing she could lay her burdens down just as easy.
“Indy and I got called over to De Quincy to look at a Civil War Cannon. I was skeptical but I went. Original cannons in decent condition are hard to find. When I got over there, he had it in a barn down in the woods.” Beau laughed a little, “I don’t mind telling you that the place gave me the willies.”
Savannah was intrigued. She knew Beau and what he did for a living. He not only owned a top-notch weapons business, but he wrangled alligators on the side. If something gave him the willies, then it had to be harrowing indeed. “I can’t imagine what would unnerve you. Tell me,” she urged.
Beau squatted down in front of the girls and seemed to enjoy regaling them with the tale. “The barn was at least a mile down in the pine forest and even in the broad daylight, it was dark and overcast. There
was an ominous feeling in the air; honestly, I’ve never experienced this before. The spooks in our house seem friendly enough, but whatever is down in that thicket is another story.” Savannah wanted to tell him to get on with the tale, but she didn’t want to be rude. “The cannon was real and worth about a quarter of a million dollars. After we had inspected it, he looked at me funny and asked me if I believed in ghosts. I said that I wasn’t a skeptic, but I was cautious. So, he grabbed a sharpshooter and led me and Indy down an overgrown path. We came to this clearing and there was a small mound that looked like it could have been an Indian burial place, but it was miniature.” He whistled a shook his head. “Hell, I don’t like to mess with stuff like this. He told me that there was a legend of lost gold, a mine that the Indians had found and some of them had been killed over. And by dern if he didn’t say – ‘watch this’ and he rammed that sharpshooter down in the dirt. About forty-five seconds later a big black horse comes huffing out of the woods and just charged us, raring up, hoofs flashing. I’m not going to lie to you; I didn’t linger there to greet him. After we high-tailed it, it hit me that I hadn’t heard any hoof beats. It had been dead, eerie quiet.” Beau seemed to pause for effect. “When we caught up with Glen, I asked him what the hell had happened. And he said that anytime you stuck a shovel in that ground, that horse would show up. What do you think about that?”