Thigh High

by Edwards, Bonnie

  “Hope it was midsummer.” She shivered as a cold gust of wind clawed her back. In spite of the fleece and jeans she wore, the bite of cold went through to her bones. She leaned into Matt’s warmth. His arm came up around her shoulders as they edged closer to the cliff. “I can’t imagine running headlong down this vertical drop. I’d get dizzy.”

  The push of cold behind her made her turn her head sharply, and for a split second she caught sight of bare flesh and long, streaming hair as another gust went through her. The image disappeared down the cliff.

  A second later, Matt lurched and steadied again.

  A darker shadow emerged through Matt’s chest and headed down the cliff too.

  As if…

  As if…

  No, it was just the shadow of the incoming clouds. Had to be.

  “Did you feel that rush of cold? We should head back. It’s too windy out here. I don’t want you too close to the edge if the rain comes in hard. Could get slippery.” He stepped back and urged her away.

  “Thanks. Maybe we should head for the gazebo to see it while we still can.” The clouds gathered, grays deepening to a threat.

  “Did you see shadows a moment ago?” he asked.

  “I thought I did, but then, I’ve seen a lot of strange shadows since I came in through the gates.”

  “Me too.”

  They turned and headed for the gazebo, still dappled with sunny light. The eight-sided structure had white pickets with a green roof. Faye obviously spent a lot of time in it because the benches were covered with happy yellow gingham seat cushions and pillows in contrasting bold colors. The effect made Carrie think of continual summertime.

  As they got closer, she heard a tinny music play. “Can you see speakers anywhere?”

  “No, but then, speakers can be minuscule these days. They may be in the trees that ring the lawns.”

  “I wonder how deep that ring of trees is.”

  “Let’s go find out. But I believe there’s at least an acre between the lawns and the fence line.”

  They bypassed the gazebo and turned left toward the trees. “Lions and tigers and bears…” chanted Carrie.

  Matt laughed, stopped walking and turned toward Perdition House. “Heaven only knows what we’ll see in these woods, Carrie. You feel adventurous?”

  “With you? Yes.” The slash of his grin was all the reassurance she needed.

  They stepped into the cool shade of the trees and the world fell silent. No birds sang, no sounds of the surf, even the tinny waltz music disappeared.

  “Guess we’ll never find where that music’s coming from.”

  “It doesn’t matter where the speakers are,” said Matt, and she agreed. Right now, this minute, all she wanted to hear was her own breathing.

  And Matt’s, in her ear, trailing down her neck, past her chest, her navel and into the melting spot between her legs.

  Need raced and ping-ponged around and through her. His eyes heated and his cock rose against her hip. “Do you feel that? This heat? Different from the cold down by the cliff edge.”

  She nodded, unsure if her voice would work.

  She checked over her shoulder and saw another couple dancing in the gazebo. “Look, do you see them too?”

  “Yes,” he responded without looking. He was focused on running his palm up and down her arm. She pulled away from him.

  “No, look. Really look at them. Do you recognize them from last night?”

  The woman was tall, slender, with burnished copper hair, and the man wore a navy peacoat with a captain’s hat. They danced beautifully, perfectly in tune and in step with each other.

  “No, he’s not one of the men.”

  And she knew.

  Accepted and understood.

  “The biggest secret of Perdition House is the ghosts.” She shuddered, surprised she wasn’t more fearful.

  He nodded. “You okay with that?”

  “Say good-bye to my hard-hitting news career. It’s back to fluff and the family pages for me.” No other paper in the country would hire her even if she did manage to get her story printed.

  “You’re a journalist?”

  “Obviously not a very good one.” She looked up at him. “I got involved in my story. In fact, I’m so involved I can’t remain objective enough to report what I’ve learned about these sex-for-sale phoney charity auctions.” She nearly said the weekend was a waste, but she knew better. It might not make her career, but her love life had spiked into the stratosphere.

  “A journalist,” he repeated. “Not a fact checker?”

  “Mad at me?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not mad. In fact I’m relieved. I haven’t exactly been honest either.”

  “What do you mean?” Her belly flopped. If he said he was a gigolo she’d eat her hat. She really really really didn’t want Matt Crewe to be a pro. She held her breath and braced for the ugly truth.

  “I’m writing a book on sex clubs. Not an expose like your article. But a nonfiction book on why sex clubs exist in today’s sexually free society. No matter how free we say we are, sexuality is still frowned upon in a lot of circles. And any sexuality that veers from the straight and narrow definition of one man and one woman is generally kept private.”

  “Like in clubs.”

  “Exactly. Now, are you disappointed I wasn’t honest with you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m no hypocrite.” She sighed. “From a career standpoint the time here was wasted, but I’ll just have to go back to searching for my big story. I’ll find one someday.”

  “Will you still report on the auctions and expose Faye’s sideline?”

  “I have to think about it. Present company and myself excepted, I don’t like people who cheat and lie. Never have. It’s one of the reasons I want to move into investigative journalism.”

  “You lied to me.” But his eyebrows rose and lips twitched in humor as he said it.

  She pursed her lips. “You lied first. You pretended to be a pro, you took me behind those draperies and made sure I got a good taste of you so I’d bid on you.”

  He flushed the most gorgeous manly shade of red. “What would you say if I told you I think the spirits made me do it?”

  “You mean they messed with your head too?” She remembered all too vividly the feel of heavy velvet hands in the draperies, the writhing people on the fireplace mantel. “The whole building is a sexual portal for what? For whom?”

  “The spirits of dead hookers? Their johns?” He echoed her own conclusion.

  She looked through the trees to the dancing couple in the gazebo. Their expressions shone with love, their body language took them to an exquisite place of yearning and connectedness she could only hope to experience. “These are more than hookers and johns, Matt. Look at their expressions.”

  “I see.”

  The spirits of Perdition were lovers, friends, confidants and mates. Eternal mates. Love glowed around the dancing couple, sparkled as they twirled in each other’s arms.

  The vision of the pair winked out suddenly, and the gazebo was empty and still. “Matt, we’re being given a message.”

  He nodded. “You’re right. But I never thought, never imagined my research would find me wanting so much. Needing this much.” He turned her to face him and his eyes glowed with deep affection and caring.

  She wanted him to ravish her, to tear off her clothes and drill his cock into her on the leaf litter at their feet, but he didn’t.

  Instead, he stole her heart. And gave her his.

  Cupping her head in his palms, he blessed her forehead with a kiss, moved his lips lovingly across her brows, her nose, lips and chin. When he tilted his head back to see her, he smoothed her cheeks with his thumbs.

  She melted into a puddle as he finally tipped his mouth to hers in a kiss that rattled its way into her chest.

  “What’s happening to us?” she breathed.

  “I don’t know, but I like it.”

  A bird twittered ov
erhead and Carrie caught a flash of color in the leaves. A finch. Pretty and yellow, the bird tilted its head this way and that, then took off.

  “That’s the first bird I’ve seen here,” she said, and followed the erratic flight as the finch flew deeper into the trees. A few yards in, she spied the bird on another tree branch in a tiny clearing. Well out of view of the lawns stood a huge maple tree. The trunk was wide, the branches sturdy, the leaves big as the span of two hands. The finch’s yellow head blended into the autumn color of the leaves.

  Hanging from one of the sturdiest branches was a swing. The seat was covered in delicate silk and rounded.

  Matt lifted the seat to inspect it. “This isn’t wood, it’s like a padded bottom, rounded to be comfortable.” He lifted the seat to face height and peered through a hole at her. He waggled his eyebrows at her through the hole. “You don’t suppose?”

  “This was used for sex?” she breathed, hopeful that they’d discovered the exact purpose. But she was already melting into her panties at the idea of sex in the woods.

  Matt looked to the sky. Brilliant sunshine beamed down on him. The clearing warmed and went softly silent as the moment stretched between them.

  “I’ll never get another chance like this again,” she said, and stripped off her jeans.

  He laughed, delighted with her readiness, and stepped out of his jeans too. He was cocked and loaded and Carrie salivated at the sight of all that beautiful jutting flesh. All for her.

  For all time. The thought wasn’t hers, she was sure of it, but she wished it was.

  9

  Carrie dropped her fleece to the ground but left her T-shirt on. Even though the sun shone on the clearing, it was still late September. Besides, Matt looked more interested in her body below the waist for the moment.

  His gaze bored into hers as she settled her behind into the slinglike swing. Instantly, the seat molded to her bottom, the hole in perfect position to expose her secret flesh. Matt chuckled deep and throaty as he clasped her hips and rocked her to and fro in the swing.

  “Put your legs up,” he said.

  She tilted back and lifted her legs. He grasped her ankles and set her heels into padded stirrups. She gasped at the sensation. Cool air tickled her pussy as Matt made certain she was comfortable in the odd position.

  She soon felt completely at ease as her weight settled into the sling. Whoever had designed the swing had thought of comfort and ease of movement.

  “I’ve been to some clubs where swings were in use, but I didn’t see anything like this. What a great design,” he said with admiration in his voice. He inspected the stirrups again. Ran his hands from her heels, down her legs past her knees to her buttocks. “You’re comfortable?”

  “I’m wet and wide open and horny as hell. Now get busy!” Her frustration with the whole setup had her edgy. She needed filling and she needed it now. She wasn’t sure how long she could stay in this position and she didn’t have time for a male’s interest in mechanics.

  He chuckled and ran an experimental finger along her open outer lips. She jerked at his touch, inflamed all over again.

  Fire, she felt fire on his finger. Fire that traced her from her clit to her ass button, skirting the deeper, moister flesh she needed touched the most.

  “You’re so lovely. Pink and wet and open. For me, Carrie. Just for me.” His voice firmed on the last words and all she could do was nod yes. “Say it,” he demanded.

  “Just for you, Matt Crewe, just for you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Now, I’m going to lick you the way I want to.”

  “Please.” She wriggled in the seat, wanting him to just get to it!

  He knelt and she sighed with anticipation when his large hands cupped her bottom. He tilted her to his mouth like a chalice and drank from her.

  The fire that had toyed with her flesh exploded into a conflagration the instant his mouth settled on her. She cried out, startling the finch out of the tree, as Matt suckled her clit gently, unerringly coaxing the small bud to reveal itself.

  Carrie bucked against his mouth as best she could, but the position made movement next to impossible. She felt completely at his mercy, which didn’t bother her in the least.

  Matt was a kind, benevolent lover and attended to her needs with gentleness. She relaxed and let him lick and please her and himself. The swing moved gently as he worked her sensitive flesh.

  Finally she came in a rush of sensation so intense she imploded, her pussy drenching his mouth and chin with a mad gush. He lapped at the flowing juices and settled her with a firm palm on her lower belly to hold her. Mad with orgasm, she crooned and howled as Matt coaxed her and held her on the peak for as long as he dared.

  The blood drained out of her legs as her orgasm waned and she felt lightheaded.

  “Get me down,” she gasped as her inner pulses ebbed.

  He worked quickly and silently to release her heels. Her legs felt rubbery and out of control as she set her feet on the leaf-strewn ground.

  Matt helped her stand, holding her in one arm while he unhooked the seat of the swing. It fell open, revealing the truth. In an intricate series of folds, the swing had a dual purpose. When open, it made a thick quilted blanket. When folded correctly, the quilt formed the swing seat.

  “Ingenious,” he said. Then he flapped the quilt out and settled it on the ground at Carrie’s feet. She slid onto it in a heap, grateful to whoever had designed it.

  She settled back on the quilt, and response rose at the sight of his unrelieved erection. The splendid purple head of his cock speared the air, so stiff it reached his navel. Wide, perfect, the shaft was roped with heavy veins, the root nestled in a patch of curls. Her mouth watered, but her legs were still wobbly and she couldn’t trust they’d even let her crouch over him.

  “Bring your cock up here.” She patted her lips.

  With an eager grin, Matt knelt beside her. With a worm’s view of his cock and balls, she did a slow slide with her tongue from his tight hard sac up the heaviest vein to the weeping head.

  He tasted sweet, salty, hot and ready. He shifted to give her room to set her head between his legs. She grinned up into his handsome face while she took each hard nut into her mouth. She sucked gently on each ball in turn, loving the shivers that ran through him.

  He groaned at the wet contact of her mouth, the tickle of her tongue as it swirled and darted from one side of his sac to the other.

  She played and cajoled and chuckled, sending shock waves up his body.

  “Move up,” he pleaded. “I need to feel your mouth all over.”

  That was the cue she’d wanted to hear. Rising to her elbow, she opened her throat and slid down his cock as far as she could go, drenching him. She rolled her tongue in swirls around him while her fingers played against his sac.

  He roared his approval in a rain of love words that coaxed and seduced her.

  With another wild groan, he pulled out of her mouth, slid on protection and mounted her in a deep spearing motion that took the breath out of her lungs.

  Heaven! The heavy push–pull of his cock along her walls dragged her into another come immediately. Her clit, sticky and full, accepted each press and release as she tensed around him just before tipping over the precipice.

  Her orgasm triggered his, and he reared up on his haunches, pulling her up with him. He surged deep into her and held her still while he spewed.

  “Oh, Carrie, you’re…love you…” he groaned, the rest of his words lost to her.

  They collapsed together on the quilt, too sated to speak for a moment. Matt reached for the edge of the quilt and pulled it up over her gently. Then he tucked her head under his chin and rested in the quiet.

  The sky above was still clear and she wondered where the dark clouds had gone. Surely they’d have hit landfall by now. But the blue overhead seemed to go on for miles.

  Matt’s heart thudded under her ear, and contentment rose from her belly into her heart.

  “Wh
at was that you mentioned about clubs?” Her journalist mind kicked in.

  Matt looked rueful. “I’ve been researching sex clubs all across the country.”

  This was interesting. “Learn anything?”

  “Just that I’ll never wear a dog collar or get off giving orders.” He grimaced.

  “Leather hot pants might be cute,” she teased. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in those.” A hard edge of jealousy spiked at the idea of how many other women he’d had in these clubs. Experienced women. Wild women. Women who knew more about pleasing a man than she did. “So, how, ah, how many women did you do in these clubs?”

  Great. Now her insecurity was out there where he couldn’t miss it.

  He snorted. “None. I was there to observe.” His gaze went serious. “I haven’t met anyone like you, Carrie. Not anywhere, not any time.”

  “So, I started out as a research subject? Just another woman who frequented a sex club.”

  “For all of thirty seconds. As soon as I got close to you, my mind went foggy and all I knew was that I had to have you.” She remembered the intense focus he brought to her. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before.

  “I had much the same reaction, but I fought it hard. My ambition’s been all-consuming these last couple of months.”

  “Which is probably why you’ve gone in and out of the fog. You had a lot riding on staying sharp, so you fought harder than I did.”

  She shuddered. “Falling in and out of mental alertness was disquieting from my side of things,” she said. “But I’m relieved I’m not dealing with a permanent chemical or nutritional imbalance. So, do you think once we leave we’ll be back in charge of ourselves?” This incredible urge for sex might be gone too. “Will I feel the same way about you when I leave?”

  He gathered her close. “I hope so, because I’m crazy about you, Carrie.” He winced.

  “Crazy might be the operative word, Matt.” She pulled out of his arms. “I’m in over my head with this stuff. How can we trust what we’re feeling if we slide in and out of our minds?”