Love's Darkest House

by Ginny Lynn

  He kept the area covered as he drove me to madness at not getting this tangible craving fed. Another flick of my nipple and a finger entered me. When he thrust his finger in like it was a vibrator, I bit into one of my flailing hands to keep from screaming. After a few pumps, another finger joined the first one and I did scream. He pulled and twisted his hands as he worked to find every spot he could in the center of me. Writhing, I clenched a hand around the muscles of his arm and dug my short nails into that column of flesh like a lifeline. I wanted to grab his dick but he evaded me. I put my hand back on his arm and held on. My bitten hand went to brace myself on the side of the bed, clenching like I’d fall off of a cliff. That’s how I wanted to die, deep in the hold of passion.

  Just when my whimpering grew, he threw the covers off my form and landed between my still open legs as my shock took hold of his quickness. Then he thrust into me with knowledge of where to hit, and I was gone. My eyes rolled into my head, and I grasped him to my heaving chest. I would burst if he stopped. I would throw myself off the roof if he faded away at this point of my dream. I needed him to release me or I would die without it. With him pounding into me, I ran my nails down his sides before gripping his firm buttocks. He groaned, and I squeezed so hard my knuckles ached against him. I stayed where I was as he moaned into my gasping mouth. Then he rolled his hips and I came with my heart exploding against him. I writhed as he kept moving before finally joining me in my wild abandon. I flew and his arms were there to catch me as I sailed onward.

  ****

  Distantly, I began to absorb the sounds of movement on the floor under me. It was muted but enough to remind me there was someone in the house besides myself. Peeling my eyes open to look at the clock on the mantel, it read 5:15, and the person scurrying around must be Kenrick cooking us dinner. Inhaling, I caught a scent of lemon pepper and knew I had to get up and head downstairs.

  Flinging the covers off of myself, the breeze had me shocked to remember I had lain down without dressing which was unusual for me. Then the rest of my slumber session came into view and I about fell off the rumpled bed. Cheeks burning with the flame of one hundred virgins, I fumbled for clothing to wear and remembered they were in the dryer downstairs, with Kenrick. Shit! Now I had to decide on either wearing a towel down there or putting grave dusted cotton back on my clean body. The last one had me shuddering from the lingering psychic connection with the grime rubbing into my pores. No, I wasn’t putting that back on.

  Noting my remaining options, I could call him up here and see if he could bring them to me, leaving me vulnerable again. Did I venture down there in a towel and hope he believed me when I said I’m only down there to get clean clothes? What red-blooded man would see it that way when a lady walked in barely covered by terry cloth? How did I get myself into these situations? Had I not gotten my dose of living awkwardness when born with this curse of visions? If God only gave you as much as he thought you could take, then he and I needed to go back over my job duties. I needed better insurance or maybe even hazard pay.

  Swathing myself in the warm towel from the radiator, I slowly peeked out my door to see if anyone would witness this unusual walk of shame. Astonishment shot through me when I took in what lay on the floor of the hall just outside my room. My jaw dropped. There my clothes were, all folded, and waiting for me to put them in a drawer. Had he come across mine as he went to do his own laundry? I didn’t tell him I had to wash clothes and he hadn’t seen me when I’d come up here covered in death dust. Or had he? He knew I’d gotten in the shower but there was no proof of my forgetfulness in my duties. It was just creepy, even if a Godsend for me not having to go down there in this getup.

  Holding onto the tucked edge of the towel, I used my free hand to scoop up the pile and quickly ducked back into my room before I flashed anyone. Thunder rumbled in the distance as I yanked on the first pair of jeans and flannel shirt in the stack. My hair was a tousled mess and the coming rain would probably make it grow to chia sized proportions if I didn’t at least run anti-frizz gel into it before flopping down the stairs. In a bit of girly pride, I added a smudge of deep purple eyeliner and my lip-gloss. I wasn’t going to do more and make this man think I’d been in here primping for him this evening. Tossing on my only other wool socks, I realized this would have to complete my attire as my shoes were still a bit damp. Setting them closer to the radiator, I smoothed my hair down one last time before I jogged down the steps and to my undate like dinner appointment.

  Almost slipping off the last step and colliding with the hall table, I recovered enough to hear my name being called from the kitchen. Deep breath taken, I casually moved forward. Forcing a pleasant smile to my lips, I walked in and took in the image before me. There was a man humming an old Sinatra tune and cooking at the stove in jeans, bare feet, and a black t-shirt. It was like he’d jumped right out of my wet dream and straight into the job of making me a sandwich. I was in the process of shutting my jaw when he spoke again.

  “Renata, what are you doing?”

  Letting go of my face, I fidgeted at being caught at such a silly gesture. He wouldn’t know I was trying to pull myself from the heated land of dreaming.

  “So, Chef Giles, what will we be having this evening?” I asked as a distraction.

  “We’ll be dining on lemon pepper chicken breasts with braised Brussel sprouts, wine buttered linguine, and a tossed salad.”

  My mouth watered for more than the menu at this point.

  “And buns,” I added.

  “Excuse me?” he asked as he blinked at me with a spatula in his hand.

  My blush crept into a crimson mass while I fought to recover. What the hell was I doing? “I see you already have rolls on the table. What can I do to help you?” For the love of God, give me something to do so I don’t have to talk.

  “Would you mind pouring us some drinks?”

  “Sure. What would you like?”

  “There should be a nice white wine in the pantry, if you want to join me in a glass.”

  I turned my back on him and hoped he wasn’t laughing at me. Feeling the draft by the pantry, I reminded myself to ask him about the passageway but the other things were swooped from my brain at the first glimpse of sexy bare toes by a steaming stove. The wine was there and had already been opened once, so it wasn’t too difficult for me to remove the cork. He slipped crystal wine glasses from a cabinet and slid them to me across the countertop. After pouring him a generous amount, I only gave myself enough for a few sips. How worse could I get if I drank on top of already having the hormones of a teenage boy possess my body for the last hour or so?

  Taking a sip in the silence that followed, I scanned everything he had accomplished for our non-date dinner. It was impressive.

  “I hope this will be to your liking as I was stumped with what I should fix tonight.”

  “Dinner looks wonderful. You didn’t have to go to all of this trouble,” I stated softly.

  “I don’t get the chance to cook like this very often, so I got to flex my cooking muscles for an hour.”

  “You sound as if you used to cook quite a bit.”

  “After your grandmother passed away, Mr. Fenmore lost all inclination to eat, so I would cook for both of us.”

  His eyes were on the chicken he was plating, so I couldn’t see any reaction in those lovely eyes of his. It touched me at how he had shown this type of emotion for such a gruff old miser.

  “Let me say that your actions were appreciated. I wasn’t told he was suffering in such a way, but it happens.”

  “He wasn’t the type of man to tell all of his dirty laundry to family, even when they did ask. He suffered in silence until the old gardener killed Mrs. Fenmore’s favorite rosebush.”

  A smile graced his face as he handed me a full plate of delicious smelling food. Keeping his plate and grabbing his less full glass of wine, he headed to the four-seater table in the breakfast area. I had seen the formal dining room but it looked far too old-fashioned
for my lifestyle. It was beautiful but being raised on leftovers and simple meals, this formal room landed me way outside of my comfort zone.

  Saying an internal prayer, I tried out the items carefully prepared for me. My taste buds were singing with each bite.

  “My compliments to the chef. This is the best meal I’ve had in about a year.”

  Smiling at me, he ducked his head in thanks and scooped up his glass. “I would have guessed you had been on plenty of dates in such an amount of time. Did none of them take you anywhere outside of fast food or did you only meet up with guys at coffee shops?”

  “Neither,” I answered awkwardly.

  He paused, waiting for more, but I didn’t offer it. Peeking through my bangs, I saw the light change in his eyes as he went back to his meal.

  “Okay. I think we need to get to know each other a little bit. But if anything makes you squeamish, it’ll be considered off base for now. Sound fair?”

  “Like just now?” I smiled at him and he returned the gesture. This was the most cordial smiling I had seen from him since showing up here.

  “Agreed. But it has to be give and take, if not too personal a question.”

  “Agreed.” He saluted me with his glass and I started wondering what would be discussed between the two of us. Just when I went to grab my drink, lightning crackled across the sky and I tipped my glass over onto the age loved linen.

  “Oh. Oh my. I’ll get it.” I fumbled with my chair and began to race for the towel at the stainless steel sink. By the time the dish towel was in my hand, he was already using both of our napkins to soak what there was of my spilled drink. Was I more embarrassed of the unknown dream of earlier or the glass of wine I gracefully knocked over in the middle of the small table? As I swept my hand in to join his, the touch of his skin meeting mine sent a jolt that had my body answering for me. The dream won my inner battle for blushing. His eyes met mine from under the fringe of his shaggy hair and my breath caught for about three seconds. Trying to untangle my cloth from his, he captured my fingers and held them as his eyes roved over my bent form. I could feel the weight of his gaze as it ran from my thighs pressed against the wood of the table to my eyes that rapidly blinked when his hunger absorbed into mine.

  I gulped loudly and those eyes flicked to the warm spot on my flushed neck. The same spot he had caressed in my dream. His head tilted as if hearing the beat of my heart reach stampede levels. Lightning streaked across the skyline through the old windows in the kitchen and I felt my skin tingle with the amount of electricity running through the heavy air. Or was that from the touch of Kenrick’s skin against mine? One of his fingers traced mine as the thunder boomed behind the flash of blinding light. The storm rolled closer and the room was already darkening enough to need additional light.

  Using this as an excuse, I jumped away from him. “Since you’ve got that under control, we can throw it in the wash as we get the candles lit. We won’t be able to appreciate the beauty of your cooking without them.”

  I walked off before he had a chance for a rebuttal and I heard him moving the dishes to the counter while I found the taper candles in the holders on the baker’s rack by the pantry. The matches were right beside them so I struck one as another brilliant stream of light peeled around us. Once I had both candles lit and in my hands, I turned to help with the table, only to have Kenrick at my back and in my personal space. A cold breeze twirled about us from nowhere and I shivered, making the flames do a dance of shadows against the kitchen walls. Taking one from me, he walked through the cold air and back to the waiting table. He’d moved our meal in record time as I set my taper by my place setting that was back on the uncovered dining table.

  Shivering from the lingering cool air, I ignored it as I went back to eating the remainder of my meal. After another shiver, he frowned.

  “What?” I asked out of tense curiosity.

  “It seems someone is walking over your grave and I do not like them getting your attention.”

  He had to be kidding me. Not only was it an odd way to phrase it but there was no way that he was jealous of anyone possibly being in my life. I ignored it and swallowed the last of my food. Still having a few bites left on his plate, I sipped at the wine he’d repoured for me as I waited to take his dish to the sink. Silence having been replaced by the sound of a light rain against the roof, I forced my shoulders to relax. This was going to turn into another vision and three was my limit for any given day. After the third, I tended to take a sleeping pill and make myself sleep the rest of the day away. Having already had two spells, I’d have to make up a good story on my passing out again.

  Not having to wait long, he was done and pushing away from the table. I grasped the plates and rushed to the sink as I explained the cook didn’t have to wash up. He chuckled and shrugged as I set the taps on for my task as the walls were sprayed with more flashes of light.

  “Indulge an old man and leave the stainless steel sink alone while a storm is squabbling above our heads.”

  Giving a dubious look at his comment, I stuck my hand in the water but the loud roll of thunder made me jump away from the bubbles.

  Touching my shoulder, he spoke louder. “Please? They won’t mind waiting a few hours.”

  Giving him a shrug, I walked to my candlestick and turned back to him. “Where to now? Or is the dinner over?”

  “Why would it be over? Have I done something to offend you?”

  He actually sounded concerned, so I softened up.

  “Everything is fine. Do we go into another room to talk or do you want to stay here?”

  “Let’s go into the front room and hang out on the sofa while we see how bad this storm is going to be. I’ll grab the weather radio from the cabinet and join you there in a few minutes.”

  But as he was leaving the room, I could have sworn he mumbled, “Since you won’t let me screw you senseless.”

  But he wouldn’t say something so crass. Would he?

  Chapter Ten

  Not finding a comfortable spot to take up, especially after what I might have heard, I was just settling into the corner of the tapestry covered sofa when he came back in with a toaster-sized radio. I had left my glass of wine on the side table with the last few sips in it and had no intention of drinking more.

  “As you probably have more questions than I do, you can go first.” He settled in the blue high back chair closest to me.

  Where to begin? I started with asking about what went on here on a daily basis and found it to be less stressful than I imagined but at a steady pace. They sold the pecans from that small grove, had part ownership in the wine being made at the property tied to our back lot, plus sold the items from the greenhouse at local markets. There were one florist and one produce man who got a third of the profits from any sold product. All of the proceeds were direct deposited into the property account and a stipend placed into a savings account for Kenrick’s work. The sellers came to get the product, so it was less for me to have to do and Kenrick kept track of the weekly profit sheets from both vendors.

  Finding this all fascinating, I felt a little more respect for the sullen businessman. He hadn’t been living off of my grandfather as I had first thought but had been a helpful hand when health had taken a bit of time away from Mr. Fenmore. If I stayed, then we would see if Kenrick would be happy to keep on with his duties, for the same profit and lodging. That led me to another topic.

  “I never see you coming or going but I’m guessing you have a room here,” I asked already knowing the answer after my snoopfest earlier.

  “You didn’t see my room upstairs? I thought you’d been making yourself at home here.”

  Was I busted?

  “I saw a more masculine room up on the third floor but didn’t know if it belonged to you or not,” I answered without meeting his steady gaze.

  “Yes, the room by the attic space is mine and I’m pretty quiet in my actions as I’ve been on my own for a very long time.”

  I n
oticed the air had changed with those words, as if there was a lump of sadness heaved onto his statement.

  “You’re about my age, aren’t you?”

  “I’m an old soul, so it feels as if I’ve lived three different life spans,” he said with a small chuckle.

  “What type of education do you have?”

  “Not much since I was raised on a farm many years ago. I’ve learned through grit and a tough life. I’ve only taken a few online courses and they were to help Mr. Fenmore with the accounting items that were more advanced than what he was used to from his earlier days. You aren’t a college snob, are you?”

  “Heavens, no. I went because I had to do something to better my life and it happens to be a career that I love on top of it all.”

  “Mr. Fenmore said you loved refurnishing vintage items, right?”

  “Yes, I took cabinetry, woodworking, and some business management classes at a technical college outside my hometown. The dorm was an old apartment building next door for the lower income students. I specialized in refurbishing old furniture and I’m thinking of doing it on the side if I stay here.”

  I waited to see how he would react. Not that I needed his permission.

  “Sounds like a good way to pass the time, if it’s what you want to do.”

  “I’m not the type of girl to lie about and wait for things to happen. I’ve got a tad more spunk, if you hadn’t already noticed,” I said with a bit more annoyance than intended but I didn’t like his perception of what I’d do with my future here.

  His hands came up. “No offense meant. Neither of us knows the other well enough to know how we’ll handle the future.”

  I nodded and forced the acid out of my tongue as I had a retort ready to slip from my lips.

  There was an awkward silence and then as we both began to speak at once, a slam resounded at the front door. Yelping, I jumped off the sofa but was too afraid to go to the door. Kenrick held up a hand and then proceeded to the door to look through the peephole.