Now she stood before the mirror clad in only a pair of black bikini briefs. She placed a hand on her flat stomach and dragged it down past her navel, to the top of her panties. With a breathy sigh, she slipped her fingers under the satin material, her heavy breasts swaying with her movements.
“Dominic,” she whispered, remembering the electric spark of his touch on her cheek. Her eyes half closing, she slid one finger into her smooth, moist cleft.
“Alyssa.” The hoarse utterance came from directly behind her.
Did I summon him? A spirit goes where it’s called.
Instead of horror or embarrassment at being caught in such a position, desire flooded through her. Her sex clenched around the single finger buried in her moist folds.
She looked behind her in the mirror, and watched him materialize. Tall. Broad shouldered. Dark, wavy hair. He wore a black cloak with a long sword at his side. His image flickered, was nearly translucent, yet she could still make out the sharp planes of his striking face and see the burning blue of his eyes.
“Dominic. Touch me.”
His image flared, and for a moment he nearly became solid.
“God, I want to Alyssa,” he rasped, his voice pained. “But earlier, when I grabbed your shoulders, I think I hurt you.”
Throbbing with need, she opened her lips to protest … but was interrupted by a bone-chilling scream from outside, echoing down the long hallway.
Frantic, she spun around. “Mr. O’Toole!”
*****
Dominic barely registered the scream that startled Alyssa. He was too fixated on her naked body, all that silken skin and her busy fingers, while he burned with a need and a heat he hadn’t experienced in centuries. Maybe ever.
But the fear he saw in her eyes pulled him from his trance.
“Hurry, love. Get dressed.” He picked up a nearby robe, a satin, crimson creation, and threw it to her before he realized he had moved an object. And seen his own hand. Later. I’ll deal with it later.
The two quickly made their way through the castle, an intuitive dread guiding them to the haunted room.
O’Toole lay sprawled on the floor in front of the room’s still-closed door, some type of mechanical contraption locked tight in his grip. Blood trickled from one nostril, but his eyes blinked open as Alyssa knelt next to him.
She spoke, nearly shouting, “Mr. O’Toole! Are you okay? What happened?”
“ I … I didn’t like the idea of you under the same roof as whatever that thing is in there. I was trying to bolt the door shut from the outside, but it was like something reached right into my chest and squeezed my heart.” He paused, looking confused. “I guess I blacked out. Woke up, and you were here.”
“Are you having heart palpitations now?” she asked, clearly horrified.
“No, no,” the old man assured her as he struggled to sit up.
She reached down to help him, but as soon as he sat upright, he grabbed his chest again.
“Okay, that’s it! We’re calling an ambulance. I want you to see a doctor, Mr. O’Toole. And I want us to get away from this room. Right. Now.”
The old man offered no protest as she slung his arm over her shoulder, helping him to hobble away. Anxious, Dominic hovered behind them, wishing he could carry some of O’Toole’s weight. His mind flashed to the moment he picked up Alyssa’s robe and threw it to her. Maybe I can help.
He materialized next to O’Toole, opposite Alyssa, and reached for the man’s other arm … only to swoosh through it
“Damnation!” he shouted.
She jerked her head towards him, eyes wide and questioning. She said nothing though, giving a pointed look to O’Toole’s lowered head. Since she’d first walked through the castle door, she seemed intent on not revealing Dominic to the old man.
Dominic explained himself. “I thought perhaps I could be of some use. Earlier I threw you your robe, I thought I could help you move O’Toole now.”
She gave him a nod and a sad smile, but spoke no reply. She continued limping the old man down the hall. Dominic followed behind the two, bitter thoughts crowding his mind. I’m a mere observer. Like always.
They finally made it to the great room where a fire roared in the hearth. The room was immense, but cheery and warm. One would never know evil lurked down the hall.
She helped O’Toole settle on the divan. “I’m calling an ambulance. I want you to be checked out.”
“Aye, gal, but you’re coming with me. I’ll not have you stay here by yourself. Not with that thing.”
“Mr. O’Toole, that thing needs to be dealt with. It’s why you hired me. Please, let me do my job,” she replied, her frustration evident.
“I didn’t understand how truly dangerous it was, until now. Nobody else is going to get hurt.” His brow wrinkled with determination. “I’ll burn the place to the ground, that’s what I’ll do, take a wrecking ball to it!”
Dominic had a moment to wonder what would happen to him, in the event of such an occurrence, before Alyssa answered. “Mr. O’Toole, absolutely not! Besides the fact your retirement is tied up in this place, you can’t know what the repercussions would be. What if that actually freed the evil?”
What if it freed me? He dismissed the notion at once. It couldn’t be that simple … he’d just end up haunting a pile of rubble.
Dominic watched pure horror settle over O’Toole’s face, the old man’s eyes widened, his mouth gaped.
Alyssa remained quiet for long seconds, looking thoughtful. Finally, she spoke. “Dominic, I’m going to tell him about you.”
O’Toole responded, his confusion evident. “Say what, gal?”
Dominic was as confused as the old man. “Since you arrived here, you’ve seemed bent on not acknowledging me in front of him.”
She nodded. “That’s because I sensed no evil intent from you. You weren’t a threat to Mr. O’Toole, so there was no reason he needed to know about you. I’ve found …” she faltered, seeming lost in a memory or perhaps struggling with words. “I’ve found too much information can be harmful to people. Ignorance really is bliss.”
O’Toole stared at her through her explanation, fear gathering in his face. “Are you … did that thing get into you? Are you possessed?” He started to pull away from her, movements frantic.
“Mr. O’Toole, no, it’s okay.” She clasped his arm in a soft grip, and though reluctant, he sat back. “I’m speaking to another soul who dwells here in your castle. Dominicus Romano. He’s been here for six centuries. He means us no harm. In fact he died trying to exorcise the evil spirit from a child.”
“You don’t say?” Skepticism laced his words.
With a small sigh, Alyssa addressed Dominic. “Tell me something you know about Mr. O’Toole. Something no living person knows.”
Dominic looked at O’Toole, and didn’t need time to think about it. “He keeps a small gold picture frame in his desk drawer in the library. It’s a young woman wearing a wedding gown. He takes it out and talks to it from time to time.” Dominic cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the next revelation. “Sometimes he weeps.”
Pain crossed Alyssa’s features and she took the old man’s hand in hers. She related the information to O’Toole, and he gasped.
“He’s seen me, then, talking to my Mary?”
She nodded.
O’Toole continued, voice low, “Did he see me … that night on the tower?”
Dominic answered, solemn. “Aye. And tell him as much as I long for company, I’m glad he didn’t jump.”
Now it was Alyssa who gasped, then she pulled the old man into an embrace. She shared Dominic’s words with him, and O’Toole started to cry.
“I just miss her so much. I try to find joy in each day, but she’s supposed to be here … with me.” His voice broke at the end, and he started to weep harder. She rubbed small circles into his back as she held him in a hug, her own eyes watery.
Dominic remained quiet, watching, glad to see O’Toole finally r
eceive some comfort … even as he struggled not to begrudge the old man her embrace.
After his sobs quieted, Alyssa sat up. “Mr. O’Toole, we need to get you to a hospital. I’m going to stay here, with Dominic, and we’re going to have this place demon-free by the time you return.”
O’Toole nodded, still reluctant, but allowed her to call for an ambulance.
Paramedics arrived and carried the old man away, but not before Alyssa reached down and whispered something into his ear. O’Toole’s troubled face became peaceful, his eyes closed and his mouth settled into a relaxed smile.
Soon enough, Dominic and Alyssa stood alone in the great room, the fire in the hearth flickering shadows on the high walls. He stood as close to her as he could without touching her. He noticed the flecks of gold in her lovely brown eyes, saw the streaks of red and copper in her mahogany hair, all illuminated in the firelight. “What did you say to him, as they wheeled him out?”
With a secretive grin, she replied, “I told him he didn’t need a photograph to talk to his Mary. She’s never far from him.”
He took a short moment to think about that before addressing the matter at hand. “What’s your plan then, love? How shall we rid the place of the demon?”
Her smile dissolved into a look of determination. “You started the exorcism all those years ago. The magic that binds it here is connected to you, I’m sure of it. It’s probably why you’re still here as well.”
He grappled with her words. Could it be? Is the demon’s presence the reason for my own? “That …that makes sense. All these years, I never understood why my soul remains trapped."
She responded in a near whisper, compassion heavy on her face. “Dominic, this could be the way to your peace. Exorcise the demon … and move on.”
His heart soared at her words. To be free of this castle! This nonexistence! But almost immediately a shadow marred his joy. It would mean leaving her behind. He swallowed past the sharp pain the thought brought him. She wasn’t for him, they were never meant to be.
With forced resolve, he answered her. “So how would we do it? I tell you the Latin words to expel the demon, show you the motions of the ritual?”
She chewed her bottom lip, wrapped her arms around herself and settled onto the divan. The piece of furniture glowed blood red in the firelight. She remained quiet for several breaths, staring at her feet.
Finally, she looked up. “No, I think it must be you. You must finish it.”
He heaved a great sigh. “You speak lunacy, woman. Such a thing is not possible.” He moved to sit beside her on the divan.
She turned to his voice. “Dominic, it is. Maybe it’s the only way. I think it would attack me, the same as it did Mr. O’Toole and the two guests. But you could resist it, with your immortality.”
An anguished cry left his lips at the thought of harm befalling her. “Never! We’ll do nothing that will cause you injury. But how can I exorcise it, useless specter that I am?” Anger at his own impotence engulfed him. “I didn’t even sense the thing was here. Likely that goes both ways, I’m as invisible to it as it is to me.”
“We make you corporeal, bring your body back to you, as much as we can.” She sounded confident.
“How?” he rasped.
“Touch me.”
A tormented groan left him. “I can’t. It hurt you earlier.”
“No, it shocked me. Took me by surprise. But it felt good, too, really good.”
She moved her body closer to him and lifted her face, an offering to his touch. He reached out a tentative hand, and with a single fingertip brushed her soft cheek. Her eyes closed and her lips curved into a gentle smile.
“It’s okay, Dominic. Earlier, I saw you. And then you moved my robe.” She opened her eyes, and they seemed to be meeting his. “I see you now, barely, but I can. Some spirits, they gain power the more they are acknowledged, the more a living person reacts to them. I think when we communicate, when we touch, you become more real to this plane.”
He wanted to believe it. Blessed Mother, I ache to believe it!
I’ve been so alone for so long.
He reached out with two trembling hands and cupped her face in his palms. She mewled at the increased contact, a pleasure sound, not pained. Her eyelids grew heavy, like they had when he’d watched her touching herself in front of the mirror.
“Truly, I am not hurting you?” he asked, awestruck.
“No, Dominic.”
A man lost, he pulled her to his chest and crushed his lips to hers.
*****
An electric charge crackled through the air, a metaphysical lightning bolt, the moment he surrendered to what they both wanted.
Though his form still appeared translucent, his lips were solid against hers. Hot and supple, strong and demanding. Every point of contact between them sparked ... their lips, her breasts against his chest, his hand high on her thigh. All bursts of white hot heat. Pure pleasure.
She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the cascading sensations, but soon opened them to look into his. He watched her with an unearthly gaze of blue flame, his pupils large and black. Hungry.
She sat back from him, and still his proximity made the fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck hum with static energy. Made her nipples erect and achy.
“Make love to me, Dominic.”
With a near incoherent cry of need, he wrapped his strong hands around her waist and pulled her onto his lap, her back to his chest. She sat facing forward on the divan, his burning heat behind and beneath her as she stared into the fireplace’s red-orange blaze.
His open mouth dropped to her throat. He placed gentle kisses down her neck, his plush, hot lips causing pleasant electrical tingles at every touch. Soon his mouth settled in the hollow between her neck and shoulder and suckled.
She moaned, her body giving involuntary twitches.
It’s too good.
Dominic lifted his head and spoke, voice a gritty scrape. “I can taste you, Alyssa. Blessed Mother, I can actually taste you. The salt of you. I can smell lavender … here.” He dropped his head to her throat once more and continued nuzzling, while his hands reached around to her front.
Through the red satin of her robe, his clever, long fingers played at her already sensitive nipples. Another moan escaped her as he caught each covered tip between a thumb and forefinger and rubbed.
Frantic, she lifted her arms up and behind her to entwine her fingers in his thick, dark hair, to hold him to her as he continued his attentions at her throat.
Murmuring love words into her skin, his hands moved down to the robe’s ties and worked the knot loose. With reverence, he slowly pulled both sides of the garment from her body, baring her breasts and quivering tummy. Her bare legs were splayed, sitting atop his, though he still wore the black cloak. The woolen material scratched at the bottoms of her thighs, making her squirm and shift above him.
He groaned and pulled her tighter against him, stilling her movements. She could feel his engorged manhood beneath her through the heavy fabric of the cloak.
Can a phantom disrobe? The distracting thought pulled her from her pleasure haze, but his rich voice returned her to it.
“Shh, Alyssa. Be still, love.”
Coherent thought fled as his warm, strong hands flattened on both sides of her belly. One hand remained, pressed against her abdomen, holding her tight, while his other slid down her hip and traced along her upper thigh.
Dominic spread his fingers, his thumb teasing at the seam of her moist nether lips. His mouth moved to her ear. “You’re my heaven. What I’ve waited for.”
A near sob broke from Alyssa, right along with her heart. She strained, arching, and turned her head sideways, capturing his lips in a wet, feral kiss as his thick, long fingers delved into her slippery cleft. He spread her nether lips with his middle finger and thumb, and touched his index finger to her clit.
She screamed.
His touch, there, like elsewhere, crackled with an
electrical charge, and held against her most sensitive place, the sensation was too much, too strong. Keening, she started to come, a wall of pleasure slamming into her, a tsunami sweeping her away.
His mouth worked at hers, devouring, sucking and nibbling, while he kept his index finger in place, rubbing up and then down and back again.
Her body convulsed, almost bucking out of his embrace, but he tightened his grip, locking her against his chest and busy hand.
“Dominic,” she spoke into his lips, her eyes squeezed shut, “please …” The continued pleasure bordered on pain. He seemed to understand her distress. His kiss gentled and he withdrew his hand.
Lethargic from her release, she still had an unmet need and knew he must ache as well. With trembling fingers she reached beneath her and grabbed handfuls of his cloak.
"Off," she demanded.
He chuckled, but complied, half-lifting her from his body to fumble with the garment. She helped him, and between their combined efforts, they managed to remove the woolen material from his body.
She noticed the cloak’s state. It’s as real, as solid, as my own robe.
Triumph shot through her as she looked down to Dominic’s hands against her middle, only the slightest aura of translucence about them now.
She sat back onto his naked skin, and reveled in the feel of his muscled chest, satin over steel. His strong arms gripped her hips, and she turned her head sideways, seeking another kiss. Her mouth found his, and she nipped at him, tender, tracing her tongue over his full lips as he positioned her body over his.
“Now, Dominic, now,” she whispered.
“Aye,” came his guttural reply.
Bracing her hands on the sides of his hard thighs, she moaned as he lowered her, inch by magnificent inch, onto his hot, throbbing cock.
As he filled her, a sense of rightness bloomed in her soul.
I’ve waited for this man my whole life.
He groaned behind her, a rumbling, masculine sound that caused her sex to clench around his flesh, buried deep inside of her.
The Phantom and the Psychic: A Paranormal Erotic Tale Page 2