“It’s overheated is all,” I tell the sheriff, pausing near him as he pops the hood and taps the radiator with his fingers, fetching a handkerchief from his pocket.
Without turning to face me, he tells me, “You shouldn’t be here. Too many bad memories, too many ghosts,” he adds ominously, popping the cap and not even flinching as boiling steam pushes past his fat hand as he turns to look at me.
“Best to stay away. We’ll get you back on the road, but I don’t care what Barbara says. Stay away from this place, D’ya hear!” he says loudly, narrowing his eyes before reaching for the water bottle he’s brought from his own car.
I feel my head nodding, but my heart’s not in it.
I know I’ll be back here before nightfall.
Back here for good, a part of me tells me.
Even though I know there’s no such thing as ghosts, that the sheriff’s just doing his best to set me straight and see me off.
I know where I belong now, without even knowing why.
Just sensing I belong to him now.
Ghost or not.
I turn to look back up at the house, certain I see a curtain dropping which makes my heart leap, and my groin flush with heat all over again.
“Lois…? Lois!” The sheriff says sharply, breaking my reverie. He’s done, motioning with his head towards the driver’s side of my car. “Try it now. I’ll follow you back to town.”
I want to protest, I want to tell him where to get off. But I know it’s useless.
I’ll be back… whoever or whatever you are, don’t worry…
After securing the front door again, the sheriff signals me with a jut of his chubby chin to go ahead of him in my car, which I start and crawl away from the house slowly.
About halfway back to town his lights and siren start to wail, his car spins around and he’s off in another direction down a waterlogged side road. Away from me, away from the house…
Away from my haunted feeling that’s still wet and warm between my legs.
I want to turn, to head back to that feeling, but if I’m gonna stay the night there, I’ll need more than my wet clothes.
I head back to the shoebox of a room above the newspaper office Barbara is charging me rent for. Noticing she’s not in the office, I relax enough to change out of my wet clothes into anything dry I can find in the suitcase I haven’t even unpacked having only arrived yesterday.
A flashlight, blanket, some meager tinned rations from the near-empty pantry shelf and…
I consider the open suitcase again.
A couple pairs of underwear…
I’ll be needing them at this rate.
Without even thinking about what I’m doing, I stuff everything back into the suitcase and take everything I own with me.
Something just tells me I’m not coming back. Not to this poky little room anyway.
Tossing my damp clothes onto the back seat, I smile as my little car springs to life, sounding as eager as I am to get back to the old house.
The streaming rain webs across my windshield, and I almost run straight into Barbara and her little sports car as she swerves back into the parking lot.
She gives me a ‘WTF?’ look, before I shoot her my best reporter’s face right back, mouthing the words ‘A story!’ before peeling past her car, throwing up a muddy puddle in my wake. Not even having to look back to feel her staring daggers into me.
I feel free already.
Nervous, but free.
The whole drive back to the house I spend reasoning about how no animal or even ghost could be in that old place.
I saw that curtain move.
I felt eyes on me.
A man’s eyes. I just know it.
Now I just have to prove it.
It’s the night before Halloween and I’m planning on more treats than tricks as I feel my foot get heavier on the gas, eager to feel more of what I felt feasting on me from that window.
And hoping for no more interruptions from the sheriff or my new boss along the way.
As if in reply, a huge splinter of white lightning sprints across the inky black sky, summoning a heavier downpour as the only light of the fading day is swallowed up by an ever-darkening horizon.
But by the time I make it to the bottom of the hill and see the house again, it looks like a totally different house.
I feel my flushes of excitement and anticipation replaced with fear and a creeping sense of dread.
Maybe the old sheriff was right.
Chapter Four
Blake
Once I see her and that meddling sheriff leave I’m grateful for the thunder. It almost drowns out my howling.
Almost.
My frustration and disbelief that she could come so close to me, and then just leave as quickly.
I pace for an hour, like a caged animal.
That’s what I am now, stuck in this house, without her.
Without even knowing her name.
My instinct was to rush outside, grab hold of her and bring her back in here with me. But I know where that would lead, more trouble than I already know.
I can’t force her though.
But seeing her so close to any other man, even that old fart of a sheriff. It makes my blood boil.
She’ll come back to me. She has to.
I busy myself before dark, securing the shutters and laying out some candles, matches, and anything else I think she might need. I even set wood out after building up the old fireplace.
A few cans of food from my own dwindling supply.
She’s really coming back? Tonight?
She has to.
If she doesn’t, I’ll go mad. I don’t think my dick’s been this hard for so long, ever.
And there’s only one cure for it. One place it wants to be.
I’m used to the dark in this place by now, no point lighting a candle just to see my own shadow.
I pace some more, even straightening the white sheets draped over the heavy furniture, feeling almost embarrassed at the amount of dust, picking up any stray cans or bottles I find. Leftovers from years of uninvited visitors, kids mostly, trying to spook themselves.
Before I showed up.
Before I really did scare them all away.
The rain is getting heavier, and the thunder louder. I catch myself looking out of the only window I’ve left un-shuttered.
Am I really waiting for her?
I know I am. It’s all I am now… She’s all I am, and I’ve only caught a glimpse of her.
It’s all I needed to know the truth, to make sense of it all.
Just as I close the curtain for what feels like the millionth time, two beams of light cut through the darkness, broken up by some lightning. I hear the unmistakable chug of a small car struggling up the hill and I hear a low growl escape me.
A pleased, satisfied sound that fills the whole house, echoing my desire with a depth that matches my own hardness, that hasn’t lost any of its edge since she left.
But I must be fifteen years her senior. Would she really be interested in an older guy like me?
Could she really?
I don’t have time to dwell on the thought, the sound of her car pulling up right out front is my cue to hide, but I make sure the door is unlocked before I slide up the stairs, tearing myself away from the doorway I know I want to greet her at.
I hear her car stall, then the tiny door of her hatchback slam as her steps crunch across the gravel and up onto the porch,
I crouch down as best I can behind the railing of the upper floor. No mean feat, a man of my size trying to hide.
I only hope the darkness holds between the sheets of lightning, letting me be close enough to watch her but remain unseen by her.
For now.
She’s drenched again.
A different blouse and a new skirt, all wet from her short dash from her car to the house, but I don’t mind.
I see her thick chest standing stiff at attention again as she heaves he
r weight against the door, making it echo shut from the wind outside and thrusting us both into an eerie silence I try my hardest not to break by moaning just from the sight of her.
Fuck! She’s perfect.
Her dark hair is all slick against her glistening face. Her cheeks round and flushed with more than her effort to get out of the storm.
Her breathing is heavy and I struggle to contain my own, darting back into the shadows some more as I watch her shimmering blue eyes, wide and dark in the center as she strains to take in the view of the house at night that I know so well by now in the dark.
I know she can sense me, her breath shivers a little as she covers her chest, then a low purr escapes her lips as she stands there.
Her thick thighs seeming to glide across themselves as she stands still before a little gasp of excitement escapes her sweet lips.
Maybe she’s scared?
No, she’s not scared. She knows someone… something is here, devouring her with its eyes. The electric charge through the whole house was undeniable the moment she walked in, the moment I first saw her.
I groan involuntarily, my own hand straying to the stiff mound stretching the front of my pants. I grip myself hard in a vain attempt to quell some of my aching passion for her.
But it’s useless.
She tilts her head, hearing me… or was it the wind?
I see her asking herself that question as she struggles to move her legs apart from each other, to move around the room and finding some candles by her own flashlight, she lights up the rest of the room with the softer light.
I bite my lip to stop from moaning again.
Seeing her curves through the thin white fabric of her wet clothes is almost as much as I can take.
I hear my zipper, and in a second my hot meat is in my hand as I begin to work it furiously.
I can’t help it.
I feel a thick line of warm moisture from my tip, lubing me up and only making me feel like it belongs inside of her instead of in my hand.
I can’t… I mustn’t… It has to be for her… every drop…
Clenching my jaw, my pumping hand slows but I can’t help but try and ease some of the tension in my body through my own touch.
I need her, not my damned hand!
“Mine,” I hear myself groan loudly, feeling my balls rising up as I use all my control not to blow my load just by looking at her.
Chapter Five
Lois
It’s weird.
Coming back to the house, my emotions are split in two.
On the one hand, I’m terrified, rushing into an abandoned, supposedly haunted house all by myself in the middle of a storm.
On the other hand?
I can’t wait to feel his eyes on me again.
I can’t wait to feel his presence.
I’ll say it again, ghost or not, I’ve already given myself to him in my mind.
As much as it frightens me, it thrills me more.
Leaning against the door, blocking out some of the noise from the storm, I can see in the dimly lit house that things are different.
My eyes try to adjust, but I have to use the flashlight, using it to scan the front hall and the huge sitting room in the hope I will see him straight away.
Some candles are laid out, a fire has been set but not lit in the fireplace… there’s even some tinned food and water.
I have a moment of panic, thinking I might not be the only ghost hunter tonight, but a sound from the top of the stairs, then a faint hint of his cologne or just his manliness reaches my nose, and I relax.
I hear myself purring like a cat, wanting suddenly to touch myself, to be touched by him.
To feel his wet mouth on my…
I gasp aloud, rubbing my thighs together as if I’m in a trance.
I’m sure I hear something from the top of the stairs, but I need to control myself.
I need to focus. If there’s a real ghost or even a man here, I still need to get my facts for a story.
First and foremost, I need to see better.
I light some candles, and still sensing the presence, stronger than ever, I set about getting the fire going.
I need to dry out, and in more ways than one.
But the sudden groan from beyond… I’m sure it says the word mine, right before the front door bursts open, making me squeal with fear and letting in enough wind and rain to gut the candles I’ve just lit makes me rush for the door again.
Do I run? Is this the part where visitors to the haunted house run out in fear, never to return? Or do they stay and seal their fates… maybe never able to leave?
As I hold the door open with one hand, I turn as a white flash of lightning illuminates the whole interior of the house for a second.
And I see the form of a huge man on the stairs, his hand outstretched… his pants undone.
It’s so outrageous a scene I can’t be frightened, the only fleeting thought I have is it must be my imagination. Must be my mind showing me what I want to see.
Until I hear him call out as I move to leave the house.
I’m pulled towards my car, the headlights still glowing a dim yellow in the darkness, the rain beating down as the wind howls that it’s just pointless to stay.
But his voice cuts through everything.
Not a ghostly voice.
A strong, manly command glues me to the spot.
“Wait!” he says firmly. “Just wait. Let me explain.”
His voice, stronger than the wind and rain, cuts through everything. It rides up inside me, searching for the feeling that lays in wait for him. The feeling I’ve carried for him since coming to this place.
I feel myself being pulled back inside. Not by anything less than my own desire. I close the door and lean against it again, not caring about the car outside, the headlights. The world beyond them.
My own breath is rapid, and hearing his heavy step on the stairs tells me he’s no ghost, making me shiver a breath out and then in again.
He’s all man. And once I see him at the foot of the stairs I wonder how such a beautiful creature ever hid among those thin shadows.
“I’ll explain everything, I promise,” he says, a matter of fact. “Just don’t go. I’m not going to hurt you… you’re mine… my guest, at least…”
I feel my hand clutch at my chest, feeling the pounding of my heart against trembling fingers.
One glance at this shadowy figure and I can tell he’s not going to hurt me.
Quite the opposite.
“I’ll light the fire,” he continues. “Let you dry off. We can just...talk.”
Talk?
Talking is the last thing I want but he’s turned to the living room, tucking himself back into his pants in the darkness.
A moment of silence, then the striking of a match is met with another low growl of thunder from outside, and one more from somewhere inside the house, I’m sure.
Before the fireplace springs to life, his dark eyes are on mine and I see his features dancing in the shadows.
Something more familiar than my own fantasy.
Something about him I…
Blake Barnes?
I practically mouth the words as I take in his giant frame.
Long before I decided I wanted to be a reporter, and once I did in college, I followed the Blake Barnes scandal with the rest of the nation.
A hero, a god.
Defamed and ruined.
But in this light, with him bending over as he lights that fire. I feel more than one glow kindling.
“You’re with the newspaper.” He sighs, standing to stretch, but pausing as his eyes fixate on my chest then move down to my hips.
Undressing me.
My head nods in agreement, but my thighs squeeze together again, drawing a fresh bead of moisture from me I hope he can sense.
My nodding turns to shaking of my head. Unable to believe any of this is actually happening.
Blake Barnes is… was, one of t
he greatest pitchers in professional baseball that ever lived.
A small town success story that lights up in my mind as I join some dots internally.
But before any of that, I simply can’t get over the man himself, in the flesh.
Well over six five, and built like a linebacker, not a pitcher.
His V-shaped frame and heaving torso as he stands to face me, those brilliant obsidian eyes burning into me.
“I’m Lois,” I squeak. Totally forgetting the name of the paper I work for.
Knowing I’ll work for him now, do anything he wants.
If only he’d tell me.
If only he’d command me again in that deep voice.
And he does.
“Come here, by the fire. Dry yourself, you’re all wet. I’ll go see about your car, make sure the battery doesn’t die.”
I walk over to him like a string is pulling me. I feel my mouth drop open.
Despite just telling me he’ll see to my car, he just stands there, and I just keep walking closer to him, feeling more of his own heat against my body than anything from the fireplace, which is brightly lit now with a good strong fire.
Chapter Six
Blake
It all happens so fast, I barely have time to get my dick back in my pants.
One second she’s leaving, the next I hear myself telling her no, that she’s mine. She’s not going anywhere.
I’ve blown my cover, exposed myself but I don’t care.
I know she’s from a paper, why else would she come here alone?
Why else would she?
I have a growing understating of why, but I still have trouble believing a girl like this could be interested in an older man like me. An older ghost even.
What I don’t imagine is her being drawn to me. Coming closer and closer.
All I can manage is to stand there, trying my best to take all of her perfect body in. The smell of her… her wet hair… that dress…
She ends up so close, I can feel her chest about to touch me. My heart is pounding against my ribs and my mouth is so dry I can’t even speak, even if I wanted to.
“I have a bag in my car,” she finally says, breaking the spell as I realize I’ve been staring at her chest like a schoolboy the whole time.
Haunted By Her Curves: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 206) Page 2