by Jane Davitt
GIVING UP THE GHOST
Jane Davitt
and
Alexa Snow
www.loose-id.com
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
Giving Up the Ghost
Jane Davitt and Alexa Snow
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by
Loose Id LLC
1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924
Carson City NV 89701-1215
www.loose-id.com
Copyright © March 2007 by Jane Davitt and Alexa Snow
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 978-1-59632-424-4
Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Ansley Velarde
Cover Artist: April Martinez
Prologue
“There.” Nick surveyed the clean kitchen with satisfaction. “Bed?”
John nodded and rubbed his shoulder again ‑‑ it was still feeling stiff and uncomfortable after his marathon wood-chopping session yesterday afternoon.
Nick came over behind him and pushed his hand out of the way. “That’s still bothering you?” Nick asked, his breath warm against the back of John's neck as his skillful fingers prodded at and massaged the sore spot.
“Aye, but I’ll forget all about it if you keep that up.” John closed his eyes and let his head fall forward, chin to his chest.
It felt good to have Nick’s hands on him after hours of doing no more than looking at him. They’d been entertaining their friends Sheila and Michael; John’s weekly evening with them had evolved into the four of them having a meal followed by a game of cards. Tonight, each hand had been accompanied by a stream of conversation from Sheila. Her ability to talk and win most of the hands as she did it was uncanny. John could only suppose she didn’t actually listen to herself. It wasn’t that their guests would have minded him and Nick exchanging the odd touch or kiss; it’d just worked out that they’d been sitting across the table from each other the whole night. And Nick had been out all day, walking along the headland while the late autumn gale sent the clouds racing across the pale sky arching over the island. He gave a contented sigh and felt the tension in his muscles ease a little more. Nick’s fingers shifted, his attention moving to John’s neck, and John’s sigh turned to a sensual murmur of appreciation. That felt better than good.
Nick’s left hand moved from John’s neck down along his side and settled at his waist. “Let’s move upstairs.” His lips brushed over John’s ear. “As much as I love having my hands on you like this, I like it more when you aren’t wearing so many clothes.” It wasn’t as if John would even consider arguing; he let Nick lead him up the staircase to the bedroom, and stood there cooperatively as Nick undressed him. He tried to help, but Nick seemed determined to do it himself. “There,” Nick said when John was stripped to the skin. He patted John’s bare arse and pulled down the covers. “Lie down.”
John arched his eyebrows, giving Nick an amused look, but not protesting. Nick got like this sometimes; like he was trying to repay John for all the times John had looked after him in the wake of an encounter with a ghost. John wasn’t used to being taken care of, but it didn’t mean he didn’t like it once in a while, not when it was Nick doing the caring. Not when Nick knew exactly what to do to him. He lay down on the cool sheets, shivering slightly. The room was warmer than most islanders would have kept it; Nick liked it that way, but against John’s bare back that first touch of cotton was still a faint, pleasurable shock. Nick was watching him, undressing quickly, and John smiled up at him lazily, filled with good food, a few shots of whiskey, and a growing arousal. He didn’t bother pulling the covers up; Nick was enjoying looking at him, if the heat in his eyes was any indication, and John was all for anything that put that intent, hungry expression on Nick’s face. John ran his hand down his chest, pretending to scratch himself, unable to keep his grin from spreading wider. “I’m lying down, just like you asked. Any more requests?”
“Yes ‑‑ roll over.” John stretched once more, liking the feel of Nick’s heated gaze a little too much to give it up immediately, then obeyed, rolling toward the center of the bed and onto his stomach. “That’s better,” Nick said. A moment later he climbed onto the bed himself, straddling John’s waist, the warmth of him settling onto John’s arse. Thumbs dug into John’s shoulders and made him groan. “You really did a number on yourself.” It was said in the tone of voice that meant Nick didn’t expect a reply, so John just closed his eyes and listened as Nick worked on him. “God, I love touching you. I’m surprised you weren’t fighting half the island off with sticks all these years.”
John couldn’t help the soft snort of laughter that escaped him. “Well, I had a few offers now and then, but I don’t recall my door getting knocked down in the rush. And I think I’d have been a bit of a disappointment, seeing as the offers were all from women.” He flexed his shoulders, gasping slightly as Nick’s fingers dug in firmly, riding out the mild discomfort for the sake of the soothing warmth that followed. “Besides, I was waiting for you, wasn’t I?”
“I like to think so,” Nick said. He bent low and kissed John’s back, then moved his hands to John’s bad shoulder and concentrated on it, keeping his touch gentle as he sorted out where the ache was worst. “And I think they’re all crazy. Or blind. Not that I’m complaining; their loss is my gain.”
“I’m not complaining about anything,” John told him, feeling blissfully pampered. “Mind, you’re the crazy one thinking I’m a catch, but I’m not arguing with you. No, I’m just lying here letting you do anything you want to me.” His shoulder hurt but he’d had worse; chopping wood was tiring but it was nothing compared to hauling in heavy nets full of fish for hours on end. He hoped Nick hadn’t got the idea that John was in too much pain to want more than a goodnight kiss. “Anything at all,” he added.
Nick’s voice was suddenly a soft hush in John’s ear. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Anything?”
The shiver John felt this time wasn’t caused by anything but Nick being this close. Turning his head just enough to catch Nick’s eye, John said, “With you? Aye, I’m sure.”
“Then come here,” Nick said, shifting to lie beside him. He rolled John onto his side toward him, kissed him, then pushed on his hip until John was lying on his back. “There. Comfortable?” John nodded, and Nick slid lower and nuzzled at John’s cock, fingertips sliding teasingly up the inside of John’s thigh.
John spread his legs wider, wordlessly encouraging Nick’s hand to go wherever it wanted. Even now, when he was used to the idea of taking their time making love, of kisses that were more than a brief preliminary to sex, he still found it difficult to ask Nick in words for everything he wanted from him. His hand stroked Nick’s dark hair, pushing it back from Nick’s face so that he could see him. He found himself caught by the absorbed look on Nic
k’s face as his tongue traced a path over his cock, the sweet jolt of arousal almost a distraction. “You’re ‑‑ you look ‑‑” He shook his head, feeling frustrated by his inability to tell the man that he looked unbelievably hot like that. “I love you.” That, he had no trouble saying. None at all.
“See? I knew I was lucky.” Nick looked up at him and smiled gently, then licked his lips and slid them down over the sensitive tip of John’s cock. John shuddered, groaned, and lifted his hips slightly. It didn’t last long enough ‑‑ Nick went back to teasing him, soft, wet little flicks of his tongue down the length of his shaft and across his balls. “I love you, too,” Nick said seriously. He mouthed at the base of John’s cock, wetting it, then knelt up. Nick had their bottle of lube in his hand as if it had appeared from nowhere. He opened it, wet two fingers, and, watching John’s face the whole time, pushed those fingers inside himself. John could see it all perfectly ‑‑ the way Nick’s lips parted, the sharp inhalation of breath, the way Nick’s thigh muscles trembled. He could hear the slick sound as Nick slowly prepared himself.
“Your face…” John whispered. “You should see yourself, Nick. I see that look every time I do that to you.” Nick’s eyes widened slightly and John licked his dry lips, propping himself up on his elbows and ignoring the stab of pain from his shoulder. “You’re tight, aye, but you want me and you open up and let me in and there’re times I could come just from that. My fingers in you and that look on your face.”
Nick shivered; his nipples were tight, his face flushed with arousal. “I always want you,” he said. “I want you like this ‑‑ right here, on your back.” He moved, straddling John again, this time with his eager erection against John’s belly and his arse pressed to John’s cock. “Like this.” Slowly, Nick rocked his hips.
John put his hands on Nick’s waist, feeling the tremor that ran through him as Nick moved just enough, just ‑‑ the slippery heat welcomed him, letting his cock push into Nick with a deceptive ease as Nick bore down on him, taking his time. Holding still took all John’s willpower, but he did it, letting Nick control this, not giving into the need, the instinct, to drive up with a single thrust and take what was being offered to him. Nick grinned down at him, his face tight with concentration, and John returned it with a fierce smile of his own, groaning a moment later as Nick shifted and took him deeper still.
“Like this,” Nick said again. His eyes were dark in the low light; he splayed one palm on John’s chest, not resting much weight on it, more like he wanted ‑‑ or needed ‑‑ the contact. He stayed where he was, looking down at John. Then, slowly, he moved, his thighs raising him up off John, pausing before he sank back down, and if John could keep from lifting his hips, he certainly couldn’t keep from grabbing onto Nick’s and holding on. Nick gasped and found a rhythm, riding John with an abandon John couldn’t remember from him in all their time together. He watched, enthralled, as Nick’s fingers wrapped around his cock, teasing at the slick tip.
Lucky. John wasn’t the sort to think too deeply about life, and for all that he’d experienced since he’d met Nick, he wasn’t inclined to spend much time thinking about what would happen after his ended. He took each day as it came, for the most part. But at times like this, with Nick doing his best to drive him to the point where he couldn’t speak coherently, he was so aroused, he couldn’t help that single word coming into his head and staying there. He moved his right hand over Nick’s where it lay against his chest, curling his fingers under it and bringing it to his mouth to kiss, needing to do something, needing to give something back. Nick dragged his hand roughly across John’s mouth, uncoordinated, distracted, but slowly enough for John to lick and kiss and bite at it, tasting lemons ‑‑ aye, Nick had been the one grating them, hadn’t he, for the fancy dessert they’d tried. John captured a single finger, lapping at it as Nick pushed it deeper, Nick gasping as John’s teeth fastened around it for a moment.
“God,” Nick said, his eyes closing for a second or two as he tightened around John like a vise in a slow, maddening pulse. A bead of fluid formed at the head of his cock, framed by thumb and forefinger as he paused. John knew that drop would be sweet on his tongue, that Nick was hovering on the edge of coming right then, from just a few minutes of fucking. Of fucking himself on John’s cock, and wasn’t that one of the hottest thoughts ever? It made John ache with it, the way he so often ached because of Nick. Nick looked down at him and shuddered. “I don’t…know if I can ‑‑ God, John. I’m so close.”
John swirled his tongue around the tip of Nick’s finger, looking down his body at Nick’s cock, the connection between what he was doing and what he was seeing so intertwined that he could have sworn he could taste that slick, spreading wetness. Then he let the finger slip from his mouth, his hand tight around Nick’s wrist, and nodded, which was about all he could do right then.
“God.” Nick bit his lip and began to move again, his other hand a blur on his cock. John felt it when he started to come ‑‑ the hot, tight clench around him, the way Nick trembled. The way his mouth opened in silent ecstasy, head thrown back, the pale milk of his skin glowing. There was little more incredible than the sight of Nick coming, and John was treated to it in all its glory.
He waited, ignoring the insistent clamor of his own body, pushing the climax he was so close to back because he didn’t want to miss this, any of it, not the slow slackening of Nick’s hand, not the way the muscles on Nick’s stomach tensed as the warm spatter of come patterned them, not the single whimpering breath Nick released as the tension left his body. And when Nick slumped forward, trembling, John pressed a kiss against the damp, hot skin of Nick’s shoulder and tilted his hips up once, twice, and came in a slow, powerful rush, calling out Nick’s name softly as he did.
The house was quiet, the only sound in the room their breathing until that eventually slowed and was nearly silent, too. Nick shifted a bit and they both groaned, already-stiffening muscles protesting. “If I don’t move soon I don’t think I’ll be able to,” Nick said.
“Moving’s overrated.” John gave Nick a kiss that landed somewhere near his ear and sighed. “But I’m thinking we need to, aye.” Nick moved off him, his hand bestowing a final pat on John’s chest, and John got to his feet, feeling the room spin and settle around him. “If I fall asleep brushing my teeth, you’ll come and get me, will you?”
“If you start to look too sleepy, I’ll pinch you,” Nick promised, getting up himself and following John across the hall into the bathroom. He shivered in the cold ‑‑ he always seemed to feel it more than John did ‑‑ and started the hot water tap running, reaching for a flannel. As John brushed his teeth, Nick wiped his chest and belly clean, then offered the rinsed washcloth to John, who gave himself a cursory cleaning as well. John went back to the bedroom to keep the sheets warm for Nick, who followed a minute or two later. “Mm,” Nick said, crawling in next to him and snuggling close. “What are you doing tomorrow? Anything interesting?”
“I didn’t tell you?” John shook his head, settling down more comfortably and enjoying the feel of Nick’s body close to his. “Sorry. Must’ve slipped my mind when I was making sure the place was clean enough to stop Sheila fussing over our bad habits. Aye; Simon Cready called; one of his workmen has broken his wrist. You know they’re working on the extension to the community center in town? I said I’d take the man’s place; it means a couple of weeks of steady work.” He reached out to turn off the bedside lamp and then hesitated, wanting to see Nick’s face. “You’ll maybe be a bit bored by yourself all day?” It was one of his nagging worries; that the quiet life on the island would make Nick restless, eager to leave. Nick’s adult life had been spent moving from place to place; this was probably the longest time he’d spent in one location and it wasn’t like Traighshee had a nightlife to speak of…
Nick’s hand stroked over John’s bare hip. “Maybe,” he admitted slowly. “It’s not that I don’t love it here ‑‑ you know I do. And being able to tak
e a break like this has been amazing. I haven’t felt this rested in…forever, probably.” He sighed and tilted his chin up for the kiss John was aiming at his mouth. “But yeah. Maybe a little bored.”
John kissed Nick, for once doing it less because he could and he wanted to, than because it gave him time to think before he replied. Nick’s mouth moved against his sleepily but still holding the heat from their lovemaking. ”There’s maybe something you could do?” John offered a little hesitantly when the kiss wound down. He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. “Do you have any hobbies? Because it’s going to be a long winter, you know. I’m not saying you want to take up stamp collecting, mind…”
“Good, because somehow I don’t see that filling up my free time.” Nick sounded amused. “And you did promise to give me another lesson with the axe ‑‑ which should probably wait until you’re less sore. But even if I took over all the wood-splitting duties that still leaves an awful lot of time for doing nothing but staring at the walls, and I’ve heard that can take even regular people to the point of seeing ghosts.” It was the first time in weeks John could recall Nick having mentioned that particular talent, as if Nick had needed time to distance himself from the ability in order to move on to this new phase of his life. “Anyway,” Nick continued, “I guess I’ll find something to do with myself.” He didn’t sound too certain, though.
John yawned, smothering it with his hand and then snapping off the light. He’d think of something Nick could do…or Nick would get a bright idea of his own. They settled down again and John nudged Nick’s shoulder with his chin, smiling into the darkness. “Maybe you should start that book you’re always saying you’re going to write.” He chuckled softly. “You wouldn’t be the first visitor to do that…start, I mean. Most of them run out of steam after the first chapter, though, if they even get that far.” ”I’m not a visitor.” Nick sounded annoyed and John winced, for all that he was pleased to hear Nick sound so definite about it. “Well, no, of course you’re not ‑‑”