“All right,” Gabe said. “Let’s see what we can do.”
From his bag he grabbed a small tripod. With a few expert moves, adjusting the telescopic arms, he positioned the camera above the board. In the center of the frame was the planchette with my fingers on it. His hand joined mine, and I found myself a more than a little captivated by how our hands looked together. Next to his, mine was so delicate, even though I’d never thought so before.
And there we sat, staring at the unmoving planchette. There were no knocks or thumps. There were no sudden and unexplained drafts. Everything was A-OK. With each passing minute, I felt more and more relieved. As I’d suspected, this place was no more haunted than my own house. Gabe didn’t seem ready to throw in the towel just yet, though, and he opened the booklet that came with the board. He read over it and then put it aside. He cleared his throat. “We’re here to get in touch with the residents of 19 Abercorn Street.”
Eeeek! Again, the rain lashed the windows, suddenly louder and with more force. I didn’t like this. Not one little bitty bit. Desperate not to let Gabe see that I was probably shaking, I gripped the sofa cushion like a life preserver.
After a moment, I made myself look at Gabe in an effort to try to calm my nerves. It worked marvelously. When I stared at him, all other thoughts seemed to drain out of my mind like soapy water from the sink. I admired his scruff. I flashed back to the way his mouth had felt on mine, the way my skin had stung afterward. And I imagined how good he’d look, naked, in those high-thread-count sheets one floor above.
But before I could even think about making a move of my own, the planchette started to move.
I repeat. The planchette. Started. To move.
“Holy shit,” said Gabe.
I was so astonished, I couldn’t even talk. I could barely even think. My hand glided along with the pointer as it slid across the shiny surface of the board. It landed on I and paused.
Gabe and I sat there, frozen. “Did you do that?” I asked him. Now I wasn’t just hanging on to the sofa—I was squeezing it so hard that feathers had begun to poke out of the upholstery.
“Fuck no,” he said.
It began moving again, and it slid over to W. And then A. And then N. And finally T.
“I want,” Gabe said.
God and Elvis help us, we had opened the gates of Ouija and I had no idea how we were supposed to close them. “Gabe!”
“I want,” he repeated.
I pressed my free hand to my mouth. I held my breath and glanced at Gabe. He didn’t seem the least bit freaked out. But of course he didn’t. He’d spent his career chasing things like frogmen and dogmen and abominable snowmen. But me? The scariest thing I’d gotten involved in lately was a homemade curry recipe with sixty-seven spices, with each measurement written in grams! I didn’t know how to deal with urban legends, I didn’t know how to deal with haunted houses, I didn’t know how to deal with . . .
“Y,” Gabe said as the planchette skidded wildly around the board. It didn’t even feel like gravity was holding it down; it felt like an air-hockey puck on the move.
Goose bumps gave me prickles all over. Gabe turned to me without taking his fingers off the planchette as it shuttled around the board, like it couldn’t find the right letter. “Are you moving it? Tell me you’re moving it.”
“I’m not!” I gasped. “I swear!”
The planchette skidded to a stop, and he looked at me for a long second, like he was trying to find a lie on my face. He was so dead serious that I burst out with a little giggle and then clapped my hand over my mouth so that it didn’t mess up the audio. “I’m not!” I whispered. “Promise!” I grabbed Gabe’s notebook off the coffee table and flipped it over to write on the cardboard back. IWANTY, I wrote out.
“Lily, it’s moving again,” Gabe said as it moved from the O to the U. I placed my fingers next to his and felt it move along beneath our hands. Then it landed on S, and then O. With my other hand I scribbled down the message. My hand was shaking so hard that my writing was squiggly and enormous.
For one second, it stayed in the middle of the board. Monopoly from now on, I promise! But it wasn’t over. It was on the move again, and moving fast. It darted over to B. Then to A. Then to D. And finally it slid down to Goodbye on the bottom of the board. There it stayed. Gabe inhaled and drew back from the board, blowing a long breath into his massive fist. “What the fuck was that?”
An absolutely terrible idea! With my hands shaking, I quickly jotted down the rest of the letters. And realized I’d been had. I WANT YOU SO BAD. “Oh, you stinker!” I swatted him with his notebook. “You terrible man!”
He roared with laughter, a sexy and deep baritone laugh that filled the room. He grabbed my hands first and my hips second, rolling back onto the sofa and pulling me on top of him. He tossed his head back, laughing silently now as the thick columns of his neck muscles pulled tight. “You really thought it was moving? Really?”
I hooked my legs around him and scissored him as tight as I could. I planted my hands on his chest and tried to give him a shove. “Of course I did! If your middle name is Adventure, then mine is Total Sucker.”
He wrapped his arms around me, sliding one hand up along the back of my neck to keep me close. Running his thumb down my cheek, he held my hair back from my face. The laughter and playfulness were gone. Now he was back where I’d seen him in the bedroom. Greedy and serious. His palm grasped my tush in a delightfully possessive way. “Ouija speaks the truth. I do want you. So bad.”
“Me too,” I whispered back, but then I realized how confusing that sounded. “I mean, I want you. Not I want—”
He kissed me to shut me up. His hands gripped my body, and his tongue swept mine aside. Straddling him on my knees on the sofa, I felt him hard underneath me. I tipped my hips into him, with nothing but my panties and his chinos between us. This kiss was different than the one in the bedroom earlier. This was like a slow drizzle of caramel all through me. Just as the room began to spin, and just as I started to reach for his belt, he broke us apart, pulling my head back slightly with his fingers knotted into my hair. He nudged my cheek with his nose and said, “I’m gonna take you upstairs, Lily. And rock your fucking world.”
11
GABE
Halfway up the steps, I slid my hand around her waist from behind. She stopped and I took one more step up so my hips were even with hers. I was rock hard in my pants, and I let her feel it between her ass cheeks. She groaned and held on to the railing more tightly. White knuckles. Fuck yes.
“You’re going to need to keep doing that,” I told her as I sheltered her with my body, the curve of my abs and chest pressed against her back. I slid my hand up to her tits and pinched her nipple through her dress.
“Keep doing what?” she asked. Her voice was thick with heat and desire. Not so soft and gentle anymore.
I placed my hand over hers on the banister. “Keep hanging on tight.”
She let her head drop down, and I swept her hair over one shoulder. I placed my lips at the curve where her neck met her shoulder and looked down into her cleavage. I was torn—part of me wanted to ravage her, part of me wanted to worship her.
There was plenty of time for both.
I undid her delicate zipper tooth by tooth. It sounded every bit as good as I’d imagined it would. She was holding her breath as I did it, tipping her head to the side to get me to keep kissing her. Fuck knew I wanted to. But I needed her to know that this wasn’t going to be all tenderness either, and I needed there to be no doubt that no matter how bad I wanted her, I was the one running this show. Once I had her zipper undone, I hiked her dress up and yanked her hips back into mine, making her gasp. The ripples of the impact made her ass tremble. She bent forward as her dress slid from her shoulders. She supported herself with her palms on the stairs, her fingertips on the edge of the step. Her dress slid off her into a flowery circle at her feet, revealing a black thong. With a tiny red bow that I hadn’t been able to s
ee earlier.
“I’m keeping these.” I traced the edge of the thong over the topography of her curves. I slid my index finger underneath the lace, over the handle of her hip, and onto the soft skin above her pussy. Close enough to the bull’s-eye to make her moan for it. She inhaled when I touched her there, drawing her stomach in. Whatever self-consciousness she had just made me want to break her walls down faster. I pressed my palm into her lower belly, keeping her steady. With the first two fingers of my other hand, I traced the line of her thong in the other direction. Over her ass and down between her legs from behind, teasing the edges of her lips.
She was soaked already—I felt it right through her panties. Her wetness sent a pulse through my cock, and a sheer primal need in me said, Fuck her here. Fuck her now.
But she deserved better than being fucked from behind on a staircase. This time, anyway.
I kept on teasing her—one finger outside her panties, one finger underneath. She was slick, hot, and ready. Exactly like I needed her to be.
I pushed her down to make her bend deeper at the hips. When I had her where I wanted her, I tucked my hand back against her abdomen. I kissed a line down her ass, making sure I scratched her with my stubble as I went. She moaned a little, and I felt her stomach begin to relax. With my teeth, I pulled her thong down and drew it back from her body, letting it snap against her flesh. Then I slid both fingers along her slit, slowly pressing them in and drawing them back out.
“You always this wet?” I asked as I sank my teeth gently into the milky smoothness of her perfect ass.
She responded with a low “Nun-hnnnn.” I drew my face away from her skin to get a look at her pussy in all its magnificent glory. Swollen, pink, and wet. I made a V of my fingers to open her up. When I entered her, one of her knees went out from under her, but I kept her steady, supporting her body with my hand.
“How do you want it?” I asked her. I slid my tongue down her thigh and then into that wet, hot silk. Her taste was like a shot of Jack and a hit of weed—exactly what I needed. The best high of all.
“Every way you want to give it to me.”
Shit yes. “That’s the right fucking answer.” With the tip of my finger, I teased the edge of her clit. As I did, she whimpered, a helpless little whine that echoed through the foyer. I moved down the stairs one more step so my face was level with her pussy from behind. As my tongue touched her clit, she grabbed my hand. “Oh God, Gabe.”
With my first two fingers I teased her G-spot as I slid my tongue into her, which made her knees shake. I could’ve stayed like that all goddamned night, feeling her thighs tremble against my shoulders, feeling her wetness intensify as I worked on her clit. Once I’d gotten enough of her to hold me over, I pulled away from her and inhaled her scent. Like seawater, heady and salty. I pulled her up to standing and helped her step out of her dress.
Again I placed my lips to that place where her neck met her shoulder, this time giving her a sucking kiss hard enough to pull her flesh into my mouth. I penetrated her again with my fingers, getting the measure of her, the curve of her, imagining my cock inside her. I bit down, gently but firmly, and she hissed. “Bedroom,” I growled against her, keeping her flesh between my teeth.
She nodded, but she didn’t move. Her toes curled up on the hardwood as I hooked into her more deeply. I leaned back from her and studied every inch of her—her feet, her ankles, the soft skin at the backs of her knees. Her inner thighs. The way her hair fell in ringlets on the step below her. And that ass. Her ass was a vision. Grabbable, kissable, fuckable . . . and even more slappable than I’d thought at first. So sexy it deserved a handprint.
I slowly pulled out of her, my fingers slick and wet. And then wound up and gave her a flat-handed smack that left a red welt and a smudge of her own wetness on her skin. I rubbed in the sting, pulled her back into me, and told her again, “Bedroom. Right now.”
She was going to be a fantastic fuck. When I pushed her backward across the bedroom, she shoved me in return. I went at her harder, and she gave as good as she got, laughing all the time. Fire in those pretty eyes. Risk and reward. She was feisty, and I fucking loved that.
“Getting inside you cannot happen fast enough,” I told her as I shoved her onto the bed. She landed with a cushy thump on the mattress, giggling as she was enveloped in the sheets. I dropped my pants, and the clasp of my belt pinged as it hit the ground. She got up on her knees and started to undo my shirt buttons. But I stopped her. “Put your hand on my cock where it belongs.”
She looked up at me, full of challenge in the moonlight. Instead of going straight for me, she undid the button at the opening of my boxers and drew her fingertip up the shaft. I pulled my shirt off and tossed it aside. With the heel of my hand to her sternum, I got her on her back. She planted her arms on either side of her and pressed her foot against my chest, arching her body up in a tantalizing curve. Using me as an anchor, she reached behind herself and undid her bra with one hand. Her breasts came free, and I saw them both in all their perfection in the moonlight. Still arched off the bed, she hooked her toe over the edge of my boxers. I took hold of her ankle and kissed the underside of her left foot. As I did, her toes curled and she arched her foot—pure pleasure.
She pulled my boxers down farther with her toe. The elastic waistband got caught on my cock, and she teased me with a few more tugs. When my cock finally sprang free from my boxers, she gasped. I stroked it for her, working the length. She rolled up and got onto her knees in front of me. Gently, almost reverently at first, she took my cock in her hands. She ran the pad of her thumb along the vein that zigzagged up the side and underneath the head. With her other hand, she cupped my balls. I loved the way she played with me. She let one slip between her fingers, and then she switched. She inched to the edge of the bed on her knees and dropped down onto her elbows so she could take my cock in her mouth. The bed was high, a mahogany four-poster that was just the right height for everything I wanted to do to her. And apparently, everything she wanted to do to me too.
Because whatever she was doing with her tongue was making me crazy. “Holy fuck, Lily.” I held on to one of the bedposts and let my head fall back. With the flat of her tongue, she worked her way down the base. Then she went back up again, fisting my cock in her hand. Not some delicate bullshit, but hard and aggressive. Like she knew what she wanted and she was damned well going to take it.
She took me deeply into her mouth again. She grabbed my hand and placed it on her own cheek so I could feel what she was doing. She got messy about giving me head—lots of saliva and teeth. Just the way I liked it. Every so often, she looked up at me with my cock in her mouth. She looked sweet, but she was fucking dirty. And I couldn’t get enough. As she went back up, she turned slightly to let me feel my own cock through her cheek, pressing into my palm.
“Jesus,” I growled. But as much as I wanted to stay there and watch my cock stretch those creamy cheeks, I’d been waiting since last night to have my way with her, and now I was just plain greedy. I shifted my hand to her throat and pushed her backward onto the bed. I stroked myself in front of her, and she parted her legs for me. Kneeling between her thighs, I lubed up with her wetness.
Never looking away from her, I put myself at her opening. Her hips rose to meet me. Everything about that move said yes and now and please. But even as her body begged me, I took my time. Even though I wanted to fuck her until the bed busted, I teased her opening with my cock. Even though I wanted to fill her with my cum, I savored the way her pussy opened to take me. Even though I wanted to fuck her until she roared, I inched my way inside her. I made myself go slow. Because I didn’t want this to end.
Goddamn did she feel like heaven. But halfway in, her hips bucked and she gripped the covers. She turned away and closed her eyes. She sucked in a hissing breath between gritted teeth. I stopped exactly where I was, because for all the things I wanted to do to her, the last thing I wanted was to hurt her. Unless it was on purpose. “You good?”<
br />
She smiled with her cheek against the sheets. “You’re just . . . huge.”
Awww, yeah. Now we’re fucking talking. “Think you can handle it?”
She snapped her head toward me and opened her eyes wide. All that fire. All that heat. She reminded me of one of those goddamned chocolate lava cakes. Tempting and cool on the outside, molten hot and dangerous inside—you’d burn the shit out of yourself if you weren’t careful.
But tonight was gonna be a lot of things, and careful wasn’t one of them. “Answer me,” I said, giving her another inch. “Can you take it?”
And that was when she did it. She squeezed. Squeezed until my knees buckled and my eyes rolled right the fuck back into my head.
“Jesus Christ,” I said as I drove into her. I was halfway between control and total surrender. Who was I kidding, though; control was an illusion anyway. With the way my balls were throbbing, that pussy owned me already.
She spread her legs and hooked her ankles around me, pulling me on top of her. She raked her fingernails down my back and licked up the edge of my ear. “I can handle you,” she whispered. “But can you handle me?”
Fuuuuuuuck.
12
LILY
Yep. He could handle me. Like a boss. Every thrust sent a wave of pleasure radiating through me—not like ripples on a pond, but like breakers crashing and fizzing against the rocks. He slowed a little and slipped his forearms beneath me, cradling me against him, like he was protecting me from himself.
There was no awkward negotiation—no Is that how you like it? Or Is that too hard? Listen, boys: if you have to ask, you’re doing it wrong. And Gabe did not have to ask. Everything he did was juuuuust right. My moans sounded lurid and lewd, like some other version of myself was making them—some deep-down vixen that I had never known I’d been keeping caged. Each drive was deeper, each thrust harder, and each growl more aggressive. Buried deeply inside me, he lowered his head so our foreheads were pressed together. “Your pussy is fucking magic,” he said with another ruthless drive.
Do You Feel It Too? Page 8