by Viola Grace
“Brigit,” Mrs. Nolan called out.
Brigit stopped and turned to the elderly woman with a smile. “Hello, Mrs. Nolan. How are you?”
“Fine, thank you, dear. I just wanted to tell you that I had a talk with Andrew about your mysterious parcel and he said he had no idea where it might have come from. He says only the post man has got the access code to the building.” She paused. “And from what I gathered, he’s not the messenger—Andrew, that is.”
This information didn’t sit well with Brigit. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth. “Well, someone must have gotten in somehow and left it.”
Mrs. Nolan added a few more creases to her forehead as she raised her eyebrows. “Well, that seems to be the only explanation…unless we start believing in ghosts,” she added with a giggle.
Normally, the idea would have made Brigit laugh, instead she forced a smile. “And that would be far-fetched,” she replied in an attempt to hide her surprise at her neighbor’s choice of words.
Mrs. Nolan regarded her with a calm expression. “Brigit dear, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. It must have been a practical joke and Andrew promised to take extra security measures from now on.”
Brigit smiled and nodded, thankful for the woman’s concern. “I appreciate your help, Mrs. Nolan. You’re probably right—a joke or something,” she added with a carefree shrug.
Brigit took a deep breath and eased her door open. She glanced at the floor and was relieved to find no mail. Good. At least she could enjoy her evening in peace. The television sitcoms and the crunchy texture of buttered popcorn helped clear her mind. She was no psychologist, but felt her dream could be explained by common sense. Plainly, her subconscious had interpreted her longing to share her life with a special man by manufacturing a sexy phantom lover who smelled just like the letter. Naturally, it would be more than great if he actually existed.
She sighed and popped the final, fluffy corn kernel in her mouth. This may also be a sign that she needed to start dating again—maybe she was lonelier than she cared to admit. On a whim, she picked up the phone and dialed Fiona’s number. Her friend answered on the third ring.
Brigit heard the sound of water splashing in the background. “Are you having a bath?”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing and enjoying this marvelous herbal tea infusion. You just have to try it Brigit…it’s really therapeutic,” she sighed. “What’s up love?”
“Fiona, your date is still on for the weekend, right?”
“Yes, at a jazz lounge on Saturday—can’t remember the name, but Simon’s a regular.”
“Um, do you mind if, I mean…could Simon arrange to bring a friend along, so we can make it a double date if that’s okay with you?” Brigit asked hopefully.
“Brigit, that’s a great idea! Why didn’t I think of that? And I’m so happy you’re finally interested in dating.” There was more splashing. “You’ve actually made my eyes tear.” Fiona sniffled lightly, giggling at the same time.
Brigit grinned. “You’re the best, Fiona.”
Her spirits restored, Brigit retired early that night.
She woke to the coolness of the bed sheet against her skin. Glancing down, she saw her red lace panties about her hips and that’s all she saw. But she remembered falling asleep in her pj’s. A distinctly delectable scent drifted toward her, squashing all thoughts save one. Justin. She felt his presence as well, his magnetism stirring and pulling at her senses. Brigit hadn’t expected to be lucky enough for a second visit. Blood rushed in her veins, kindling her desire.
“Justin.”
Silence hung in the charged air for a moment. “Do you want to see me?” His voice stroked her senses.
“Yes,” she breathed, her eyes seeking him out in the darkness, thankful that her voice came out easier this time.
The lean muscles of his body lowered gently on her, fitting perfectly to her. She sighed at this new pleasure, her hands instantly moving to his sculpted shoulders. It was thrilling to feel his bare skin on hers, the tips of her breasts crushed achingly under his chest, the pulse of his hardness at the soft skin of her inner thigh. A delicious jolt shot through her, tightening the ache between her legs. As she tilted her chin up, a pair of deep green eyes locked onto her. This time, her breath froze as she stared into those intense eyes, framed by thick, black lashes. She raised shaky hands to his face and traced the handsomely sculpted lines of his cheeks and his jaw, the full curve of his mouth and the strong, straight nose. She guessed he was in his early thirties. She’d been holding her breath so long it came out in a shaky rasp. “My God, you’re gorgeous,” she said and buried her fingers in his short, black locks.
A smile curved his sensual mouth. “Thank you, Brigit. And I’ve told you that you’re beautiful.”
Her heart skipped a beat, loving his compliment.
His fingers caressed her cheek. “But beauty is just the surface…we have other things in common,” he continued.
She arched one eyebrow. “Really? Like what?”
“I have a passion for plants, like you, and I have a greenhouse at home.”
Brigit’s mouth opened in surprise, drawing his gaze. “You do?”
He lowered his mouth to hers for a slow, tantalizing kiss. Their sighs mingled as their lips parted.
It was a momentary distraction. “I didn’t tell you I liked plants, did I?”
He kissed her nose and her cheeks, causing a nice tingly sensation over her skin. “I read the letters,” he stated calmly.
The letters? How could he have read those? Even in the depths of her sleep, she sensed the irrationality. “That can’t be—no one’s touched the letters.”
His finger teased the beating hollow at her throat, making her arch slightly. “You know I sent the letters. I wrote the questions, Brigit.”
The sincerity in his voice clouded her mind. She shook her head negatively, her eyes wide with apprehension.
His breath came out in a heavy, almost painful sigh. “Are you saying I don’t exist?”
“I don’t know…I don’t understand…”
His thumb touched the corner of her mouth. “If the letters are real—can’t I be?”
Instead of waiting for her response, he shifted his hips against hers, the hard length of his erection pressing against her sex through her panties, dragging a sharp gasp from her throat.
Oh, that felt real! Her body had no trouble acknowledging his existence. She felt like crying and bursting into nervous laughter at the same time, but no sound expressed itself. She merely clung to his shoulders and drowned in the emerald glow of his gaze.
* * * *
Justin observed the mystified look in her lovely brown eyes. Eyes the color of chocolate. Her slender body trembled ever so slightly under him, intensifying his need. He shifted sideways and raised himself enough to look at her. Her golden blonde hair fanned out over the pillow and he ran his fingers through it. Her face was pure sweetness—perfectly arched eyebrows, doe-shaped eyes, an elegant nose ending in a delicate flare and luscious, rosy lips he could kiss forever. He brushed his thumb over her chin, its proud curve suggesting an innate stubbornness, making him smile in amusement. And her skin was supple and healthy, the color of pale gold.
His gaze glided down her body. Although she was slender, her curves were made to fill a man’s hand. He lingered on her firm, full breasts, taking in the dark pink areolas and their taut peaks.
His cock jerked against her thigh in demand and he slid her panties down over her hips and legs, tossing them to the floor. His hand returned to brush through the soft curls at her mound and then lower to her silky, wet folds, enjoying her raw whimper. He slipped a finger into her tight opening and pumped several times, loosening her muscles. Then he moved over her again, lowering himself between her thighs.
Justin supported his upper body with the strength of his arms so he could watch her expression as he pleasured her. She was weakening, confused by her sense of reality. The tim
e had come to push her to the edge. She had to believe…for his sake. Controlling his need to thrust into her, he dipped his head and claimed her lips urgently, invading her mouth with his tongue. She clung to his shoulders, matching his passion. He pressed his hard length to her silky orifice, sliding over the swollen lips without entering.
She responded by arching her hips upward to grind against him coaxingly. Purposely, he slowed his motion and dragged his mouth from hers, tasting the soft curve of her neck and the delicate bones of her shoulder. He ignored her insistent pleas, whimpered moans, ending with his name. His jaw clenched as he summoned every ounce of control he had and proceeded to the full rise of her breasts to tease her nipples.
Her nails bore into the skin on his back as she arched to him like a cat in an attempt to draw him into her. “Please…” she begged.
He angled himself to her entrance, pushing between her folds until they enveloped the swollen tip. It was sheer pleasure and agony. He wanted to thrust and bury himself to the hilt of her wet heat, but held back. Her hands had traveled to his buttocks, pressing insistently against them. He lifted his gaze and caught hers, holding steady. “Brigit…tell me this feels real to you,” he demanded.
She stared at him for a few agonizing seconds. “It feels real…very real. I want you,” she breathed.
He rotated his hips, stroking the walls of her sex provocatively. “Tell me you believe I exist.”
A low sound wrenched itself from her throat. “You keep asking me that…why? Why do you come to me only in dreams?”
His eyes shadowed as a muscle twitched in his jaw. “Because it’s the only way for me to be with you…for now. Please, Brigit…tell me,” he insisted gruffly. He edged deeper inside her trembling womb and moved with controlled strokes.
Brigit moaned and wrapped her legs about his hips, writhing beneath him. “Justin!” Tears shone in her eyes.
He was on the brink of madness, trapped between the overwhelming need to take her and his cursed affliction. He lowered his teeth to her lips and grazed their surface so he wouldn’t howl. “Believe that I am real,” he murmured roughly.
She dug her fingers in his hair and tore her mouth from his. “I wish to God that you are!”
His body stiffened, while his breath hitched. She hadn’t given him the response he needed, but he was close. He thrust into her completely, finally losing himself in her silken heat. He felt her tremble and plunged into her several times, slaking his desire. The erotic sounds she made with every thrust nearly drove him over the edge. She clung to him, her hips dancing to his rhythm, escalating their climax. He enjoyed her passionate, unbridled response, envisioning endless nights like this.
With a low groan, he spilled into her while she cried out her fulfillment, the waves of pleasure rocking her body under his, leaving her trembling and breathless. He slackened on top of her, their hearts beating in unison.
* * * *
Brigit stroked his back gently, savoring this moment of peace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her chest. He felt so real, so warm and solid…how could he not exist?
His breath fanned her ear. “I have to go. Think of what we just shared, Brigit. Think of me today and tonight. I will give you one final letter. The decision is yours to make.” His mouth swept against hers with brief intensity.
“Justin, wait…” she called, but he had already vanished. She turned to her side and hugged the pillow, a calm radiance cradling her body as she closed her eyes.
Brigit woke before dawn, blinked several times and slowly pushed herself to a sitting position. The unmistakable scent of earthy spice was apparent in the space around her, and her heart beat an erratic pattern as she looked about the dimly lit room. Her skin prickled as it came in contact with the air. A glance at her body confirmed her nakedness.
She drew the wrinkled sheet to her chest as her mind worked itself into a frenzy. Had her loneliness for male companionship driven her to conjure him—Justin—in her dreams? But since when do dreams render you naked? It was impossible to ignore the sexually gratified feeling in her body. Even now, she could almost feel his full hardness inside her. Then she faintly remembered him mentioning something about a final letter.
“I’m not crazy,” she blurted. She’d made passionate love to a warm-blooded man—not a ghost. Here, in her bed. She was certain of it…almost. Tossing the sheet to the side, she jumped out of bed, showered and made a large cup of extra strong coffee.
She paced about, anger and frustration rising quickly. “If you’re real, why don’t you come to me like a normal person?” she demanded. Standing at the window in the living room, she stared out at the charming, old apartment buildings across the street and the first splash of gold and orange hues in the sky. “I don’t want to answer any more letters,” she mumbled.
Despite her reluctance toward the letters, Brigit hurried home to see if another pink envelope waited for her that evening. She wasn’t surprised to see it on the hardwood floor. Her fingers shook as she lifted it, noticing a small bulge at the bottom. She opened it and looked inside. It was a key. Her pulse jumped as she reached in and pulled it out. Resting it against her palm, she examined it. It was a typical key, attached to a round metal ring. She walked over to the sofa and read the accompanying letter. She paused and read the instructions aloud.
“If you believe, respond here.” An address in Glenageary followed with brief directions. She was familiar with the suburban town in south County Dublin. This time, he had written his name at the end. Justin. She ran her finger over his signature.
The uncanny moment had put her in a daze before realization stirred her senses like an electric current. Suddenly, her world tilted, reason and reality shifting, scattering wildly before settling. It was the most bizarre experience in her life, but she totally accepted the fact that Justin had been here, that they’d made love twice. Now, how he fit into her dreams was something she’d have to find out.
Brigit wasted no time responding to the letter. I believe. Brigit. She placed it back in the envelope and carried it to her dresser.
When Justin came to her that night, she would get the answers she needed. She was so excited and nervous it took her an hour to fall asleep.
It could have been the middle of the day when he appeared, gone was the shroud of darkness. A wide smile brightened his handsome face. He clasped her hand and helped her sit up, drawing her into his arms. Brigit hugged him to her for several heartbeats, her hands moving over the lean muscles under his white T-shirt. He cupped her face and planted a delicious kiss on her mouth, making her sigh.
She leaned back slightly, taking in his appearance. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You’re dressed.”
He chuckled. “This time, I’m here to talk.” At her nod, he continued. “I know you’ve answered the letter…but I need to know if you’ll come.”
“You know that I know you exist, then?”
He smiled and brushed a loose strand from her face. “Yes, Brigit, and it means more to me than you can imagine,” he said in an apparently thick voice.
“I want to come—tomorrow if possible…but I need to understand how all of this is happening,” she said, holding his gaze evenly.
He acknowledged with a tilt of his dark head. “You must be open-minded to what I will tell you and do not doubt for a second that what I say is true.” He waited for her agreement before going on. “You must be familiar with accounts of medieval witchcraft, particularly Kilkenny’s history of burning women at the stake?”
She nodded, barely remembering to breathe.
“A woman, whose name I never mention, was once suspected of witchcraft and burned alive in Kilkenny, in the 14th century. From what I’ve suffered these past two years, I believe her execution was warranted. Her spirit is cursed, never to rest in peace, but somehow she manages to invade the minds of men in their sleep, requesting sexual favors. She paid me a few visits and I ignored her, refused her…I have no idea why—I just did.
So her punishment to me was a curse.” He paused to caress Brigit’s frightened face. “Don’t be afraid, she only visits men. It is a form of revenge, I assume. The curse allows me to exist in every respect except one—to experience the pleasure of physical touch and passion. I can only derive such pleasure by visiting women in their dreams.”
Brigit’s hand flew to her mouth in shock, a terrible shiver arcing through her. Her eyes filled with tears of compassion. How unbelievably horrible! Yet Justin wanted her to believe.
He took her hand again and squeezed it reassuringly. “But there is a way to break the curse, Brigit. I had to find a woman whose life’s passions and aversions were similar to mine. The letters serve this purpose.” A humorous gleam danced in his eyes. “Few young women enjoy classical music, you know,” he said.
She gave a weak smile, brushing a tear from her eye. “Oh, Justin…poor you.”
“Next, the woman had to believe I existed. And you believed.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Are you saying…the curse is broken?”
His fingers stroked her cheek. “It should be. There’s only one way to tell for sure,” he said in a shaky voice.
“How?”
“You have the address to my home. Come see me tomorrow.”
She reached out and clasped his shoulders. “I will…” Leaning forward, she gave him an eager kiss. “What time?”
His mouth curved into a sensual smile. “I’ll be there all day.”
“One more thing, Justin…how did you read my answers to the letters?”
“I’ve become a good mind-reader, so once you projected your thoughts to paper, I picked them up.”
“I see.” She paused. “How did you get into the building?”
“Ah, the bloody curse taught me certain…guileful methods I am not proud of,” he replied with an apologetic smile.