Body and Soul: Pesky Paranormals

by Tawny Taylor

  There had to be a way.

  Where were the Ghostbusters when a desperate, sex-starved woman needed them?

  They drove up the freeway exit ramp and she rolled down the window some more, catching the unmistakable scent of the lake in the air. She stuck her nose into the wind and inhaled. “Smells wonderful.”

  “We’re almost there.”

  He turned down a wooded driveway and stopped at a little wooden toll booth. There was a sign on the front. Michigan Metro Park.

  “Oh no, you’ve got to be kidding. We’re going to have sex at a park? Don’t trees and grass burn?”

  He shot her one of his trademark wicked grins, the one she was beginning to adore and crave more than chocolate—she craved chocolate constantly. “We aren’t going into the woods.”

  “We can’t do it on the beach with thousands of people around us. Besides, we’ll stick out like sore thumbs. I didn’t wear my bathing suit.”

  “No, this skirt is better than a bathing suit.” He reached toward her but pulled his hand back before touching her thigh. “I can’t wait to get you out of this car,” he growled.

  He parked the car in the crowded lot and got out. After opening her door, he went to the trunk and gathered several blankets, a cooler—when had he put that in there?—and a gym bag.

  “This is insane.”

  “No, insanity is letting a couple of dead people keep us from being happy.”

  “Happy? We’re just talking about sex here…aren’t we? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love sex as much as the next girl.” She fell into step beside him. “But is it worth going to jail for? Is that happiness?”

  “We won’t go to jail. Trust me.”

  Her hand itched to reach out and take his but she resisted. Their arms occasionally brushed as they walked over a grassy hill toward the beach. There were hundreds of bodies dotting the beach, shoreline and lake. Children, families. This was no place for a midafternoon fuckfest.

  “This is wrong.”

  “Trust me.”

  “You keep telling me that.”

  “And I’ll keep repeating it until you do.” When they reached the water’s edge, he pointed toward a copse of trees. “This way.”

  “I think we determined that the woods was a bad idea.”

  “We aren’t going into the woods.” He motioned her to follow him down a narrow path that was little more than a narrow band of beaten-down weeds.

  At least he was headed away from the kids with arm floaties and their mommies and daddies. The thought of some curious preschooler’s parent screaming, “You’ve disturbed my child for life!” when she toddled over and witnessed their less-than-wholesome behavior had her quite bothered. She’d rather risk fire or flood, to be honest.

  The woods gave way to a secluded clearing rimmed on one side by tall, craggy rocks and the other three by more trees. It was secluded, peaceful, quiet.

  He motioned toward the rocks. “This way.”

  “On the rocks? Couldn’t we find a…softer place?” She cringed as she imagined her spine being ground into the jagged surface of the nearest boulder. It didn’t look the least bit comfy.

  He smiled over his shoulder. “Trust me.”

  It was hard to trust anyone who had such a devious sparkle in his eye all the time. “Hey, buddy. In my world only a sucker hands over trust after only one date.”

  “This may only be our second date but we’ve practically lived together for over a year now. We can hardly call each other strangers.”

  “No, I guess you’re right.”

  They climbed up, over and through the rocks. He occasionally helped her steady herself as she stumbled and tripped her way along behind him. Sandals were not the ideal footwear for rock climbing.

  This had better be worth it.

  They finally reached a cozy little cove at the water’s edge. Surrounded on three sides by towering rocks, it was just a tiny patch of sand, a private oasis of sorts. On the fourth side stretched the sparkling water.

  He handed her a blanket and she spread it on the sand then sat to remove her sandals.

  Enjoying the way the sun flashed gold on the water, she leaned back on her elbows and allowed herself a moment to enjoy it. “This is wonderful. How’d you find this place?”

  “Saw it once when I was on a friend’s boat out on the lake.” He dragged one foot in the sand as he walked a wide circle around the blanket then set four metal pails in the sand at equal intervals and lit four fires. The sharp scent of burning paper drifted to her nose. He pulled a damp bottle of wine and two glasses out of the cooler then sat next to her. “Thirsty? I brought a something very special for today.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s the occasion?” she teased, watching him work at the cork with a corkscrew. Yow, mama did that man have some arms. The twisting motion showed off his muscles to perfection just like before. She wondered if a daily bottle of wine might be beyond moderation. She could watch him do that every day.

  He pulled the cork free of the bottle, poured two glasses then set the bottle back in the cooler. “I’ll tell you later. How about a toast?” He pulled out a handful of red flower petals and scattered them over the blanket then lifted his glass in a toast.

  “Sure.”

  “To overcoming devious spirits and battling elements.”

  “Amen.” She touched her glass to his then took a drink. The wine was unbelievably smooth. Sweet. Delicious. “This is heavenly. What is it?”

  “Massandra 1955 White Port Surozh.”

  “Wow. So old. I’ve never drunk a wine older than I am.”

  He took a swallow, set his glass down and leaned closer. The way he was leaning on his outstretched arms, and the tilt of his head and angle of his eyes, he reminded her of a wildcat. “Do you know anything about the Massandra collection?”

  She felt her heart pitter-pattering. “Not a thing.”

  “The winery is old, built in the 1800s. It’s built into the side of mountains near Yalta, with long tunnels bored deep into the mountainside.” On all fours, he prowled closer. When he reached her side, she half expected him to pounce on her.

  “Is that so?” She took another drink then set her glass down too.

  “Yes. It’s said those tunnels keep the wine at the optimum temperature.”

  “I’m about at my optimum temperature myself,” she heard herself say. She lifted the rain poncho over her head, folded it into a neat pile and set it on the sand.

  “Good.” He crawled over top her, forcing her to lie back on the blanket. His chest pressed against hers and his knee wedged between her bent legs. Her skirt fluttered in the breeze and settled high on her hip.

  One of his hands followed its path, resting on her hipbone while the other one palmed her cheek. His thumb tickled her bottom lip and she instinctively opened her mouth and drew it inside.

  It tasted salty and sweet, a combination she’d never been able to resist. In fact, in many ways he epitomized her most favorite combinations, her deepest weaknesses. He was strong yet gentle. Firm yet yielding. Intelligent yet reachable. Gorgeous yet humble.

  He was the kind of man she’d dreamed of meeting since she’d played her first game of prince and princess with Larry Larson on the kindergarten playground.

  His kiss was slow and undemanding but thorough, and while his mouth worked magic, his hands pushed her shirt up, unhooked the front clasp of her bra and explored her breasts and stomach.

  She heard her breathing quicken before she felt it, almost as if she’d been outside her own body. Growing groggy-headed and dizzy, she forced herself to take a long, steady breath. The scents of man and lake and nature filled her nostrils, all wonderful, sweet scents that she savored.

  She enjoyed the way he tasted too, a heady combination of wine and him.

  His hand delved between her thighs, parted her labia and stroked her pussy as his kiss grew more demanding. His tongue thrust in and out of her mouth. She felt the muscles of his arms harden under her fingertips a
s she gripped them.

  The need within her spiraled round and round, growing slowly and then building quicker as he stroked and kissed and whispered sweet words in her ear.

  He stopped for a split second then returned, spreading a smooth, garlicky salve down her stomach.

  “Garlic?” she asked, too drunk with passion to really care.

  “Trust me.” He pushed two fingers inside her pussy and she cried out in ecstasy. His kiss muffled her voice, closed it off, as she called out again. Her pussy walls closed tightly around his fingers, intensifying the pleasure his finger-fuck gave her with each thrust.

  He broke the kiss and instead used his mouth in a more intimate place. His tongue alternately flickered lightly over her clit and swirled slowly in soft circles as his fingers curled inside her pussy. A third finger pressed at her anus.

  It was all too much yet it wasn’t enough. She needed to breathe. She needed release.

  “Fuck me now.”

  “No. Net yet.”

  “Yes, now.” She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled. “I won that bet. You have to do what I say.”

  “I won too.” He dropped his head again and continued laving her pussy with his tongue. Two fingers slid into her pussy and a third fucked her ass.

  The man was bound and determined to drive her insane!

  She thrashed, fighting the burning climax threatening to carry her away. “I won and I say fuck me now.”

  “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever had a woman ask me like that before.”

  She felt him shifting above her then heard the crinkle of plastic as he unwrapped the rubber.

  Finally he pulled down the front of his pants just enough to expose his thick cock and rolled on the rubber. As he leaned forward, it pressed against her pussy, begging admittance.

  She held her breath against the burn as it slowly sank inside. When they were completely joined, she clung to his shoulders and met his thrust with one of her own, their hips working in unison.

  She tipped her head forward and tasted his neck. Salty again.

  He groaned.

  She lifted her legs up and wrapped them tightly around his hips to take him deeper, and moaned as his cock grated against the sensitive upper walls as it pistoned in and out.

  His breathing rasped against her cheek as he eased the pace of their lovemaking. “Need to slow down.”

  “What for?”

  He smiled and brushed her hair away from her face. “For you.”

  “I’m doing fine.” She giggled. “I certainly have no complaints.”

  “Good.” His cock still deep inside, he sat upright and pulled her legs wide apart. “Now, remember that fantasy you told me about?”

  “Yes.”

  “Show me how you would pleasure yourself for me.”

  “Don’t take it out.”

  “I won’t. I’m going to fuck you and we’re going to come together.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now, do what I say and touch your pussy.”

  She slid a hand down the flat of her stomach and rested the base of her palm on her mound. Her fingertip traced slow circles around her clit.

  “That’s it, baby. Show me your pussy. Spread your legs wider.”

  She did as he asked, spreading them until the muscles of her inner thighs burned as they stretched.

  His cock began to slowly pump in and out again, and that combined with her own touches built a powerful tension that stole her breath away and drove her mad. Her only focus was on finding the pinnacle that was just beyond reach. She could feel it nearing with every thrust, with every touch, with every thump of her racing heart.

  Her body tightened, even her feet cramped.

  “That’s it, baby. I want to see you come. I want to hear your cries of release. Bathe my cock in your sweet juices.”

  She felt the heat well up from deep inside and spread out and with a cry, she tumbled into the stars. Colors flashed in the dark as she hurtled through the galaxy, carried on a current of sweet bliss. She heard him cry out in his release and felt him stiffen before pressing down on her chest and stomach. His weight grew heavier. His breaths puffed ragged and quick against her neck and shoulder.

  He kissed her neck and collarbone and cradled her in his arms.

  And only after the heat of their lovemaking cooled to a mild simmer did she realize one thing—there hadn’t been any flames, outside of the ones they had stirred in each other. And there hadn’t been any water, outside of the tears she felt slipping from the corner of her eye and the gentle waves lapping at her feet.

  Somehow, they’d defeated the ghosts. But how?

  Chapter Four

  “Am I dreaming or are they gone?” Stephanie whispered, afraid if she said it too loud she might catch a formerly distracted ghost’s attention.

  Rafe rolled her onto her back and settled his hips between her legs. The tip of his erect cock pressed against her vulva. “Shall we try for round two and double-check?”

  She giggled. “Do we dare? We might be testing our luck. Maybe they were napping… Uh, do ghosts sleep? I didn’t think that Jeremy did, at least not at night when I wanted to,” she rambled.

  “I think it was the wine,” he said as he trailed little kisses and nibbles down her neck and along her collarbone.

  Goose bumps bloomed over her upper body and she shivered. “Wine? You got ghosts drunk? How’d you manage that?”

  “Not exactly.” He shifted his weight back until he was kneeling between her legs and her upper torso was completely uncovered. The sun was warm on her skin, a delightful contrast to the chill from his tickling touches to her neck and shoulders.

  Feeling like a cat lazing in a sunny window, she lifted her arms overhead and stretched. Her breasts rose into the air as she drew in a deep breath and she was not surprised to see Rafe take full advantage of her position.

  He lowered himself over top of her, capturing her hands in one of his, and lapped at her nipple. “I think the Russian spirit might’ve scared them away.”

  She sighed with contentment, arched her back to press her boobs higher into the air and ruminated the power of Russian spirits, in more ways than one. The glass of wine she’d drunk a while back was still making her feel a little flushed. “What spirit? The alcohol?”

  He turned his attention to the other breast, drawing slow circles around the nipple with his tongue. “Mikhail Semenovich Vorontsov.”

  “That’s a mouthful.”

  He suckled her breast and she bit back a groan of pleasure. “Not as much a mouthful as these.” He kneaded her breasts then pinched her nipples until she was breathless with need.

  “That was sad,” she teased, referring to his quip, even as she wallowed in the pleasure he so generously offered her. Waves of longing pulsed out from her center, warming each part as it rippled outward. What magic that man could perform with his tongue and teeth, not to mention his other parts.

  “Sad? How’d you know how Vorontsov died?” he asked, now gently nibbling one nipple while tugging on the other one with thumb and forefinger.

  In all her years, her breasts had never seen such thorough loving. Although it was extremely enjoyable, it was also very frustrating. There were parts further south that were feeling neglected. “I didn’t…” she said, having difficulty following the conversation. She’d never been the kind who could chitchat while she fucked. For some reason, her grey matter shut down once certain nerve endings were stimulated. Neck, pussy and boobs. Those were the ones sure to put her into a catatonic state.

  “Then what’s sad?”

  “Oh…nothing. Whoever he was, I’ll have to thank him later.” Eager for Rafe’s touch between her legs, she tangled her fingers in his hair and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Don’t you think it’s time to maybe get on with things?”

  He stopped torturing her breasts for a minute and smiled, leaning low until his nose nearly touched hers. “Not yet. I’m enjoying myself. I like watching you squirm in agony.�
�� He winked.

  She smacked his chest. Not hard, just enough to make a nice, crisp slapping sound. “You’re a cruel bastard.”

  He caught her hand and leaning forward, pinned it to the ground above her head, along with the other one. “You don’t know the meaning of the word cruel but you’re about to find out.”

  “Now that sounds promising. When do we begin?” She wriggled under him, making a concentrated effort at stimulating his balls, which, thanks to his position over top of her, were just above her stomach. With an arch of her spine, she was able to make contact with them. And some coordinated stomach muscle maneuvers created a fair amount of friction.

  He gave her a dissatisfied grunt, which satisfied her immensely. But then he shifted his position so she’d need a spine of rubber to reach any part of him that mattered. “We’ll get to the cruelty thing soon. And you’re going to pay dearly, love. First, I want to talk about Vorontsov.”

  “Now? Why’s some dead Russian guy so important that we must talk about him right this minute? I’m much more interested in the paying dearly part.” Her arms still pinned firmly overhead, she gave him an encouraging nod and lifted her legs to try and wrap them around his waist again.

  “Because he—combined with a few odds and ends I got from the psychic—cured our curse.”

  “And I’m sure you can see how very grateful I am. Can’t we get on with the celebration?”

  “I got him in this bottle of wine. Cost me a fortune. I think that psychic is a shady character. She charges to get you haunted and then charges more to cure you.” Pulling her hands together, he secured them with one hand and reached for the bottle of wine with the other. He lifted the bottle into the air in a silent toast to somebody—maybe the dead guy—took several swallows then poured a tiny puddle onto the middle of her stomach. He licked it off with a tongue that moved in ways she never would’ve guessed a human’s tongue could, then lowered his mouth to kiss her. He tasted sweet and spicy, like the wine. His tongue dipped into her mouth and she savored his flavor until her breathing grew ragged and uneven. Then he broke the kiss. “Isn’t that interesting? She sold me a dead Russian general in an old wine bottle. She said he’d protect us.”