Hot Nights, Dark Desires

by Eden Bradley

  She moved tentatively in front of the chaise, one arm wrapped across her breasts, almost shyly. Shyer than she’d been before they’d had sex.

  Within seconds, Brenna wasn’t the only one standing by the chaise. Arlen stood in his familiar position behind the furniture, gazing at the woman he thought to be his long lost lover.

  “Kneel on the chaise, elbows on the armrest, baby.” Hex kept his voice low, heard the desire in there he didn’t have to fake. Brenna started, but then relaxed a little as she did what he asked.

  Arlen glared at Hex as Brenna moved gracefully into position. A position that exposed her moist sex to Hex briefly, and he longed to get closer, to concentrate his camera there…to be followed by his mouth.

  Lickable, the men’s magazine photographer had written.

  Warm, orange flickers of candlelight licked her skin, and when she stretched into a sensual, slinky pose with one leg forward and one back, he wanted to be licking her as well.

  “Do you like this, Hex? When I pose for you?”

  “You have no idea how much.” The bulge in his jeans grew, the fabric tightening almost painfully, and he resisted the urge to reach down and stroke himself, but just barely.

  Brenna knew, looked at him with liquid desire in her eyes.

  He took a few shots, keeping an eye on Arlen, who still glared as he moved a little closer to the chaise.

  As she kneels on the velvet sofa, her round ass begs for my hands to cover it. I’d continue down her slim thighs, massaging, tickling…

  His mouth was dry, his throat tight. His words came out low and husky: “Now I want to see you up on your knees, facing me, like the second shot in the magazine.”

  He’d loved that one, even though the image was as blurred as the others. The photographer’s description had filled in the blanks, making the page steam.

  She’s on her knees now, on the sofa and facing me, her hands cupping her breasts, her legs parted just enough to get a mouthwatering view of that perfect pussy. If I got down on my knees in front of her, my face would be right there in the sweet spot. My tongue would slip between—

  Fuck. He longed to put the camera down, but he hadn’t accomplished what he’d set out to do. Instead of being angry, Arlen merely grinned. The bastard.

  “Hex, is everything all right?” Brenna asked, uncertainty evident in her voice as the shooting paused.

  “I’m all right. Distracted—by you. I’m not used to shooting people. People who are still breathing anyway.” He directed the last comment at Arlen, who bared his teeth. “Okay, one more. The last pose in the magazine.”

  She hesitated, and he knew why. The pose, while not graphic, hinted at outright porn.

  “Is this really necessary?”

  Through his viewfinder, he saw Arlen smirk as he moved forward, hand outstretched.

  “It is. God, you look so beautiful, Brenna. Just concentrate on me—I’m the only one who’s going to see these pictures.”

  Don’t touch her, don’t touch her, he screamed in his head, but Arlen was moving around the couch, getting close.

  She bit her bottom lip and then sank down to sit on the couch. Slowly, looking directly into his eyes in a way that made his breath catch, she slipped her hand between her thighs. With teasingly seductive timing, she spread her legs wide, leaving her hand in place to hide her sex…but just barely.

  “Happy?” she asked, one brow cocked, and he couldn’t answer because his imagination had just taken off.

  Even Arlen had stopped his approach, stood back and admired the view.

  Damn, it was hot in here.

  “Very,” he murmured.

  She threw her head against the chaise and arched her back, keeping her hand over her sex, almost as though pleasuring herself. “The photographer loved this one,” she murmured. “He wrote about how he could picture me touching myself, slipping my finger inside, where it would be tight and hot. Wet.”

  Hex dropped one hand to his crotch—the other shook and there was no way he was getting a decent photo now. Arlen shot forward and kneeled between her legs, and fuck no, if anyone was going to do that to Brenna, it was going to be Hex.

  Practically tossing the camera to the small table next to him, he closed the distance between them in three strides, grasped her wrist and tugged her up against him. And suddenly, the anger, the possessiveness, reached the boiling point. “I don’t want to hear about what the photographer liked. Or what any other man who’s been with you likes. I only want to talk about what I like.”

  She was breathing hard as he held her pressed to him.

  “Do those men do it for you, Brenna? With their fame, their power, all of them wanting you all the time…wanting what you represent?” He touched her, let a finger travel insolently across her cheek. “Do you like having everyone wanting you, living and dead?”

  “I used to,” she whispered.

  “Did you know that some primitive tribes claim that when you let someone photograph you, they’re taking away your soul?”

  “Is that what you’re doing to me, taking away my soul?”

  “No, not taking…giving.” He kissed the bare skin of her shoulder as his fingers traveled downward across the smooth expanse of her belly, toward the juncture of her thighs. He stroked her warm, wet heat with a single finger, felt her shudder against him as if she was going to come from just that single touch.

  “We’re doing it right this time,” he murmured. “I’m not letting you get away, not leaving your side.”

  Somehow, he meant the words—but they meant far more to Arlen, who let out a low, mournful scream that pierced through both Hex and Brenna.

  She pressed her head against Hex’s chest. “Make it stop, Hex. Please, just make it stop.”

  Hex pushed her back, just a few inches, and stared down at her. “You heard him, didn’t you?”

  “No.” She shook her head and lied to Hex as much as she lied to herself. She couldn’t have heard Arlen. She refused to hear him. “I just want all of this to stop. I want him gone. I want my life back.” A life where lights, glamour and parties keep everything paranormal away. Where outside noises drown out the voices from beyond.

  Closing her eyes, she sank against Hex, using his hard body as a brace. “I’m sorry.” For bringing him into this nightmare, for asking so much of him, for needing him.

  His only response was to pull back once more, enough that he could slip his hand under her chin and lift her mouth to his. The moment their lips touched, drugging heat flowed through her veins. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and began a slow exploration of her teeth, her lips, the sensitive spot on her palette.

  “You like this,” he murmured against her mouth, and she realized she’d been moaning.

  “No one has ever kissed me like you do.”

  His hand slid down her throat, leaving a path of heat in its wake. God, she was on fire. “How do I kiss you?”

  Like you care about me.

  “Like who I am doesn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  Prickles of pleasure spread over her skin as his fingers found her nipple and squeezed gently. “Hex.” His name came out as a sigh.

  “Say it again.” He dragged his lips along her jaw and nipped at the tendon in her neck.

  Alarm made her gut clench. “To make Arlen jealous?”

  “No.” He shoved his jean-clad thigh between hers, putting the most delicious pressure right where she needed it. “I just like hearing my name on your lips.”

  She melted. Inside, outside, against him. “Hex,” she breathed. “Don’t let him have any part of this. Please.”

  “I won’t,” he growled. His hand dropped to cup her bottom and rock her against his leg. Sensation popped all over her body as she rode his thigh. She dropped her head back, giving him more access to her throat, and he took advantage, ravaged her with his mouth and tongue. Each stroke was like wet satin on her skin, and each one spun her lust up higher.

  Light flas
hed behind her eyes. Clicks and whirs rent the air. Lost in passion, it took her a moment to realize that the cameras were taking pictures.

  By themselves.

  “Hex?”

  “Shh. He’s angry. Let him throw his tantrum. Keeps him from trying to get inside me. But no one is shooting you naked but me.” He angled his body to shield her nudity from the cameras and pulled her as close as possible, the move so possessive and protective that she nearly cried.

  He kept kissing her, though, kept moving with her, the hard ridge of his erection knocking against her belly, the firm muscle in his thigh rubbing her clit with the perfect amount of pressure. In moments she was panting, not caring about the cameras because all she wanted was to come.

  “Please,” she moaned.

  Immediately, he spun her away from the cameras, around the corner into the foyer. Before she could catch her breath, he’d pressed her back against the wall and was kneeling in front of her. His big hands closed around her thighs and spread them, exposing her sex to the steamy air and his steamier gaze.

  “Christ, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured so roughly she felt the vibration of his words travel a path from her pussy to her womb. “Tell me what you want, Brenna.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks.

  “You’ve never asked a man for specific acts, have you?” He swept his thumb through her cleft, spreading moisture up to her swollen knot, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. “You have a shy streak. You’re so much more than what the world sees.” He looked up at her, and she got lost in his slumberous eyes. “Open up to me. Tell me what you want.”

  Overcome by his seductive voice, she relented. “Make me come.”

  “How?” His thumb made lazy circles around her swollen nub, never hitting the right place but sending her up in flames nevertheless.

  “Lick me. God, Hex, put your mouth on me before I scream.”

  But he didn’t. He closed his mouth over her inner thigh and bit down, the pressure ending just short of pain. She couldn’t fight the feeling that he was in some way marking her, though the idea was ridiculous, brutish.

  And such a huge turn-on that she wanted him to bite her everywhere.

  Instead, his tongue pierced her slit, a warm, wet stab that made her gasp in pleasure. Her legs nearly buckled, began to shake so badly she didn’t know if they could support her without the brace of the wall at her back. Oh, he knew how to go down on a woman, how to suck delicately at the very tip of her clit, how to plunge deep into her core and wield his tongue like a cock.

  Her body surged, arching into his mouth without her consent. Alight with sensation, she grasped his head, tunneled her fingers in his silky hair to guide him. Not that he needed any urging or instruction. His mouth was magic, firm yet soft, wet and hot, and dear God, she could feel every taste bud rasp over her sensitive flesh.

  She looked down at him, her breath catching at the sight of his face buried between her legs, his tongue dancing in her cream, lashing at her with lush, punishing strokes. And when his glittering gaze lifted to capture hers, the sheer eroticism of it all sent her over the edge. Sharp and searing, her climax shot through her. Her nails dug into his scalp as she pumped her hips, lifted one leg up over his shoulder to force his tongue as deep as possible. The wet sucking noises as he finished her off nearly had her coming again.

  But then he was on his feet, tearing at his fly with one hand and holding the back of her neck with the other, keeping her captive for the possession of his kiss. She whimpered at the taste of her orgasm on his lips.

  “You like that,” he panted, flicking his tongue along the ridge of her teeth. “So do I. You taste like sweet tea, dark and honeyed.” He kept kissing her as he lifted her, and in one smooth motion sheathed himself deep inside her. “I could spend all day between your legs.”

  She shuddered with pleasure at his words, at the sense of fullness at her core, at the pounding he began to give her right there against the wall. His big body dwarfed her, his hands held her, his mouth loved her. Yes. This was what she’d wanted since she first saw him, since she first felt the unusually strong attraction.

  This is what you’ve wanted all your life.

  Shoving that thought away because it wasn’t true, it couldn’t be, she let herself drown in Hex and the savage thrusts that drove her toward another explosive peak.

  “Fuck,” he snarled. “No. Fuck. No.”

  She opened her eyes, saw the battle in his. Oh, please, not Arlen… Framing Hex’s face between her palms, she forced him to look at her. “Hex. Hex! Stay with me.” She stroked the strong contour of his jaw with her thumbs and repeated his name over and over.

  He groaned, pumped his hips as though trying to anchor himself to her. “She’s mine,” he whispered. “Damn you, Arlen, get the fuck away.” He chanted something in another language, something she couldn’t understand, even as his hips swiveled, and he hit that place inside that made her cry out.

  Suddenly, the air went still and the temperature plummeted. Hex smiled. Hex. Not Arlen. He’d won. Relief swelled and her orgasm tackled her, ripped her wide open and left her sobbing as Hex released inside her, his hot splashes of semen filling her with a sense of rightness she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  If ever.

  That they hadn’t used a condom was only a passing thought, because right at that moment, all hell broke loose.

  A roar like a freight train shook the house. Windows shattered. Every camera in the house, including Hex’s, crunched into the wall beside them, exploding into tiny pieces. Hex lowered her feet to the floor and covered her with his body, sheltered her from the debris that bit into him and left bloody nicks on his skin. He didn’t even flinch.

  When it was over, he glanced down at the broken camera remains, his face pale and his expression haunted. “Fuck.”

  “What is it? Hex, tell me!”

  He turned to her, his hand shaking, stroking her hair as it draped over her shoulder. “The son of a bitch declared war.”

  For the first time since the haunting began, Brenna was terrified.

  CHAPTER

  Five

  Hex didn’t let Brenna out from under the shield of his body as he stared at the pile of broken camera equipment and weighed his options.

  It didn’t take long, as there weren’t any.

  “Hex, what are we going to do? Shouldn’t we get out of here?”

  He figured she wouldn’t want to hear that there was no way Arlen would let either of them leave this house tonight. The doors and windows would be blocked until the witching hour came to an end. Even then, Hex wasn’t sure if Arlen’s power would diminish.

  And no matter what, he wouldn’t be able to see Arlen at all.

  He could have new equipment overnighted to him, or he could go to town tomorrow and buy some, but it was a losing battle. Arlen knew exactly what he was doing. Hex could almost picture Arlen smashing each camera purposefully, could’ve sworn he heard the ghost whisper, Your power here is gone, into his ear.

  The terrifying part was, Arlen could be anywhere now, even hovering above them. “You don’t feel different, do you?” he asked Brenna, ignoring her earlier question about leaving.

  “No, I feel all right. Scared, but all right. Hex, you’re not going to be able to see Arlen anymore.”

  There was no use trying to sugarcoat it. “No, not with my equipment broken.”

  Her voice softened. “You’re a medium…do you think—”

  “I’m a medium through the lens only.” He realized his teeth were clenched tightly and forced himself to remain calm. “I can only see the ghosts through the camera’s lens. That’s how I help them pass over; I guide them with the help of the camera. That’s the way it’s been since I was seventeen.”

  “Hex, you’re going to have to do something. Maybe if you just tried—”

  “Drop it, Brenna,” he growled. He eased himself away from her. “Keep your back against the wall.”

  He began to
rummage around in the darkness for her clothing and heard her move and stand behind him. His eyes had adjusted well enough in the dark so he could see her frame, silhouetted by the moonlight coming through the gauzy window coverings. There was no breeze, only heavy air.

  “I’m so tired of this. Tired and confused. We fight and then we have sex and now the only chance I had at getting rid of this damned ghost and getting my life back is gone.” Still naked, she moved to the middle of the room and held her hands up to the ceiling. “Come on out, Arlen! Come on out and play!”

  Hex, can you come out to play?

  “Don’t,” he yelled, tried to grab her, but she eluded him, stood on the chaise and continued to scream for Arlen.

  Finally, he managed to get ahold of her around her waist. “Stop it, honey. Just stop…you’re encouraging him. You’re messing with something you know nothing about.”

  “If Arlen’s going to play with me, you’d better believe I’m going to give it right back to him. I’m going to at least try, not just give up,” she shot back.

  “Is that what you think, that I’m giving up here?” he asked, and didn’t have time to say anything further because Arlen had clearly heard Brenna’s cries and was making his presence known again. The windows began to rattle in their frames and the old house creaked as if caught in another hurricane.

  “Yeah, I think you’re giving up. But I can’t.” She wrenched out of his grasp and stared at him, practically spitting fire. “You have the ability to see Arlen. I know you do. But you are too much of a goddamned coward to look beyond the camera lens.”

  “You don’t know anything, Brenna. Just because I told you my ghost story doesn’t mean you know me. So fuck you.” Anger raged through him—he nearly picked up some furniture on his own to throw, the way Arlen was having his own ghost temper tantrum.

  And fuck it all if he didn’t know that being defensive about what Brenna said was akin to knowing she was entirely right.

  Fuck. He picked up part of the destroyed camera and threw it hard against the wall—hard enough to leave a dent. And then he banged on the wall with his fist with enough force to make Arlen momentarily call a cease-fire.