by Kris Starr
“Jessie. Listen to me.” Nicholas reached out to her, but she shrank back, humiliated. He began speaking more quickly, as though he was aware of what she was planning. “Answer this question for me—has Prunella ever been able to influence you with men when she wasn’t in the room?”
Taken aback by the question, Jessie stilled. Puzzled, but casting her thoughts about, she did a quick trip back through her dating history. Finally she met Nicholas’ eyes and gave her head a tiny shake.
“No. As far as I can remember, Gram was always nearby whenever something happened.”
Apparently, that was the answer Nicholas was hoping for. He inhaled sharply, and before she could say another word or even react, he hurried forward and cupped her face in his hands. “Then tell me what you think about this.” He captured her mouth with his own.
It was all Jessie could do not to swoon. It was as though she had been floating alone, adrift and directionless without Nicholas, and his touch grounded her, brought everything around her instantly into crystal clear focus. A wave of heat spiraled through her, originating in her pussy, warming her to the very ends of her fingertips. She let out a soft moan, feeling suddenly boneless and incapable of speech. The scrape of his stubble tingled against her mouth and she wrapped her arms around him, needing nothing more than his body pressed tightly against hers.
Finally breaking the kiss, Nicholas pressed his forehead to hers, his breath coming in short puffs. “So how was it?” he asked softly.
Jessie’s lips curled into a slow, satisfied smirk. “Absolutely amazing.”
Nicholas let out a low chuckle. “And guess what? Prunella’s not here. In fact, she’s not anywhere near here.”
Jessie blinked, the realization distracting her momentarily from Nicholas’ magic fingers currently caressing her cheeks and hair.
“Holy fuck.” Jessie gasped. “Do you know what this means?”
He nodded emphatically. “Prunella may have nudged us together in the beginning, but she’s not exerting any influence now. Which means, Jessie, that she’s not controlling or casting spells on anybody. Whatever you felt with that kiss—and I really, really hope you felt something—that was the real thing.”
Her heart thumping so madly in her chest she thought her rib cage might just explode, Jessie grinned. “We need to celebrate. Your place or mine?”
Nicholas grabbed her hand, already on the move toward the exit. “Mine’s only three blocks west.”
“Mine’s four east. Yours is closer.”
He squeezed her fingers. “Race you.”
* * * * *
The door to Nicholas’ apartment wasn’t even fully closed before he pressed Jessie up against it, her hands captured in one of his own and lifted above her head. His kisses were hungry and demanding, the fingers of his free hand rough and firm. Before Jessie could blink, her shirt and bra were pushed up above her breasts, and her flesh was being squeezed and fondled, her instantly hard nipples pinched and tweaked.
Jessie squeaked with pleasure, and in that same heartbeat, Nicholas insinuated himself between her legs, pressing his weight against her.
Between devouring, obsessive kisses, he muttered, “Tell me if I’m hurting you, Jessie. I don’t mean to, but if I don’t fuck you now, I think I will die.”
Heart crashing like a tympani in her ears, she whimpered in response and kissed him as hard as she could, telegraphing her similar need.
Her response received, Nicholas released her hands, needing both of his own to open her pants and shove them down her legs.
Eyelids fluttering closed, moving completely by touch, Jessie attacked his jeans as well, maneuvering them over his hips and down, freeing his cock from the confines of his clothing.
With a gasp of relief, Nicholas kissed her soundly once more then spun her around to face the door. Grasping her hips in both hands, he tilted her hips up slightly and, without any further prelude, thrust piston-like deep into her pussy.
The curious sensation of time expanding and slowing occurred once again. Jessie could feel his erect shaft deep within her, the connection inexplicable and…well…perfect.
Then he thrust again, furiously, as though claiming her, and Jessie shrieked then groaned with exquisite pleasure. His hands snaked around her, palming her breasts, and then one hand slipped downward, his long fingers stroking her pussy and rubbing her clit.
A keening noise escaped her and Jessie arched back, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his hair. Caught up in the rocketing momentum, the orgasm bulleted toward her, and with almost no warning, fireworks exploded within. With a sharp gasp, Nicholas reached his own apex, coming hard inside her with one final, soul-touching thrust.
Collapsed against her, Nicholas’ breath came hard and hot into her hair. He dropped a kiss atop her head and exhaled deeply. Jessie closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth, the awareness of him surrounding her.
“You’re incredible,” he murmured. “But that can’t be comfortable. Let’s find someplace a little softer?”
“Sounds like a great idea to me,” she whispered.
Nicholas released her and bent down, helping to pull up their rumpled items of clothing. Laying his palm on the small of her back, he started down a short hallway then stopped.
“Wait a second. I have an idea.” He gave a naughty grin. “I’ll be right back.”
Jessie’s grin matched his. “Okay.” She followed him back to the entry, but instead of continuing on into the kitchen as he did, she turned into the living room and sat on the supple black leather sofa. She leaned back and closed her eyes, feeling more complete than she’d ever felt. She smiled.
“That’s one satisfied expression, if I do say so myself.”
Jessie’d been so self-absorbed she hadn’t even noticed Nicholas’ return. Her eyes popped open and she watched as he dropped to his knees in front of her, nestling himself between her legs. He held up a container of maple pecan and two spoons.
“I knew it was a sign when you said maple pecan. Now, if you’d said pistachio, I’d have had to leave you right there in the frozen foods aisle.”
Jessie laughed and pointed to the container. “Put that down, hot stuff. I’m hungry for something else right now.”
As Nicholas turned slightly to drop the container on the glass coffee table, Jessie grasped his shoulders and pulled him toward her, wrapping her arms around his neck. It was her turn to take what she wanted.
* * * * *
The icy-cool sensation on her nipple caused Jessie to gasp sharply. Opening her eyes, she caught Nicholas’ mischievous grin as he tilted the spoonful of mostly liquid ice cream, drizzling the melted dessert over both breasts. Lowering his head, he traced the same path with the tip of his tongue.
“Mmm,” he moaned softly, “sweet and salty. Definitely my favorite flavor.”
Jessie inhaled sharply and arched her back, grasping handfuls of bed sheet between her fingers. Incredibly, a pulse began to pound again between her legs, when she would have sworn it might not actually be possible. Her bones were still rubbery after two earlier orgasms and yet—heat pooled in her pussy again.
Closing her eyes, she luxuriated in the sensation of Nicholas’ hot, wet mouth on her chilled, sticky skin, his ministrations slow and languorous. Nothing like when they first arrived at the condo.
Jessie giggled softly, Nicholas’ tongue tickling her navel. “Hey, when do I get a chance to lick some off you?”
Nicholas chuckled between catlike licks. “Oh I won’t be done for a very, very long time.” He glanced upward, his expression becoming serious, and propped himself up on one elbow. “I know this may sound crazy, especially since we haven’t known each other long, but I love you, Jessie.”
Jessie’s heartbeat stuttered in her chest. A wave of dizziness swept over her, and the audible click of something vitally important falling into place sounded in her ears. She didn’t even need to think twice about how right this was. “If it’s crazy, then I guess I am too because…I
love you too, Nicholas.”
“Well, it’s about damned time, darlin’. I’d nearly given up hope on you. Nice ass, by the way, Nicholas.”
With a yelp of shock, Jessie modestly yanked the bed sheet up under her chin. “Gram! How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to hear what I needed to hear. That’s all I’ve been waiting for.”
Jessie suddenly realized that Gram wasn’t wearing her bordello-girl outfit. She was bathed in a warm, golden light and dressed in some sort of loose, incandescently white gown.
“Gram?” Jessie frowned, a knot tightening in her chest. “Why do you look like that? What’s going on?”
Gram smiled indulgently. “I can go now, Jessie. I know that your destiny has come true and that you’re going to be okay.”
“What?” Jessie sat bolt upright. After daydreaming about Gram’s departure for all this time, now that the moment had come, Jessie realized she wasn’t ready. “No! You can’t leave!” Her eyes burned with a sudden welling of tears.
Gram tsked softly. “I know I haven’t made things easy for you, Jessie. And for that, I’m sorry. Know that I was only trying to help. If Nicholas hasn’t explained everything to you yet, he will. And don’t forget that above all, I love you, darlin’. As though you really were blood of my blood.”
“Oh Gram,” Jessie said softly, “I’m sorry too. And I love you. We won’t see you again, will we?”
Gram nodded. “Oh you will, darlin’. Just not for quite a while. In the meantime, make sure you give me some almost—great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren, will you?”
Nicholas spoke up, a small grin on his face. “I think that can be arranged, Prunella.”
Gram nodded, her face serene and content. “Good. Now I think you might want to put something on, Nicholas. You’re not exactly decent. Buff, as you kids say, certainly, but not decent.”
Jessie glanced at Nicholas, the confusion she felt mirrored on his features. Obviously he didn’t know what the woman was talking about either.
A knock sounded at the door.
Nicholas glanced at the bedside clock. It was after three in the morning. Who the hell could be here now? He grabbed his jeans from the floor and yanked them on, heading toward the entryway.
“Who is it?”
“Peter Murray.”
Nicholas blinked in surprise and quickly unlocked the door. “Dr. Murray. What are you doing here?”
The cabbie shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m here to pick up a fare.” He glanced over Nicholas’ shoulder. “You ready, Prunella?”
The spirit had followed Nicholas out of the bedroom. “You bet, darlin’. I can go now.” She turned to Nicholas and smiled gently at him. “Treat her well, my boy. She deserves it.”
He nodded. “Absolutely, Prunella. I promise you that.”
She patted his shoulder and Nicholas flinched slightly at the biting icy-hot sensation again. “Good.” Her attention moved to something behind him. “Be well, Jessie.”
Jessie, wrapped toga-like in the sheet, moved to stand beside Nicholas, her hand warm and comforting on his arm. Her cheeks held traces of tears, but her smile was strong and genuine. “Goodbye, Gram,” she said softly.
Prunella turned to Peter. “All right, darlin’. What say we go for one last drive around the city?”
The cabbie smiled. “Your wish is my command, Prunella.” They moved off down the hall. Nicholas and Jessie stepped halfway out the door to watch the two depart.
“Stay in touch, Doc—” Nicholas began, then froze at the sight of another filmy figure—an elderly man in a plaid shirt and jeans held up by striped suspenders—standing in the hallway near the elevator.
Peter chuckled, obviously having followed Nicholas’ gaze. He held the lift door open. “That’s Frank Odekirk. He passed away about a year ago. His son’s got an appointment with you next Friday.” Peter gave him a smile and a wink. “Looks like you might just be good at your job after all, kid.” The doors hissed softly shut.
Nicholas glanced at Jessie and took in her questioning expression. He chuckled softly and stepped back inside the condo, pulling her with him. “I think I’m going to need to go in to the office early tomorrow.”
Jessie nodded slowly then pushed the door shut, flipping the lock with her thumb. “That’s tomorrow. And if you think I’m letting you out of my sight anytime before noon, well, you’d better believe something else.”
Taking her hand, Nicholas started back toward the bedroom. “I already do, Jessie. I already do.”
Epilogue
Peter Murray sat at his battered kitchen table in semidarkness, cell phone pressed to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Marla. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Peter? Is that you?” his former colleague, Marla Garrett, sighed. “Yes, actually you did wake me up. What time is it?”
“After four, I think. Sorry, Marla. I don’t sleep very well nowadays. Too many things to think about, you know.”
There was a small pause at the other end of the line.
“What is it, Peter? Why did you call me at home in the middle of the night?”
Peter shrugged then realized she couldn’t see the gesture.
“I wanted to let you know that I’m done. Two more have been taken care of.”
Another pause, longer this time. Then Marla’s slightly nasal voice came again, pitched lower, even more intimate at this late hour.
“I—I’m sorry, Peter. The second woman—the ghost—she doesn’t count. The young lady was the one who qualified. You still need to find one more.”
Closing his eyes, Peter exhaled wearily, buoyed only by the image of how Marla’s hair would look, curled in a tempting tangle on her pillow. “You’ve got to be kidding me. After all that work…”
Marla’s voice was sympathetic. “Was it hard, Peter?”
Peter glanced down at the front of his slacks. “At times. You have no idea what I had to go through with this one. Even worse than the invisible girl—the first one.”
He could hear the rustle of sheets as Marla moved in her bed. His cock stirred at the mental picture. Well, now.
“I can understand your frustration, Peter. The problem is you do have to complete this task. It’s the only way.”
Peter sat quietly for a moment. “If that’s how it’s gotta be, what kind of choice do I have?”
“None, I’m afraid. Call me when you have more to report, will you, Peter?” Her voice grew huskier. “Anytime at all.”
Peter closed his eyes, savoring the darkness in her voice, the sensuality that Marla exuded seemingly without effort. He swallowed.
“Sure. Oh, and Marla—”
“Yes?”
“What are you wearing?”
His former colleague laughed softly. Without missing a beat she replied, “Chanel No. 5. Good night, Peter.”
She disconnected the call, the click echoing loudly in his ear. So much for getting any sleep tonight, he thought. Turning his chair toward his tiny dining room window and propping his feet on the table, he settled back to wait for the sun to rise.
About the Author
Kris is a single mom living in the wilds of northern Canada. She spends her time doing various forms of freelance writing and editing, and chasing after a rambunctious toddler daughter. Kris has been writing since she was approximately ten years old, her first major project being a Nancy Drew-style mystery featuring herself and two of her friends. Her future leanings became clear, however, when she began penning naughty stories for high school friends—usually featuring Scott Baio, Rick Springfield or a member of Duran Duran.
Kris welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
Also by Kris Starr
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