Awakened with a Touch (Gifted Affinities Book 2)

by Kessily Lewel

  Considering how angry he'd been the last time a medium tried to clear the house, she found that a surprise, but of course, it was only himself that he'd been concerned about. No doubt, it was tiring for him to police the other presences in his house, and he'd be grateful if she could get rid of them. She hadn't even considered doing that, but it wasn't a bad idea, especially if this house was going to end up her permanent home. She'd rather not have things thrown at her whenever they got riled.

  If she'd taken the training her grandmother had offered, she'd have a better idea of how to do that, but child spirits were probably easy enough. Maybe her grandmother could explain it to her on the phone. It was something to think about later, but not a priority. After all the years they'd waited, a few more weeks wouldn't matter.

  She turned to face him and the spell was broken. The ghostly touches vanished with a childlike giggle and they were alone. "I can try. The innocent ones won't be difficult, but you know the others will be more determined. It could get dangerous," she said. She didn't tell him that she'd have to call her grandmother to find out how to go about pushing stubborn ghosts into the afterlife against their will. Luckily, it hadn't been part of the job description when they'd chosen her for this job.

  "I'll protect you when you're ready," he assured her. Then one eyebrow went up and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Now, are you going to make me chase you or will you surrender? There's no escape from this room without getting past me," he said, a triumphant smile already forming as she remembered the game with dismay.

  "Damn it, I forgot!" she exclaimed. Too distracted by her own gifts, she'd meant to make catching her a real challenge, but now it was too late.

  He cleared his throat, not commenting on the swear, but making it clear that he was trying to be understanding of her modern habits.

  She flushed. "Sorry." She hadn't turned the light on when she entered the room, and the faint glow shining in from the hall didn't give her enough to see by, but she had to give it a try. Suddenly, she dashed to the left, racing off in an attempt to get him to follow and leave the doorway clear.

  But the climbing shadows were hard to navigate and he caught up to her quickly. She turned, twisting, and ducked under his arm when she felt him reach out to grab her. She almost made it to the door when she tripped over something in the dark. She fell, sprawling to the floor with a yelp.

  "April!" he shouted in alarm. "Are you hurt?" A second later, he was at her side, dropping to his knees to check for injuries. The dim light didn't affect his ability to see as it did hers, and he looked her over quickly.

  She grumbled. "Fine. Just clumsy," she said, sulking that she'd lost so easily.

  Her attitude seemed to reassure him and he laughed as he answered, "Then I claim your surrender. Do you submit?"

  She was silent for a long moment as her mind raced to come up with a way around it but, finally, with her full bottom lip poking out in an exaggerated pout, she nodded. "You win—this time." That was all he needed to hear and, suddenly, he was pulling at her clothes, stripping her efficiently in the shadowed room. It occurred to her that she wasn't even sure there were cameras there and her eyes automatically flicked upwards, hunting the corners for the red glow that indicated their presence. She was half-disappointed to find two, placed in opposite corners, but that was the point of the game, after all.

  His hands were warm as they skimmed over her body, lifting her clothes away and tossing them aside. He seemed to become more alive every day they spent together, and the temperatures of rooms didn't drop when he entered, anymore, so now that the ghost children had scampered away, the room had gone back to normal—chilly but not unbearable.

  But the contrast of his warm flesh touching hers made her back arch as a shudder ran through her. The heat drew her attention to every place he touched, making the skin tingle and tighten. He spilled her onto her back, to sprawl wantonly with a shaft of moonlight cutting across her body. The world was colorless; everything shades of black and white.

  "You're beautiful," he whispered as he stared down at her.

  Something about the moonlight or the darkness made her feel like she was, a rare feeling for her. Instead of protesting or denying it, she smiled seductively. "Am I?" she asked. "You make me feel so desirable."

  He didn't answer, not in words, but the way he stared at her, like he was seeing an oasis after a week lost in a desert, told her how he felt. His hands roamed over her possessively, coasting lightly over silken skin. "Would you say?" he asked, beginning to grin. "That I won our game fairly, April?"

  She eyed him nervously, suddenly very aware that she'd said he could do anything he wanted if he caught her. True, she'd been distracted and hadn't really put up much of a fight, but that was her own fault, or rather, the fault of her gifts. "Y-yes, why? What did you have in mind?" The suspicion was heavy in her voice.

  "A training exercise in obedience—in submission—perhaps." His grin turned into a smirk. One eyebrow went up in question, clearly daring her to agree.

  She shivered, but not from the chill, this time. Looking up at him from the pile of discarded clothes that cushioned her back and kept her off the bare wood, she swallowed and then nodded slowly. They were giving Elizabeth what she wanted, but this was about their relationship. They had a month to see if they were compatible, to see if she could live like this, with him. Learning how to be the submissive he wanted was a big part of that.

  In his time, there were no books about how to be a dominant. You either were or were not, and his style of dominance was an old fashioned 'do as you're told' type that didn't take into account that she was supposed to be his equal. He'd agreed to meet her halfway and make allowances for her modern upbringing, but she knew that, by consenting to this, she was agreeing to completely accept his control. It was frightening, but there was an odd sense of freedom in it. Letting go of control meant letting go of all the worries that went with it. She was ready to try.

  "Are you going to follow my commands?" She started to nod but he stopped her. "Don't," he said, holding up a hand. "Say the words out loud."

  She had to clear her throat to make her voice work. "I'll follow them," she agreed.

  "Good girl. Sit up." The order was apparently rhetorical since he pulled her into a sitting position as he spoke, anyway. He reached behind her and, with a tug, extracted her t-shirt from under her.

  She tilted her head with a confused look. "What are you doing?" And then, "Hey!" because he'd found the side seam and ripped a long strip off of the bottom. It wasn't anything special, just a random shirt with no emotional attachment, but the action had startled her.

  "Quiet. And, for now, there will be no more questions unless you don't understand what I'm telling you to do. Do you understand?" he asked. His voice was soft but there was a hardness to it that warned her he meant it.

  Her head started to bob but she caught herself and switched to a verbal agreement before he could correct her. "Yes," she whispered.

  "Good, hold out your hands. Palms together," he instructed.

  She obeyed quickly, mostly because she wanted to see what he had in mind. He efficiently wrapped the torn fabric around her wrists, tying a complicated knot when he finished. She tried to tug them apart, experimenting to see how secure the binding was, and was unable to separate them. Just that small act of restraint made her pulse accelerate. She stared at him, eyes wide with nervousness.

  Bondage, she supposed, went along with spanking, but it was another thing she'd never experienced before she'd come to this house. She shifted uneasily, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than usual. She knew with absolute certainty that John would never hurt her, and he wouldn't need a scrap of cloth to do it, anyway. He was a powerful supernatural entity and she was only an untrained medium; he'd always had the upper hand, but it had never been driven home to her so keenly until now.

  "Tell me what you're feeling," he demanded. He leaned in, holding her wrists still, with one large hand.

 
"I-I'm not sure," she said. It seemed like he would want a better answer so she tried to find the words to explain the chaotic swirl of emotions. "I'm nervous about what you're going to do to me. I-I feel helpless and—" She paused and her glance dropped to her bare legs, half-hidden in the shadow.

  "And?" he pressed, after a few seconds of silence went by.

  "And it's kind of, uh, sexy?" Was that the right word? She was turned on; she knew that much. She could feel her inner thighs getting slick from the arousal, and it made her squirm.

  "That's the desired effect," he said. He let go of her wrists to rip another strip from her t-shirt.

  "A-are you going to tie my legs, too?" she asked nervously. Her eyes were fixed on his hands as he destroyed her clothing.

  "Oh, no." He chuckled and shook his head. "No, that wouldn't be useful for what I've planned," he explained. That was worrisome, but what he said next was worse. "Looks like I'll have to punish you, first. I did say no questions, remember?"

  Her eyes flashed up in a panic, looking for a sign that he was joking, but there was a resolute look on his face that said otherwise. Her mouth opened to protest but she snapped it shut quickly before she could get herself in more trouble. She knew, on some level, that this wasn't real trouble or real punishment. This was a game, but that didn't mean the punishment wouldn't hurt.

  "How pleasing; you're learning already," he said, and now there was a hint of amusement on his face before he took the second strip of cloth and turned it into a blindfold.

  She flinched when he covered her eyes, leaning in close to reach behind her head and tie it in place so that she couldn't see a thing. With her hands tied and her sight gone, she trembled with nervousness. "J-John?" she stammered in a tone just short of panic.

  "Shhh, I'm here. You are safe with me, April. You know that, yes?" he asked. His voice was soothing and the back of his hand grazed lightly across her cheek, a brief comfort.

  "Y-yes," she whispered. She could hear the rustle of fabric as he stood and pulled her to her feet, holding her for balance.

  "Let me lead you," he said. His tone was still soft, and his movements were gentle as he guided her to the windows.

  She could feel the chill from the glass just in front of her. Her nipples tightened, crinkling from the cold, but also from excitement. He lifted her arms above her head and hooked the cloth binding on something so that she couldn't lower them.

  "Spread your legs apart," he ordered and then pushed his hands between her thighs and helped her move them wide apart. He cupped her mound, letting his middle finger slip between the folds, and commented on how wet she was. A second later, he pressed that finger to her lips. "Taste," he said, and she opened her mouth obediently so he could slide his finger between her lips. She could taste her own juices and flushed as she sucked on his finger.

  "You love this," he commented.

  It wasn't a question so she didn't answer; she couldn't have denied the evidence of her own body, anyway. When he slowly took the finger from her mouth, she moaned, a little breathy sound. Without sight, her senses seemed sharper and more focused on what was happening. Each little draft that brushed across her skin, every soft whisper of sound, made her jump.

  His hand moved back between her thighs to cup her possessively, gripping the soaked and swollen flesh of her core. He played with her until her hips began to rock forward and back and then he pulled his hand away and, suddenly, there was a loud smack as his hand cracked down across her bare ass.

  She jumped and a cry of dismay burst from her lips as she pressed against the cold glass to get away from the pain. He moved to stand on her right side, arm wrapping around her waist, sliding down across her flat belly to find the juncture of her thighs from the front. His hand stroked down over the soft pelt of damp curls, unerringly finding her heat. He pushed between her lower lips, parting them to swirl the tip of his finger around her entrance teasingly.

  In one swift motion, he thrust up inside of that slick heat, impaling her with two fingers and she bucked a response. Gasping, she pushed back for more, but he wasn't about to give her what she wanted just yet.

  "Not so fast, greedy girl. You have to be punished, first," he said, chuckling. He used his intimate grip to position her the way he wanted her, pulling her back from the window by the fingers inside of her and tilting her hips so that her ass was pushed out obscenely. With her hands still bound and held above her, it left her stretched and arched for his tender mercies.

  It was embarrassing to be guided that way, and yet there was a rawness that was so sexy. The position strained her muscles, forcing her to notice exactly how she was placed, but her awareness always went back to the hand cupping her greedy core. She found if she wiggled in just the right way, her clit would brush across the pad of his palm. A frustrating bit of friction that wasn't nearly enough to do anything but make her situation worse.

  She'd never been so completely controlled in her life and he held her there while he began to spank. His left hand cracked down in a nice slow series of slaps that burned just enough—just enough to make her hotter and needier. She bit down on her bottom lip to hold back the pleas that she wanted to make but, mindful of his order to be quiet, was too afraid to let escape.

  Her hips began to move in a circling motion, accepting the slap across her cheek and rotating away from it. But the brush of her clit across his palm rolled her right back into place for the next spank. It was maddening, but she couldn't stop, couldn't help herself. And he knew it and ground the heel of his hand against her mound to give her more of the friction she needed. It was like a reward for being wanton and it only encouraged her hips to swing wildly.

  She was panting and breathless when he stopped and began to caress the heated skin. A groan of disappointment slipped from her as she let her head drop forward to press against the glass. The cold felt good against her flushed face, but it didn't do anything for the fire consuming the rest of her body. His fingers stayed right where they were, tucked up inside of her, holding her in place, but now, he began to pump them gently in and out. Not fast enough to push her over that edge but enough to keep her from being able to calm down.

  A sheen of perspiration made her skin glisten in the moonlight and he leaned against her, tongue licking a line across the salty dew on her shoulder before he began to lay a trail of kisses up the back of her neck. He pushed under her heavy mane to find the sensitive places that were usually hidden and nibbled there, making her laugh and squirm. "That tickles," she said in a low whisper. It was the kind of tickle that made her heart race, not the type to make her want to get away. She moaned with a soft throaty sound that trailed off as she tugged her bottom lip under, biting down.

  He just chuckled and kissed his way up the back of her neck to her hairline. "What do you want right now, April?" he asked.

  "You. I want you," she said. She sounded hungry, but at least she'd been able to hold back the desperate begging that had wanted to burst from her.

  "Tell me," he whispered, just against her ear, lips so close that she could feel the breath from his voice but not quite touching the delicate shell.

  She shivered, turning her head so that she brushed against his mouth. "Tell you what?" she asked.

  "Tell me how much you want it. Beg for it. Make me believe that you'll die if I don't take you right here against the window," he said. There was a harshness to the order, an unspoken threat that if she didn't make it convincing, he might just leave her here. It was a more insidious threat than it normally would have been; with her hands tied over her head, she'd have no relief from the tension that filled every line of her body.

  She held back a whimper, pressing her cheek against the glass to cool the sudden furious blushing that suffused her face. "Please, please, John. I need you. Please take me," she pleaded. Her voice stumbled over the words, embarrassed, but she hoped it would be enough.

  "You can do better than that," he said, giving a harsh laugh at her attempt. He bit down on her earlob
e and tugged it between his teeth. It was just this side of painful, but her body was primed to handle pain now and she groaned. "Why don't you use some of those vulgar words you're so fond of? Put them to good use, for a change," he suggested.

  John encouraging her to swear? That was both new and somewhat intriguing. She'd started to get used to his old-fashioned manners, but a few times, during sex, she had felt an urge to beg him to fuck her. She'd caught herself in time, thinking it would displease him, but now, he wanted it? Talking dirty felt—it felt clichéd—like something out of a porno movie (not that she'd ever actually seen one, other than short clips online) but there was something about the rawness of it that she thought could be sexy.

  "F-fuck m-me," she said, and his hand slapped down against the outside of her hip. Not a punishing slap, but hard enough to sting, and she stopped immediately, thinking she'd misunderstood. Her heart clattered in her chest and a feeling of panic rolled over her.

  "Don't stop. Keep talking!" he snapped, and his hand swept down again, leaving a blazing handprint on her skin. It stayed there, gripping the soft flesh of her hip and kneading it.

  She realized she hadn't misunderstood. Despite the contradiction, he wanted her to continue, and he wanted to punish her for it at the same time. She pulled up dirty phrases. She begged him to fuck her hard. She used all the words she'd never spoken to another man before in her life, and each time, he punished her with another spank, but the fingers he'd thrust inside of her also rewarded her efforts.

  She felt silly, the words clumsy in her mouth, and it didn't get any better between the stinging pain and the rolling pleasure. Pretty soon, she wasn't even making sense and that was when he withdrew his fingers from her, leaving her sopping heat gaping and hungry to be filled. She protested or thought she did. She couldn't be sure she'd said anything out loud because she was so completely wrecked by what he had been doing.

  With hands that were quick but surprisingly gentle, he took her by the hips and pulled her lower body away from the window again, making her back bow and her ass jut out. He spread her legs and then, with one quick, hard thrust, he was inside of her. The proof of her arousal thoroughly coated the inside of her thighs and, with its help, he had no trouble plunging in and filling her with his long shaft.