An orgasm tumbled over her with the first stroke, and it almost took him, too, but he gritted his teeth and hung on while her body quaked around him. With slow, controlled thrusts, he began to move again, taking his time to let her body ease down. Holding himself back when he wanted to pound into her wasn't easy, despite his unearthly endurance, and the strain was obvious in the tightness of his body as his hips rocked slowly into her.
She groaned long and low, and the sound of it did something to him. He couldn't hold back anymore. He reached up, tugging her wrists free from the bindings that had held them. In a flash, he positioned her on her hands and knees, driving into her from behind with powerful thrusts that rocked her body and made her cry out. Hands scrabbled at the deep recesses between the old wooden floorboards for balance.
She dropped to her elbows, forehead to the cool wood, as he pounded into her. His body covered hers in a primitive way, stirring up all those submissive feelings that made her feel owned. She'd have done anything he ordered at that moment, anything to continue the pleasure of his thick shaft plunging in and out, claiming her with every long thrust.
After, when they'd collapsed to the floor, spent and exhausted, she curled up with her back pressed to him to keep that feeling. It wasn't the most comfortable place to rest; it was hard and cold there on the floor but she didn't want to get up. She pulled her discarded clothes over to make a nest but it wasn't enough to ward off the chill. He felt so warm and alive behind her, though. There was even a stickiness as their bodies pressed together, which she imagined must be normal for after sex, between the sweat and other fluids mingling, but in this case, they were probably all hers It was so hard, sometimes, to remember he was just a spirit out of the past and not flesh and blood.
She shifted, tucking her shirt farther under her, trying to get comfortable. Throughout the whole scene with her eyes covered, she'd forgotten about the cameras and had just let herself experience what was happening without fear. Now that she could see, the red light caught her attention, and she sighed.
"We should go downstairs and find a more comfortable place," he suggested.
She pulled his arm tighter around her waist in response. "In a minute, John. I just want to enjoy this a little longer," she replied with a hint of pleading in her voice.
He squeezed her tightly. "A few minutes and then we're going to the bedroom. Your skin is chilled," he said.
She snuggled back in his arms. She began to talk, carefully choosing what she said on camera. "I told my grandmother about you today."
Stiffening, he was silent for a minute. "What did she say?" he asked. She'd talked about her grandmother often and he knew she'd been worried about telling her.
"Actually, she was surprisingly calm about it. I wouldn't say she approved, exactly, but she didn't flip out," April replied. Her tone was thoughtful and reserved. There were things she'd tell him, but later, in privacy, and things she had no intention of telling him at all. The idea that he could live again in someone else's body would be too much of a temptation for anyone. It was even tempting her.
"Did that help?" he asked, carefully. He'd been concerned that a bad reaction from her family could send her from the house.
"It helps to know they'll support my choice. Yes." She turned over on her back, looking up into his face. The room had grown darker during the course of their play; the moon was now above the house and no longer shining brightly through the windows and she could barely see him. "I love you, John. Despite all the problems, I love you," she whispered.
He ran the pad of his thumb over her cheek and smiled in the dark. "Good, because I love you, too, April. Now, let's get you warm," he said, as he sat up. He was on his feet and pulling her to hers before she could protest.
"Wait, I need my clothes!" she said as he went to pick her up. She grabbed for them hastily, not sure she'd got them all, as he swung her up into his arms and carried her from the room. As they went down the long corridor, they passed through that spot that had concerned her earlier and she stopped him.
"There's a weird thing here. Can you feel it?" she asked. She shivered, her skin stippling from the sudden drop in temperature.
"Feel what?" He turned slowly; his eyes could see better than hers in the dim hall. There was light now, from the far end, but it wasn't enough for her poor, mortal sight.
"It's cold and creepy." A shudder went down her back, making her jerk. "I feel like something horrible happened here. Do you—" She trailed off. The ability to speak was overwhelmed by the ominous feelings that were suffocating her.
"Do I know what happened?" He thought back, trying to remember over the long years if he was aware of anything happening in the attic, but finally shook his head. "No, but there were many months, years, that I was dormant. Even now, I don't always know everything that goes on in the house, so there could have been something. Does it worry you?" He looked down in concern.
"No, I guess not. It just took me by surprise, I guess," she said, forcing the words out as she turned her head and rested her cheek against his chest. He carried her down the stairs and into the bedroom. It was odd, though. She'd run into many spirits in the house, so far; some had put out that malevolent aura, making her skin crawl, but this was the first location in the mansion that had grabbed her like that, and she had to wonder why.
She let the worry drift away as she showered off the evidence of their lovemaking. John sat on the bench behind her and watched since he didn't need to wash, but he always enjoyed looking at her body. She didn't mind and she needed time to talk to him without being recorded. She gave him a more in-depth synopsis of the phone call with her grandmother and the relief she felt afterwards.
"I think she'll come and help clear the other spirits out of the house after the team leaves," she said as she rinsed the shampoo from her long hair. She didn't add, "If I stay," though maybe she should have. Both of them were starting to treat it like a foregone conclusion, and while her heart had decided on him, the rest of her was determined to wait out the month before she agreed to the unusual living situation permanently.
"I would like to meet her," he said quietly. There was a note of worry there and she turned with a surprised look. "Well, meeting a woman's family is always nerve-wracking," he explained with a smile.
"Yeah, I guess so, but try to remember this isn't the 1800s, and you aren't buying me from them with a dozen goats," she said. "It's my choice, not theirs."
He laughed and slouched back against the wall, looking more relaxed. He'd never fully undressed in the attic, only let his pants vanish when there'd been a need, but he was naked now, and that amused her. It was just a show; his clothes could no more get wet than he could, but he'd put an effort into making himself look like he was soaked from the shower spray. It was a sight worth staring at. If she hadn't been so thoroughly fucked upstairs, she'd have been tempted, but as it was, she hurriedly turned away to finish washing.
"I admit; that's one way things are better now. A woman should have some say in who she loves, though many arranged marriages worked out well in my time," he said casually.
She snorted. "Oh? Easy to say, when men had a lot more choice than women," she pointed out while shutting off the water and reaching for a towel.
"I won't deny that men had more freedom, though it wasn't always that simple. Given a choice between marrying the girl your parents chose or being disowned, most men agreed," he said. He followed her out of the shower, and the drops of water fell from him as his clothes reappeared.
She tilted her head to look at him while wrapping her hair in a turban. "Did your parents?"
He shook his head. "No. My mother married for love and wanted me to have that, too. If I'd had sisters, she'd have done the same for them. Very independent woman, was my mother." There was a fond smile of remembrance on his face, and April suddenly wished she could meet her.
Dressed in warm pajamas and her hair still wrapped in a towel, she climbed into bed and pulled the blankets over her.
Her mind was busy; so many things had happened to think about, worry about, but his arms around her made her feel safe and, eventually, she was able to sleep.
The next few days seemed to fly by, with her mornings taken up by the investigation and her afternoons and evenings taken up by John. They made an effort to do something on camera each day, to keep Elizabeth appeased. Sometimes, it was a bit of kinky play, others, it was sex or both. Trying to keep things exciting and fresh between them while clinically deciding what to do in which room hadn't worked so well and they could only play so many games of 'Catch me if you can!' before that, too, got boring.
But John had a way of knowing what would excite her and bring her body to a fever pitch, and he used those skills shamelessly. A whispered threat in her ear, a ghostly caress, or a hard slap across the ass—all of it worked to put her in the mood. But despite the work of giving the camera exciting scenes, she was able to keep her mood light and happy. It was almost like a honeymoon for them, but as the end of the week neared, she started to fret. She tried to hide it, but everyone, living and dead, seemed to notice, anyway.
Payday—it should have been exciting. How often would she ever be handed a check so large in her life? But the problem was the person doing the handing. Charles Bruebeker had done nothing to harm her, but his insinuations and the way he acted around her were enough to make her ill at the thought of another run-in. She'd gotten so upset that she'd even called Elizabeth about it.
The conversation hadn't gone well. Not that Elizabeth was angry or upset, though she seemed very surprised. Behavior like that was not, she'd said, the Charles she knew and, anyway, it was only for a couple more weeks. There'd been more, something about it being too late to switch lawyers at this point. The upshot had been suck it up and deal with it, and April had hung up, disheartened.
Elizabeth's promise to speak to Charles hadn't helped at all. If anything, that just made April more nervous, but she'd begun to doubt herself by that point. Elizabeth's insistence that she'd known Charles for years and never heard even a whiff of rumor about inappropriate behavior had made her think that maybe the new environment had caused her to imagine all of it.
While both Carson and the professor had expressed uncomfortable feelings about the lawyer, as well, neither could back it up with any actual evidence of bad behavior. And there was no proof.
There should have been, though. His behavior in the library and the things he said should have been picked up by the cameras, or at least, the EVP equipment, which was meant to record even whispers. But somehow…
"I mean, I've seen the tapes, and he is standing really close to you, but the camera angle shifts just when he leans in," Carson said, frowning hard and tapping a pen on the table. "I believe you when you say he was being skeezy but, looking at the film, you can't really see it."
"But what about the EVP? Didn't you hear him say anything to me? I know he was whispering, but it should have got something," April asked. There was a tone of desperation there, not to prove it to others, but to prove it to herself.
Carson shook her head and the multiple piercings jingled softly. "That's the thing. The EVP recorders have been weird since you got here. Sometimes, they pick up every single sound and, at other times, all I get is fuzz. The whole conversation in the library is nothing but static. The cameras themselves did pick up some of it, but being so high up on the wall, it wouldn't catch whispering."
April cursed under her breath. "Maybe—maybe—I just imagined it," she said finally. Elizabeth definitely seemed to think so.
Snorting, Carson shook her head again. "Uh-uh, that guy is a grade-A creep, for sure. I said we couldn't prove it by the recordings; I didn't say I couldn't read his body language. Anyway, don't worry about it. I'm going to stay for lunch again so you won't be alone with him," she said firmly.
Their tentative friendship had continued to grow over the past couple of days and April's shoulders slumped in relief. "Really? God, I hate to ask but—"
"Don't worry about it. I wouldn't give up a chance to cook in that fancy kitchen again, anyway. I even picked up special ingredients when we did the shopping yesterday. I've got everything I need for an awesome meal and I'll bring some home for dinner later," she said smugly.
It had taken them a couple of days to get to her shopping list, but she'd been shocked yesterday, when they'd brought in bag after bag of groceries. The shelves and fridge were now fully stocked with everything she'd need to finish out the month and more. Now, she knew why they'd picked up so many extra things, Carson intended to cook and let the owner pay for it. April had no problem with that at all, as long as she got her share; she'd learned the week before that Carson was a great cook.
But as the morning passed, the expected call from Charles, warning them he'd be visiting didn't come, and she wondered if maybe he was too busy. There was a sense of relief, but also worry, because Carson might not be able to stay on whatever day he decided to make up the trip.
"April? April, are you paying attention?" Professor Marlowe snapped his fingers in front of her face and she jumped. "Ah, there you are. You seem distracted this morning," he commented with a hint of disapproval.
"Sorry, Professor. Just got lost in my own thoughts," she said sheepishly. She straightened and smiled. "What were you saying?"
"I was saying, perhaps John would be willing to join us tomorrow, for a short time. I have a couple of experiments I'd like to do with him, if he's still willing," he said, looking hopeful.
"I'm sure it will be fine. I'll let him know, tonight," she assured him. John had already said he didn't mind and had even seemed interested in what they might learn.
"Excellent, it's nothing too complicated," he said, beaming at her with excitement. This whole investigation had been like a dream for him. Never in his career had he had such a responsive location or been able to gather so much credible data. He'd already begun writing several papers as a result, and the possibility of even more evidence put him in a great mood for the rest of the morning.
When he left, just after noon, with Jerome, Carson stayed as planned. They'd half expected the lawyer to show up unannounced as they, or rather Carson, prepared lunch. He didn't arrive while they were eating outside on the patio, either, but they'd left a note on the library desk telling him where she was, just in case.
They cleaned up while they made light conversation and, still, he didn't appear. April started to relax; clearly, he wasn't bringing her check today. Eventually, Jerome arrived to pick Carson up and she left with a large plastic container full of leftovers and the house was empty and quiet again.
An hour later, while April was curled up in the media room watching television, the doorbell rang and startled her. She got up with a frown and headed for the front door, confused and wary. Normally, the team closed the gate when they left, which meant only a few people would be able to get in. She wondered if one of them had forgotten something, but before she set foot out of the library, she could hear that staccato tapping coming quickly down the hall.
Charles had come, after all. Her stomach sank so fast she felt nauseous. She hurriedly backed away from the doorway so she wasn't right there when he entered, which he did, seconds later. "Ah, April, good. I rang the bell, in case you were off somewhere." He waved vaguely to indicate the rest of the house. "My apologies for not calling you earlier to say when I'd be stopping by. It was a hectic day and I assumed you'd be aware I was coming with your check at some point." He gave her a smug secretive smile that spelled the truth out plainly. He hadn't liked being thwarted by Carson the week before, so he'd decided not to give them a chance to play the same trick again.
"Oh, sure, yeah. I forgot it was payday," she lied, forcing a smile. She had a strong desire to call John, and he had told her that he didn't want her alone with the lawyer. But she'd dealt with creeps like this before, maybe not quite so aggressive, or in such an isolated locale, but still. She was an adult woman and she was determined to handle it without yelling for he
lp from a ghost. Besides, if she called him to rescue her, it might reinforce his old-fashioned ideas about women.
"Time flies when you're hard at work, huh?" A completely innocent sentence but the way he said it made it sound so dirty.
She ignored it and nodded. "Yep, just settling down to relax for the day, actually, so if we could just sign the forms," she said.
She was clearly hoping to hurry things along, but he was in no rush to leave. He moseyed over to the desk and settled down in the over-sized executive chair. Sitting there made him feel like he was in charge, she could tell. It was as though he grew larger, expanding to fill the space around him like some kind of king. She stifled the glare at his presumption; he was just a lawyer and this house would be hers if she wanted it.
She stood at the side of the desk, refusing to take the visitor's chair, as if she was a petitioner begging a favor. He gave her a look, one eyebrow going up. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable sitting?" he asked.
"No, thanks, I'm good and this won't take long, right?" she replied immediately. She kept her tone neutral because she'd known men with his kind of attitude before. She'd run into them at work, on occasion, and they tended to blow up when challenged. The last thing she wanted was an explosion while they were alone in the house.
"As you like, then," he said, shrugging like it was no concern of his. He opened his briefcase and took his time sifting through papers before finally setting out a short stack in front of her with a check clipped to the top.
As she reached for it, he dropped a thicker stack on top of it, and she looked at him in surprise. "What's all this?" she asked.
"You've made some contractual changes with Ms. Hagmaier? This would be the addendums to cover them," he said in a slow and patronizing tone.
Awakened with a Touch (Gifted Affinities Book 2) Page 11