Body Temperature and Rising - Book One of the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy

by K D Grace

Eating something was not what he needed, but he didn’t argue. He felt like the room was closing in on him and on his cock. He pushed past her and out the back door into the quiet of the secluded garden that looked more like a miniature wilderness. He shuddered as he recalled the dream of the night before and took a deep breath. It was a dream, just a fucking dream!

  When he was sure he was alone, he released a shaky sigh and fumbled with his fly, cursing under his breath that he should be reduced to this. No matter how hard he tried, his focus seemed to remain on his cock. Even last night, how could he have taken Marie, and so harshly, after such a hideous nightmare, but his need had been nearly unbearable, as it was now. There was no help for it. He released his penis into his hand and sucked a heavy breath at the feel of his own lust. My God, he’d been horny every second since he’d been here. It didn’t matter if it was practising a simple binding spell with Anderson and wanting to rip the man’s clothes of and play show and tell, or helping Sky lay the table and wanting to flip up the little skirt she wore and bury his cock in her soft spot. He wanted sex, he craved it. Jesus, how he craved it! Perhaps he was just overly tired, and that messed with his self-control, but still, how could he be as tired as he was and need to fuck so badly?

  He shrugged his jeans down far enough to release his balls, and then he found his rhythm, cupping and kneading himself with one hand and dry humping his fist with the other. It wouldn’t take him long to come, not as full as he was. Then maybe he could focus enough to actually cast the spell he could so clearly see in his head before he needed to stop for another wank. Or maybe he and Marie could have a nooner. God, was she anywhere nearly as horny as he was? So deep was his concentration that it took him a second to realise Tara was standing next to him.

  ‘You need some help with that?’

  ‘I don’t need any help. Go away and let me finish.’

  ‘This is my house, I don’t have to go anywhere.’ She slapped his hand aside. ‘That’s your problem, Tim, you never seem to figure out that you don’t have to do this alone, you need help. We all need help. And sex magic, especially, is not a one-person job. Get used to it.’ Then holding his gaze, she spat in her hand and gave him a long hard stroke.

  ‘Jesus!’ he breathed.

  ‘Feels better, doesn’t it?’

  He thrust and mumbled something incoherent. With his free hand, he reached out and stroked her breasts, and instantly her nipples beaded beneath her blouse. Still holding his gaze, she unbuttoned. There was, blessedly no bra, and his hands were suddenly like homing devices, cupping her, kneading her, feeling the exquisite weight of her. Surprisingly the scars he’d seen last night in the Room of Reflection were not there.

  Noticing his gaze, she forced a smile. ‘They weren’t physical scars you saw last night, Tim. I told you I was exposed.’

  With the hand not fisting his cock, she undid her shorts and slipped her fingers down inside. He watched as she shifted and wriggled until the hitch of her breath and the flutter of her eyelids told him she’d found what she wanted.

  ‘Did you fuck Marie last night?’ she breathed.

  ‘That’s hardly your business is it?’ God, he didn’t want to argue, at least not until after she’d made him come.

  ‘It is my business,’ she grunted, now undulating her hips in circular movements around her fingers. ‘You’re no good to anyone if your cock hasn’t been taken care of.’

  ‘Yes! I fucked her last night? All right? And this morning. Twice. And it seems I’m still no good to anyone. Are you satisfied?’

  ‘Apparently you’re not.’ She offered him a half smile.

  ‘It’s just that, bloody hell, it’s not enough.’

  ‘It never is, Tim. That’s why we have each other.’

  Between her tugging at his cock and finger fucking her cunt, her breasts juddered and bounced against his groping hands. Her nipples were gumdrop stiff, a thought that invited taste, and she didn’t deny him as he settled in to nurse.

  She spat again and the feel of her warm saliva and her tight, powerful grip, the grip that wielded a sword, was too much. Three hard thrusts in her bruising grasp, and he grunted his load in arc after arc out over a pink tea rose, as she shuddered her own release into her hand.

  Then she wiped her fingers on her panties and zipped her shorts.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he breathed, as he watched her. ‘I could have offered more than a wank session.’

  She gave him a pained smile. ‘Perhaps you could have, but I couldn’t.’

  He ran a hand through the cascade of dark hair, something he’d wanted to do ever since he met Tara Stone, and her breath hitched.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  He had never seen Tara blush before, and though the emotion that crossed her face was so fast most people would have missed it, he didn’t. She stepped away from his touch and avoided his gaze as she buttoned her blouse. ‘I don’t fuck the living. It’s a bond that costs too much.’

  Before he could respond, she was suddenly all business as usual. ‘In future, if you’re too squeamish to take your pleasure with a ghost, find Marie or myself. We’ll pleasure you, but don’t let it go too long like you did today.’

  He nodded toward the house and it was his turn to blush. ‘Why can’t I do what I’m supposed to?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that, Tim. You have to work it out. You know the spell. You can use it. I promise you can. You have to find your way to it. And really, you and Fiori need to get over what happened. We don’t need past hard feelings giving Deacon something else to sink his teeth into. Now, go to the house and eat something, then get back to practice. Tomorrow you’ll have your first ride, so there’s not a lot of time to spare.’ She turned on her heels and disappeared into the depth of the garden leaving him to tuck himself back in. He wished he had as much confidence in what was supposed to happen as she did.

  ‘We’ve had three peaceful days now, three days with no sign of Deacon, and every day that passes, I get a bit more nervous. If circumstances were different, we’d have a lot more time to prepare you two, but we have what we’ve been given, and I don’t think we dare wait any longer.’ Tara took a deep breath and paced the carpet in the study. The others all sat around, watching her, waiting.

  ‘Traditionally, as you both know, a ghost rider’s magic is for the enfleshment of ghosts, to offer them, for a time, the pleasures of the flesh.’ She raised a hand as she saw Tim bristle. ‘There was never an exchange of money, nor was the gift ever given with any conditions attached. However, the gift freely given comes with some pretty powerful fringe benefits. Each ride makes the rider age more slowly. Each ride makes the rider stronger, less vulnerable to human disease and more quickly to heal. Each ride strengthens the magic of the rider, and it’s the last two fringe benefits we’re after right now.’

  Tim wondered how the hell he was supposed to reap any of these fringe benefits when he still couldn’t do the spell, a fact which everyone in Elemental Cottage had managed to avoid talking about as though no one had noticed.

  ‘There’s a mutual sharing that takes place between the rider and the ghost.’ Tara’s gaze settled on Tim and Marie, but Tim felt like she was staring at him. ‘The ghosts desire the pleasures of the flesh, the release they cannot obtain without a body to obtain it in, and riders have unusually high libidos, the need for sex is constant, though often transmuted into other forms of magic. That sexual drive, that desire to fuck, to put it crudely, is what drives all of the magic we do. It’s the creative energy at work in us.’

  She paced some more, then came to stand in front of the two of them. ‘We’ve given you all the training we can for what must happen next. But the ultimate test of a rider’s power can come only through the ride.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘And that is what you both still lack.’

  All eyes were on him, Tim was certain of it. He felt a blush crawl up his throat and over his cheeks. He could feel the heat rising around his neck and ears. ‘I can’t do it,’ he blurted. �
�You know I can’t do it.’

  ‘Of course you can do it.’ Fiori practically shook with her anger. ‘If you’d just get over yourself and get on with it. Or is it that you just don’t want to fuck ghosts?’

  ‘Fiori, no one has asked for your opinion on the subject,’ Tara said with an even voice. ‘And if you can’t be civil, there’s the door.’

  Sky took the redhead’s hand, settling her on the sofa.

  Tim ignored her outburst and turned his attention to Marie. ‘Marie, I know you’re ready. You were ready from the beginning. But I can’t. I really can’t.’

  Fiori cursed under her breath.

  Tara silenced her with a glance, but she said nothing.

  Marie took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘You just need a little more time, that’s all. And you’re exhausted. You haven’t been sleeping well and –’

  He shot her a sharp glance He felt a tight constriction around his throat and the air in the room felt too thin to breath, too close around him. He stumbled to his feet and stepped away trying to keep calm. ‘Look I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, Tara, for everything you’ve all done for me, and I’ll gladly do whatever I can, which it seems is damn little. But you saw. You all saw. I just can’t do it. I’m sorry.’ He found himself backing toward the door, suddenly wanting to run, suddenly needing desperately to be back at Lacewing Farm, to be in his own space. ‘I’m going home now. I’ll be there if you need me, but not for this. I can’t help. I’m sorry.’ His gaze came to rest first on Marie, then on Tara, and finally on Fiori. ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t.’

  Both Marie and Anderson started after him, but Tara raised a hand. ‘Let him go. We knew this would be hardest for him, and we know why. We can’t force him to go there until he’s ready.’

  Marie noticed that Fiori was crying quietly.

  ‘Marie, are you still all right with this?’ Tara asked.

  Marie nodded, finding it difficult to speak.

  ‘You do understand what it will entail?’

  ‘I understand, yes.’

  ‘And when you’ve finished.’

  ‘When I’ve finished, I’ll be a rider, and that’s not something to be taken lightly, even for Deacon.’

  Chapter 17

  As dusk settled over the fells, Tara and Sky, along with Fiori, took Marie to a secluded field behind Elemental Cottage. Anderson had been left to monitor the ride in the Ether. To one side of the field where the rock flank of the fell rose up there was a cave barely visible amid the tangle of vines and shrubs. A quick tour assured her that the Elementals had equipped it for rider use.

  ‘Our house is off limits unless we invite ghosts. Ghosts follow the same rules that apply to the living in polite society,’ Sky said. ‘There are several other rendezvous points, but this is our favourite.’

  ‘You’re to wait here,’ Tara said. ‘Sleep if you can so you’ll be rested when Michael arrives. Begin casting the spell the moment he reaches out to you, and once it’s cast the rest will be easy.’ She took Marie into her arms in a tight embrace. ‘I know you’ll do well, darling.’ Neither Sky nor Fiori touched her. She had been told that a touch from another ghost could interfere with the spell.

  Marie wore a simple summer dress, no fancy ceremonial robe, no jewellery other than her amulet. She had removed her shoes just inside the cave entrance. Enjoying the fading evening light before she entered the confines of the cave, Marie settled onto the soft moss near the entrance and watched the Elementals walk away. She expected to be frightened, or at least a little bit nervous. But instead, she fell asleep.

  She awoke in the rain feeling the familiar flush and tingle of heat deep in her pelvic girdle. ‘Wake up, Marie Warren.’ A soft male voice spoke close to her. ‘You’ll catch your death, then you’ll be a ghost like me, and that won’t do.’

  She sat up, shivering. Through the driving rain she could barely make out the shape of the ghost who knelt next to her. As he reached out, she cast the spell with an awareness of what was happening that hadn’t been there before her training. As with Anderson, the first touch of his fingertips was icy, but the thaw had already begun as he helped her to her feet, and as he gathered her to him she found herself already clinging to his warmth.

  ‘Shall we get you out of this rain, then?’ To her surprise, he lifted her bodily into his arms, her head resting against the rapid beating of his heart through his warm chest.

  Inside the cave glowed in the amber light of kerosene lamps. Michael tugged the clingy wet dress up over her head, leaving her standing goose fleshed, nose to nose with him. ‘It’s you,’ she spoke between chattering teeth, ‘The ghost from my dream that first night. Well, I thought it was a dream back then.’

  ‘It pleases me beyond measure that you remember me, and that, at last I may touch you, flesh to flesh.’ He eased her back onto a pallet of pillows and blankets, opening her legs as he did so with large, warm hands. Then, almost before she knew what was happening she felt him grunt and strain and push inside of her, still fully clothed except for his thrusting cock. The sudden thickness of his penis shoved completely into her so abruptly and without foreplay took her breath away, and she cried out at the shock of it.

  ‘I am sorry. I am so very sorry,’ he gasped, ‘but I need you so badly. Bear with me but a little, and I will be less savage, I promise you.’ The second thrust felt like someone had shoved a policeman’s baton into her cunt.

  She bit her lip and tried to relax, knowing that tensing would only make matters worse. The man was warm against her, his clothing was dry, as Anderson’s had always been, though she could smell the rain on his jacket as he groaned and pushed. The intensity of his need drove him with a force that seemed near agony. And her own discomfort gave way first to compassion, then to empathy. Then, amazingly quickly, the urgency of his need physically became her own. As her pussy became slick and dilated, she matched his rhythm and bore down on his thickness with equal desire.

  Even as her arousal grew, she could tell by the tension in his shoulders and the tight thrusting of his hips that he wouldn’t last long enough to give her any relief, and somehow that only intensified her own need.

  ‘Please forgive me, but I must take my release now,’ he grunted. Then he let out a deep groan as shudder after shudder took him and she felt the flood of him, first in her pussy, then spilling onto her thighs, until at last he collapsed on top of her. As he caught his breath, she lay beneath him, deliciously aware of the growing thrum in her pussy.

  At last he spoke, holding her in a pale blue gaze. ‘You must think me an animal to take you so rudely. Please forgive me. It is so long since I have been with a woman, and the need, the need is so great.’ He dropped a kiss onto her lips. ‘And it is your first ride. It was foremost in my mind to be gentle, but I could not.’

  As he made an effort to pull out of her, she wrapped her legs around him. ‘Gentle isn’t necessary. I understand your need.’ She tightened the muscles of her cunt around his still erect penis, and he gasped. ‘I think with a need such as yours, you best stay where you are because I’m not finished, and I know you’re not.’ She arched beneath him and cupped her breasts watching his pupils dilate still further as she stroked her nipples between thumb and forefinger. ‘You’re so thick,’ she sighed, as he shifted against her with a little thrust. ‘You nearly split me in two till I got used to you, and now that I am used to you, I’m not so anxious for you to leave.’

  And that was all it took. He was thrusting again. This time she managed to shift enough to get the right friction against her clit so that when he came, she came too.

  The cottage was dark and chilled when Tim got home. It didn’t matter. It was home, it was the place where he knew who he was. Well as much as he ever knew who he was. Besides, at the moment, dark and chilled fit his mood, he thought, as he set about building a fire in the fireplace. That always cheered him up, though it occasionally drew one or two nostalgic ghosts. That sent a surge of guilt clenchi
ng at his gut. But nothing had really changed, he told himself. He had never fucked ghosts, couldn’t have if he’d wanted to, and he still couldn’t. It was a lie, though. Everything had changed. Before, he had nothing to offer the ghosts who were drawn to him but his own frustration. Now he could add the guilt at his own failure in knowing that he should be able to help but couldn’t. All he really wanted was for them to go away and leave him to get on with his life, to go back to how it was before. How it was before? He could barely remember how it was before.

  And now. Now that he’d given in, gone to the Elementals for help and training, he was no better off than he ever was. He could see the spell in his head so clearly. He knew it like he knew his own breath, he felt it in his bones, and yet he couldn’t bring it to fruition. Why? Now if the ghosts asked for his help, how would they ever understand his refusal as anything other than mean-spirited?

  His stomach growled loudly and he suddenly became aware of how hungry he was. There would have been dinner in the big dining room at Elemental cottage after the ill-fated meeting in the study if he had stayed. Fiori’s Lasagne Florentine. Her own recipe. The house had smelled of Mediterranean herbs and rich tomato sauce. His stomach growled again. He doubted there was much to eat in the house. Contemplating ordering a curry, he reached into the refrigerator for a much-needed beer and discovered it was well-stocked, bacon, eggs, cheese, sausage, even veg and fruit in the crisper drawer.

  ‘There’s some nice seeded loaf in the pantry, the kind you like for you sandwiches.’ He wasn’t startled, he didn’t turn, but he was amazed to find himself smiling at the chime of Lisette’s voice.

  When he did turn to face her, she offered a shy grin. ‘Fiori did the shopping. I just told her what you liked. Though I think she added a few items she thought you might appreciate, a couple of bottles of some kind of wine she said you liked, and, what was it? Oh yes, blue vinny cheese. I told her you’d prefer cheddar, but she said that you have fond memories of blue vinny.’ The little ghost blushed.