A Babe in Ghostland

by Lisa Cach

  Megan’s body melted into his embrace. His hunger fired her own, his touch opening up a need in her that was greater than mere physical satisfaction.

  She pulled away from his kiss for a moment. “Do you think we could find a mattress to fit that big bed?”

  He looked at her in surprise, then laughed. “Darling, we’ll go buy one today. But let’s give this one a try, for now.”

  “It’s about bloody time. You’d better have a condom with you, or I swear I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?”

  “I’ll be very difficult to satisfy, that’s what. It’ll be hard labor in the salt mines for you, boy-o. If you get my drift.”

  “I’m impressed by your use of literary symbolism.”

  She laughed, and he undressed her and went to work as if he did not have three Trojans hidden in his pockets.

  His technique was different from before, his hands slowly exploring her body, his mouth following. Long, massaging strokes punctuated by nips and high-pressured swirls of his tongue in unexpected places—behind her knees, on her sides, in the small of her back.

  When he tossed his own clothes to the floor, she returned the favor, her hands tracing over the broad planes of his chest, her fingertips trailing down the line of hair to his groin. His cock stood at attention as she stroked his nether hair and gently cupped his balls. When her hand at last brushed against his staff, its thick hardness bobbed against her. Her fingers instinctive closed around it, leaving the silky skin of the head exposed, presenting a temptation her mouth could not resist.

  “Christ, Megan,” he said, and his fingers dug into her hair. “Oh, God. You’ve got to stop.”

  In answer, she swirled her tongue over the head, then took him even deeper into her mouth, her fingers tight around the base of his shaft.

  With a long groan, he gently but firmly made her release her hold on him. “We’re not ending it that way, this time. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  With a quick shift, he reversed their positions, and now it was her turn to be tortured to the brink of release by his mouth. She could feel it coming, the breaking wave only a lick or two away, but she’d lost all capacity to stop him. He read the tensing of her muscles and stopped a bare moment from the end, holding her motionless for long moments until the intensity receded.

  He stood beside the bed and pulled her toward the edge, lifting her legs up around his waist, stopping only when her hips were at the end of the mattress. With one arm supporting him on the mattress, he bent over and kissed her, hard and deep. She felt his cock at her entrance, the head sliding over her moisture a few times before pushing through, stretching her, as she raised her hips harder against him, her body hungry to have him deep within her. His tongue plunged inside her mouth, rubbing rough against hers as his thrusts found that same magic spot inside her that he’d found while they were under the maple. He broke the kiss and stood up straight, helping to support her legs with his hands, using his hold on her to pull her harder against him with each thrust.

  The pleasure built inside her, but slowly this time, and she knew he would be done long before she was halfway there. She was resigning herself to that when he abruptly stopped, deep inside her, then lay down on her and rolled both of them over until she was on top. She parted her lips in surprise.

  “It’ll be better for you this way,” he said.

  She grinned and straddled him and, after a brief moment’s embarrassment, reached down to touch herself as she began to ride him. Case reached up to touch her breasts, and she threw her head back in abandon.

  Case groaned. “Oh, God. You’d better hurry.”

  She looked down at him. “Hold on,” she said softly. “Hold on…” One final thrust, one final stroke of her fingertips, and her pleasure spilled over the edge. Case felt it and, with a moan, found his own release.

  Megan bent down and kissed him. A few moments later, she was lying tight beside him, her arm and leg thrown over his body. They drifted off together in a doze.

  “You don’t have any plans today, do you?” he said at long last, when they both stirred. “You don’t have to leave.”

  “No, I don’t have to.”

  “Not today,” he said. “Not ever.”

  She smiled and gave herself over to the promise of a life where she would always have someone she loved by her side.

  Epilogue

  One year later

  “Just about got it…there!” Tracie said in satisfaction, and got up from the floor where she’d been kneeling, putting one last finishing stitch on the hem of Megan’s dress. “A work of art, if I do say so myself.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Megan said, looking at herself in the mirror that stood in the corner of the master suite. “I feel like a virgin princess.”

  “Well, I know you aren’t, but it doesn’t hurt to look like one on your wedding day.”

  Megan laughed, then surprised Tracie with a hug. “Thank you.”

  “Hey, it’s what I do.”

  “No, for more than that. Thanks for being here. For playing Mom to me and helping me get ready.”

  “You’d be a nervous wreck if I didn’t. Now, enough dawdling. There are guests waiting for food and alcohol, and the only way they’re going to get it is if you move your butt down there and get yourself married.”

  Together, they walked down the finished hallway, with its freshly plastered walls and polished floors, then down the stairs, past the table in the foyer stacked high with gifts.

  “Did Eric send one?” Tracie asked.

  “A frying pan that was on the registry. His note said I should beat Case with it if he ever misbehaves.”

  Tracie frowned. “Is he…okay now?”

  “I think so. The electroshock therapy got rid of the Smithson sisters, as far as we can tell. I invited him to the wedding, but I suppose it’s no surprise he didn’t want to return to this house.”

  “I’m thinking of moving in myself. You have enough spare rooms. I’ll take the third floor, if you don’t mind.”

  Megan laughed and stepped out into the sunshine on the back veranda. The garden spread out below her in its green manicured summer finery, the marble statue returned to glowing, pristine glory. Along one side of the statue’s reflecting pool were the white folding chairs set up for the wedding. Her uncle Charlie was there, and her cousins and her friends.

  Zachariah was there, too. She and Case now knew that without the sisters there to torment him or the fence to pen him, he had decided the house wasn’t such a bad place to spend eternity. He stayed out of their way for the most part, leaving only small, friendly clues to his presence, like the coffee maker starting a few minutes before they woke up. They’d seen him once on a late afternoon, sitting in a lawn chair, his hand on the glass of Scotch that Case had left behind.

  Tracie sighed. “You couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day. Or a better guy.” She put her arm around Megan’s waist and gave her a squeeze. “I’ll cue the music,” she said, and ran off, leaving Megan alone to walk down the aisle.

  Megan closed her eyes, missing her mother in this moment more than she ever had. Then a feeling of warmth and love washed through her, and she turned and opened her eyes.

  Her mother stood to her left, smiling gently at her.

  “Mom?”

  Her mother didn’t answer but, instead, turned and looked out into the garden.

  Megan followed her mother’s gaze to Case, talking to one of the guests. “You approve, don’t you?”

  But when she looked back at her mother, Megan found herself alone.

  The violins and cello started up, and she watched as the last of the guests took their seats. At the end of the aisle between the chairs, Case took his place and turned toward her, their gazes meeting across the distance.

  Megan’s lips curved into a smile, and she stepped toward the future.

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