Restless Spirits

Her eyes were glued to the rope.

“Go ahead and feel it.” She reached out and ran her hands over the soft material. It called to her, manipulating her adventurous side to come out and play.

“I want to try.”

“Let’s get you used to Scarlet. I had her waiting here today, just in case.”

His words reinforced her decision.

“We’ll start with a very simple binding around your breast called a Shinju harness.” He caressed Scarlet with his fingertips and unwrapped her with such reverence, Demi couldn’t help but feel honored. Pierce took this very seriously. He unwound the rope and ran the length through his elegant fingers.

“Stand up.”

She rose on shaky legs, eager and nervous for what would follow.

“Turn around.”

She did as he asked, and he pressed the rope against her back, holding it in place with a finger.

“Be still. This is the fun part. Dressing my woman in the beautiful art I alone create.” He worked methodically. “You’re my canvas now, Demi.” The rope tightened, hugging her skin, giving her a sense of security she hadn’t felt since her father died, making her an orphan. Almost an embrace, it relaxed her muscles.

“Oh, baby, if you could only see yourself. You like it, don’t you?”

“Yes.” She leaned toward him, allowing him to support her weight as he delivered feather-soft caresses down her back. Her breasts were heavy and achy. Her core gushed. “You smell delicious. I don’t even know where to start.” He pushed her back gently, and she balanced on her own feet. A pinch to her nipples sent a jolt of electricity clear through her body.

“Pierce!” He rolled both extended points between his fingers, and the walls of her pussy clenched. Sensations were heightened to levels she’d never dreamed of. He paused, sucked a rock-hard bud into his mouth, and she arched her back. He moaned, and the vibrations made her whimper. A bowstring drawn tautly, she rubbed her thighs together to relieve the throbbing pulse.

He released her breast with a loud pop. “You need more, don’t you?” He moved to the opposite breast and slid his hand down her stomach, creeping closer to the place she craved him most. She panted as her lungs malfunctioned, tripping up her breaths. He parted her lips, and she moaned.

“So wet and ready.” He flicked her clit, and her hips

snapped forward. “I could make you wait, draw it out until you begged, but I won’t, because I’ve been waiting for this too.” He slid two fingers inside. “Look at how you cling to me. Greedy girl. I’ll give you all you need and more.” Her eyes lowered to slits as the spell he wove washed over her, stealing the ability to focus on anything other than the things he did to her body. “Fuck.” The ragged sound tore from his throat. “I need you now, Demi.” He removed his fingers, kicked off his shoes, and yanked down his jeans and boxer briefs. He wrapped his hands around her hips, lifting her up. She wound her legs around him and locked her arms around his neck, so high on passion she felt like she’d been placed on a carnival ride.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby.” He led her over to the dresser, set her on the cool surface, and thrust home. The shock of the invasion and the temperature rolled her eyes back in her head. They came together like animals. She clawed at his back as he took her hard and fast. She tightened around him, letting go as white light exploded behind her eyelids and the orgasm he’d built up exploded like a bomb.

Chapter Eight

Demi paced the area in front of her desk, pulling her cardigan closer to her body. The never-ending chill had seeped into her bones. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Something was wrong. She’d been certain she’d freed Bronwyn before. An oppressive feeling settled over her, and she clutched the soft gray material in her hand and turned. Nothing but empty air greeted her. She licked her dry lips and ran a hand through her curls. A few weeks after ghost hunting, and I’m cracking up. Her eyes told her there was nothing there, but her instincts told her not to drop her guard. Frustrated, she walked from the workspace into the kitchen.

She pulled her Tardis blue teakettle from the cabinet and moved to the sink. The familiar task and the sound of running water entering the metal base eased the tension from her shoulders. I’ll have a nice cup of tea and head back to work on another level of the game. Pleased with her plan, she shut off the water and stepped away from the sink. Something ran past the window. She jumped, sloshing water everywhere. Her heart thudded. She set down the kettle and ran for the front door. Whoever it was must’ve been running at top speed, because she hadn’t registered more than a shadow. She swung the door open, and she stepped out onto the porch, glancing from the left to the right.

The street was quiet and empty, which was normal for ten o’clock in the morning. Her stomach dropped, and the sunlight pouring down did nothing to warm her. Not one to jump to conclusions, she ran down the stairs and around the corner of the house. There were no signs that a person had come through this way. A ball of ice formed in the pit of her stomach. She quickly retraced her steps and shut the front door behind her. Maybe it was some sort of bird. What kind of bird is shaped like a person? Her rational side warred with the part that had seen a ghost. She imagined Pierce teasing her about confusing reality with television and snorted. Maybe he’s right.

Brushing off the incident, she returned to the kitchen. Normal. Nothing sinister lurked in the bright space, and the air felt normal. She released a deep breath. This is what happens when you’re in your house too long working. Comforted, she finished making tea and trudged back to work.

* * * *

The sound of her phone drew her attention away from her project. She glanced at the clock and gasped. Four hours had passed. Rolling her neck to remove the stiffness, she grabbed the cell.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.” Pierce’s baritone washed over her, coaxing a smile.

“Hey, babe, how was your day?” The switch from friends to lovers hadn’t been the painfully awkward transition she’d feared.

“Long, but productive. Yours?”

“Pretty much the same.” Her thoughts returned to the odd sighting. She weighed the pros and cons of telling him.