Ghost Writer (Raven Maxim Book 1) (45 page)

Something mischievous danced
in his eyes…

The serene green no longer reminded her of Irish moss and ivy growing alongside a Dublin castle. Sloan’s eyes had turned dark and sinister, as though a stranger stood before her. His thin chain glistened against the hair on his chest, and his manly scent mixed with his cologne, creating the aroma that always sent her into a state of weakness. Her pussy clamped at his touch. Her underwear became a mess in an instant, the panties filling up with her feminine liquor that seeped out like water through a cracked dam. Sloan slid his thumb against his groin, back and forth, like a metronome. An involuntary arch of her lower back made his face crack with a sinful grin, as if he could see her clit swelling beneath the dark denim and white cotton boy shorts.

“Take your clothes off.”

“Are you sure you want to do this in here? I mean—”

His brows bunched, an expression of anger replacing desire as he reached for her jeans and yanked them down. The flesh of her thighs stung from the force of his movements. He tossed the garment across the room and did the same with her panties, but not before bringing them to his nose and taking a hearty inhale. She watched in shock as his eyes closed, then fluttered. Sitting up on her elbows, she inched away, but he seemed to become supersonic—suddenly lunging forward, he wrapped his free hand around her neck, while he enjoyed the aroma of her underclothes.

“You smell soooo good!” He groaned before tossing them onto the ground.

He stood before her, a smirk on his face and an unmentioned promise to fuck her to death. Snatching his zipper down, he stepped out of his pants and, just as quickly, his black boxer briefs hit the floor. Her heart rate accelerated when she caught sight of his massive erection. Lightning fast, he shoved her shirt up around her neck and covered her breast, roughly feeling her, squeezing her through the bra material. He kept exploring. His heavy weight pinned her down—his hard muscles, his brawn suffocating her. She could barely move. And yet, like some possessed monster, he positioned himself between her legs.

The dark intensity of his presence titillated and frightened her all at once. She suddenly screamed out and shuddered, caught by surprise when he entered her with a thrust so rough and strong, it stole her breath away.

He loosened his grip around her neck and rested his hand on her collarbone. She feared the desk would break from the way he took her. Her pussy stretched open, the intrusion rough and sexy, rude and delightful all at once. Tonight, her baby was not a gentle lover, but some beast beating her pussy up, his thrusts so hard and fast, she was certain she wouldn’t be walking straight for days. His moans echoed throughout the room, the clock struck, and every now and again, she could have sworn the overhead lights flickered.

As the seconds drew on, he turned a little gentler, kissing the side of her face with a softness that even a feather couldn’t emulate. Fingertips caressed her jawbone as he stared into her eyes, his expression possessive yet loving, all at once…

But she’d been fooled. For, as soon as he’d gained her trust, he slammed deep into her, causing her entire body to tremble from the impact. Cupping her ass, he forced her into his pounding pelvis, no inch of him unsheathed, no mercy given or her pussy spared.

She hated that she loved that slight discomfort; his thick, long cock would be her undoing. Bumping his groin into her clit, he slid up and down her body, sucking on her weak spot—the side of her neck.

“Oh shit…” Her pussy creamed as involuntary pelvic spasms radiated from her zone. The orgasm was so intense, she feared a charlie horse was creeping into her legs as they seized up and relaxed beneath him. “Oh God!” Her eyes clamped shut and she became dizzy. A soft trickle slithered down the crack of her ass as she came, messing up the man’s desk, leaving her juices behind.

He squelched her moans with a harsh kiss, then kept up his pace, his handling of her sure to leave bruises on her skin. Pressure returned around her neck as he grasped it, slammed into her, and emptied himself in copious bursts. His yells echoed out—loud, deep and haunting. Finally at rest, they hung on to each other, their sweat mingling. He throbbed inside her, quieted down. At that moment, her back gave another involuntary arch, an aftershock from her orgasm reminding her what he’d done…

As if coming out of a daydream, he raised his head from her breasts and looked into her eyes…weary, tired.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his words dipped in concern. But were they an afterthought, or perhaps his first utterances as his true self for the evening?

“No, I’ll be fine.” She smiled before kissing his forehead.

“Shit… I
was
too rough.” He turned away from her briefly. Then she saw the remorse in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Emerald.” He softly kissed her cheek, gliding a hand over her partially exposed nipple. “I don’t know what came over me… I can’t explain it. As soon as I opened the door and looked at you, I had to have you. You looked so beautiful… and I missed you. We hadn’t made love in a while.”

She chuckled lazily as she ran her fingers through his hair. “I’d only been gone a few days…”

“Might as well have been a month.” He laid a soft kiss on her cheek. With a sigh, he slid out of her, took her by the hand and helped her up. “Let’s take this show to the bedroom.”

He scooped her up into his arms and carried her out of the office, up the stairs and to his bedroom. After placing her down onto the bed, he made his way over to his dresser.

“Now.” He lit a large light blue candle with a match, then shook the flame away. “How about this time, I promise to be gentle…” He nestled against her body under the sheets. Lifting her shirt the remainder of the way off and plucking her breasts from the confines of the bra, he bent down to suck and lick the buds, first one and then the other, making her sigh and coo. His tongue did a deliciously nasty wet dance against her skin.

“I think you were possessed…” she slurred, the words tumbling out before she could think.

“I knew
exactly
what I was doing…”

“Hmmm, so you roughed me up intentionally… So your apology was fake?” she teased.

“The apology…was…real,” he said between tit kisses, occasionally glancing up her way, until he paused altogether and looked at her sternly. “The way I fucked you was what I wanted at the time, and you wanted it, too.”

“I did, huh?”

“Yeah… your body told me you did.” His kisses drew more intense as each second passed. He drew her nipple into his mouth, eliciting a moan. Her stomach clamped and her pussy sang in anticipation. “You missed my dick moving in and out of you…in and out. The warmth of your pussy made me want you even more… the depth… the pleasure you gave me… you missed that, all of it…”

“I did…oh my goodness I did…” She closed her eyes as her body heated from his touch and his words.

“I know you did.” He slid up her body, held her tight around the waist. “I thought about you every day.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “
All
day… thought about all the places I want to take you, the things I want to show you… all the different ways I want to fuck you.” He played tenderly with her hair, while they stared at one another, their mouths open and a mere centimeter or two away from touching, as if they were trying to steal one another’s breath.

“I thought about you, too. I took out…” She gulped, gathering her words and streaming them together. “I took out my vibrator and played with myself one night… imagining it was you…
wishing
it was you inside me…”

“And how did I feel?” He smirked before nestling in the crook of her neck, delivering firm pecks.

“Not as good as the
real
you.”

“Well, I’m here now.” He shifted to pull her down the bed by her ankles, bringing her legs wide open. Placing her left ankle over his neck, he guided himself slowly inside, making her coo and hiss. With a paced rhythm, he kept pushing until his glorious dick disappeared deep inside of her. Once again she felt the man’s weight; his body felt like protection from a world she could no longer tolerate.

She looked up at the ceiling as her body geared back and forth from his thrusts. They soon came together, but he was far from done with her. Moments later, Sloan had her on her stomach, practically hogtied as he plunged deep within her, making her eyes water. He showed no mercy, taking her again and again, never seeming to exhaust or tire. She was falling apart, the loving so good, so overwhelming. But she couldn’t stop; she was under his spell, accepting everything he gave. The theater date had come and gone, and neither made any mention of their forgotten plans.

The next day, when the sun rose and light crept through his massive bedroom window, she gripped him tight, her body hot, sweaty, and beaten with love and lust. Sloan moved steadily within her, weariness in his eyes, but he appeared unable to get his fill…

What drove him? What drove
them
? She was no longer convinced something supernatural had transpired… that he’d been taken over by some invisible force, a sex crazed ghoul determined to have another go at it from his seat in the afterlife. No, this act of sensuality was simply
him
. This was Sloan, and she was what he wanted, so he had her, as much as he could get, until he just couldn’t do it any longer.

Just as her thoughts drifted to that notion, he slumped on the bed in utter exhaustion and drifted to sleep. Her tender pussy was grateful for the reprieve. He’d made love to her over and over again that night, with only brief breaks. She felt a bit like a prisoner to his sexual needs, and she liked it… The dirtiest thing was the helplessness, the way he made her his so many times, claimed her with his cock in his time of need. He’d had her every which way, and her body had done things she didn’t think possible. She tingled all over. Emerald had needed the release after the week she’d had… and she needed him, too…

And wasn’t ashamed to say it…

When had this
ever
happened? The sex was ridiculously good. Emerald’s pussy was like a wet clam; the sucker snapped back and gripped his cock in ways he could barely describe. He’d fucked her all damn night, his endurance even surprising him. He delighted in the way she sucked his cock, she loved how he gulped her pussy, and they both enjoyed when he’d finger fucked her tight little ass, too…

They’d had the time of their lives.

Sloan lay in the bed with his arm propped behind his head, one leg hanging over the side, and a cigarette between his fingers. He blew out a wisp of smoke, cast his sleeping beauty a brief glance, and stared into space. Though his muscles felt tight and sore from the erotic workout, he felt better than he had in years.

He felt invigorated, as if new life had been breathed inside of him. He looked at her once more, enjoying the way the morning sunrays landed across her bare brown skin. They broke through the sheer curtains and blinds, thin cascades of glowing light kissing her form. She became his summertime in the dead of winter.

The physical urge he’d felt before when she’d first arrived returned with a vengeance.

Her naked body called to him, her small, gorgeous breasts peeking from beneath the comforter, as well as her red painted toes. Placing his cigarette down in the ashtray, he gently touched her shoulder, caressing her. He pushed his primitive urge aside, determined to allow her much needed rest. He didn’t wish to wake her, but simply to touch her, make sure he hadn’t dreamt this entire relationship up.

Once he felt her soft flesh, he smiled, happy that she was definitely real. Retrieving his cigarette, he took another long draw.

Through the haze of smoke, he could make out the family photo album still lying on his dresser, untouched since the moment he’d abandoned it. He stared at the thing with disdain. Placing his cigarette back down, he rose carefully from the bed, so as to not disturb her. He retrieved the photo album and crawled back under the sheets. A sudden coolness filled the room when he turned to the first set of pictures.

He spotted a photograph of himself as a baby on his mother’s lap, his sister standing at his side. His father had probably taken the photo; otherwise, Mom looked like a single mother. The black and white image was in fairly good condition, despite being slightly water damaged and possibly having been exposed to too much sun. He turned another page to see himself dressed in a baseball outfit. He looked about seven, and his two younger brothers, chubby cheeked with broad grins, were sitting on the grass while he held the bat proudly. He didn’t recall that day or when the photo was taken. He wished he had, for his smile looked genuine. This could have been one of the last times he was able to muster a grin and really mean it.