Whispers Read online

  She heard his footfalls as he walked across the floor. He paced back and forth in silence. Rose waited. With each second that passed, the air thickened with sexual energy.

  What was he doing? Her knees shook, and moisture filled her channel. He wouldn't leave her like this, would he? She wanted to move, she really did, but he had said not to. Rose was afraid that if she straightened, the spell over the room would be broken, and she would be denied what she really craved.

  So instead she occupied herself with remembering how he had looked when she first saw him, how tall and commanding he'd appeared as he plunged his cock deep inside Jonathan. Would he look at her with the same intense gaze? Would he claim her with the same demanding thrusts?

  The footsteps fell silent as he stopped behind her. “One question remains, my dear."

  "What?” Rose cursed her shaking voice.

  He chuckled. “Should I take you here?” He moved his hand between her legs, then slid his fingers over her opening. The anticipation made her damp, and he moved easily between her folds. Rose gasped at the intrusion, then groaned as pleasure rang out through her body. He ran his finger back and forth, collecting moisture and teasing the sensitive nerve endings he found there.

  Then he slid his finger back, drawing a long, sensual line from her slit up to the small opening in her backside. “Or should I take you here?"

  Rose shuddered as his finger ran around the outside of her opening. She had heard whispers through the ton of other women taking part in such acts, but even though the women referred to it as scandalous, their glowing eyes and knowing smiles suggested it was also pleasurable.

  Would he take her there? Would it be as enjoyable as others suggested? She moaned and pushed her hips up into his waiting hand, wanting to find out.

  "I see you like this. Have you done it before?” He pressed the tip of his finger inside her opening, causing a bolt of sensation to race up her middle. Desire so deep and powerful flowed through her body. She was unable to respond.

  "Have you done this before?” he repeated.

  She shook her head, her throat too constricted with need to speak. Her husband was husband mostly in name, but the few times he had come to her bed, he had always taken her the same way. The thought of Lionel taking her from behind, just like he had Jonathan, excited her beyond all reason.

  "I believe Jonathan didn't take you here.” He inched his finger a little farther inside her body.

  Pain exploded, then quickly subsided. Rose groaned as her muscles stretched to accommodate the intrusion and nodded. He didn't move his finger in far, and the sensations were already so intense. What would happen if he pushed his finger all the way inside her?

  He removed his hand, and Rose heard movement behind her. “Perhaps you'll find a different method to be more...satisfying."

  "Yes.” She eased her hips back as he glided his finger around her opening once more. He felt warm and slick.

  "This will help ease the pain.” He inched the tip of his finger inside her.

  Rose gasped and braced herself for the pain, but all she felt was the wonderful stretch of her muscles. She relaxed as he hovered around her opening, then pushed a little farther inside. Pressure built, and she hissed as her body overloaded with erotic sensation.

  "Relax,” he whispered. “Don't worry. I'll take care of you.” He retreated for a moment, then returned. This time his finger seemed slicker than before.

  "What is on your finger?” she asked.

  "Oil.” He slid back, then thrust a little deeper. “I keep it close, just in case."

  He didn't have to explain why; Rose had seen him with Jonathan before. Rose relaxed the muscles in her backside and found that when she did, his finger could slip in easier. He entered her up to his first knuckle, then paused.

  "How does that feel?” he asked.

  "Incredible."

  "Good.” He eased back and plunged in again, this time going a little farther. “And this?"

  She groaned as he wiggled his finger. Pressure built, but so did the pleasure. She moistened her lips and nodded, unable to speak.

  He worked with a steady advance and retreat until he pushed his finger completely inside. He held it there, deep within her body, letting her adjust. Then he retreated and repeated the same slow torture with two fingers.

  Every advance sent ripple of excitement through her. Every retreat left her empty. By the time he worked the second finger completely inside, Rose was writhing under his hand. He thrust both fingers to the hilt, then spread them apart. She groaned as tendrils of desire swirled along her muscles, warming each and every nerve ending in her channel.

  He withdrew his fingers, and Rose heard some rustling behind her. She turned her head but couldn't see what was going on. She tried to straighten.

  "Don't move.” Lionel's voice was sharp and commanding; there was no denying the low, husky desperation underneath.

  Rose bent her head and waited as erotic heat built between them. Soon after his command, Lionel placed his cock at her opening. “There we are."

  He curled his body over hers, placing his hands on her breasts and teasing them through her light green dress. “Remember to relax,” he whispered.

  She moaned as he pinched her sensitive tips. Pain sparked, then quickly gave way to pleasure. He kissed her neck, taking his time as he explored her skin. He worked his way down from her ear, then along the curve of her neck, to her shoulder. Lionel brushed the long tendrils of hair from her neck, exposing her skin. He teased and caressed her shoulders with his lips and tongue, building the heat between her legs. Every touch rippled through her like water, softening her body and fogging her mind.

  When she didn't think she could take any more, he straightened and grabbed her hips. Gently he eased the tip of his cock inside her opening.

  Rose gasped at the intrusion. She tried to relax as her body stretched and pressure built in her lower abdomen. He pulled back, and she reached behind her, grabbing his hand on her hip. “No."

  He chuckled. “Relax, darling. I'm just trying to ease the pain.” He thrust again, this time filling her more than before. She shuddered as he held still, letting her body adjust to the fullness. The pressure receded slightly, and pleasure poured through her. She wiggled her hips, urging him onward. He retreated an inch, then nudged forward once more. Back and forth he worked, until the tip of his erection pressed against an inner ring of muscle deep in her core.

  "Are you ready?” he asked.

  "I'm ready."

  She curled her fingers into the couch as he thrust past the ring. His balls tapped her backside as he drove himself home. There was a momentary explosion of pain, and then the pressure evaporated, and pleasure seeped into every inch of her body. He held himself still, once again letting her adjust. She squeezed her muscles, eliciting a groan from the handsome man behind her.

  "Be careful,” he said. “If you want me to go slow, then you better stay still."

  She smiled, liking the control that she held over him. “I don't want you to go slow.” She squeezed her muscles again for emphasis.

  "Wicked girl."

  Rose smiled at the touch of humor in his voice. She liked pleasing him and wondered if he'd let her please him in other ways as well. She closed her eyes and imagined herself bending low and running her lips down the length of his cock. What would he taste like? Would he whisper her name like he did Jonathan's?

  Lionel bent over, placing soft kisses along her shoulder blades and back. He reached around and slid his hand under her skirts, then eased his finger between her folds once more. Rose held her body still as he explored her, touching every sensitive nerve ending he could find. He dipped in, then out of her opening, caressing her slick channel with the pad of his finger.

  Rose groaned and bowed her head as desire rose up and swallowed her whole. With each push of his fingers, he performed shallow thrusts into her backside. To be invaded from both the front and behind created new, powerful sensations that Rose ha
d never thought possible. It was perfect, sweetly perfect. The only thing that could possibly make this better would be if Jonathan could join them.

  Lionel found her clit, then pressed it. Pleasure rocked through her body, ricocheting through her muscles and chest. She groaned as her need overtook her, blanking her mind and filling her with desire.

  He pulled back his hips as far as his arms would allow, then thrust once more, filling her. Rose shivered as her passion blanketed her body and fogged her mind.

  "How did that feel?"

  "Wonderful."

  "Good.” He did it again, this time pressing her clit as he drove himself home. “And that?"

  Rose swallowed and tried to catch her breath. “Even better."

  He kissed her neck, then did it again. Rose closed her eyes as he began the steady back-and-forth rhythm. Every time he retreated, she whimpered. Every time he thrust, he pressed her clit, causing a surge of erotic sensation. A longing unlike anything she had ever felt before covered her body. She began to reach for that moment of bliss. Her thoughts dissolved into a fog of desire as his movements became harder, more urgent. Soon she was crying out with each thrust. A sense of urgency consumed her, and soon she started racing toward that unseen goal. Lionel's ragged breath brushed past her ear, and it sounded as if he struggled with his own surging passion.

  Then all of a sudden, he straightened and grabbed her hips. His thrusts became faster, harder. Rose's mind blanked, and she concentrated on the erotic emotions building in her body. Higher and higher she soared like a balloon, stretched to the limit. Lionel made a rough, throaty noise as his thrusts became more demanding and his fingers curled into her flesh.

  The pressure kept building, and Rose thought she would drown in her own need. Then, on the next thrust, something in the air changed. The pressure burst, and her world exploded in pleasure. The warm, yellow glow she noticed earlier flashed around her, bathing everything in its light. Rose cried out Lionel's name as ecstasy muted her senses.

  Lionel continued to thrust hard and deep, stretching out her body out on a plane of pleasure. She felt herself float in space, as if she was not quite a part of her body or this world. She couldn't see—there was too much light—but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but her own joy and peace.

  From somewhere far away, Rose heard Lionel groan. She felt him stiffen and drive deep inside her body. Over and over again, he filled her, each time calling her name. She mentally reached out to him, wanting him to share her happiness, but it was not to be. In the next moment, she felt herself floating back down from her place of happiness and into reality.

  The slow, steady decline from her elation left her satisfied yet saddened. It felt as if something was missing.

  Lionel pulled away and gathered her into his arms. He held her close for a few brief moments as they both caught their breath. Then he walked over and laid her on the couch. She smiled to herself as he smoothed her dress over her legs. She could get used to all this attention.

  She reached up and wiggled her fingers. “Join me."

  He glanced at the couch. “I don't know if there's room."

  "I don't care.” She wedged herself into the crack between the back of the couch and the seat, giving him more room.

  He settled himself on the couch next to her, then turned them so she lay on top of him. “How do you feel?"

  She smiled as she put her head on his chest. “Why do you keep asking me that?"

  "Because when someone like you touches someone like us, there's a chance...” His voice trailed off, but it didn't matter. Rose felt too good, too content to care. She played with his hand, finally lacing her fingers with his.

  "You're still glowing,” she observed. “Just like Jonathan."

  He lifted their joined hands and sighed, a long and heavy exhale, and then lowered them back down. “That appears to be the case."

  She felt his disappointment, his sadness. Rose wasn't sure if she fully understood his emotions or their cause, but she felt a strong need to comfort him. She closed her eyes and held him tight against her. “I'm sorry, Lionel."

  He patted her head, then ran his fingers through her hair. “Me too, Rose. Me too."

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  Chapter Four

  Jonathan dropped his book as large, a dark shadow loomed over him. He looked up into Lionel's menacing gaze.

  "You were going to use Rose to break your end of the curse. Then you were both going to leave me here in this old house to rot. Admit it."

  Jonathan edged back on the bed, away from his lover. “I wasn't thinking. I saw an opportunity and I—"

  Hurt etched Lionel's features as he lowered his arms. “Why would you betray me?"

  Jonathan moved his jaw and struggled to speak. “Let me explain."

  Lionel scowled down at Jonathan. “You better have a damn good explanation—"

  "There was no trickery, I swear."

  "No? Then why didn't you come look for me?"

  "I did search for you, but you couldn't be found. I didn't want her to leave us."

  "You didn't search very hard,” Lionel mumbled. “We're both trapped in this house. Where could I have gone?"

  Jonathan closed his eyes. “You're right. I'm sorry. I-I just got so excited when I felt all of her raw magic. I didn't want to risk her leaving."

  "So you had sex with her?"

  Jonathan opened his eyes and met his lover's gaze. “I thought if she could pull me over, I could work to bring you over as well. If she left with both of us still stuck in the spirit world...” He sighed and straightened. “Then we'd both be lost.” He rubbed his neck. “I never would have abandoned you, not after everything we have been through."

  "Liar."

  Jonathan sighed. “It doesn't matter now, does it? It didn't work.” He ran his hand over his face. “She creates such strong emotions inside of me, Lionel. My head was filled with emotion, and it was so hard to think. I should have found some other way to keep her here until you could be found. It's just that the possibility of being free from this place was so overwhelming. Hell, she was overwhelming...” He hesitated as a familiar scent hung in the air. Jonathan narrowed his eyes at Lionel. “But you would already know that, wouldn't you?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "That's her scent on your skin, isn't it?"

  "I—"

  "You had sex with her as well, didn't you?"

  The fury on Lionel's face immediately evaporated. “I don't know what came over me. I was going to tell you."

  "Exactly. It was the same with me. That woman creates so much energy, it's hard to think of much beyond our pressing need.” They were both caught up in the moment, both guilty of grabbing for the freedom that was within their reach. “It no longer matters."

  "You're right.” Lionel sighed and rubbed his chin. “I'm sorry about the outburst. This whole situation has been one frustration after another. And then she walks into our lives and I think..."

  "She bewitched us."

  "Yes.” Lionel's smile lit up his face. “Although I can't say that I'm sorry for it."

  "Neither am I.” Jonathan exchanged a knowing glance with his lover. No human could touch them the way she did, or cause such a surge of desire. She had so much power, so much potential, and yet nothing had happened when they had sex. Jonathan shook his head and sprawled out on the bed. “It doesn't matter what you or I did. We were both too caught up in her presence to think rationally.” He rolled onto his back and once again stared up at the ceiling.

  Lionel began to pace. “She was so..."

  "Intense. Yet so innocent."

  "Yes.” Lionel stopped and rubbed his chin. “She probably has no idea she has the power to help us."

  "Does she?” Jonathan frowned. “I don't know. Maybe Catherine lied to us."

  "Maybe she was mistaken.” Lionel began to pace once more.

  "Mistaken? She was an accomplished witch. She should have known how to undo her own magic.” Unpleasa
nt memories flooded back from the night she had come to visit. Catherine had paid the ultimate sacrifice to spare their lives. Didn't they owe it to her to make the most of what they had, to stop wishing for more?

  "She had no reason to lie to us,” Lionel said. “She was an outcast, just like us."

  "She said only someone who could speak to ghosts, someone like her, could free us.” Jonathan sat up and rubbed his chin. The answer was there, along the edge of his consciousness. He couldn't help but feel as if he was missing something, and if he could just figure it out, then everything would fall into place, and they would be able to leave the spirit world and become real again. “Rose can talk to us. She even moves objects from their incorporeal to their real state.” It couldn't be coincidence. She had to be the one that they were waiting for.

  "We touched her, and nothing happened,” Lionel said.

  "I know.” And that was what made everything so maddening. It seemed Rose could move objects across the worlds but not people. Maybe they were mistaken and Rose wasn't the one they sought. Maybe she wasn't strong enough. If Rose was destined to break the curse, shouldn't they be real by now? All Catherine had to do was mutter a few words and touch them, and they both were dragged into this ghostly existence. Surely something similar would bring them out of it again.

  Catherine said witches’ magic was based on strong emotion. That night, all three of them had held enough fear and desperation to feed a coven full of witches. Maybe that was it, the link they were missing. Fear. Could they make Rose fear them? It would be difficult, if not impossible. Then again, Catherine had said that any strong emotion would work. So perhaps they could find some other emotion besides fear...

  Jonathan drove his fingers through his hair. “When I felt the surge of desire in her presence, I had thought that maybe..."

  "I know.” Lionel stopped pacing and stared at the door. “I thought it too. If we could make her feel strong emotion, and then we'd be dragged back into the real world."

  Jonathan made a frustrated sound and reached for a pillow. “Why doesn't it work?” He laid back down and pulled the pillow over his head in disgust.