Page 37 of Haunt Me, Maybe

“Still with me?”

“Yes.” The word slipped out easier than expected.

His hands continued their careful exploration, and every touch felt intentional—like he was memorizing my reactions. When my breath caught, he slowed. When my nails dug into his forearms, he tightened his hold. For once, my magic kept quiet. Not gone, but content. Like it, too, wanted to see what he would do next.

Every nerve in my thigh seemed to wake up at once; suddenly alert. My muscles tensed, and his fingertips pressed lightly in quiet reassurance before continuing their journey across my sensitive flesh. The thin scrap of fabric covering me offered little resistance—Wes easily moved it to the side, exposing me to the chill air of the attic.

A featherlight touch. A slow stroke through the slick mess my panties had kept hidden…and my knees clamped together like a drawbridge slamming shut.

Wes chuckled against my throat. “You’re so damn wet, Trouble. Are you sure you don’t want me to play with this pretty pussy?”

My cheeks warmed at how casually he used that word. “How do you know it’s pretty?”

Really not an important question right now, but it was the only one that came out. Wes laughed again and adjusted his hold on me, putting more pressure against my chest so that when he leaned further back, my upper body came with him.

“I’ll tell you as soon as you answer my question.” He nuzzled the tender skin under my ear. “Do you.” His tongue left a wet trail to my thundering pulse. “Want me.” The hand on my chest moved to my lower stomach and pressed, forcing me to grind down on the evidence of his own arousal. “To touch you and make you come?”

Goddess, I was never going to stop blushing at this rate. But…he didn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed, so why should I? I nodded frantically, honestly wishing he’d just do it before I completely lost my nerve.

“Are you sure, Aven? Because I won’t let you hide this time.”

When I nodded again, he brought his arm back up between my breasts and hooked his hand around my throat. He wasn’t choking me, but the move definitely felt like a command. An order to sit still. To take whatever he was about to show me.

“Good. And now, to answer your question…” He spread his knees wide, and because mine were perched on the outside of his, they had nowhere else to go except…open.

There was no hiding now, and short of climbing off his lap entirely, I wasn’t going to be able to close my legs again. I gulped at the blatant show of control and somehow felt myself grow impossibly wetter.

“Your pussy is pretty, and pink, and fucking soaked for me.” The hand on my throat moved to cup my jaw—thumb brushing the corner of my mouth on one side with the rest of his fingers on the other. He turned my head, directing it to where he wanted me to look. “See for yourself.”

I didn’t realize what he was talking about at first, not until I caught sight of a thin layer of frost gleaming on the corner of the glass. It was a mirror. A tall, old-fashioned, full-length mirror that was no longer in the far corner but propped against the wall directly across from us.

“That wasn’t there before,” I whispered, eyes comically wide.

Amusement flashed in his gaze; those amber eyes hooded with desire. “Being a ghost has its advantages.”

The mirror was ancient and gilded—historic, probably—but that wasn’t what held my attention. It was me. Seated in Wes’s lap, my body framed by his like it belonged there. My skirt was pushed high, all the way up to my waist on one side, and my legs were spread over his thighs.

The pale moon shone a spotlight on my creamy skin, highlighting the wetness that glistened there. I’d never seen myself like this before; with my mouth parted under flushed cheeks and my hips canted forward in invitation to the fingers patiently waiting for their turn to play.

I looked…undone. And Wes hadn’t really touched me yet. I was so not making it out of this with my heart intact.

“Do you still think I’m lying?” he asked, lust dripping from his voice.

His fingers drew circles on my upper thigh while his mouth went back to work, lavishing my neck, and the differences in those touches drove me insane. One finger reached over my bunched panties to part me. Under my sweater, Wes’s other hand went back to work, fondling my breasts with the occasional tweak of a nipple. All the while, his eyes never left mine in the mirror.

Our gazes remained locked as he dipped a second finger in the moisture from my core and used it to rub circles around my clit until my legs trembled. When they attempted to close again, he reprimanded me with a light slap to my thigh before returning to his delicate torture.

I thought my heart was going to give out from how maddeningly slow he moved, but then he used his thumb to press down on my clit and slid a finger in my tight opening at the same time, testing the muscles. My reflection’s mouth dropped open, and a gasp escaped when another finger joined the first. They were only in to the first knuckle, and already I felt stretched.

“So tight,” he purred. “But you’ll let me in, won’t you?”

A whimper was my only answer. Unconsciously, I rolled my hips in time with his shallow thrusts, until those fingers reached as far inside me as they could. It felt like he was under my skin, no matter how gently he moved. His wicked tongue trailed deliberately over the shell of my ear, but it couldn’t distract from the way those fingers pressed and curled, like they were seeking something deep inside.

“Goddess,” I moaned. “What are you doing to me?”

Head thrown back on his shoulder, I’d given up trying to beat him in the stare down. There were too many sensations to focus on. My body went taut then slack as he brushed against a spot that made colors burst behind my eyelids. Even my magic reacted, though it didn’t do more than coil beneath my skin.

Instead of surging outwards, it pooled where I was most sensitive, winding through me like a second pulse that matched my heart beat for beat. Wes brushed that spot inside me again, and my eyes flew open, a pleasured cry echoing through the attic.