HauntMe (4 page)

Bram

He watched her typing, frustrated that he couldn’t call out
to her. He couldn’t even make his voice manifest in her mind. Why had they been
able to speak so clearly earlier, and even felt each other’s skin, but were so
far apart tonight?

When he’d watched her in the dressing room, touching
herself, he’d felt something sizzle in the air. Electricity, sexuality…he
wasn’t sure, but it had sparked between them, parting the veil between his
world and hers.

Could that be it? The hornier he got, the more he could
touch her?

He followed her inside, his body—or whatever it was, his
sense
of self
—passing easily through the glass door without disturbing the alarm.
He trailed her up the stairs, into the bathroom and watched his wife unzip her
dress. Bram hovered behind her, observing her in the mirror over her shoulder.
Her reflection was the only one—over the years, he’d have forgotten what he
looked like if it hadn’t been for the photos Minerva kept of him.

He watched the dress slide across her skin. Bram felt warmth
where he imagined his cock might be, if he were still alive.

Well, if getting horny was what he needed, it was time for
an experiment.

Wet

Minerva eyed herself in the bathroom mirror, trying to see
her body as Bram would. Had he watched her grow older all these years, counting
each new wrinkle as it appeared? Had he been following her for that long?

Or was this haunting new? Had the presence of the spectacled
man at her show tonight drawn him back from the afterlife for the first time?
She shivered, remembering the heart in his hands, reminiscent of the way her
husband’s body had been found.

Was he just now seeing the ravages of age on his wife?

She unzipped the dress, shrugging the straps from her
shoulders and letting the sequined fabric fall to the floor. A red bra held her
breasts high. Curls danced around her shoulders. Freckles traced their way
across her collarbone, down her chest. She reached behind her back and
unclasped the bra, letting it fall to the floor. Her nipples sprang free, dark
smudges against pale breasts. They were larger than on her wedding night with
Bram. Heavier. She held the orbs in her hands, weighing them in her fingers.
Her nipples had pebbled already. Every inch of her skin felt sensitive and
alive.

Could he see her now?

In the mirror, she watched her fingers trail downward from
her breasts to her stomach, cupping the soft flesh. Her body was no longer that
of a young woman. The faint hint of pale-pink stretch marks were visible by her
hips. The thatch of brown curls between her legs held speckles of white.

She teased at the hair with her fingers, spreading her legs.

“Can you see me?” she asked to the air. “I miss the way you
did this.” Minerva ran a finger in between the folds of her labia, teasing
herself. Her other hand fanned at her pubic hair, moving it aside for a better
reach. She moved over her clit, keeping her touch light and delicate.

“I want you to touch me like this.”

In the past, she would have responded in her mind with his
voice. Her best fantasizing came from remembering him. But she wasn’t
remembering or imagining now—she was listening.

“Please, Bram?”

There was a soft brush on her shoulder. Her own hair, moving
in a breeze from nowhere? His mouth? She couldn’t tell.

“Please.” She pressed a finger inside herself, up the
channel of her womanhood as far as it would go, flicking against her G-spot.
Her other hand tickled her curls. She watched herself in the mirror, her red
lips partially open, breathing quickly, her breasts heaving with the motion,
her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. The space between her legs grew slick with
wetness as she moved a second finger inside herself.

As she watched in the mirror, the curls at her shoulder
moved aside, slowly, deliberately. There was no breeze. She felt a warm breath
in her ear and knew it was him. He was speaking, though she couldn’t make out
the words.

“I miss you,” she said and with those words she felt a
touch, delicate and moist, on her earlobe. His tongue stayed for a moment,
teasing her, then moved, licking down her neck, across the top of her shoulder.
The ghost—she was sure it was him now—placed kisses across her shoulders,
though she saw nothing in the mirror. “I miss you, Bram.”

She closed her eyes and took a step backward. The bare skin
of her ass brushed up against warmth, against
him
, her husband, and her
shoulder blades pressed into his strong chest. Her fingers inside herself
worked faster, sliding in her juices, then another hand joined them against her
clit, flicking fingers at her delicate pearl. Minerva breathed hard and she
could feel his chest moving in synch against her back. His other hand wrapped
itself around her waist. She worried about what he’d find there—her curves were
significantly curvier these days—but her fears were eased with the growing
erection against her ass, slipping in between her cheeks. His pre-cum dripped
down the side of her thigh, mixing with her own wetness. She leaned harder
against him, removing her hands from herself, grasping at him instead, slipping
his cock between her legs, sliding it inside the folds of her labia, willing
him to thrust, yearning for the friction between them as it had been in the
past.

But then with strong, nearly corporeal hands, he turned her
around, placing her ass against the bathroom counter. Minerva’s eyes flew open,
seeing nothing in front of her, no ghost, no husband. But she could still feel
him against her body.

And then the lights went out. The bathroom was dark, with
little light from the window this late at night, and it no longer mattered what
she could or couldn’t see.

Hot, wet lips pressed against hers. She moaned, opening her
mouth to let him inside. His tongue danced with hers, slick and wanting. He
held her close, her breasts smashed firmly against his strong chest. She ran
fingers down his arms, tracing the muscles exactly as they had been seven years
ago. She let them follow across his chest, through the light dusting of hair,
finding a nipple that she tweaked with her thumb.

She thought she heard him moan.

And then his cock, his glorious cock, which she’d missed
every day for seven years, pressed in between her legs. Their hips moved as if
glued together and she angled herself, waiting for him to find her cunt in the
darkness. The tip of him nestled at her entrance, firm and hot. She reached for
his cock again but he grabbed her hands, holding one up to his mouth, placing
small bites along her palm. She buckled at the knees, done in by the
familiarity of it, by how much she missed the scraping of his teeth on her
skin, so gentle.

“Take me, Bram.” Why wouldn’t he fuck her? She was wet and
waiting and ready for him. “Why are you here, if not to have me?”

To protect you
, the voice in her head said. It was in
his accent, but was it her speaking this time, or him? How could he protect her
if he was dead?

“Sexual energy,” she gasped. “Is that what you need?”

As if it were an answer, his tongue plunged into her mouth
again. She sucked his saliva into her, wanting everything she could get. The
more she could give him, the stronger he would be, she realized. The more they
could share…

She pulled him with her toward the shower. Damn, but she
would have loved one of these when they were married—two showerheads, one on
each end, pretty much wasted without the ability to share them. She broke off the
kiss reluctantly, sucking on his lip. Then she turned and started the shower,
fumbling for the taps in the dark. Her hands slid off the metal more than once
before she was able to grip it and turn. She braced herself against the cold
tile of the shower walls. “Don’t leave me, Bram,” she warned him, scared to
break contact for even that brief moment. She felt his hand run down her side,
tickling the skin, and felt better. She had both showerheads running now and
turned the water up, keeping it hot.

“Remember Escondido Falls, Bram?” she asked, panting. They’d
spent their honeymoon there in the Santa Monica Mountains. They’d gone to the
falls on a cloudy day, with rain on and off keeping the tourists away. They’d
made love under the falls, taking pleasure in the heat of each other’s bodies
contrasting against the cold rushing water.

When Minerva stepped into the shower it was like being there
again, but a total contrast in temperature. The heat of the shower rained down
on her, the dual heads covering her body with water like a monsoon. Her eyes
were beginning to get used to the darkness and she could see water all around
her, sparkling in whatever light must be leaking into the house from the moon.

She’d lost Bram at some point and reached out with both hands,
panicking—where had he gone? Her eyes searched the shadows blindly. Her fingers
found him first, his skin now wet and slick. She pulled him close, digging her
nails into his back, remembering the roughness of his male skin, skating
downward to the light dusting of hair on his ass. She pulled him against her,
fixing her mouth on his nipples, his chest, his arms, his shoulders, wanting to
taste all of him. And she could now. Her senses were filling in. The rush of
the water around her echoed in her ears and the clean scent of it mixed with
that citrus Earl Grey of Bram that she so remembered.

“I can smell you,” she told him and she leaned in to him,
inhaling. His chest moved against hers and she imagined him doing the same.
What would she smell like? Sweat from the stress of the show? Sandalwood like
her shampoo? Something else?

Whatever it was, it clearly pleased him. His cock was hard
again between her legs.

“Take me, Bram.” She closed her eyes, spreading her legs…

And then she opened her eyes and they were there, in her
memory, under the falls. The roar of the water was a hundred times louder than
her shower could have produced. The water was cold and she snuggled into her
new husband’s body for warmth. As it ran down their bodies it felt like a
thousand tiny icicles piercing their skins. And the stars—they were so
beautiful, just as she remembered.

“Look,” she said to him, pointing skyward at seven bright
stars. “It’s the Pleiades.”

Now she could see his face, the tan skin, dark, heavy brows,
the boyish dimples as he gazed at her, too enraptured to look heavenward to the
stars. He was as young as when they’d married.

But no, not as young. She could see the slight silvering of
the skin by his bottom lip, a scar from a football game he’d played with her
brothers. He’d received that scar at least five years after their honeymoon.
Then he was as young as the day he’d died. A ghost.

Water ran through his hair, turning it black and plastering
it to his cheeks. He grinned at her, perfect white teeth, full lips and that
tiny scar, so familiar. She pulled him close. They kissed again, tongues
dancing, battling for supremacy, proclaiming their love.

In between kisses she said it again, “I’ve missed you,” and
she heard his baritone say it back. Somehow she heard him over the falls,
though she remembered that on that day they couldn’t hear each other at all.
“Minerva, Minerva, I’ve missed you so much. I want you. Watching you every day
for this long—you have no idea how much I’ve wanted you.”

With that he finally thrust inside her. Just as they had
over a decade ago on their honeymoon, they tripped and fell against the rocks,
laughing, Minerva’s back scraping against the cliff face and Bram apologizing,
all the while with his cock inside her.

“You’re hurt,” he said.

“Nothing to apologize for, my love,” she said and she
grabbed at his ass, pulling his cock in deeper. He held her against the rocks,
bracing her firmly in his arms so she wouldn’t slip, and thrust into her again
and again, the girth of him filling her completely. She watched his eyes, the
pupils dilated with pleasure. She clutched her inner muscles against him and he
leaned forward, whispering in her ear. They fought jokingly against each other,
Minerva squeezing tight and holding his cock inside her, Bram pulling out
slowly, deliciously, before moving with a hard, quick thrust to end up inside
her again. His hands held her upright while hers wandered in his hair, across
his back, down his chest, wanting to feel every part of him that she’d missed
all these years.

But of course it couldn’t go on forever. They reached a
fever-pitch, with him panting in her ear, thrusting faster, in time with the
rushing of the waterfall overhead. She felt his release inside her. Her body
shuddered as she came and came again, the stress of the day evaporating with
the water, falling far below them into the rushing stream.

She let heavy eyelids fall. He pulled out of her, his cum
trickling from between her legs in time with the water. Everything was a haze
of liquid, the roar of the waterfall melding into the smooth rush of water from
her showerhead. The throbbing between her legs coupled with the sound of the
water filled her with a sense of purpose and power. Minerva leaned back and her
skin slipped over the tile surface of the wall, smooth where the cliffside had
been rocky.

She opened her eyes and she was in her bathroom shower,
alone once more.

Minerva gasped out loud at the loss of him. She couldn’t see
him, even the shadow of him in the darkness of the bathroom, or feel his cock inside
her. She reached out blindly with her hands but there was nothing in front of
her except the controls for the shower. She reluctantly turned the tap and the
water stuttered to a halt.

In the darkness, she wrung out her hair. Her physical
movements were on autopilot while her mind raced. Where was Bram? Had that been
real or had the waterfall simply been in her mind? If it had been a figment of
her imagination, was he as well? Why, then, did she feel as if she’d just been
completely and utterly fucked? Why was she feeling the aftermath of an orgasm
still rattling happily through her body?

Her legs were numb as she stepped out of the shower. She
grabbed a red towel from the rack and enveloped herself in its plushness,
burying her face in the warmth. She wanted to cry an ocean at his loss, but her
body refused to cooperate. No tears came and she stood, face buried in the
towel, mourning him all over again.

But the pleasure between her legs had told her otherwise,
hadn’t it?

She wasn’t sure.

When Minerva finally pulled on her robe, not bothering with
panties or pajamas beneath it, slipping into bed beneath her Egyptian cotton
sheets, she thought she heard,
I love you, Nerv.

Was it only in her head?

“I love you, Bram,” she replied.

She closed her eyes and, in the aftermath of an orgasm and a
memory, she fell into a deep sleep.

It didn’t last long.