The Haunted (Sleeping with Monsters Book 1) (7 page)

The
next morning, most of the marks on her ass were gone, and those that remained
could be blamed on a fall down the stairs – the same fall that she’d say
claimed her knees. She dressed conservatively and didn’t feel the ghost’s
presence at all, which was probably easier on them both.

Richard
came home around mid-day – accidentally setting the alarm off. The entire house
shrieked as if in protest at his arrival, and she and Arthur ran to the entry
way hall.

“Oh
pet, my love, let me look at you –“ Richard said, flinging his bags to the
ground. He always made a production of his returns, sometimes she felt like
that was half the reason he left, so that he could return home the conquering
hero. Arthur picked up the bags while Richard pulled her close. She could smell
his aftershave and feel the tickle of a sixteen-hour-long-flight beard against
her brow. “I missed you so much.”

“I
missed you too,” she said, realizing as she did so that it was a lie.

She
had been taken on the very tile they now stood together on. She’d been forced
onto her knees, head down, ass up, and she’d been fucked until her pussy had come
around another man’s cock. Daphne forced a smile up at him. “How was Tokyo?”

“Miserable.
Everywhere is miserable without you.”

She
shook her head. Her lies, she could stomach, his, not so much. “That’s laying
it on a little thick, Richard.”

“What,
I’m not allowed to miss my wife?” He pinched her ass and she jumped as the
ghost’s bruises stung. “Show me what you’ve unpacked – starting with the
bedroom,” he said, beginning to grope at her.

Daphne
remembered when she’d looked forward to these days, him mauling her when he
came home, how their lovemaking then made all the absences worthwhile. She
hadn’t known then that he was merely searching for absolution after his
indiscretions. But now that she had indiscretions of her own – and she needed
this house and she wanted a child --

She
grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs.

They
were both putting on a performance for the other, like a school talent show.
Him the loving husband, her the loving wife, both knowing they were pretending,
desperately hoping the other one wouldn’t catch on. He threw his suit jacket
and tie to the floor, while she wriggled out of jeans and pulled up her shirt.

He
stopped unbuttoning his shirt at the sight of her knees. “What’re those from?”

“I
tripped and fell. You should see my ass –“ she explained.

“I
should see your ass all right,” he growled, and crossed the bedroom to her.

Richard
was bigger than she was. She’d always liked that about him, how it always
seemed like he was stronger than her. She knew differently now – could he have
taken the ghost’s paddling? Sat there and accepted it, worked through the pain
and come out whole on the far side? – bur when he picked her up and threw her
onto their bed she didn’t fight. He yanked her underwear down, leaving her bra
and his undershirt and pants on and mounted up, like he wanted inside her so
bad he couldn’t wait.

For
her part, the clothing between them became part of her armor. He wasn’t
touching all of her, there were parts of her he couldn’t see. And so when his
erection nudged between her legs, thrusting at her dry pussy she still felt
like her own being. She would give this small part of her over, the part that
lived between her legs, but the rest of her remained her own – and the Master’s.

Richard
groaned as his tip pushed inside her. He was having to push hard and getting
off on that. He kissed her roughly, for his sake not hers, hoping that she
would loosen, that her walls would let down and juices would flow. He pulled
out and tried again, shoved in only a fraction of an inch further.

“Come
on now,” Richard whispered.

“You’re
going so fast –“ she said, like she was turned on.

He
grit his teeth, pulled out, and pushed in again and she panted. It hurt, but,
some traitor part of her was getting turned on. He stroked the head of his cock
in and out with what little lubrication there was until a dam broke inside of
her, wetness flowed, and he could thrust in her freely.

He
groaned, sliding home, and she exhaled in a rush, and together they began to
rock on the bed, his cock in her pussy, locked in a familiar dance. She
clutched her hands in the back of his shirt, holding on as he took her
desperately, looking for forgiveness in the sex, trying to plow it into her,
attempting to prove his devotion.

And
Daphne closed her eyes and let her head roll back and thought of another man,
one she couldn’t quite see. With each pant out she thought, “The house.” And
with each groan in, she thought, “A baby.”

She
wound her hands tighter, pulling him closer to her so their lips couldn’t
touch, so she was breathing into his shoulder, as his hips started to spasm and
his cock got rock hard – and he moaned over her, shouting out, ramming his seed
deep inside her where she prayed it took – thrusting a few halfhearted moments
more before pulling out and falling to lay beside her on the bed.

“I’m
sorry pet – I want you to come too – I just needed you so bad, and you’re so
hot right now and I missed you –“ Words burbled out of him just as cum leaked
out of her, she could feel the wet heat of it seeping between her thighs.

“That’s
okay,” she said. “I wanted you too,” she lied.

When
she got out of the shower, Richard was waiting in his robe, holding hers out to
her. “Come on, pet, I want to get the tour.”

“But
–“ Robes seemed awfully familiar. “Arthur’s downstairs working. And this is the
only room that has curtains.”

“We’re
paying Arthur – he can look the other way. And curtains – who cares? There’s no
one out for miles to look in.” Richard shook the robe. “Come on, I want to see
my property.”

Daphne
took the robe and forced a grin. “Okay.”

She
took him through the upstairs first, and showed him the room – not the green
one – that she wanted for a nursery. Then she showed him the other wing, with
its massive final bedroom, and the piano waiting for a child to want to play.

Then
they walked down through the assorted living areas of downstairs. She knew the
ghost was watching her – that or guilt was prickling her neck at every turn.

And
then they wound up in the library.

Richard
made an approving noise at seeing his neatly alphabetized books, but frowned back
at the portrait staring down from above the fireplace. He leaned against the
massive desk that, along with a couch, was the library’s only other furniture,
and shook his head at the portrait.

“That
has got to go,” he said.

“What?”
She’d been looking at the shelves where the ghost had ravished her after her
realization of Richard’s betrayal. Would the ghost think she was betraying him,
now?

“That
painting. It’s hideous.”

Daphne
drew up straight. “It is not. It’s an antique. It’s part of the house’s
history.”

Richard
gave her a disbelieving look. “I thought you had more taste than that, pet.”

“I
think it goes perfectly well in here. The shelves even go around it – if we
take it down, it’ll look out of place.”

“We
can fix the shelves, or hang another portrait. One of me, perhaps,” he said,
sliding his hand into his robe in the style of Napoleon. Daphne snorted.

“Or
just leave that one there, where it belongs.”

Richard
opened his mouth to say one more thing. He hardly ever gave her ground, but
this time he closed his mouth again and shrugged. In its own way it was one
more small sign that he’d cheated on her.

They
both got dressed for dinner that night, Arthur presented it right at seven, and
they sat across from one another, as though they were out on the town.

“So,”
Daphne began, holding her glass of wine conversationally. “How was Tokyo?”

Cutting
a piece of steak, he paused in thought.

Times
like these she thought she could actually see the calculations running behind
his eyes. He was a banker, he couldn’t help himself.

“Hot.
Miserable. Certain investments we’d made there’ve dried up – the firm’s pissed
off. International things always have a large amount of risk involved –
different cultures, different ideas.” He shook his head, bringing his fork up,
staring her directly in the eyes. “It was a bad idea and a waste of time. I
won’t be going back.”

Daphne
pursed her lips. Even if she were to press Richard for a million years, that
might be the only admission of guilt she ever got – and also the only apology.

“Never
again?” she asked, torn, and feeling small.

“Never.”
He planted the bite of steak into his mouth and chewed vengefully.

After
dinner, Richard excused himself and Daphne followed him upstairs. They got
ready for bed like they always did while he was in town, brushing their teeth
beside each other in the sink, and she saw him reach into his shaving kit for a
prescription bottle.

“Sorry
pet – I know you were hoping for another round, but I’ve been up for two days
straight, what with travel and fighting jet-lag,” he explained, pouring a pill
out into his palm. “I’m scared I’ll go to bed for three hours and then wake up
at dawn in Japan time.”

“It’s
all right, that makes sense,” she said, watching him swallow it. Each with
pajamas on, they crawled into bed for the night.

Daphne
lay there for an hour listening to him breathe. His weight in the bed felt
good, as did his heat, and the way he’d reach out for her if she rolled too far
away. When he was sleeping it was easier to remember what she loved about him
and the way it used to be.

She
was almost asleep herself when she felt the covers on the bed shift in the
dark, as though someone were joining them. She opened her mouth up in a gasp,
and felt it covered by a hot hand.

She
could breathe through the hand, it was a reminder, not a punishment – but even
if she could speak, what should she say? That there a ghost was in the bed, haunting
them? Even if she woke Richard up right now he wouldn’t believe her.

Instead
she arched back a little, feeling the heat of the ghost press up against her
back – and one warm hand dart between her thighs. She bit her lips not to cry
out as he started rubbing her there, right beside her husband’s sleeping form.

The
heat of him pressed against her, the illicit nature of it all, the fact that
his hand was circling her clit – she started breathing in hot gasps,
immeasurably turned on.

But
it was wrong. Richard was here. She should want to be with him. He was sorry
for what he’d done, he’d said as much at dinner that night – and only Richard
could give her baby.

She
shook herself free of the ghost’s embrace, and the ghost didn’t fight her.

“Richard
–“ She pushed her own hand down to keep what the ghost had started in her warm.
“Richard, wake up – I need you – wake up –“

She
moved her hand over him and reached down into his boxers, finding his flaccid
cock there, stroking it with desire. “Richard,” she whispered, begging him.

His
hands pushed her roughly away. “Too tired, Becca. Go.”

Daphne
let herself be pushed back in quiet horror. Becca. Who was Becca? How long had
there been a Becca? Was she another secretary?

She
lay in bed quietly beside him, impotent tears streaming down her face. Who was
Becca? Where was Becca?

She
felt sick to her stomach and went into the bathroom to throw up.

“Why?”
she asked the mirror quietly. She’d been so good, up until this past week.
She’d tried so hard, despite all the absences – God, what if he was living a
separate life? What if instead of going off to international places, he was
getting on a plane and flying to see another family? Someone else who thought
she was his wife, with three children? Maybe
she
was the other family,
and that other one was his ‘real’ one?

She
sank to the tile of the bathroom floor, sobbing quietly – and after a moment
felt hot fingers on her cheeks, stroking away her tears.

“I’m
so sorry,” she told him. “I don’t mean to be like this.”

The
Master’s presence around her calmed her, and she leaned into his heat like a
cat.

“You’ve
never lied to me,” she whispered. “I wish – I wish there were some way I could
repay you. You keep giving to me and it seems like there’s nothing that I can
give to you –“ She licked her lips and opened them, trying to think of some way
to pay the ghost back – and then it occurred to her. “Take my mouth. Right now.
Like this. Use me how you want to.” She carefully opened her mouth wide in mid-air.

Hot
hands pushed through her hair winding it to the point that it pulled – and then
she felt heat slide inside her mouth in the shape of a cock.

The
ghost was hesitant at first, but it didn’t last long.

She
closed her eyes and gave into it, anything else would have been creepy. With
her eyes closed she could feel his hands in her hair and his cock in her mouth,
pursing her lips against its warm length, tasting the smooth perfection of it
pushing in and out, the head of him bobbing at the back of her throat, her face
buried in the heat of his belly as she almost gagged – he rocked her back and
forth on him, like she was a see-saw and she brought her hands up to clutch for
support and found sizzlingly hot buttocks clenched, thrusting forward. They
felt so real she opened blinked her eyes open –

When
the door opened up instead.

“What’s
wrong?” Richard asked, finding her kneeling on the floor, her hair wild.

Daphne
closed her mouth, her jaw sore and fell forward. “I -- I spilled some water,”
she quickly lied, miming wiping it up.

“Let
Arthur get it tomorrow – I have something for you now –“ Richard growled,
reaching down.

He
took her arm same as the ghost had and led her back to bed, lying back in the
dark. “I had a dream you attacked me – that you wanted this –“ He pulled her
hand down so that it touched his cock again, now completely hard.

That
was before Becca
, she wanted to protest. But the house, and the baby, and
the house – his hands reached for her hips and she didn’t fight him as he
pulled her clothes off. She kicked out of her underwear and felt him lift her
up, pulling her to rest on top of him. She straddled him and his erection and felt
him slide home. She moaned as he chuckled to find her already so wet. He
thought it was all because of him, little did he know – she raised her hips and
slammed them down roughly. This had nothing to do with him. Nothing. It was all
hers and no one elses, and she would use her pussy as she saw fit.

She
would take what she wanted from him, now, and any other time she wanted it, but
he would never have the rest of her again. She would always know, she would
always be holding a little of herself off, he would never get all of her, not
again, never.

She
rode her frustration out on him and he groaned with every thrust, his drugged
hands reached for her shoulders, just barely hanging on as she bobbed on and
off of him. She licked the fingers of one hand and sent them seeking down to
rub herself – she was going to take her orgasm from his cock and take his
fucking cum deep inside until she’d gotten what she wanted – and after that she
would never have to touch him again.

“My
pet – my pet –“ he started to pant as she rocked hard over him and then her
hand shuddered one final perfect time and she howled, anger and frustration
pouring out. Her hips bucked wildly, riding his cock into the ground, and he
came at this, his hands clutching her waist tight.

Daphne
panted over him, her jaw still sore from the ghost earlier, knowing the ghost
was watching her now, watching her be with Richard as he gave her something the
ghost could not. She growled at the unfairness of everything and dismounted
him, feeling him slide limply out. She fell to the mattress and put a hand to
her belly.

Please
,
she prayed to the darkness.
Please.

Richard
growled and rolled over to pull her close. “You were like a wild thing. I’ve
never been with anyone like you,” he whispered sleepily in her ear.

More
than anything else, Daphne wished she could believe him.

Daphne
woke next to an empty bed shortly after dawn. She blinked and sat up.
“Richard?” she said, her voice weak.

She
got up and looked in the bathroom, no Richard, and so she quietly opened the
door to the hall.

His
voice echoed up from the landline, clear as if she were listening in herself.

“Don’t
you think I know that?” A pause. “I – baby – I know. I know,” he said, trying
to cut someone off. “I just need a week at home, okay? She needs some time with
me, all right?”

Daphne
swallowed dry, wondering how the woman on the far end of the line was taking
that. Apparently not well, judging by how long the pause was.

“Don’t
be like that,” Richard said, sounding offended.

Daphne
rolled her eyes. At least he wasn’t only a jerk to her.

A
longer pause, and then the sound of a manly purr. “No. She’s asleep now. I want
to know. Tell me…”

No
matter that his dick still smelled like her, and that she still leaked his cum.
She ground her teeth together. Go down there now and snap the phone from his
hand? Use the cord to garrote him?

But
if he were dead, or they broke up…no house, and no baby. Goddammit. Why
couldn’t this be easy? Why should she have to choose?

The
sound of a lawnmower began in the distance, and she blinked. That was right,
Jason and his crew were back, getting an early start on all the acreage.

She
pulled back from the doorway, Richard’s death on her mind, and forced herself
to be calm. She’d wait until he was done, until he tried to sneak back into bed
– and then confront him. Tell him everything she knew, Tokyo, Becca, whoever it
was that he was talking to now.

She
strode over to the window, and peeked out through the curtain. Jason was
striding across the yard, hedge clippers in hand.

Before
she could think about it twice, she knocked on the glass.

He
stopped, looking up at her. He squinted, and then waved. Daphne, covered mostly
by the curtain, waved back.

Jason
was the only man in sight right now, the rest of his crew were out operating
the riding mowers that kept nature tame. He made a gesture, and took a few
steps, heading for the door, thinking that she wanted to see him.

But
that wasn’t what she wanted at all.

What
she wanted…was to be seen.

Daphne
stepped out from behind the curtain. The wall of gray fabric fell closed behind
her, showing her nakedness to the window’s glass.

Jason
stood there, transfixed. She thought he might storm away, angry, or in fear of
being fired, but instead he looked up at her boldly.

Daphne
leaned into the window’s glass and breathed across one pane. She put her hands
out and leaned forward until her nipples brushed the cold glass and went as
hard as diamonds. She rose up on her toes and then down again, dragging her
breasts across the glass.

Was
his hand clutching onto the clippers more tightly? Did his breath catch in his
chest? She wanted to know she was turning him on, was controlling him like that
long-distance witch was her husband right now. Daphne leaned forward again and
licked a streak up the glass, and saw Jason’s jaw drop, and thought she could
see the growing outline of his cock press against his jeans. She nuzzled the
glass like it was a lover, and then let one of her hands down to play between
her legs.

Jason
took this for the invitation it was. He dropped the clippers and undid his
pants to set his cock free – it was as strong and tan as him. And then he
started to stroke himself for her, a show for a show.

Daphne
spread her legs and dove her fingers deeper in. She didn’t want to come now,
she just needed to have this power over him, to watch him stroke himself. She
threw her other arm up over head and pressed her breasts against the glass like
she was making love to it, to him, thrusting her hips against its chill.

The
more she writhed, the faster he touched himself, standing out in the open light
of dawn like a misplaced Pan, stroking his cock and thrusting his hips at her,
worshiping her from afar. She danced for him, turning around so that he could
see her ass, bending forward so that he could see even more, her fingers still
pulsing deep inside. He held his hand up to spit in it and then returned it to
himself, his strokes becoming a blur.

Daphne
turned back around and put one foot up on her nightstand, holding herself up
with one arm and leg, letting him clearly see her sex and – more than that – her
fucking herself as hard as she could for him. What started as a lark became
deadly serious as tension built and need mounted and she went up on one
dangerous toe –

She
bit down on her lips to not scream when she came, her whole body rocking in
passion, making the curtain behind her shudder. Below her, Jason’s face took on
the determination of a man about to come and she saw his hips begin to buck his
cock into his hand. His mouth opened, and she wondered if he was screaming, or
if, like her, he had to swallow it down inside. And then his shoulders fell and
his hand sagged, tucking his used cock back into place.

He
knelt and wiped his hand in the grass at his feet –
she’d made him come, she
really had!
she realized with a thrill – and then he fastened his pants,
and stared, still unafraid, straight up at her.

Then
a secret smile lit up his face and he tipped an imaginary hat to her before
picking up his clippers again and walking on.

Pleased
as punch, she emerged from the curtains into her bedroom and crawled back
beneath the sheets.