Chapter Five

“ T alk to me like you did last night. Stay with me like this,” she begged shamelessly, undone by the first masculine touch she’d had in almost four years.

“For as long as you like,” he whispered.

If it was odd that she couldn’t see him, she didn’t care. She closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of his warmth caressing her, kneading her breasts as he moaned in her ear. “I thought ghosts were cold.”

“Some are. Unhappy ones are freezing, and quite unlike humans. They’re the horror movie ghosts you hear of, dropping things, screaming, slamming. A contented, peaceful ghost who retains his soul and simply isn’t ready to leave this realm is most dissimilar. He’s warm. Somewhat solid. Pliable. Sensitive. Conversational.”

Louisa moaned and bit down a chuckle as Mortimer’s voice panted in her ear, a rich vocabulary at odds with the crudeness of the thick, long object she could feel against her backside. She wriggled as Mortimer kissed her cheek, letting herself explore.

She was no prude, and her reading gave her a creative appetite. What Mortimer had pressing into her reminded her of the large rubber dildos she liked to stuff inside her hungry tunnel while her fingers danced across her clit, letting her pretend a lover was filling her as she read steamy scenes.

Maybe Mortimer is pretend. Some sort of imaginary friend. There’s been a hallucinogenic gas leak in Pine Ridge, or some magic mushrooms fell into the water supply, and none of this is real.

“You are divine to touch. So soft. Supple.”

“Oh, you just wait. There’s more that’s soft and able to stretch,” Louisa sighed, grinding her hips into the gel-like cushiness of his lap.

Mortimer’s grip tightened on her and he let out a low, longing sound. “If only I could...”

“You mean—you can’t? With a human?”

“Oh, no, I most assuredly can. And want to!” Mortimer bucked up against her squirming hips.

Louisa’s eyes widened. Well, he seems tall—and proportionate. Yep. The biggest guy I’ve ever been with isn’t even solid. But God, he’s solid enough!

“My love, I could never... As much as I want to please you, I don’t want to become something you simply play with. I would like to court you, with words and flowers. With all my heart. With any deeds I can still undertake.” His hands left her. “You must forgive me, I was carried away. The thrill of having you speak to me, that you can finally feel me... I had a thrill of hope.”

“The weary world rejoicing?” Louisa rejoined as she turned her face to the side, and felt him, felt the shape of a long, lean jaw, a wisp of hair, cheek to cheek.

“I suppose I’m weary of this world at times—but it’s not so tedious when you have friends. Not when the scenery is still so beautiful. So captivating.” His lips pressed her ear, then her neck, and his arms wrapped around her middle with such protective tenderness that it almost made her cry.

No one hugs me like that. I’m a big girl, Latina, feminist, proud of my independence—and still want a man who treats me like my big ass is his favorite feature and my big brain is his favorite flavor. Reads me poetry and pulls my hair...

“Lovers don’t make lifetime decisions in a day, Mortimer,” she whispered, letting herself sink into him.

“No, I know, I know. I don’t expect you to, my dear. It’s only that I’ve known you for so much longer than you’ve been aware of me. You can understand my eagerness.”

“I can—but did you realize that I’d be eager for you, too?” she confessed.

“Well, I—”

She cut him off, “Listen.”

When she made up her mind to do something, she did it. Like switching from business to library science. Like interning at the Library of Congress in D.C. Like taking a job in a small town she’d never even heard of in the middle of a pandemic. If Mortimer wanted her, he’d learn about her stubborn streak. Or maybe he already knew.

“I want to be courted. I want the flowers and the love notes, and the candles. But I also want to pick up where I left off last night—with the dream lover who whispered such steamy lines in my ear.” She kept her eyes closed because it was less disorienting to feel her way around her invisible lover when she relied on her other senses. Mortimer helped her turn to face him, guided her head to his, and their lips met.

Kissing him was strange, but not unpleasant. His lips were softer than anything she’d ever felt, thorough, but fleeting. When he stopped, her lips buzzed. Her entire body buzzed as if she’d been wrapped in a vibrating blanket.

“How?” she asked.

“Hm?”

“How are you making all of me tingle like that? And feel so warm?”

“I don’t rightly know myself. Is it uncomfortable?”

“No! The opposite.” She stopped short of saying it was like she’d found the world’s best vibrator and it had a whole body setting.

“Oh, good.” Mortimer kissed her again, and this time—she did the talking.

“So, you used to watch me read ?”

“I always left before things got heated,” he confessed.

“Except for last night.”

“Except for last night—but I stayed behind you. I never—ehem. I didn’t position myself to see things of a private nature.”

“But you’d like to now?” Her hand ran down his chest, face twisting in puzzlement as she felt layers, almost like fabric. Is he in a suit? An old-fashioned suit with the vest and everything?

“Don’t tempt me.”

“But I want to tempt you. I want you to act out that delicious story you told me.” Her insides pulsed once, a hot rush of liquid heat escaping her center. “About Mortimer, who buried his mouth over my womanhood and feasted. About how he explored every inch... Only we need a chapter two, because you never let Louisa do any exploring, and you have such a big, thick cock. I want to know what that feels like in my mouth. I want to know what that feels like when you’re in me, balls deep.”

Mortimer had been kissing her neck as she whispered sweet, dirty nothing in his ear, but the kissing stopped abruptly, and she found herself lifted as if she weighed no more than a pillow. Instead of straddling his lap, now, she was under him, his weight pressing down on her like a heated blanket as his mouth found hers and his hips moved restlessly between her thighs.

But not for long. His lips trailed down her neck, and the green silky tank top and matching overshirt she’d worn fell as invisible hands gently tugged them open, then down, revealing soft, heavy breasts in a black bra.

Mortimer gasped and left her a necklace of kisses. “You forgot to say how her otherworldly lover feasted on all of her. Such glorious breasts. And so sensitive.” His thumbs found her nipples, stroking lightly.

Louisa arched. Other men rushed to the finish line, and at this moment, she wouldn’t have minded.

But Mortimer didn’t rush. Wouldn’t be rushed. He took his time, maddeningly kissing his way across the fabric of her bra before letting her slide the straps down and unhook it for him, then nuzzling her and cupping her breasts in his hand while rhapsodizing about her beauty—and finally closing his mouth over each nipple and making her see stars as he sucked and sucked until her clit was throbbing and her insides were clenching in time to the pulls of his mouth.

“Mortimer! You can’t just... I need you to do more. Lower,” she finally burst out, pushing at the spot where she believed his shoulder to be.

“But you deserve every pleasure, my love,” he protested, moving off her left breast—only to start his ardent attack on her right.

“Thank you, it’s just... I’m not used to this foreplay. For this long,” she clarified, opening her eyes. Still nothing but the wooden slats of the ceiling and cozy Christmas lights.

“For this long? My dearest, only minutes have passed—and I have an eternity. I can take my time with you.”

“That would be torture,” Louisa huffed, stretching.

“I’ve seen your reading list, madam. You like a bit of torture.”

Louisa arched back, breasts mashing against his chest purposefully as her legs came up to clasp his waist between her thighs. “Torture can be a two-way street, Mr. Ashfield,” she teased in a seductive purr, letting her hands lift her long dark curls before fanning them out through her fingers. “Be a good ghost and give me my present so that you can open yours.”

How could ghosts suck in such a deep, hungry-sounding breath without lungs? Or needing air?

Louisa didn’t have time to marvel for long because the weight shifted, and strong, long fingers gripped her knees and held them apart.

“My gift first, my love?”

She didn’t know if he meant giving or receiving—and she didn’t care as soft, caressing suction began to stroke across her inner thigh.

UNDER HER FLUTTERING black skirt was a pair of thick, tight hose that seemed to squish the glorious softness he wanted to let free. Manipulating matter wasn’t hard for a ghost with many decades of experience—but he’d neglected to take into consideration the overwhelming force of his lust.

“Ooh! Tiger!” Louisa admonished as her tights ripped in half, revealing deep red underwear.

“I’m so sorry!” he gasped, horrified by his apparent brutality and overwhelmed by being so close to that one secret spot that he’d watched her touch.

I’ve seen what touching herself here makes her do. If only I could do the same...

Louisa laughed, and her hands gently landed on his hair, teasing it between her fingers with a wondering cry. “I like this side of you, Mortimer.”

“You do?”

But this isn’t me. Exactly. That was an accident.

“I like all sides of you,” Louisa whispered. “Do you think one day I’ll be able to see you?”

“I most ardently hope so. If you could see the lovelight in my eyes, Louisa... The smile you put on my face—especially right now.” One finger stroked across her thigh and then moved across the wet crotch of her panties, making her twitch and her fingers clench down on his scalp.

He could feel how wet she was, feel the plump lips as his finger began to drag back and forth, side to side, teasing the crotch to one side until her most intimate place was revealed.

A sweet brown and pink paradise waited just out of reach, topped by a soft pad of flesh and dark, silky hair that challenged him to delve deeper and pry her apart, a stubborn treasure trove with the most tantalizing jewel inside.

“I want to taste you,” he all but begged.

“I want that, too,” Louisa’s voice was more air than sound. A whimper split her lips when he let his fingers make contact with her soaking lips, stroking them until they parted, revealing a deep rose center that was dripping with juice.

“All men should spend their nights on their knees—worshiping at this altar,” Mortimer sighed, not giving a damn as panties went the same way as her hosiery.

“Not all men,” Louisa’s hips inched forward, and his fingers slipped into her, a hot, clasping vise, tighter than he could have imagined. “I just want you.”

She wants me.

Me ?

By God, she can have me!

LOUISA’S HANDS WERE clenched, gripping handfuls of the soft green cushion she was spread across. Her legs were spread wide, knees up, and her head thrown back, totally exposed in a debauched position as she let out an endless stream of curses and cries.

His fingers curled inside her one moment, then both hands parted her lips the next. His lips and tongue flickered across her clit and lips, working up one side and down the other, before sucking all of her into soft, tingling wetness that felt better than a human mouth thanks to the subtle vibration his essence produced.

“Is that good?” he asked between kisses.

“God, yes.”

“Should I do things differently? I’ve read that one’s tongue is the key.”

She didn’t get to give him an answer. His tongue was certainly one answer—the answer to a prayer of every horny librarian who was tired of reading steamy scenes without living them out.

Mortimer Ashfield looked so prim and proper in his picture, a paragon of virtue in the portrait in oils hanging downstairs.

Bull.

Mortimer Ashfield was a pussy-eating fiend who had no idea that most men stopped licking when a woman did a full set of crunches on his face.

“I came!”

“I nearly did as well,” he confessed with a laugh. “But you taste so divine—and I can taste you. I don’t eat, you see. I have no need of it. I can remember food, of course, but nothing I ever tasted matches this. So sweetly salty, but more... It tastes of sex. Of pleasure. Of the sweet little rivers you make when I put my fingers here—” he pushed his fingers into her nice and deep, “and my mouth here.” His lips wrapped around her clit once more.

SHE DIDN’T BLACK OUT—BUT she drifted off after the third orgasm. With her eyes closed and blissful waves of pleasure breaking over her, it was easy to let herself glide away.

“Best present ever. My parents used to let my brother and I open one present on Christmas Eve... I’m glad I didn’t have to skip it this year. Thought I would,” she murmured in a sleepy voice.

“When one receives a present, one should test it out thoroughly,” Mortimer laughed. Her unseen lover was more confident with each passing moment. She could feel him rising and she opened her mouth, beckoning him over with a fluttering of her lashes and crooked finger.

“I agree.”

Louisa gasped as she felt the thick, fluid firmness press against her entrance and slowly ease into her in one steady push. Her walls clenched down and his cock yielded, squishing slightly and moving with her. It was different than anything she’d ever felt, but instantly craveable. “Mortimer! I tho—”

Whatever she wanted to say escaped her when she opened her eyes.

A gray outline.

Filling in.

Shades of white and gray, pearly here, transparent there, becoming clearer as he bent his body to hers, pressing his lips across her neck before finding her mouth.

“I see you!” she whispered when her mouth was free again. “I see you!”

Mortimer pulled back, still inside of her, standing between her thighs with a look of elation. The elation quickly gave way to a flustered look of confusion. “You can? Oh dear. I’m not.. This isn’t how I...”

“You just ate my pussy until I screamed. I don’t care if you look disheveled, Mortimer,” Louisa laughed, shaking her head. “You look... dashing.”

“I do?”

“Very. And if you stop, I’m going to have you exorcized.”

It was his turn to laugh. “I’ll earn my keep, madam.” He plowed his hips forward, crying out as he grabbed her hips.

He really is the gift that keeps on giving, Louisa thought as he smirked and started pounding against her.

MORTIMER HAD PASSED away a virgin, but he had long held the belief that study could give a man a keen knowledge of method without actual practice. Reading Louisa’s steamy romances and the delectable selection of erotica the library offered had helped him please his beautiful bookish darling.

It hadn’t prepared him for the fact that his body would feel like it was boiling over when he entered her tight, slick heat—that his entire body would tighten and his seed would swell in him until he felt like he would go insane if he couldn’t come.

But he didn’t want to end this moment, the feeling of her wrapping around him, the way her walls clasped and molded to him, the way he sank into her and felt alive again. Whole for the first time.

“You... How do you get bigger like that?” Louisa groaned, her cheek pressed to his.

“Like what?”

In answer, she squeezed him inside her depths, and his cock throbbed and compressed.

“Fuck!” she mewled, eyes rolling back.

“Oh, I suppose it’s because I’m not fully solid. I’ll mold to fit you.”

“The perfect man does exist,” she whimpered, hand moving between them.

His thrusts were starting to remind him of the waves lapping the shore. The wet sounds of her womanhood filled the silent attic as the snow fell outside. The only other sounds were their tandem moans and pants.

“Do you... Do you come? Am I going to get slimed? Like in Ghostbusters ?”

Mortimer had imagined sex would be sacred and poetic, a sort of cross between the rites of Bacchus and Aphrodite. He hadn't thought there would be teasing and laughing, but now he laughed once, long and loud. “I will fill you with an essence that’s closer to water, not ‘slime.’”

Louisa met his gaze and licked her lips. “You know what I read. I wouldn’t mind if you got me messy. Well, messier. I’ve never been this wet in my life.”

“You’re about to get wetter, my love. As soon as you—” He stopped speaking. The strangling sensation of her pussy milking his cock made his knees collapse, driving him deeper into her as she climaxed with a lung-emptying cry. Her thighs trembled against his hips, and his cock gave her what her expert walls demanded.

“Oh, sweet mercy!” He gasped out, lower back bowing and hips locking as his cock erupted, sending hot, wet jets deep inside of her.

For a moment, he was lost, spinning between planes, inside of her but sure he must be in heaven.

I’m in love. I’m in the woman I love. I’ve made love to my Louisa. I could leave this world right now... Or I could stay, to remain by her side. If I left her, she’d mind.

“Mortimer? Mortimer! I can’t see— oh, thank God. I thought you left. You went all shiny and transparent for a second.” Louisa hugged him tight. “You feel different! More solid.”

“You’re getting used to me.” And maybe being with a human, using my semi-corporeal form is changing me, too.

“Well... I certainly would like to.” Louisa smiled up at him. “If you suddenly disappear now, it’ll give a whole new meaning to the word ‘ghosted.’”

“I shall never leave your side—well, except when you want to be alone, of course.” Mortimer kissed her lips and reveled in the comfy bed he’d found, nestled inside of her and on top of her, her soft curves creating luxury he’d never dreamed of.

Louisa stroked a finger thoughtfully down his face. “But you’re haunting the library, right? I mean, I come here every day, but you don’t get to go home with me—do you?”

“No, I haven’t come home with you. But I could. There’s such a thing as a spirit bottle. If you carry it for me, we can go wherever you like—for a day or two at a time, at least. Any longer than that, and I’ll pop back here, where my soul seems to be tethered.”

“Wait... I could take you home for Christmas?” Louisa sat up so fast that her head went through his chest and he pulled out with a sudden slick slide that sent him onto his backside.

“Y-yes. I mean, you could. If you wanted to.” He hastily envisioned himself in neatly buttoned trousers and an immaculate waistcoat and shirt, wondering if Louisa could tell that he was blushing—and wondering why sitting level with her parted, glistening thighs seemed perfectly acceptable to him, but his trouser furniture dangling out was making him as flustered as a virgin choirboy.

Because until a few minutes ago—you were a virgin, you ethereal idiot.

Louisa sat up and rearranged her skirt and blouse, eyes shyly peeping at him as she tugged and pulled her clothes back into place. “Most guys think spending the holidays together is a big deal. They don’t want to do that until they’ve known each other for a while.”

“I’m not most men. I wanted you to spend Christmas Eve with me, and Christmas, too, if it was convenient for you.” He remained on his knees, now pulling one up so he could rest his elbow on it and prop his chin in his hand to gaze up at her. “And I have known you for years, my love. I think if you reflect, you’ve known me for a long time, too. No, not as a person, but as an ideal.”

“Smart, studly, and sexually skillful?” Louisa’s lips parted in a seductive smile that made him wonder why he’d ever bothered to button his trousers.

“Louisa...” he leaned forward and kissed her knee. Kissed her hand. “I could be your Christmas gift, my love. You could find me under your tree in the morning if you wish.”

“I don’t have a spirit bottle thingie. I don’t even know how to use one.”

She’s not rejecting the idea. Her face is worried. My poor treasure, afraid it won’t work.

Mortimer’s heart swelled, or at least, something in the region of his chest seemed to glow.

“I can come to you. I love it up here. I mean, it needs a sink and more facilities to ‘clean up’ if we’re going to keep meeting this way.”

Agreed. Or if you’d like to celebrate Christmas at your home tomorrow—with an actual bed and an actual sink, all you need to do is stop by Jakob Minegold’s house and tell him Mortimer would like him to give you a spirit bottle.”

“Jakob Minegold? He knows about ghosts? Or do you prefer the term unliving Americans?”

“I believe he prefers the term vampire—and he’s Polish.”

“WHAT?” Louisa screeched.

Oh, dear. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that...