My Kinky Valentine: Volume 2 - In Spirit
Author: Gavin, Liz
Date: 2016-02-19
Publisher: Elessar Books LLC

My KinkyValentine

A collection of steamy short-stories & snippets

Liz Gavin

My Kinky Valentine

Vol. 2 – In Spirit

Copyright 2016 by Liz Gavin

Published by Elessar Books

All rights reserved, including the right to publish this book or portions thereof (except for reviews, news media reports, brief quotes with attribution, and purposes of promotion of this book or other novels by Liz Gavin) in any form whatsoever.

This book is a work of fiction. All characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content and is intended for those over the age of 18 only.

All participants in sexual activities within this book are over the age of 18.

Volume 2 - In Spirit

Table of Contents

Between the Ghost and the Dom

CHAPTER 1 - MARCEL

CHAPTER 2 - CLARA

Her Favorite Ghost

Chapter 1 - Marcel

Chapter 2 - Clara

Halloween at Club Desire

Luck of the Irish

Sneak Peek

Celtic Fire

Sneak Peek

Fallen Angel

Watchers

Chapter 1

Other books by Liz Gavin

Between the Ghost and the Dom

When a big Hollywood star, a gorgeous Dom, and a kinky ghost meet at an exclusive sex club in New Orleans sparks fly and the temperature gets scorching hot. The Alpha males will taunt the reluctant sub and test her limits. But how much pleasure can a person endure? Will she break or ask for more?

Join Clara, Sam and Marcel at the best-kept secret in New Orleans - Club Desire. Here’s where celebrities come to indulge in their darkest fantasies. Watch Clara discover her hard limits as wells as you test your own in this exciting short-story.

*** This 8,100-word short is intended for adults only due to its graphic language plus kinky sex scenes involving an alpha Dom, a wicked ghost, and a naughty red-head, lots of sex toys, Domination, submission, and mild spanking.***

Between the ghost and the Dom

SNIPPET

Liz Gavin

Copyright 2013

Published by Elessar Books

CHAPTER 1 - MARCEL

1864

“Give up woman. It’s no use.”

“I’ll never give up on you. You’re mine.”

“I’m not yours or anybody else’s for that matter. Now get off of my bed.”

Marie-Claudette ignores me - the angry, naked man lying beneath her - and leans down to kiss me again. I’m tied to the bed as she straddles me so all I can do is move my head and try to escape her gaping mouth. No amount of cajoling on her part has made me return her advances or my dick get hard though. We’re not cooperating with her carefully planned seduction. She’s pissed.

For months now she’s been harassing me. I don’t know why she thinks she’s in love with me. I’m used to women throwing themselves at me. With my looks and money, that’s a given. But they know when they’re not wanted. That’s just not the case with Marie-Claudette. And being rude to her or openly defying her is not a good idea. She’s a badass witch, you know. One of the most powerful in New Orleans. So I’ve been doing my best to lay here in the hopes she tires out and forgets this ridiculous infatuation.

My temper is getting the best of me though. I mean after all I AM a Revault, only heir to one of the oldest families in the French Quarter. Who does this crazy bitch think she is? She can’t just tie me here forever! I feel nauseated when Marie-Claudette shoves her tongue inside my mouth. I want this to end! I would pump my dick into action if I could. If it meant the torture would end. But I’m helpless. Powerless. I hate this feeling!

She’s not happy either. In fact she’s getting angrier by the minute. Good. Maybe she’ll let me go now.

“What’s going to take you to fuck me?”

“I would if I could ma chère. Too bad my cock’s not in the mood today.”

“It’s never in the mood for me. I’m getting tired of this. I love you, Marcel. But I’ve got my pride, you know.”

Marie-Claudette gets off of me and stands by the bed looking down at me. She seems very angry and unsure of what to do next. After a while she bends down to grab her clothes. I sigh in relief. She’s finally got it! It’s not going to happen.

“Very well then. Your choice, Marcel.”

I watch as she gets dressed, tugging at my shackles, impatient to get up again. My limbs feel numb. My ass is cold. My dick is sore and I feel miserable.

“If I can’t have you, no one else will though.”

Only then I realize she has her clothes on but doesn’t seem in a hurry to untie me. She starts circling the big four-posted bed as she chants in a strange language. It sounds French but it can’t be it because I don’t understand it. I pick a couple of words... it’s Latin! Panic twists my guts and bile raises to my throat as realization strikes me. The crazy woman’s casting a spell and there’s nothing I can do to stop her. A freezing wind blows in the room despite the balmy July night outside, twirling around us, making the hairs stand all over my body, knocking out things from the dresser, and banging the door against the wall. All of a sudden the young witch stops moving and chanting and throws her head back while her sweat covered body shakes as if she’s having a seizure. I’ve seen this kind of trance before. It means her incantation is almost done. Her body stops shaking and the unusual wind calms down. All goes quite. Deadly so. She opens her eyes and they seemed afire. I shake my head to make the illusion go away. It doesn’t work. The goosebumps seem to double their intensity as my naked skin crawls at the sight. Her otherworldly booming voice bounces off the bedroom walls when she speaks again, “Marcel Revault, I curse thee to stay in this house forever more. Nobody goes in. Nobody goes out after I leave.”

My fate is sealed. She storms out of the room and I hear the front door banging downstairs over my own shouts for help.

* * * *

150 years later

That’s how I came to haunt this huge, beautiful French Quarter mansion. The witch left me tied to a bed to face a horrific death. I screamed until I got hoarse and my voice didn’t come out. I cried. I prayed to a God I didn’t believe in. Marie-Claudette never came back. Her spell sealed the house in a kind of vacuum so people wouldn’t hear me nor enter the house.

One would think a wealthy and young man like me couldn’t possibly go missing without raising suspicion. That might have been true for an ordinary person. However, I wasn’t a model citizen if you know what I mean. I guess my closest friends assumed I had gotten myself in trouble with some jealous husband. They knew too well about the many times I had been caught in bed with a married lady. Or two. Some of them had even helped me disappear from town in the dead of night to avoid being challenged to a duel. No married woman was worth risking my neck like that. My point is that I had discreetly left New Orleans so many times before that people wouldn’t think much of my disappearance until it was too late to save me. They wouldn’t be too off mark as I had arranged to set sail to Europe the following day but only my servants knew about it. I had sent them to the plantation manor so they also wouldn’t worry about me for a long time.

The spell lifted many years later when the witch died. By then my body had turned to dust due to the heat and damp of New Orleans. So when the government seized my estate for lack of an heir and sold the house no one remembered me. Although I’m still bound to the house I don’t complain about it. But that’s not at all because of the trendy art gallery on the ground floor. That’s just a decoy. I’m talking about the real business upstairs - a very busy and exclusive sex club named Desire. There I get to participate in many interesting, sexy fantasies. Over the years I found out people can be quite kinky.

My favorite client is the gorgeous Clara Hervaux. She’s a movie star but that’s not why she’s my favorite. She’s one of the few people who can see me and interact with me. Most people will do that only when they’re sleeping. Some can even feel my touch when awake but it seems just like a feathery stroke of air. Others register my presence as a chill running down their spine or goose-bumps forming for no reason. That’s not the case with my sweet Clara because she’s an empath who can see ghosts and talk to them as if they were living and breathing people. The naughty woman loves that gift actually.

Earlier today I heard the manager talking to her on the phone and found out she’s coming over tonight. I got a hard-on ever since that phone call. She’s so hot. She’s a tall woman with a curvaceous body and flaming red hair. These features bought her ticket out of Gutterville, USA to big screens everywhere around the world. Granted. She started in porn when she was barely legal but made her way to the top of her game. She has balls I give her that. And drive. And talent. Okay. I’ve made it clear why she’s my favorite right?

It’s just that I can hardly wait to see her again so I reminisce as I pace the room upstairs. All of a sudden I sense her approaching the Club and rush to the front door. She’s wearing heavy make-up. Purple eye shadow to highlight her dark green eyes, vibrant red lipstick and just a touch of blush. She’s wearing no bra under a white see-through top with long transparent sleeves that she wears under a black leather corset. It fastens under her large breasts pushing them up a bit. She’s wearing black silk stockings and my favorite black leather mini skirt. I bet the stockings are held on the top of her generous thighs by red garters. It’s her trademark along with her black lacy panties.

Her large breasts are my favorite feature though, which I squeeze slightly pinching her nipples as she stands by the door waiting for the hostess to arrive. She smiles at me and I see her shiver. I bet a gush of hot liquid is pooling in her sex. She can’t speak up but she knows I read minds. So she talks to me.

“Hey Marcel. I’ve missed you terribly, you know? I had to ditch a bunch of PAs, bodyguards, and fans at the hotel. Club Desire is not that far from the Omni Royal Orleans so I decided to walk here. But because of the paparazzi I put on a disguise and snuck out of the hotel through a side door. From there it was a short walk up Royal Street until I got here. Now is that the welcome I get from you? After all I’ve been through to be with you again?”

She is mocking me. I know it and I don’t mind. Tonight isn’t October 31st, which means she came for one of the Club’s staff members, not me. We can be together only on Halloween when I get a temporary physical body. (Okay. I know. It’s complicated. Don’t ask how this works because I honestly don’t know but I don’t complain about it.)

I don’t mind she’s here for a scene because I still get to take part in the action even though whoever else is in the room with her will never suspect me. Only my naughty Clara will know I’m there.

“Good evening, madam,” a stunning brunette, with the face of an angel and a perfect body made for sinning, wrapped in black leather and wearing impossibly high heels, greets Clara. She smiles sweetly at her showing her perfect white teeth and dimples and all.

“Hi. I’ve booked the Golden Suite for tonight.”

No names are necessary here. The staff knows each client. Club Desire is that exclusive.

“Yes, madam; it’s ready for you. Would you like to have a drink at the bar before going up?”

“No, just take me to the suite. I don’t have much time tonight. Make sure Sam knows I’ve already arrived,” she spurts out the words then adds as a second thought. “Please.”

Clara is a powerful person in Hollywood and she’s used to ordering people around. Not here, though. In Club Desire she’s the best sub any Dom could wish for. Tonight Sam is the lucky bastard. He’s one of her favorites. I don’t blame her. He’s very good at what he does. Not to mention he’s gorgeous.

The beautiful young woman nods and takes Clara straight to the top floor where the largest suite had been booked in advance.

“The scene has been set following your instructions, madam. Hope you like it.”

“Let me check it out. I’ll call you if there’s a problem. What’s your name?”

“Jenny, madam.”

“Very well, Jenny. Thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you tonight, madam?”

“No, that’ll be all.”

When the brunette leaves, Clara takes her time inspecting the suite. It looks like an old Venetian ballroom decorated for an extravagant masquerade. The furniture is old European style; not very practical but extremely gracious. The huge four-poster bed is covered with red and golden cushions over a black brocade bedspread. This used to be my master bedroom. The owners have redecorated the whole house but kept some of the original furniture after having the pieces restored. For instance, this bed is the same one Marie-Claudette tied me to. Yes the same one on which I died over a century ago although nobody knows about it. Nobody except Clara of course. I told her that story when she first came to Club Desire. She runs her hand over the brocade of the bedspread while a faint smile touches her lips.

“Do you miss it? Living? I mean do you miss being alive?”

“Not when I’m with you,” I kiss her lightly on the top of her breasts and she chuckles.

“Smarty-pants.”

I wonder if she can hear the faint music drifting in from the French Quarter crowded bars because she moves around the room in rhythm with it. She doesn’t seem aware she’s doing that though.

“I overheard the manager talking to you and read your list of instructions as he wrote them down. All seems in order.”

“All except Sam of course,” she turns to me. Her eyes sparkle as big emeralds. “He loves keeping me on my toes. Sometimes quite literally. I prefer when he makes my toes curl though. Oh, God! What’s taking him so long? The anticipation is killing me. I’m sure he knows that, the bastard.”

“Clara, my dear, you know he has a day job. He must’ve gotten held up. Nobody would keep you waiting if they could be with you instead. I can keep you company and maybe warm you up for him while we wait.”

She laughs at my joke. Sam doesn’t know about me so he’d be very angry at his sub if she started the party without him. After all that’s what he’d think had happened. He drives carriages around the French Quarter. Surprisingly enough, this is a great way for picking up dates. There’s always a lonely tourist doing touristic stuff thinking they are getting a real taste of what Nola is all about! Most of them would like to get a taste of Sam too. Women and men alike. He’s got a square jaw, dark blue eyes and jet black hair. He’s 5’7” and his muscled body is framed by soft, golden skin. He is gorgeous. I give him that.

Business has been slow lately since the tourists vanished after the hurricane. It’s a shame the city’s still looking run-down. Lucky for Sam his appearance landed him this gig at Club Desire a few years ago. He fulfills the Club’s clients’ kinkiest fantasies. Since this is a referral-only kind of place, the owners pay good money for the staff’s discretion. Membership is comprised of some of the biggest celebrities and some of the most powerful people in the world. They treasure their privacy. That’s why you’ll never hear them mention this place in interviews and that’s why they pay a fortune to keep Club Desire as a well-kept secret. Some call it a haven. I call it home.

“I’ve been throbbing all day at the thought of your long legs wrapped around my waist, your feet locking behind my back as I bang you without mercy and make your beautiful tits spill out of a soft leather corset. How did you know what to wear to make crazy for you Clara?”

“This is my favorite outfit silly. I’m glad you like it though.”

She blows me a kiss and winks at me when she gets to the center of the room where I stand. The air changes around her, becomes charged, “Can you fell it Clara?”

“Yes it’s like the air is crackling. Some weird vibration. Like electrostatic.”

I get nearer and ran a finger down her arm until her wrist. Her eyes follow my finger as her pulse accelerates. I marvel at the power my touch has on her feathery as it is. She’s such a passionate woman. My erection gets harder and it’s my turn to sigh. I do it into her ear and Clara closes her eyes. A new energy fills the room.

“Sam’s coming soon. We don’t have time for this Marcel.”

“I’m not going anywhere ma petite.”

Her frustration is evident when the air leaves her lungs in a low sigh. I smile at her reaction. Typical Clara. She needs to have things her way. Hard to get that with this ghost when she’s not asleep. Besides she knows me quite well by now. Well enough to know I won’t behave. I can’t keep my hands off of her warm skin and I don’t give a damn about Sam or any other Dom at Club Desire.

“Just stand still and enjoy the ride.”

I press the hard angles of my body against the soft curves of her back while my hands hold her tiny waist. I move slowly up her front until I reach her full, round breasts. My breathing quickens in rhythm with another part of my anatomy which now rests firmly nestled between her butt cheeks.

“You feel like heaven Clara.”

“Marcel seriously. You’ll get me in trouble.”

My fingers playing with her hard nipples and the sensations my tongue must be evoking as I twirl it inside her ear cut her off. I smile against her long neck where a vein throbs under my tongue.

“Sweet Clara.”

CHAPTER 2 - CLARA

“What are you doing standing there still in your clothes?” Sam’s voice sounds behind me and I freeze.

Damn it Marcel. Told you. Stop that!

I can feel his chuckles against my bare skin and they’re as scorching as his fingers under my skirt. It’s hard enough for me to concentrate and get into submissive mode without a kinky but oh-so-hot ghost making things worse.

Thank you very much mister! Oh if only I could swat your hands off! I know you can hear me Marcel. Now stop it!

“Don’t you know better my naughty cat?”

Sam’s deep, masculine growl rolls over my body, sending a delicious shudder down my spine and playing with my already wet and aching sex. His tone is unmistakable. He uses my pet name as if I needed a reminder of who’s in charge here.

“Keep your eyes down. Strip for me. Since you’ve been too lazy to do it before I arrived let’s make the best of it. Take your clothes off slowly. If you please me I might consider a kinder punishment.”

Sam has no clue there’s another being in the room. Marcel told me once Sam can register his presence at some level. It’s like a different kind of energy making his body hair stand but since it usually happens when I’m here he puts it down to primitive lust. For me. Who says subs have no power?

“It’s been too long since I last fucked you. You shouldn’t take that long to come visit us, you know. Now I’ll have to control myself not to rush your scene. I’ve been fighting a hard-on for most of the day. The only thing I could think about was your hot mouth sucking me dry.”

He sits down on the bed to watch me get naked and the ever growing bulge in the front of his tight pants tell me he’s enjoying the view. When my large breasts almost spilled out of the leather corset, Sam tightens his grip on the bed covers. I’d dare say he’s dying to have them in his huge hands. Honestly I can’t wait for him to do with my breasts whatever he wants to because I love how his hands feel on my body. I am supposed to keep my eyes downcast so his crotch is basically all I can see and it seems his pants are about to burst in the seams. That’s the power a good sub should learn to use – of seduction.

Marcel has been leaning against a wall and although I can’t see him I’m still mentally linked to his thoughts and reactions. My little private peep-show is affecting him just as well. The kind of response I’m getting from two magnificent Alpha males such as Sam and Marcel would be enough to make any insecure woman feel desirable and attractive. Not being shy in the least is making me almost giddy with triumph. Their desire is so intense it spreads around the room like wakes that envelop me, surround me. It affects to the point my breathing changes becoming heavier, more excited. It seems they can hear my heart beating even though I know they can’t. When I feel Marcel standing behind me I smiled. I knew he wouldn’t be away for too long. He gets closer and runs his hand over my leg. I have no power to control my skin reaction and his touch creates goose-bumps all over me. As much as try not to moan at the delicious sensations, a sharp intake of air and subsequent sigh escape from me. I pray Sam won’t hear them.

“What’s the matter, pet? Am I bothering you?”

“No, sir! Absolutely not! It’s just that I’m so excited my skin is on fire and I can’t keep quiet,” I manage to reply without raising my tone or eyes just as he had commanded me to do.

“Is that so, cat? Can I do that to you just by watching?”

I don’t trust my voice to answer because at this point Marcel’s naughty fingers have climbed up my thighs and are playing with the elastic band of my lacy panties. I just nod.

“Well tell me exactly how you feel as you undress for me then. What else do I make you feel?”

I sensuously stretch my arms above my head, swaying my hips as I slowly run my hands over my body before turning around and reaching back for the zipper on the skirt. As I open it, Marcel run his fingers over the soft skin that the movement slowly reveals. This is a little game we love to play.

“I feel you’re undressing me, sir.”

The game is describing Marcel’s actions to my Dom as if he were doing to me what my kinky ghost is doing. It’s hot because Sam has no clue what’s really going on. I hear Marcel’s words in my head thanks to our psychic connection.

I love our late game, Clara. You get turned on, I get a hard-on and Sam gets his ego boosted. Everybody wins.

“Shut up you conceited prick.”

His only answer is a wholehearted laughter, which shows me Marcel knows I’m joking.

“It’s like your hands are on my body, sir. As the cool air touches my bare skin it’s like your fingers are running over my whole body: my back, my ass, and my thighs.”

I rub my hands up my thighs kneading the flesh until I hook my fingers in the waist of my skirt. I know I’m torturing both men as the skimpy piece of clothing travels over my perfect legs down to the floor taking the lacy panties with it. I see Marcel kneels in front of her and have to steel my body when he places a gentle kiss on my navel inches above my sex. Somehow I manage not to gasp when my knees feel weak with the waves of pleasure radiating from that soft touch.

“I can feel your hot breath on me, sir. On my belly. On my crotch. On my sex,” I describe to Sam the spots Marcel is kissing and my voice comes out increasingly tighter.

I turn around again to face Sam but keep looking at the floor and continue with my narrative. I follow his instructions to the letter but wickedly follow my words with my hands.

“That’s so hot.”

Sam’s voice comes out through clenched teeth and I guess he’s uncomfortable because he’s fidgety and he’s sporting the most amazing hard-on I’ve ever seen. I rotate my hips as my hands play with my soft skin and my movements seem to hypnotize Sam. Marcel also seems affected but that doesn’t mean he’s paralyzed. On the contrary.

“I feel your hands on my breasts, sir,” I moan softly and the words sound weak to my own ears.

It’s because Marcel is playing with my breasts so place my hands over his and we cup my breasts and lift them up. They’re like an offering to him, showing off the perfect globes, making them pop out of the white thin top. I look down to find the brown nipples are two hard pebbles begging Sam to suck them. I bite my lower lip when Marcel sinks his teeth in one. I steal a glance upward to gauge Sam’s reaction in time to see he’s having trouble swallowing judging by the way he runs his tongue over his lips. He looks parched. When I start unhooking the corset Sam barks orders in a hoarse and strangled voice, “Don’t! Leave it on! Lose the top but leave the corset on. I’ve jerked off this afternoon imagining you wearing one and nothing else while I banged you against the wall.”

I shiver slightly at his tone just as much as at his words. Marcel’s tongue slipping inside my folds, playing with my core also contribute to my excitement. He has been teasing me with light kisses along my navel but his bolder movement caught me off guard. My legs can barely keep me standing.

“I feel you all over my body, sir. Your hands, your mouth, your tongue. You’re on me, inside me. You’re tasting and teasing me.”

I don’t need to exercise my imagination as I’m basically describing what Marcel has been doing. All my energy is concentrated on my self-control. I need it to avoid coming in front of my Dom just by describing naughty actions. He wouldn’t accept it.

However, the wicked ghost seems to have an agenda of his own. I know I’m his favorite Club Desire member because I interact with him in a different level than everyone else and I certainly don’t mind his attentions. He’s very skilled. I just don’t want to get in trouble with Sam. I wouldn’t be able to explain myself.

* * * *

Enjoying their story so far? Get your copy of Between the Ghost and the Dom now
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Her Favorite Ghost

Clara continues her explorations at Club Desire.

She’s been naughty before but this time Marcel - her kinky ghost lover - might just have ruined everything for her. Can Sam forgive her transgressions? Can Clara put up with the humiliation of being shared with a Mistress however stunning Jenny might be? Or will Clara discover new feelings she had never suspected?

*** This 6500- word-erotic short is a stand-alone book intended for adults only! It contains graphic language plus steamy, kinky sex scenes involving a ghost, an alpha male, a young Mistress, and a beautiful movie star. Plus, threesomes, foursomes, sex toys, ass play, oral skills, first-time lesbian sex, BDSM, and spanking.***

Her Favorite Ghost

SNIPPET

Copyright 2014 by Liz Gavin

Published by Elessar Books

Chapter 1 - Marcel

At Club Desire

After cleaning up in the in-suite bathroom, Clara climbs on the bed, slides under the cool silk sheets and stretches out beside me. Her body is still tingling all over, her sex still feels sore and overused and her blood is ringing in her ears. She tries to relax. She needs to take a quick nap; after all the night has just begun.

I’m sitting beside her and I know she wants to talk about what had just happened. So I prompt her, “Sam got really angry at you but he was right you know. You should do as your Dom says. It doesn’t matter if I am fucking you too. He’s the boss. Besides, he can’t see me so he thinks it’s all your doing.”

“I didn't disobey him on purpose, Marcel. I wasn't defying him or anything, but I know he’s a very resourceful, imaginative Dom. He won't let me get away with that. I hope.”

She smiles at me and my knees turn to jelly. I can never resist this gorgeous woman.

“Ouch! That hurt! I’m a jealous guy you know.”

“Oh come on my sweet Marcel. You’re gorgeous. Hot. Sexy,” she marks each word with an open mouth kiss across my chest. “You know I love you. But you’re a ghost honey. And Sam’s flesh and blood. Both of you turn me on but in different ways.”

“Sam is good-looking. I’ll give you that. If I were into guys I’d definitely try something with him when he’s sleeping. You know I can enter people’s dreams, right?”

“Oh boy! Don’t I know it?”

She laughs at the memory of the many good times we’ve spent in her dreams. I know that because I can also read minds. But it’s good to talk to somebody when I have the chance and Clara is one of those rare people who can see and hear me as if I were alive.

“Don’t be jealous. Sam is gorgeous, and sexy as sin. I love his smoking-hot body, his rugged looks, his raspy voice. His commanding, no-nonsense tone when he talks to me. The power he has over my body is unbelievable. Men are usually scared by me being a famous movie star and all. But this guy can make me purr just by raising an eyebrow.”

“Really? Is that so?”

I pin her down on the mattress, grab both her hands in one of mine and hold them above her head. The naughty tramp just laughs harder.

“What took you so long Marcel? I thought I’d have to describe his abilities in more detail to get a reaction from you. You know. Maybe praise his huge, beautiful cock. Or the way he fills my aching sex and twists his shaft inside me until I see stars.”

I lean down to kiss her and she pretends to fight me, moving her head from side to side laughing. I grab her face with my free hand and silence her with a deep, demanding kiss. I love her full lips, her hot mouth. I bite her lower lip before shoving my tongue inside her mouth. Her laugh becomes moans and she thrusts her hips upwards, trying to lure me into fucking her fast and hard. But we still have time before Sam comes back and I’m in no hurry. I let go of her hands and begin to explore her body. She quivers and sweat breaks over her skin. The sweet smell of her arousal fills the room.

“Oh I'll be in so much trouble if Sam finds out I've been playing with myself.”

“I’m playing with you!”

“Okay but he can’t see you, Marcel. Who’s gonna get the blame?”

However, the thought of being caught red handed seems too tempting for Clara and a slow smile turns the corners of her full mouth up. She pulls her knees up, opening herself to me, placing them firmly on the mattress. I move my hand down her stomach, around her hips, in slow movements, until I get to her sex. I stop and she gasps and moans and the sounds threaten to consume me.

“I guess, sweet Clara, you’ll have to pay to see. Or would you rather I stopped?”

“No, please, don’t stop.”

I grab her by the hips, holding her in place. I pull her knees down until they touch the silk sheet, exposing her to me. The cool air blows over her sex but it only makes her burn more. She can feel my stubble scrape her inner thighs as I lick her flesh. From her button belly down to her navel. I shower her with light kisses and bite on her without breaking the soft skin. She bucks, arches her back, and tries to shove her sex in my face.

“Slow down honey. We don’t want it to finish before it begins do we?”

She only moans in reply and I blow a cold breath on her slick folds and they quiver. It’s a lovely sight. Her juices coat her folds. She looks and smells divine. I run my tongue over my lips and smack them in anticipation. I hold her legs apart and look up at her gorgeous green eyes. They are heavy and dark as a luscious forest. She wants me.

“Please Marcel don’t torture me like this.”

I give her my wickedest smile before my tongue invades her. I find her clitoris and sink my teeth on it biting the little hidden nub. She goes crazy clutching at my shoulders and driving her nails in my skin. I lick, bite and suck her sensitive flesh until Clara sees stars behind her closed lids.

“Oh, my god!”

I enter her drenched pussy with a long finger as I keep the assault on her clitoris. I crook it and move it along her inner walls. She’s wailing by now. Clara has always been a loud lover. One of the things she needs to control when her Dom tells her to stay quiet. She doesn’t have to do that with me but she bites down her lower lip trying to stifle the sounds because she doesn’t want to be caught just yet. Besides now she’s having second thoughts about disobeying Sam and breaking his rules. After all, he is her Dom at Club Desire and he controls the outcome of her adventures tonight.

But my body pressing against hers keeps her going. Her body is in overdrive. She can’t take the building tension any more. I move over to straddle Clara. My cock is hard and I have a naughty smile on my face when my hand moves between our bodies to guide my erection into her expecting body. I want to bury myself to the hilt but instead I position only its huge head in her entrance, nudging her.

I lean down and kiss Clara and she takes advantage of my distraction to wiggle her hips trying to move them upwards and to get me inside her. I laugh and pin both her hands over her head again. My other hand kneads her soft flesh. I cup one breast and then the other. I squeeze them and she gasps at the sensation. I tweak her brown big nipples until she moans, almost choking. The pain and pleasure mix drives her wild. I suck and lick the soft skin on the side of her breast, biting down and leaving a red mark on her.

“Oh god you’re hot Marcel. More. Give me more. I need your cock inside me. Now.”

“We’ll get there hungry one. I want to taste you first. It’s your fault for been so delicious.”

I move my cock a little bit more inside her soaking wet sex. She bucks on the mattress. Opening her legs wider, Clara wraps her long legs around my waist, locks her feet at my back and finds purchase to thrust up against my body, rotating her hips.

I laugh and kiss her, hard and long. She’s an impatient little thing, but I love that about her. My tongue explores her mouth in rhythm with the stabbing movements of my cock banging her.

“Harder. Fuck me harder.”

“You’re a hungry thing Clara.”

I pinch her nipple and keep on drilling her with my huge cock. I return my attention to her gorgeous large breasts. Sucking one pebbled nipple, I pinch the twin peak. I bite one and scrape the other. Then I slap her tits and Clara feels a bolt of electricity connecting her breasts to her hardened clitoris. Our psychic links allows us to feel each other’s sensations. It’s kinky but-oh-so-hot. It seems my desire fuels Clara’s just as much as her reactions to my touch enhances my pleasure. She closes her eyes and tries to shout but the sound comes out of her throat as a weak croak.

“Look at me!”

I stop moving altogether when she squeezes them shut harder instead of looking at me.

“Look into my eyes or I swear I’ll leave you to take care of business by yourself.”

Clara does as she’s told and looks into my almost black eyes shining above her face as if she wants to dive in their depth. Forever.

While shoving my cock in and out of her tight channel, I reach down to find her soaking wet folds. I press one cold finger against her clitoris in a sharp contrast to the friction of my cock moving inside her. Goosebumps raising her body hair, the feathery touch travels through her body and ignites her insides once more.

“I can’t take this, Marcel. Please. Fuck me harder. I need you. Now.”

“Soon.”

The delicious tension continues to build. Her flesh tremble as I flick her clitoris and trust so deep I hit her cervix. I release her hands to reach for her ass. I split the round cheeks and invade her little hole with a long finger quickly establishing a rhythm that mimes my cock hammering her sex.

Gripping the sheets, she throws her head back and lifts her hips up to meet mine. Her movements denounce her urgency. Clara’s practically sobbing now and her sweat drenches the bedsheets.

I cover the side of her face with my large hand and run my thumb over her full lower lip before pushing it inside her mouth. I smile when she realizes she can taste her essence on my finger.

“Marcel that’s too much. I can’t hold it any longer.”

“It’s okay babe. I’m close now.”

I taste her mouth again in a deep, sensuous kiss as I explode inside her. The hot jets hit her womb and that sends her over the edge too. She closes her eyes in ecstasy as her body trembles under me, her tight walls quiver around my erection. I concentrate to pick her thoughts and am not surprised that, for a moment, Clara thinks her soul is floating out of her body, hovering over the bed. She can see herself entangled in my possessive embrace. My cock’s still cradled inside her body. It’s a hot image. She has been through so many intense emotions since she arrived at Club Desire that they star to take their toll. Everything goes black and she passes out.

* * * *

Chapter 2 - Clara

When I come to slowly opening my eyes, a very different kind of shiver invades me; chilling my body and soul. While I was unconscious Sam had come back and now his furious face is hovering over me. Shit! I’m in so much trouble.

“What-the-fuck-have-you-done?” he articulates each word in a booming tone that’s ominous.

Another chilling shiver moves along my spine and I don’t dare reply for fear of making things worse. Besides there’s no real explanation. Sam doesn’t see or hear Marcel. How can I explain what has happened while he was out? On the other hand, there is no way I can pretend nothing happened when the air in the room smells of sex. The sheets are crumpled and drenched in sweat and fluids. I wince and pull the silk sheet up to my chin trying without success to protect myself from his wrath. I’ve never seen Sam so angry.

“How can you betray me like this? Don’t you trust me?”

He keeps yelling but there’s a bit of hurt in his tone too.

“Isn’t your Master enough, ungrateful pet? You think I don’t know what you need? Is that it?”

Sam raves on without expecting an actual reply but I wouldn’t be able to say anything even if I wanted to.

“Have I ever failed in giving you what you needed even when you didn’t know you needed it.”

I shiver visibly and barely manage to shake my head as if to say ‘no’ without much confidence. I open my mouth but nothing gets out of my dry throat.

“What is it? What do you have to say, pet? I want to hear it from you.”

“I-I’m terribly s-sorry s-sir,” I finally stammer a weak apology.

My voice so thin it sounds foreign to my own ears. I’ve never stuttered before. I’m not the stuttering type.

“Can’t hear you. Speak up!”

“I’m terribly sorry sir.”

It’s a little firmer and louder this time but I’m still uncomfortable.

“Get out of that bed. Now! You don’t deserve the luxuries I give you. Get on your knees on the floor. Stay there and think about what you’ve done until I see fit to come back.”

I scurry to my feet to follow his instructions and Sam stomps out without looking over his shoulders slamming the door shut behind him with a loud bang. It rattles. So do I.

“Oh Marcel. We’ve gone too far. This is Submissive 101 stuff - never ever get any kind of sexual gratification without consent. Let alone behind your Master’s or Mistress’s back. I’ve done both. He’s going to let me have it. Big time! I’m so screwed!”

“I’ll find a way to help you.”

I know Marcel is trying to comfort me; however, the words sound hollow because we both know there’s nothing he can do.

“Thank you my sweet ghost. I know you mean well. Right now all you can do is keep me company.”

As the seconds turn to minutes I lose track of time. All I know is that I’ve been kneeling, naked, waiting for Sam to return for what seems a million years. It could have been five minutes though. I couldn’t tell. Relief rushes through my body. My back is turned to the door so I move my head to check if it is Sam.

His cold bark freezes my movement, “Don’t move an inch. I haven’t given you permission to do that. You will learn to obey me one way or another.”

A gush of bile invades my stomach and I struggle to keep it down as raw fear paralyzes me. It’s true I have a hard time submitting and often wonder if I misbehave just so I can be punished. Sam’s tone indicates I’m in for the punishment of a lifetime.

* * * *

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Halloween at Club Desire

Clara Hervaux wants to go back to New Orleans and celebrate Halloween with Marcel at Club Desire. But things are complicated now that the movie star is the target of some crazy fan who’s been threatening her. How can she ditch the bodyguards that follow her around? Is it safe to go there alone? Will she be able to keep her escapades at the club as a secret? Or will she disappoint her favorite ghost and fail to spend Halloween night with him this year?

*** This 7500-word short is intended for adults only! It contains graphic language plus steamy, kinky scenes involving a celebrity, her gorgeous assistant, a stunning Club hostess and a hunky ghost. Not all at once, though! ***

Halloween at Club Desire

Complete short-story

Liz Gavin

Copyright 2013

Published by Elessar Books

I can’t wait to get to club Desire for my little private Halloween celebration. I’ve missed Marcel so much and I’m so eager to see him again that I leave my Bel Air mansion at three in the morning - three hours before the time my flight leaves LAX airport. I couldn’t sleep so I decide to get up and drive to the airport myself instead of waking up the driver. I’m not able to ditch the bodyguards, though. They follow me around since those stupid letters started coming in the mail. Who still writes letters, anyway?

When my last movie opened and became another huge blockbuster, a crazy fan, or someone just plainly crazy, started writing threatening letters to me. Henry - my PA is the person who reads and sorts out my mail - showed some of them to me. I told him to get rid of them. It happened over six months ago but I remember that day vividly. As I drive the little convertible through the winding streets, with a smile on my lips and the wind blowing my red curls, I replay our conversation in my mind.

I was stretched out on a big, soft couch reading some dirty novel in my favorite room of the house - the library - when Henry stormed in and threw a pile of sheets of paper on my lap. They were covered in cut-out words from magazines and newspapers. They looked like something out of a very old-fashioned mystery film.

“What’s that, sweetie? Did the printer break down?”

“Very funny, Clara. No, they’re the letters I’ve told you about. There’s a new one every day. Sometimes two. We should go to the police.”

“Nonsense! Forget about them.”

“I can’t. You’re in danger.”

“Henry, you’re overreacting. I’m not in danger. Throw them away. Burn them. I don’t care what you do, just get rid of these letters. They don’t mean anything.”

“But, Clara, they say they’ll take you away. They are very specific about what they’ll do to you once they get you, too. I must confess I have nightmares about some of them. We can’t sit on our hands and do nothing.”

I grabbed a few of them, skimmed them over and showed them to my overzealous PA.

“Here, darling, look. They say they’ll teach me a lesson because I’m a slut who ruined George Clooney’s marriage. Now, Henry, you know as well as I do that I didn’t wreck George’s marriage in real life. My character had an affair with his character in a damn movie. Why would I worry about these letters, for crying out loud?”

“Because whoever is writing them is clearly insane. That’s why. There’s no need to be afraid of mentally healthy people.”

I petted the couch beside me and ran my hand over his thigh when he sat there.

“Calm down, Henry, will you?” I kept stroking his leg as I spoke softly in his ear. “I’m not afraid of this lunatic, either. I don’t want to lose my precious freedom over something that ridiculous. And that’s what’s going to happen if Peter finds out about these threats, you know.”

I kissed his neck and licked his ear. He shivered but kept talking, although his voice sounded throaty then.

“As your manager, that is his job. Besides, I saw somebody following us in a tinted-glass SUV the other day.”

Henry was out of breath. That was an excellent sign. I nibbled his earlobe and he stroked my inner thigh, under my short skirt, until he reached its top. His fingers pressed between my legs and I spread them further apart to give him better access. I mirrored his movements and cupped his crotch. He hissed and I chuckled softly against his neck.

“Oh, Henry, darling, people follow me everywhere all the time,” I caressed his cheek with my nose and pecked him on the lips, breathing inside his mouth. “Forget about these letters. I can be a real slut but few people know about it.”

I giggled again as I ran my hands up his wide chest until I tangled my fingers in his black, curly hair and pulled him down for a proper kiss. I had started that little sexy game to distract him but the argument and his wandering fingers got me excited. I wanted to let off some steam and my favorite way to do that was sex. Henry is always ready to help me out in these occasions, or any other occasion involving sex, for that matter.

I ran my tongue over his full lower lip and when he gasped I slid it inside his mouth and stroked his velvety one. I moaned and bit his lower lip. He sighed and before I knew it he was lying flat under me on the couch as I straddled him without breaking our passionate kiss. I devoured his mouth as I rubbed my soft body against his hard one.

He pushed my tank top off and I opened his shirt. As our skins touched, electric shocks ran through our bodies. I felt hot moisture pooling down inside me when his erection poked at my soaked panties. I nestled his hard member under my body and he trembled.

“Oh, god, you’re gorgeous and you feel awesome.”

“Do you like it when I ride you, my pet?”

He grabbed my waist, pulling me down on him, moving my body up and down his own, thrusting his hips up. I bit my lip to stifle a moan but it got out anyway. I grabbed his shoulders for balance. When he spoke again, his voice was strangled.

“I love it when you’re on top of me because I can go deeper inside your tight body, Clara. Do it, please. I want to feel you around me.”

“Patience, sweetie. Let’s have some fun, first.”

I reached for the side table, opened the little drawer and found a black silk scarf. His wicked smile was all the encouragement I needed. I loved role-playing with Henry sometimes. So did he. I bent over and kissed his beautiful brown eyes closed before tying the makeshift blindfold around his head.

The air caught in his throat when I grazed his sensitive nipples with my fingernails. They pebbled immediately. He was very responsive. I licked then sucked them until he bucked under me. I laughed, running my thumb over his lip. He bit its tip and sucked it inside his mouth. It was my turn to gasp. Amazing sensations filled my body up and I squeezed my thighs around his hips. He thrust his hips higher.

“What’s wrong, Henry? Are you uncomfortable? Do you want me to stop?”

“No, please, don’t ever stop. I’ll behave.”

I chuckled when I saw his hands fisting over his head in a clear attempt to control his body’s reaction. In this position, I had free access to his wide chest and I feasted on his trembling flesh. Each time I licked or grazed my teeth over his skin, Henry moaned or sighed but he didn’t move his hips under my body again. I felt the tension in the muscles of his thighs. I leaned down and kissed him slowly and gently.

“Very well, sweetie. Be a good pet and I may let you come soon.”

Because he couldn’t see my face behind the scarf, he believed my firm voice but the truth was I was bluffing. I could barely control my own climax. I was dying to feel him inside me.

I laced my fingers through his, kissing him again, still rubbing my soft mound over his hard erection. It twitched and poked at my silk panties. I reached down between our sweaty bodies and opened his zipper to free him. I closed my fingers around his member and guided the smooth tip to my hot entrance. Henry hissed when his silky head connected with my folds. When he threw his head back, I took advantage of the position to suck on a very sensitive spot at the base of his neck.

“Oh, god, Clara! You’ll be the death of me,” he wailed, moving his hips upwards to meet mine.

As he penetrated me, I untied the blindfold. I wanted to stare into his gorgeous eyes as I fucked his brains out. I moved slowly up and down, swaying my hips, controlling the rhythm of our bodies as his member filled me completely. When he hit my sweet spots, I let out a low moan. He cupped my large breasts and rolled my hard nipples between his fingers. It took my breath away, then, it was my turn to throw my head back and close my eyes as sizzling sensations took over my body: his steel-hard member moving in and out of me, his fingers pulling at my nipples, his hips swaying under me. I moved over him as slowly as I could but I knew my climax was just around the corner when I felt the first spasms. My breathing got ragged. So did Henry’s. I felt his orgasm wouldn’t take long either when his body tightened under mine.

“Bend over, Clara. I need to taste you.”

I did so and he clamped his mouth over one nipple, biting and sucking at it with a fierce hunger that shocked me. Henry loved to play with my breasts but I had never seen him so out of control. I whimpered and picked up speed. His urgency spurred mine. When he moved to the other nipple, repeating his hungry assault, my walls contracted around his member setting off his orgasm.

“Oh, Henry, don’t stop.”

My body squeezed him further when I reached my own climax. It was so overwhelming that I lost touch with reality for a few precious seconds. There was nothing else in the world except our sweaty, slick bodies rubbing against each other, fueling the fires of ecstasy that scorched us both.

We gasped, moaned, kissed, bit, pinched, twisted and rolled. Our bodies already knew the dance so our minds were free to explore a world of sensations, colors and tastes. We soared up and came crashing down together until the waves of pleasure subsided enough to let our hearts slow down a bit. But, my breathing was still ragged as I collapsed over his spent body. Henry embraced me and kissed my closed eyelids.

“Gosh, Clara. I don’t think I can move for the rest of the day.”

“So don’t,” I snuggled beside him without opening my eyes. “Shut up and sleep a little. I need to recover, too.”

He laughed at my mockingly serious tone and kissed the top of my head.

“What if someone comes in? The door isn’t locked, you know.”

“I don’t care. That’s part of the fun. Besides, nobody’s going to say anything to anybody about us if they find us together. That’s the beauty of confidentiality agreements.”

I chuckled against his smooth chest and heard his breathing got even before I fell asleep, too.

A loud honk gets me back to the present and I focus on my surroundings. The traffic lights had changed but I was too distracted by the delicious memories to see them and some nice Californian driver is reminding me I need to pay attention to what I’m doing. I apologize, shift into first gear and move forward. Soon, I get to the airport and park in the long-term parking lot. The bodyguards are right behind me.

Although it’s still early, I take the security check line, always followed by the faithful entourage of secret-agent-looking guys that my manager has hired. It turns out that all that steamy sex distracted Henry only temporarily. My stubborn PA showed the damn letters to Peter and now I have these bodyguards following me everywhere I go. It will be a little awkward once we get to New Orleans but there is no way I’ll let them know about Club Desire. I’ll have to be creative to ditch them. I’m good at avoiding the most vicious paparazzi so I think I can handle four men who work for me.

However, if they are as stubborn as my dear Henry is, there’s always that little thing called ‘confidentiality clause’ on the contracts they had to sign when they started working for me. Still, I’d rather they didn’t find out about my sex adventures in the French Quarter. I smile as I remember the little art gallery on Royal Street that serves as the perfect disguise for one of the best, most exclusive sex clubs in the world - Club Desire. My final destination today is a very well-kept secret, which its clients want to keep that way. I’m no exception.

Being a movie star means it’s impossible to take a regular flight without being recognized. I don’t mind it. I patiently sign the autographs and pose for the pictures my fans ask me to take with me. The security team, on the other hand, go wild when I do this. For all I care, they can scowl at me all they want. I would never disappoint my fans because of some immaterial threat.

“Miss Hervaux, I’m sorry but we need to go. They are boarding our flight,” one of the men gently holds my arm and apologizes to my fans before dragging me to the gate. “I’m sorry, madam, to hold you like this but they were crowding around you and we worried it could get out of hand.”

“It’s no big deal, Jerry. You’re only doing your job.”

I give him my trademark million-dollar smile and he answers me with a yellow one of his own. He starts walking funny and I notice the uncomfortable bulge between his legs. Not wanting to make matters worse, I keep the wisecrack that pops up in my head to myself. It’s Peter’s fault for having hired four horny bodyguards to work for a pin-up looking movie star. Pardon me if I sound cocky. I’m merely realistic. My appearance is my livelihood so I know exactly how I look, how men react to those looks.

On second thought, Peter likes his men strong but dumb. Maybe that’s the criteria he used when he and Henry were recruiting my security team. These four men are handsome and strong. I bet Peter gawked at their muscles instead of listening to their answers during their interviews. At least Henry is straight. I’m sure he vetted the dumb candidates.

* * * *

On our arrival in New Orleans, a town car is waiting for us with Rob, my driver, beside it. He opens the door for us to climb in and gets behind the wheel.

Jerry and his colleagues do their best to act natural but I sense their discomfort. I’m not happy about the whole thing either. So I look out of the window and sip from my bottle of water. This damned traffic jam is driving me crazy.

“Madam, traffic is completely stuck on I-10. I’ll get off ahead and take Tulane Avenue.”

“Yes, do that, Rob. I’m in a hurry.”

“Very well, madam.”

He knows New Orleans like the back of his hand but I’m too impatient today to appreciate it. I look out the limo’s tinted window again but I can barely see the buildings as we pass by them. I remember the last time I saw Marcel and shivers of anticipation travel down my spine, concentrating in my lower body. We had a steamy, kinky night exactly a year ago today. I feel hot liquid pooling inside me at the memory of that encounter. I take a deep breath to calm my throbbing pulse. It doesn’t work. Such sizzling hot memories, combined with the Ben Wa balls I inserted still onboard the airplane, are playing havoc with my body. I squirm on the leather seat as my clitoris gets as hard as a pebble, begging for release.

I look at the bodyguards. Three sit across from me while the other one sits across from the door on my right. Although they’re not looking at me, they have been trained to sense whatever is going on around them. So, I control the urge to play with myself to lessen the pressure building in my inner walls. Instead, I go for the second best option in this situation. I cross my legs and squeeze them tightly together. Some useful Kegel exercises, contracting and relaxing my pelvic floor muscles, may do the trick. I sigh softly and keep looking out of the window, pretending to study the view of my birth town. Even though the tension eases off a little, I feel like a sex time-bomb which can go off at any time and with very little provocation.

Thankfully, I notice we are cruising down the hotel street seconds before the car stops pulls up in front of it and we hear Rob’s voice over the intercom.

“Here we are, madam.”

“Thank you, Rob.”

Jerry and the others climb out of the limo first and check the street before one of them opens the hotel door for me. Jerry stretches his hand to help me out of the back seat. I grab it and smile at him.

“Thank you, Jerry.”

I’ll stay in my usual penthouse suite while they will sleep in a room on some other floor. But I’m sure they’ll keep an eye on my door and the hotel lobby like hawks.

When Jerry hands me the keycard to my suite, I yawn and march to the elevators. Pretending to be a little groggy, when we all board the elevator, I turn to Jerry and say, “Guys, I’m beat. I’m sure you are, too. We woke up too early. I’m heading straight to bed for a nap before I go out into town. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes, that’s fine. But we need to check the suite before you go in, Miss Hervaux.”

I nod and stand in the corridor as they do it.

“It’s all clear, madam. You can go in. If you need us, just call our room.”

“Absolutely. Thanks. Goodbye.”

I close my door but use the peephole to check if they all take the elevator. When they do, I get out of my room and run down the emergency stairs. I go out of the hotel through a side door and walk the short distance to Royal Street. When I stop in front of the art gallery I’m breathless and anxious to go inside and meet Marcel - my favorite ghost.

* * * *

I enter the gallery and cross it quickly to the backdoor, avoiding the few customers inside the store, hiding the celebrity from them. I knock hard on the heavy wooden door and shift my weight because it’s almost impossible to stand still. There’s too much going on down my body right now. Too much pressure building down there, the metal balls and the run from the hotel did the trick. I’m dying to fuck somebody. Anybody.

As if she had heard my thoughts, the club hostess opens the door halfway and my knees go weak. Jenny is standing in front of me, smiling that dimpled, irresistible smile of hers. Looking at her sinful mouth, I remember the first time my Dom invited her to play with us here at Club Desire. These damn balls are not helping, either. I moan and her smile broadens. She looks wicked but I can’t say I don’t like it. I smile back.

“Hello, Jenny. Long time no see.”

“Hi, Miss Hervaux, it’s been a year. Please, come in.”

She invites me in but doesn’t move away, which means I need to brush against her leather-clad body to step across the threshold. Sparks fly at once and I’m happy to hear Jenny hissing. She’s sure as much happy to see me as I am to see her. The naughty little temptress bends over the table to check her tablet and confirm my reservation. The sensual pose leaves her round buttocks on display for me. I curl my hands into balls, keeping them close to my thighs, to avoid reaching out and grabbing her perfect behind.

“You’ve booked your usual suite but there isn’t a request for anybody in to attend to your needs, madam. Who do you want me to send for you?”

“Nobody.”

Disappointment is evident in her expression when Jenny turns around to face me again. I see she swallows hard.

“Very well, madam. Follow me, please.”

Although I know my way around Club Desire quite well, it is the standard procedure for the stunning hostesses to greet and show guests to their rooms. There are many young women working at the Club as hostesses and Jenny happens to be my favorite one. She climbs the stairs ahead of me and her red skirt is so short I can see the curve of her bottom peeping out at me. My mouth dries out and the Ben Wa balls clicking inside me make my body beg for release. I’ve had sex with only one woman in my life – gorgeous Jenny. The memories of that wild day at Club Desire come rushing to my head and I swallow hard and concentrate on climbing the stairs behind that tempting body of hers.

At the suite doorway, Jenny repeats that little trick again of standing in the way to force our bodies to rub against each other. It’s the last straw. I forget the solid reasons I’ve been reminding myself why I shouldn’t touch her. I pin her short body to the closed door and smash her mouth with mine. I bite her lower lip as she runs her hands up my thighs to grab my buttocks and pull me closer to her. I grind my drenched crotch against her soft stomach. I had forgotten how short Jenny is, even in those impossibly high heels she always wears.

“I missed you, madam.”

“I missed you, too, Clara.”

We laugh as I rest my forehead on hers, and we both regain some much needed control. She had played Domme the first time we had sex at Club Desire and we’ve always joked about it since then.

“Sorry, Jenny, I’m not here for you, or Sam, or anyone else.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Clara,” her warm hands caress my back up until they stop on my shoulders. “I had hoped we would have some fun.”

“Well, if you have a little time to spare,” I lift her tight dress up and my fingertips find the hot skin beneath it. “We can have some fun for old times’ sake. What do you say?”

“I do need to go back soon. Let’s make it quick, then.”

She moves her hands along my body as she speaks and I have to laugh at her boldness. She cups my breasts, making them spill out of my top, before I can say anything. She squeezes them together and kisses each top, never leaving my eyes.

“I love them, you know.”

Having trouble to find my voice, I nod in reply. Jenny chuckles at the evidence of my mental state, grabs my waist and spins me around to face the closed door. She’s in control again and I sigh in relief. At Club Desire, that’s how I prefer things to be.

Jenny’s hands keep exploring my body, leaving my breasts, moving down my front, she splays them on my belly. Pulling me against her, she spreads my legs apart with one of hers. When her wicked palm finds my soaking panties and cups me over the thin lacy material, I throw my head back and whimper.

“Miss Hervaux, what have we here? I dare say you seem happy to see me,” Jenny’s hot tongue inside my ear makes me shiver under her touch.

“I am.”

To my own ears, my voice sounds strange, distant. I can barely hear it because I feel like I’m drowning in the sensations she arouses in me. My inner walls have been throbbing since I left the hotel. Now they are quivering and I know a big climax is not far away.

“I can feel your body’s spasms under my hand. It’s so hot, Clara,” Jenny whispers as she moves my panties to one side and inserts her slender finger in me. She finds out why my body is at the breaking point. “Hmm, somebody’s been very naughty!” She cups me again, pressing lightly and I squirm, moaning again. “How long have you had them in, sweetie?”

“I don’t know. For a couple of hours or so,” my voice is throaty because I have difficulty breathing. I grind myself against her body. “I need release, Jenny.”

“I know you do. It’s about time you got them out.”

She pulls my head down and kisses me as she walks us both away from the door and towards the huge colonial-style bed. I love this room and its old-fashioned décor although I don’t see any of that now. She pushes me to lie on my back and, as I fall on the bed, I pull her over me. We keep kissing, devouring each other’s mouths, and Jenny moves her knee between my legs. As her soft tongue caresses mine, her hands knead my breasts. I whimper against her cheek. She moans when her hand moves slowly down to my navel and my throbbing sex. Her long fingers play with my body before they press on my clitoris. The exquisite sensations spreading from the hard nub take my breath away. I writhe on the bed, throw my head back and beg for mercy.

“Jenny, please, I need to come!”

“Your wish is my command, gorgeous.”

Without a warning sign, Jenny pulls the chain that link the little metal balls and they come out of me in one fluid, quick motion. The orgasm that hits me then is so intense, so overwhelming, I think I pass out for some moments. My body trembles from head to toes. My legs quiver. My throat is dry. I move my head from side to side, open my mouth to speak, but no sound words come out. My eyes are unfocused so I close them, which makes the sensations ever stronger.

“You are a vision when you climax, Clara.”

Although Jenny’s voice sounds far away, I feel her hands cupping my cheeks, her thumbs rubbing my lips, before her mouth covers mine in a sweet kiss. Gradually, I return to Earth from whatever stretch of Heaven she has taken me to and stare into her beautiful blue eyes, smiling at the gorgeous hostess.

“Thank you, Jenny. I needed that. I owe you one.”

“You’re welcome but this one is one me. Happy Halloween, sweet Clara!”

As I drift into sleep, I hear the door closing behind her. The satisfied smile playing on my lips becomes a naughty one when I realize I will finally meet Marcel again.

* * * *

I have been so eager to get to club Desire for my Halloween celebration. At last, I can sleep and meet Marcel. Being a ghost, who’s been cursed to stay in this house for all eternity, makes it hard for him to meet me any other way. I can see and talk to him even though most people can’t do so. While some people just sense an eerie energy when he’s around, anybody staying at Club Desire will be able to interact with him if he decides to visit them in their dreams.

Here he comes now, gorgeous and dandy as always. I reach my hands out to him. He grabs them, pulls them up and kisses both.

“I’ve missed you terribly, my beautiful Clara. Why did you stay away for so long?”

“Business. Work. Nothing important.”

I smile, he laughs and, putting an arm around my shoulders, guides me to a nice spot under some shady trees. He has brought a picnic basket and the contents are all placed over a blanket facing a calm lake.

“I love this spot, Clara. Thank you for bringing me here. I can visit people in their dreams but I don’t control the circumstances.”

“I’m glad you like it, Marcel. It’s the lake near the house where I grew up. I love it, too.”

I hold his face between my hands and pull him for a kiss. He takes his time playing with me, running the tip of his tongue over my lips, teasing me. He bites the corner of my mouth and I tug at his hair.

“You are impatient, aren’t you? I had to wait a whole year to hold you in my arms again. Can’t I play with your sweet mouth a little?”

I chuckle and let go of his hair, grabbing his shoulders, instead. I run my hands down his back until I reach his rear end and pull his body against mine. I giggle when his steel hard erection pokes my crotch.

“If you can wait, so can I.”

Giving up the teasing game, Marcel kisses me with renewed passion. I open my lips to invite him in and he plunders my mouth. His tongue finds mine and we wrestle for control until I surrender it to him, molding my body to his and lacing my arms behind his neck. He grabs my buttocks, pulls me closer, rubbing his body against mine, mimicking the sexual act. I moan and he releases my mouth. His breathing is ragged in my ear.

“It turns out I cannot wait, after all,” he laughs at his own self-deprecating joke. “I’d rather not make love to you in your dream again. We can do it any time of the year. Tonight is Halloween, Clara. Let’s celebrate it more accordingly, shall we?”

“Yes, of course! That’s why I came here. Halloween is the only night when you can take on physical form and exist in my world. I wouldn’t miss it, sweetie.”

* * * *

When I wake up on the huge bed at Club Desire, Marcel is lying on his side, looking down at me. His head rests on one hand while he caresses my skin with the other.

“Hello, there.”

“Hi, Marcel.”

Cupping his cheek with my hand, I run my thumb over his lower lip and he smiles, closing his eyes to better savor the sensations.

“God, it’s so good to be able to feel you touching me like this, Clara.”

“It’s not the same when you’re a ghost for me, either. I can see and talk to you. I can feel you, but it’s more like a feathery touch, a brush of a silky cloth, or something like that. On Halloween, it’s different. I can feel you, your flesh. It always amazes me.”

He bends down and caresses my neck with his open lips. I throw my head back, giving him better access to the ivory column, and he finds a very sensitive spot. First, he licks it; then, he sucks hard on it. Jolts of energy travel straight down my body, concentrating in my already scorching hot flesh.

“Oh, Marcel, you are unbelievable.”

“Haunting a sex club does give me some advantage. I’ve picked up on a trick or two over the last hundred years.”

“More like a thousand or more tricks,” I chuckle but lose my thread of thought when his expert hand finds my sex.

“What happened, Clara? Did you play with yourself before I arrived?”

I actually blush and avoid his eyes.

“Come on, sweetie. You know I can’t afford to be jealous or to be your master. I’m just curious. I can’t claim ownership over your body. You’re free to have sex with whoever you choose. I won’t punish you for that.”

“I was eager to get here. You’ve been the only one in my mind for the last couple of weeks, Marcel. I haven’t felt like having sex with anyone; not even Henry.”

“Who’s this?”

“My personal assistant and current lover. You know I don’t date.”

“Because you don’t want to date.”

I shrug at his comment and smile, “On the plane, coming here, I decided to use my brand-new Ben Wa balls. Unfortunately, New Orleans traffic delayed us and it took me forever to get to Club Desire.”

Marcel starts kissing my breasts while I speak and I have to concentrate to finish the story, “I had to run half the way from the hotel down here to avoid my bodyguards finding me.”

“Bodyguards?”

“That’s a long story better left for later.”

I wouldn’t be able to get into that while his hot lips find my hard nipple and he rolls it over his tongue.

“I imagine you were a mess by the time you came to the club,” he speaks with his mouth full of my own flesh. It’s so sexy I squirm and moan.

“Absolutely,” I manage to speak. “Then Jenny greeted me at the door and brought me up here. It was too much temptation,” I wince, hissing between gritted teeth when his finger circles my clitoris and he taps on it.

“Did she take care of you like this?”

Marcel inserts two fingers inside me, stretching my slippery flesh. When he finds my sweet spot and presses hard on it, I can’t breathe. My voice is hoarse when I answer him.

“Not quite like that, no. Oh, Marcel, it feels great. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t. I’m just starting.”

He moves over me, straddling my hips, kissing the top of my nose. His fingers never leave me. He synchronizes the movements of his tongue as he licks the soft skin of my breasts with the stabbing movements of his fingers in and out of my trembling flesh. I go wild. My hands fist in his hair, I close my eyes and shout.

“Marcel, stop teasing me. Just take me. Now!”

“Patience, love. We’ll get there.”

I scratch his back in response but only receive a wicked smile in return. He keeps the slow rhythm of his fingers. When his teeth close around my hard nipple, I trust my hips. He slaps my sex and bites my breast at the same time.

“Naughty Clara!”

I run my hands down his back until I reach his hard buttocks, which I grab in response. It’s his turn to hiss when I part his cheeks and tease him with the tip of my index finger. He spreads my thighs with his, kneels up between my legs, and I can’t reach him anymore. He looks at me - from my disheveled red curls covering the pillows, down past my heaving breasts, until his gaze reaches my wet curls. It feels like his touching me with his fingers instead of his eyes. He grabs my ankles and folds my legs until my feet reach my thighs, holding me in place as he keeps staring, analyzing my contracting folds. I don’t mind the exposure, though. I feel moisture pooling inside me, threatening to overflow. The more he stares, the more my body reacts, and the more difficult it is for me to breathe.

“Oh, god, Marcel, I swear you can make me climax just by staring at me like that.”

I squirm and fist the silk sheets in my hands. He lifts his gaze back to my eyes in the same slow, languish movement and the contractions intensify inside me. His shaft is also in full alert. I see it twitching and I know he’s suffering as much as I am. Good. I lick my dry lips without taking my eyes off of his engorged member.

“Please, Marcel, let me taste you. I want you, so badly.”

“And I, you, my precious. Your body seems to beckon me to feast on you. I also want to bury myself in you and make love to you until we are both so spent we cannot move. I have an idea to solve this little dilemma.”

Marcel turns his back to me, still straddling me, and backs up until his hard member is over my head. I laugh when I understand his intention and swat one of his bottom cheeks.

“Who’s naughty now, my gorgeous ghost?”

I stop talking when he spreads my thighs apart until my knees reach the mattress and buries his tongue inside me.

“Why are you still talking? If you don’t want to play I’ll just go,” he chuckles against me and the vibrations that rippled through my body almost throw me tumbling down over the edge.

“I’ll behave,” I promise in a very feeble voice.

“Please, don’t.”

He laughs again but I silence him when I grab his erection in both my hands and swirl the tip of my tongue around his head sucking the moisture that had gathered there.

“Yes, sir.”

I insert the tip of his member inside my hot mouth before speaking because I know the vibrations will also make him gasp. And he gasps; then, he moans and thrusts his hips up and down, but I’m so enthralled in the delicious sensations his fingers, teeth and tongue are creating in my own body that I just go with the flow.

He swirls his tongue around my hard clitoris before sucking at it and making me see stars. I mirror his movements and graze his shaft a little before licking and sucking it. In the following minutes, our gasps and moans are the only sounds filling the room.

When I cradle him in the palm of my hand, I feel his body tighten. I know his about to climax, but so am I. My inner walls are clamped tightly around his fingers and tongue. He looks at me, both of us are out of breath, and the light twinkling in his eyes tells me he doesn’t want to unload himself in my mouth. Neither do I.

He repositions himself to hover over me, planting his hands on either side of my head, spreading my legs with his body. I guide his erection to the entrance of my sex. He closes his eyes when I help I him penetrate me with a couple of inches of his hard member. Then, he opens his eyes wide when I let go of his body.

“Your turn, Marcel.”

I smile, wrapping my legs around his hips and locking my feet behind his back, pulling him down. He doesn’t waste any more time. Instead of penetrating me inch by inch, as he usually does, Marcel buries himself to the hilt inside me, in one swift movement. I think he stabs at my womb but I don’t care.

“That’s it, Marcel! Take me. Fuck me as hard and as deep as you can go.”

He kneels on the bed and sits me up on his thighs. I whimper at the exquisite sensations this position creates. I grab his shoulders for support and kiss his eyelids, his brow, his nose, his cheeks and his lips, as Marcel thrusts his hips upward and I move my body down on him, swaying my hips.

“God, you fit like a glove around me. You’re so tight!”

“You’re huge, that’s why. I’m not complaining, mind you.”

I throw my head back and close my eyes to savor the emotions. Our bodies are sleek as a thin layer of sweat covers our skin. My body starts to contract so fast around his member that I find it difficult to move. I shout out when a harder wave of ecstasy steals my ability to think. Marcel explodes inside me, and the jets of his hot liquid hitting my womb and inner walls intensify my orgasm. At the same time, my body’s spasms make his pleasure stronger.

“Clara, you’re amazing. You feel fantastic.”

He seizes my mouth in another deep, passionate kiss as we embrace and rub against each other, riding the overwhelming waves of pleasure that fill our bodies and souls with a fire that scorches and soothes at the same time. We soar as high as the moon and stars, our limbs are entangled and our bodies are hot and sweaty. When we slowly return to the reality of the room, the bed with its twisted sheets, our mouths are still locked in a never-ending kiss. As his body softens inside me, we are still holding on to each other, like two drowning people in the middle of a stormy sea. We tumble together on the bed, Marcel turns me on my side, fitting my back to his front and throwing an arm around my waist to keep me close. He kisses my nape and I shiver but fall asleep right away.

* * * *

I don’t know how long we slept snuggled up like that but it feels like centuries because I’m refreshed and recharged when I wake up. I turn to face Marcel and discover he is fully awake. I stretch out in his arms, laughing at his smug expression.

“What happened? Did I say something incriminating in my sleep?”

“No, you didn’t. It’s just that when you look at me with your sparkling green eyes and stretch like that, you remind me of a happy, satisfied cat.”

“I can’t help it. I’m happy and satisfied and that’s probably why my eyes are shining, too. As for stretching; well, let’s just say that I need to do it if I ever want to walk again,” she smiles and kisses his lips. “Besides, I’m getting ready for round two.”

He laughs and kisses my cheek when I reach down between our bodies and close my hand around him.

“You are incorrigible, you know that? It’s a good thing I’m dead or I don’t think I’d survive your sex drive,” he strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. “I need a breather if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it is, honey,” I turn my head and kiss the palm of his hand.

“Tell me about those bodyguards. Why do you need them?”

“It’s just that Peter, my manager, and Henry, the PA, are like two old grannies - afraid of their own shadows. Some fan mail got them all worked-up and they decided I needed protection. But it was nothing and I’ll soon get rid of the bodyguards.”

“Have you read the letters?”

“No, I haven’t. Henry deals with my mail. To be honest, I don’t get many letters. Nobody writes letters anymore. People send emails or text messages.”

Marcel laughs so hard that he’s eyes filled with tears.

“What? What’s so funny? I know I’m not in real danger but I don’t see why this story’s so funny to you.”

“If you had read the letters you would,” he kisses me and wipes the tears from his eyes before speaking again. “I sent them.”

“What? How? And why did you threaten me?”

“Don’t look at me like that. And, please, don’t get angry before I get a chance to explain myself.”

We sit up on the bed but I need to wait until he controls his fits of laughter.

“There’s a new kitchen boy at Club Desire who is sensitive to my presence. He’s not like you, though. He can’t see me and hear me as clearly as you can. However, I can influence his actions quite easily. The best part is that he gets in a trance when I do it and can’t remember anything afterwards.”

“I still don’t see why that’s funny.”

“Because, my darling, I described all the things I would do to you once I got my hands on your soft, ivory skin. They are exactly the things your Master has been doing to you for years here at Club Desire. I even used your pet name - ‘cat’. If you had read them, you’d know I had written them somehow.”

“Oh, my! That actually makes sense. A two-hundred-year old ghost would write a letter instead of sending an email.”

“You see why that’s funny now, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t think it’s funny. It may be ironic but not as funny as you think,” I smack his chest but he only laughs harder at my tantrum. “Besides, it means I’ve been dragging around a handful of bodyguards just because I have somebody who sorts out my mail for me. That’s not fair!”

“Ah, the plight of the rich and famous! I never thought you paid somebody to read your mail for you.”

“Henry does more than that, actually.”

“I bet he does. You said he’s your lover too, right?”

Marcel laughs but I get off the bed when he tries to pull me back into his arms.

“Oh, you are unbelievable! Stay away from me, Marcel. I’m furious at you, right now. I’ll get a shower to calm down.”

I march into the bathroom, half expecting him to follow me, but he keeps his distance. He’s a smart man because I could pluck his eyes out or do something else equally gruesome. As the water cools my temper down I start to see the ridiculousness in the situation and a smile spreads over my lips.

“So you agree with me that it was funny.”

“I shouldn’t but I do.”

I’m laughing out loud, but I stop when Marcel steps inside the shower booth and pulls me against his solid chest for a kiss. I kiss him back and in no time the water feels cold against our hot skins. He lifts his head and I see the flames of desire in the depths of his stare.

“We still have round two to deal with, love.”

“And three, and four, and five,” I shower him with light kisses as I count. “It’s Halloween, my sweet ghost. We need to make the most of this night. It comes only once a year.”

I feel his body reacting to my caresses as his member hardens against my thighs. I lift a leg, wrapping it around his hip and he grabs my knee to help me stand up as he pushes me against the tiled wall. He grinds his body against mine and I gasp. I kiss him again and Marcel moans as he penetrates me again. Only an inch and he stops. I smile against his mouth.

“That’s my Marcel. Slow and easy. Inch by inch. Give it to me, baby!”

He goes in for another precious inch or so before stopping again. His thighs tremble from the effort and my leg isn’t very firm, either. I thrust forward at the same time as I lift my other leg around his hip and he impales me.

“That’s more like it. Take me hard. I’ve been a slut. I ruined somebody’s wedding, remember. I need to be punished.”

I quote one of his letters to tease him and it works. I get the reward I was hoping for when he moves deeper inside me before pulling back almost all the way out of my sex. He goes in again and sets a rhythm, moving in and out of me. His big hands cup my bottom, supporting my weight, as I slide up and down the cool, wet wall in rhythm with his sharp, strong movements. They’re not exactly painful but they’re hard and rough. I love the friction his movements create inside me. I close my eyes when my walls quiver around his member once more.

“It’s coming, Marcel, I can feel it. It’s going to be another big one. Oh, god! Yes! Deeper. Harder.”

He grunts in response, explodes inside me, and throws his head back, shouting, “Ah!”

He keeps on hammering me and I clench his shoulders as tight as I can for fear of falling. I wail when my own orgasm steals my ability to speak. We kiss and stifle each other’s moans as the last contractions subside.

I slip my legs down but they can’t support my body when I try to stand. Marcel grabs my waist and chuckles when we almost stumble down to the floor. We regain our balance and stare into each other’s eyes, laughing and giggling like kids. I don’t want to remember our bliss is going to be over tomorrow morning. I ignore the truth and surrender to the illusion that we could stay together like this forever.

“Happy Halloween, my gorgeous princess,” he kisses the tip of my nose and smiles against my cheek.

“Happy Halloween, my sweet ghost.”

I kiss him softly, and swiftly, on his beautiful, delicious mouth, as the shower water running down our faces hide my bitter-sweet tears.

Luck of the Irish

Keira Ashe’s parents are great but her mother has overprotected her for years. Now, this twenty-two-year-old Bostonian has graduated from college and can go on a trip she has been planning for years. She fears her shyness may get in the way of her enjoying what could be a life-altering adventure. However, Keira feels her luck is about to change when she meets gorgeous bartender Declan Slane.

Declan Slane is twenty-six and works at a hotel bar in Dublin. He hasn’t been very lucky in his love life so far. Also, he has got a troubled past he has chosen not to revisit in order to keep his sanity. Because he isn’t looking for a girlfriend, Declan isn’t very pleased to meet a certain breathtaking American who walks into his bar one afternoon.

Get a taste of adventure and heartache as Keira spreads her wings and matures while she gets to know her great-grandparents’ home country – Ireland. Hold your breath when she faces tough decisions and dangers. Root for Keira while she weighs up the consequences of making love for the first time. Bite your nails when she comes across unforeseen threats.

Liz Gavin’s second full-length novel is hard to put down just as it is hard to pinpoint its genre. She has woven an intricate web around her characters that will leave readers breathless. In the sizzling concoction, this talented new author poured heart-warming romance, heart-stopping suspense, and a dash of heart-searching paranormal. Take your pick. Regardless of the literary genre you might favor, Liz Gavin’s writing will take you to a whole different side of it.

Luck of the Irish

Liz Gavin

Copyright 2014

Published by Elessar Books

Sneak Peek

“How was she murdered?” Kerry wanted to know.

“Multiple stab wounds.”

A brief silence fell on the group as each one processed the information.

“We watched Connor’s interview last night.” Keira broke the uncomfortable silence. “The host said his team had tried to contact Ms. Green, but weren’t able to do so.”

“Do you think there’s a connection between her murder and Connor’s article?” Declan asked.

Dwyer’s arrival, at that moment, interrupted the conversation.

“Good evening, everyone.” He nodded at Heller. “It’s all set in the house.” Then he glanced to Murphy. “I didn’t have time to buy any food, though. You’ll have to take whatever you have in here.”

“That won’t be a problem, sir.”

“Thank you. Please, give Kerry the keys to the SUV. I’ll drive you back.”

“Don’t you think we should take them to the safe house?” Dwyer suggested.

“There’s no time for that.” He lowered his voice, highlighting his frustration. “This lunatic has eluded us for far too long. We have to find all the leads he’s left behind this time, while they’re still fresh. It took the Garda years to find O’Hallon the first time. He eluded us for so long that we thought he must be some kind of criminal mastermind, but he was no bloody Houdini. I’ll be damned if I let him get away with one more murder.” He paused, and seemed to recover himself. He gave a sheepish look toward officers Kerry and Murphy. “Set the GPS with the address to the safe house. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

He turned to Declan to address his previous question.

“It’s impossible to establish, for certain, if Connor’s article had anything to do with Ms. Green’s murder. We have no way of knowing if O’Hallon read the article or not. On the other hand, we can’t rule out any theories at this point. And, that is a valid one.” He glanced then at Dwyer. “We should head back to the station.”

The two detectives stood up to go, and Heller turned to Keira. “Don’t worry about your family. You know we’ve been in contact. I’ll call them as soon as I get to the station to advise them of the change in your situation. I tried to talk to them earlier today—I was afraid they would read about Ms. Green in the media, but I couldn’t reach them. Fortunately, the time difference between Ireland and the U.S. will work in my favor.”

“Thank you, Inspector. I don’t want them to worry about me more than they already do.”

Heller nodded and cleared his throat. “Kerry, Murphy, Morris—you know the drill. Pack up the essential and leave the rest behind. Tomorrow, I’ll send somebody to pick up whatever you leave here.”

“Yes, sir,” the three officers replied.

“Murphy, contact me when you get to the safe house.” He looked at his watch. “It’s a fifteen-minute drive from here. I’ll give you half an hour to get there and call me.”

“Understood.”

“See you tomorrow, Miss Ashe. Slane.”

Heller and Dwyer rushed out of the house, and Keira and Declan went to their bedroom to pack the few belongings they had with them. None of them wasted any time and everybody got busy.

“I’ll pack the things in the kitchen,” Murphy told her colleagues.

“We’ll take care of the bedroom stuff,” Kerry said.

Kerry and Morris opened the closet and threw things inside the bags without wasting time to arrange them properly. The first suitcase filled up in no time.

“Take this to the SUV, will you? I’ll finish packing the other,” Kerry asked Morris.

“I think we’ll need another suitcase for Murphy’s stuff. She’s busy in the kitchen and won’t have time to pack it herself.”

“Good thinking. I don’t think we have another one in here. I saw Murphy bringing some boxes in the other day. On your way in from the car, ask her where those boxes are, will you? We’ll make do with them.”

“I’ve got this.”

Morris finished packing the second suitcase before Kerry returned with the boxes, so he decided to take it to the car and get the boxes himself. He passed Murphy in the living room as she was coming from the kitchen—her arms loaded with a huge box full of food and other supplies.

“Is Kerry in the kitchen with you?”

“No. I thought he was packing up things in the bedroom with you.”

“He was. I told him to take some stuff to the car a while ago. He hasn’t come back yet. I assumed he was helping you out, because I’d told him to ask you about some boxes.”

They dropped everything to the floor as they realized something was wrong, and drew their weapons. A search around the room didn’t produce any signs of an intruder, which didn’t mean there wasn’t one in the house.

“Check outside.” Murphy lowered her voice. “I’ll check on Miss Ashe and Mr. Slane.”

When he moved to the kitchen, she explained, “I’ve already bolted the kitchen door. Nobody will come in through there.”

“Fine.”

“Be careful.”

“You, too.”

They went their separate ways. Morris headed off to check outside the house. It was dark so he crossed the small garden carefully, and got to the sidewalk. The SUV was parked in front of the house, but he couldn’t see anybody near it. The trunk had been left wide open and Kerry wasn’t there. Morris moved around the car and discovered Kerry lying unconscious, in the middle of the street, a few feet away from the car. Fresh blood pooled on the ground beside his partner. More blood oozed out of a gash in his lower abdomen.

Morris knelt down, put his fingers to his partner’s neck, and checked his pulse. It felt slow and weak. His breathing was labored, too. He stood up and reached for his radio to call dispatch, when he heard a faint rustle of leaves coming from somewhere behind him. As he turned around, Morris felt a sharp pain in his lower belly.

He looked down to find a double-edged knife lodged there. He looked up just in time to see O’Hallon’s sneer as he knocked Morris out with a punch to his right temple. He fell to the ground and blacked out.

When Murphy got to Keira and Declan’s bedroom, she was relieved to find them still packing. She hesitated at the door for a second because she didn’t want to alarm them, although she knew they shouldn’t waste any precious time.

“Keira, we must go. Now.”

“We’ve just finished packing our stuff,” she answered without looking up at Katherine as she struggled with the suitcase zipper.

“Let me do that, love,” Declan offered, taking her place.

“Isn’t he adorable?” Keira taunted him, looking up at Katherine for support. Her smile vanished at the sight of Murphy’s gun. “What’s going on, Kate?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What happened, Murphy?” Declan demanded. “Why are you here with that gun?”

The gardaí stood at the door watching the corridor and glaring at them as if cross they weren’t doing what she told them to do. “We’ve got to go. Now. Kerry is missing. I told Morris to go out and look for him. I came in here to check on you guys. We can’t waste time. Come with me. You’d better …”

She never finished her sentence.

A shot rang out and Murphy fell to the floor of the corridor. Keira jumped forward to go to her, but Declan’s strong hand grabbed her upper arm and pulled her back. He stepped in front of her, and before she could say or do anything, Paul O’Hallon appeared at the door, blocking their only way out.

“Missed me, gorgeous?” he addressed Keira, but aimed his gun at Declan. “Let go of her, Slane. Nobody else needs to get hurt.”

“She’s not going anywhere with you.”

“That’s a bold statement. You shouldn’t underestimate her feelings for me. Now, get your hands off her and let her come to me.”

“You’ll have to shoot me first.”

“That won’t be a problem.” He aimed at Declan’s head and cocked the gun.

“Declan, please, don’t do anything. He will shoot you.” Keira moved to stand between the two men and faced Declan. “But, he won’t hurt me. Please, let me go.”

“I’ve told you a million times, Keira, that I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll not let this vermin take you anywhere.”

“Baby, please, let me go. I’ll find a way to come back to you. I promise. I don’t want to see you get hurt because of me.”

“No way. You can ask me anything, love—just don’t ask me to give up on you.”

“I’m not asking you that. I’m asking you to have faith in me, in us.”

Keira and Declan locked eyes, filled with conflicting emotions. His dark green gaze was full of determination and anger, while her blue eyes brimmed with tears, and her face screwed up into a mask of anguish.

With their feelings and senses so invested in their momentary battle of wills, Declan and Keira didn’t notice O’Hallon moving inside the room, until he grabbed her upper arm and yanked her away from Declan’s grasp.

“You heard her begging you to let her go with me. Keira belongs with me. You should have learned that by now, Slane. You took her away from me against her will.” Loathing and spite glinted in his hard eyes as he pulled the trigger without batting an eyelash.

“No!” Keira’s cry of desperation rang through the room, along with the blast from the gun.

Declan fell to the floor with a hand pressed to his stomach, where a stain of dark red spread across his shirt. Keira launched herself at Paul, screaming like an ancient warrior woman.

Deep hurt and churning hatred consumed her, but also gave her an unexpected strength to punch his chest and arms. Caught by surprise, Paul moved backwards a couple of steps. She followed him, sank her nails into the soft flesh below his eyes, and scratched at his face, hearing the gratifying sound of his high-pitched yelp of pain.

“You son of a bitch! Why did you shoot him? You didn’t need to do that.”

“Keira, I did that for us.”

“I’ll kill you for that.”

Frantic, she looked around the room in search of something to hit him with, and missed his next movement. Sharp pain shot through her left temple when he hit her with the grip of his gun. Her sight turned hazy and she stumbled forward towards Paul. When he stretched his hands to hold her and stop her fall, she panicked.

“Stay away from me, you sick son of a bitch.”

Keira couldn’t stomach his hands on her again. She stepped backwards, away from Paul, trying to escape. She lost her footing with her sudden movement, fell backwards, and hit the back of her head on the ground with a loud crack.

“Declan …”

His name was the last softly whispered word on Keira’s lips before a silent darkness filled her mind and she lost consciousness.

* * * *

Declan’s head felt fuzzy. Excruciating pain gripped his abdomen and clogged his brain, and allowed him to remember only bits and pieces, regardless of how hard he tried—gardai Murphy showing up, O’Hallon snatching Keira from his hands, then shooting him.

After he had fallen to the ground, he’d blacked out. When he woke up, he didn’t know how long he had lain on the floor. Blood oozed out of the bullet wound, while crippling pain seared him when he made even the smallest movement.

He tried to shout for help, but his voice had deserted him. He moved his head, looking for Keira, and found her lying on the floor close to him. He felt utterly powerless when he heard the gut-wrenching sounds of bones breaking as O’Hallon continued to batter her already immobile body—just like he had felt when he was a child. He made a super-human effort to stretch his arm and reach them. He needed to stop the bastard, he needed to help her, but unbearable pain paralyzed him.

“Stop! You’re killing her!” were the words he tried to shout, but no sound came out of his mouth.

He rolled onto his back. More blood oozed from his wound. Dizzy, sick to his stomach, and angry at himself for not being able to stop O’Hallon, he felt he had failed Keira. Just like he’d failed his mother as a kid. He couldn’t live with himself if something happened to Keira because of him. He took a deep breath, bracing himself to try to move, but a sharp stab of pain pierced his chest, and he lost consciousness again.

* * * *

When Declan opened his eyes again, he didn’t know how much time had passed. The house was deadly quiet. O’Hallon was nowhere to be seen. Sluggish, Declan crawled forward and sat up beside Keira. He could barely breathe, due to the effort to move and the loss of blood, but he pulled her lifeless body onto his lap and held her close. He hugged her tight against his chest. He buried his face in her hair, which was covered in blood, and cried like he hadn’t cried since he was a little boy. He felt like he was six again.

“Please, please, don’t leave me, Keira.”

His sobs filled the air. He balled his hands into fists, frustrated because Keira didn’t respond. He couldn’t face the evidence that she wasn’t able to answer him.

“This is my fault, too. He wouldn’t have killed you, if I had let you go with him.”

He sat there, rocking back and forth for a long time, hanging on to her as if he could bring her back by sheer power of will. The thought that she was gone forever caused such burning pain in his chest, much stronger than the one from the bullet. He couldn’t breathe.

“Please, don’t go. I can’t bear it if you leave me, too.”

“I didn’t want to leave you, but I had to go, sweetie. I wouldn’t have left you, if there were any other way. Please, stop crying.” Keira’s voice sounded different. It seemed there was some kind of echo, like two people talked at the same time.

A soft hand rested on his shoulder. Declan looked up and couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Mom? Is that really you? How? What happened? What are you doing here?”

“I came because you needed me, son. In fact, I’ve never really left you. You just couldn’t see me.”

He looked down to find Keira’s body had disappeared. His mother stood in front of him. It was hard for him to look at her without squinting his eyes against the bright light radiating from her. She held out her hand and pulled him up.

“How is it possible? You’re dead. It was my fault, too. I couldn’t help you and you died. Just like Keira.”

“Anything is possible here. Don’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, son. I didn’t die because you couldn’t help me. And neither did Keira.”

“I saw it. I stood there and watched father kill you. How isn’t that my fault?”

“You were six. You couldn’t do a thing. Besides, your father isn’t a murderer. You were too young to understand what was going on in our house. You’re an adult, now. You’ve got to forgive him. He needs you and your brothers.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t do that, mom. My brothers can’t, either. He killed you.”

She lifted an almost transparent hand to tap his. There was so much love, so much compassion in her eyes, that he felt like those same emotions filled his body.

“I’ve forgiven him, love. Why can’t you and your brothers do the same?”

She paused and waited for his reply. When he didn’t say anything, she smiled.

“Besides, nobody really dies. I mean, we cease to exist as corporeal beings, but we don’t cease to exist. In this sense, I’ve never abandoned you. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

A thick white fog wrapped them up and cloaked everything else around them. He couldn’t see a thing.

“Where are we?”

“At the hospital. You’re undergoing surgery.”

Iris Slane swept her hand in the air in front of them, the fog lifted, and Declan saw they were standing in the middle of a brightly lit room. A group of people worked around an operating table. He had to strain his neck to see over their shoulders. His body lay on the table. He didn’t question the fact he could see his own body a few feet away, but rather wondered about Keira.

“Where’s Keira?”

Iris didn’t answer. She preferred to hug her youngest son instead.

“What happened to her, mom?”

“It’s going to be all right, Declan.”

“How can you say that? I saw her on the floor. Her face was covered in blood. Her body was battered. She wasn’t breathing.”

“I know what you saw, dear. It’s difficult for you to understand it. You’ve got to have faith, son. You’ve got to believe your love is strong enough to lead her back to you.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, mom. I’m so tired. I’m tired of everything.”

“Don’t say that, love. You’re too young to say such a thing.”

“Keira’s been through so much. Both of us have. I can’t take it anymore. I’m just so very tired.”

“Don’t give up. You must fight back this weakness.”

The monitor in the operation room sounded a high beep. Declan had flatlined. The doctors and nurses hurried around the operating table, trying to revive his motionless body.

“Go back, Declan, and I promise I’ll find Keira,” her mother told him. “Know that I’ll always be by your side.”

As the team shouted orders, he felt light-headed. At the same time, his mother seemed to get more ethereal, slowly vanishing in the air. All of a sudden, he couldn’t see her anymore, and everything turned quiet around him. All the pain had disappeared. He didn’t feel anything.

* * * *

Keira didn’t know how she had gotten to that beautiful garden. Color filled it and the flowers in bloom smelled delicious. Among the flowerbeds stood a tall, redheaded woman. Her expression looked serene and inviting. Keira knew her.

“Who are you? I think I know you but I can’t remember. Do I know you?”

“Not exactly. We’ve met before but I wouldn’t say you know me.”

“I’ve seen you before. I don’t know where. I’ve been confused lately. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, child. You’ve been through a lot. I know it. I was there.”

“Are you my mom? I can’t remember anything and it’s driving me mad. I hate this feeling of helplessness.”

“I know what you mean, but I’m not your mother, Keira. I’m Iris Slane. Your mom is alive, you know. Your whole family is alive and they worry about you. They love you very much. Paul’s been telling you all kinds of lies, sweetie.”

Keira felt relieved and anguished at the same time. Her family was safe and she wasn’t alone in the world. On the other hand, what kind of man was Paul? Why did he tell her such vicious lies? She couldn’t trust him.

“You’re right to question him. He is a very dangerous and sick man.”

“Can you read my mind?”

“We can do anything here, child.” Iris smiled sweetly at somebody standing by her side. Keira couldn’t see the person. “I brought somebody to see you. He was about to give up because he thought you were dead. I had to promise him I’d find you to convince him to go back.”

Keira’s heart skipped a few beats when she laid eyes on the gorgeous man beside Iris.

“Declan!” She threw her arms around his neck, laughing and crying. “I know who you are. I know who I am, now, too.”

Everything came back to her—emotions, people, facts, places, and feelings. Dizziness overcame her, but his strong arms around her narrow waist were all she needed to keep her safe.

“I’ve got you, love. Nobody’s going to hurt you anymore. I’m here.”

Declan kissed her hair, her moist face, and her mouth with so much love and tenderness. Their tears mingled as they kissed, as they whispered the sweetest words to each other, and the world around them ceased to exist.

* * * *

Intrigued by Declan and Keira’s story? There’s tons of steamy action in this romantic thriller, Liz Gavin’s second full-length novel. Get your copy of Luck of the Irish now or read it for FREE with Kindle Unlimited.

Celtic Fire

UPCOMING NEW NOVEL

Rowen has sacrificed much in the name of the Great Goddess: family, dreams, and her eternal love. Now, the Lady of the Lake asks of Rowen yet another sacrifice. Only this time it may prove to be too much for her scarred heart. Can Rowen betray gentle, loving Caddaric, the soul mate who has been her haven for many lifetimes past? Can she trust Eochaid, a rude warrior who symbolizes everything she despises and hates? Will she fulfill her duties as High Priestess or will she abandoned her faith in the name of love?

Sneak Peek

CHAPTER 1

It is the morning after Samhain and I lay in my bed, watching the beams in the ceiling of my room. The warmth of Caddaric’s body still lingers in my bed and I snuggle down under the bedclothes, inhaling deeply to fill my lungs with his sweet scent. I try to gather as many memories of his presence as possible. They’ll have to last for a whole year and I know they never do.

The razor-sharp pain in my chest is too strong for me to bear it and I let a few silent tears trickle down my face. I fought them for the last 24 hours knowing they would win in the end. I can still hear Caddaric’s soft whispers as he told me this is the way things were meant to be; that we should honor the Goddess willingly and freely; that it is our duty and that our reward will be eternal bliss. I can’t muffle a soft sob. Knowing something is true does not make it any easier to bear.

Every year I go through this same exact routine. On the day after Samhain, I manage to get up only in the afternoon. The villagers are simple folk who believe I need time to recuperate from all the exhausting activities of the previous day, like they do. Nobody knows the truth and they never shall.

This thought brings me back to the present and to my duties. As High Priestess, I need to lead my people in each one of their spiritual needs as well as many of their material ones. I struggle a bit more with my conscience before getting up and going about my day.

No sooner do I step out of my hut and I’m surrounded by my neighbors. They are excited, talking at the same time, demanding my attention and blessings.

“Good day, my lady. It is a beautiful one.”

“Praised be the Goddess, madam. Samhain was a beautiful celebration yesterday.”

“We’re expecting a peaceful winter, this year.”

“Our harvest was the best one in ages. The Goddess must be very pleased with us, blessing us with such bounty.”

They go on talking like that, walking by my side, in front of me and behind me, all the way until the edge of town. I nod and smile back at them because that is all they need me to do. It’s our little post-festival ritual. It doesn’t matter which festival we celebrate, my fellow villagers need reassurance that the latest edition has been the best in our History and that the Goddess will keep on blessing us for worshipping Her.

“We are blessed people, indeed, my dearest neighbors. And we must keep doing our good work and following the Old Faith so that the Goddess does not turn away from us like She has done to those who have forsaken Her. We all heard the horrible stories which the travelers coming from the mainland bring us. The faithless warriors of the eagle attack and destroy towns, kill women and children, and take our young men for slaves. We need Her protection now, more than ever.”

As I finish my little speech, we arrive at the entrance to the sacred oak grove and halt. I bid them farewell and they stay behind, as I proceed on my own. They know only the priests and the priestesses are allowed inside this sanctuary.

Although my heart is heavy and my thoughts are gloomy, I take a deep breath and focus on the task at hand. I search for the sacred oak, the oldest tree in the grove. Finding it, I lie on the floor, face down, in front of the revered tree. Earth’s energy travels through my body, filling me up and making my skin tingle all over as I say my prayer.

“Forgive me, Great Mother. I have failed you yet again. I am your vessel on this realm and as such I should never doubt your ways. Nevertheless, when the time came for Caddaric to go I despaired and fought the inevitable, like I always do.

Please, give me strength to control my own weak heart and wisdom to understand your signs and courage to do your bidding.”

The wind picks up around me making the dry leaves and little twigs swirl. Faint whispers come in the breeze. A thousand gentle fingers move over my body caressing, soothing me.

“Oh, Mother, you are too kind and never abandon me. I promise to serve you faithfully and perform my duties accordingly from now on.”

The wind blows stronger, molding my clothes to my body, covering me in dry leaves. I feel faint and when I open my eyes, I’m not in the sacred grove any longer. I’m lying on a sunny field, there’s a gentle breeze blowing from the distant line of apple trees, bringing the sweet smell of their flowers in full bloom. I stand up, fast, when I recognize my beloved isle of Avalon.

Looking around me, I see the Lady of the Lake standing just a few feet away. I go to her and bow. The Lady pulls me up by my shoulders, smiles serenely and looks me in the eyes. I’m sure her eyes can read my soul.

“Stand up, Rowen, my child. Don’t cry. You should rejoice over your successes instead of mourning what you perceive as failures. Your wards look up to you and seek your guidance because your advice is wise. The villagers worship the Great Mother according to the old traditions because they follow your leadership. Despite being so young, my beautiful Rowen, you are wise and your people respect you.”

I’m touched by her words. I never expected the Lady of the Lake herself would answer my prayer and come to talk to me, to comfort me.

“You are too kind, my lady. I’m honored and, although I think I don’t deserve your comfort, I thank you.”

“I speak only the truth, Rowen, as all true servants of the Goddess shall do. Now, you won’t like what I need to tell you. You’ve always been loyal to your vows and I count on that loyalty to see you through the task I need you to undertake.”

“You frighten me, my lady. What do you need from me? You know I would never deny you, or the Great Mother, anything.”

“I know that, my sweet child. You won’t say no, but you will hate me for what I’m about to ask of you.”

Very few times in my young life have I met the Lady and fewer times has she sounded so ominous. A shiver of pure terror runs down my spine and my body shakes. In a flash, I see this lifetime before my eyes. The Lady has amazing powers so it’s no surprise to me when she talks about my life as if she could read my mind.

“As a child you were outgoing, social and creative. You loved to sing and dance, especially around the Beltane and Samhain bonfires. You had an innately optimistic and enthusiastic view of life. You inspired and motivated those around you. And these qualities led you naturally to the Goddess.

When you came to the House of Priestesses to be trained in the old lore, you developed a deeper concern for the greater good and acquired an idealistic vision of the world. With time and experience, you’ve learned to be more realistic but you’ve never lost the ability to put the community’s needs ahead of your own.

Nowadays, you’re insightful and sensitive and take great pride in your skill to create effective, harmonious relationships since it’s essential to perform your duties as the spiritual leader of your village.”

“My lady, I know I project an image of independence and self-assurance that draws people to me and gives them a sense of security and stability. That is why they trust me and follow my lead. I also know this is the Gift the Goddess has bestowed upon me and I use it to fulfill my duties. But only the Great Mother knows my heart, my doubts, my fears, and my insecurities.”

“Yes, child, She knows your heart as She knows you better than yourself. Therefore, believe me when I tell you She came to me in a vision and commanded me to assign you this task because She knows you are the only one who can save us all.”

I control another wave of panic in order to reply to the Lady.

“I could never hate you for doing the Goddess’s bidding, my Lady.”

“You are to conceive a child in the Great Marriage on the next Beltane festival.”

If she had stabbed me with a knife it would not hurt so much. I am speechless, paralyzed, stunned. But my head is spinning with thoughts colliding inside it. I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to claw her eyes out of their sockets, but most of all, I want to run and hide. Only, there’s no hiding from the Great Goddess. It takes me so long to recover my ability to speak that the Lady of the Lake holds both my hands in hers, shaking them gently.

“Rowen, my dear, I know you heard me. Say something.”

“So be it,” my words come out as a faint whisper because I’m choking on unshed tears.

“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you want to know why She has asked you to do that?”

“That is irrelevant, isn’t it, my lady? She is the All-wise and I am her lowly, faithful servant. There is no point in asking anything if I’ll do exactly as I’m told. In the end, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Following someone blindly is a mistake, Rowen. Even if one is following the Goddess. We shall serve Her better if we rationally and consciously make the decision to do so. There are six months ahead of us for the preparations and this encounter is going to take its toll on both you and me. Our realms are drifting apart and your visiting me here today will leave us spent. I have the power of Avalon to help me heal, you don’t. I shall visit you again some other time, my child.”

Before I can say anything, the Lady of the Lake, the shores of Avalon and the apple trees in bloom fade away and I am lying on the ground of the sacred grove once more.

Looking up and analyzing the sunlight coming down through the branches, I know it’s late afternoon and I must go back. But my body refuses to obey my head and I stay a little longer absorbing the energy that emanates from the forest ground, trying to rein in my scattered thoughts and composing myself before summoning enough courage to face my fellow villagers.

* * * *

The morning starts like any other in my little island with the annoying exception of a stubborn warrior named Eochaid. I manage to salute the Sun as I always do but before I finish breakfast the man is at my door.

“Good morning, my lady. Are you ready to show Tìr Iodh to me?”

“No, although that won’t stop me from showing it to you. Besides, I can’t take you around the whole island, there’s no time for that but I’ll show you around Dùn Mòr Bhalla.”

When we start walking the almost deserted streets, Eochaid surprises me with his intelligent questions and sincere interest. He asks me about the families, their businesses, the crops and the cattle we grow on the island.

“We grow wheat, barley, oats and rye, mostly. There are fishermen, obviously, but we also have cattle to feed us and to provide wool, hide and leather.”

I point the different farm lands for each crop and cattle as we pass them by although they all lay bare after the recent harvest. Some animals can be seen scattered around the gentle hills and we spot the fishermen’s boats in the distant sea.

“How was your harvest this year?”

“The Goddess has blessed us once more with an abundant harvest. Our Samhain celebration was wonderful.”

I choke a little at the memory of my dear Caddaric’s arms around me on Samhain night and the sweet lovemaking with shared then. It was just two nights ago but it already seems an eternity. I forget the warrior beside me and my surroundings as always happens when I think of Caddaric.

Eochaid brings me back to the present when we are deep into the woods. He touches my arm and I jump at the shock his hot hand sends through my body. The reactions he provokes in me are starting to annoy me. I frown and look at him.

“What, warrior?”

“Why do you keep calling me that, my lady? What have I done to upset you?”

I think of a long list of things he’s done so far that have disturbed me deeply but I manage to keep them all to myself.

“Because you are a warrior and it’s a good thing I always remember that. Warriors are untrustworthy, rude men who take what they want, when they want it and how they want it regardless of the consequences. I know. I’ve seen your kind in action more times than I should have and the results were never any good.”

I know I’m being unfair to Eochaid but I don’t care at all. His touch has disturbed me more than I want to admit to myself let alone to him.

“You are an intelligent woman and I’m sure you know not all people are the same. I don’t know what kind of warriors have crossed your path in the past but it’s not fair to judge one by the actions of another,” his expression is difficult to read but he sounds angry and even a little hurt.

My sense of justice prevails over the turmoil of my emotions and I halt in the middle of the tree lined path. I raise my hand and signal him to stop too. I take a deep breath and the air leaves my lungs in a soft sigh before I’m able to speak.

“I know, sir, and I apologize for my behavior. It’s just that your arrival has been so sudden and everything I’ve ever known has been thrown upside down overnight. I think I need time to adjust to the new reality. On the other hand, I do have very painful memories of war times and the peace I have here in Tìr Iodh is the one thing I treasure most of all. I guess I’ve been reacting this way because I feel you and your men will threaten our peaceful living.”

He looks me in the eyes and I know he’s sincere when he answers me.

“Rest assured, my lady, that we have come to Tìr Iodh to keep Dùn Mòr Bhalla safe from any threats. We don’t bring danger nor harm to you or your fellow villagers. I cannot measure how much your memories hurt you and would never try. But I can show you not all warriors are the same ruthless, insensitive men.”

Eochaid leans down towards me and I don’t know why I don’t pull back or move my head away. He’s not holding me in any way other than with his gaze. His dark blue eyes never leave my green ones. He even stops, for a second or two, inches away from my lips. And, still, I don’t move away. I stand there, frozen to the ground, waiting for his touch. Our breaths mingle and his lips close upon mine. It’s a feathery touch, a brush and I still don’t do or say anything. Eochaid runs the tip of his tongue over my lower lip as if he’s asking permission to go further. I don’t give it but I don’t deny it either. He pulls away still looking me in the eyes with a questioning expression. He raises an eyebrow but I keep my reactions in check and merely look back at him.

“Why do you deny the attraction between us? I cannot be the only one who felt the energy circulating between our bodies every time we touch. Am I so repulsive, my lady?”

“You must know quite well you are not a repulsive man, so don’t try to tease me, sir. As for the reactions my body might have had under your touch, they are only physical responses and have nothing to do with the way I feel about you or any other man, for that matter. A woman may feel desire even for a man she despises.”

I sense I went too far the second the words come out of my mouth but by then it is too late to take them back. As true as they might be, they are also cruel for I have no real reasons to despise the man standing in front of me other than the fact that he does make me feel things I don’t want to feel.

He steps a couple of feet back as if I had slapped his face. I see his nostrils flaring and the effort he makes to keep his anger in check. After all, he’s trying to prove he is not ruthless.

“You try my patience, my lady, but I won’t fall in your trap. I refuse to mistreat a woman even if she’s asking for it. On the other hand, I’d be delighted to prove you’re wrong about your reactions to me.”

This time Eochaid is not so gentle when he pulls me against his hard body. His hands circle my waist and I can feel his erection through the layers of clothes. I also don’t stand still like before. I thrust, twist and claw at him trying to get free.

“Let me go, sir. You’re hurting me.”

“No, I’m not. I’m hurting your pride, only. I’m sure no other man has ever held you like this.”

“No wise man has held me against my will, you mean.”

“A little cat fighting can be fun, too. Let me show you.”

He pins my hands behind my back and molds his body against mine as he swoops and captures my mouth. This time he’s far from hesitant. Eochaid bites my lower lip, invades my mouth with his rough tongue and slides it against mine. I gasp and spurt and bite down his tongue.

“Ouch. You are a feisty little thing, aren’t you? I’ll have a lot of fun breaking you, my wild filly.”

“Oh, sir, you are wrong in so many levels that you have no idea. Now, let go of me or I’ll curse you and you’ll regret it until the end of your life.”

“You need to be able to speak to do that, High Priestess.”

Before I can reply, he seizes my mouth again only this time he is gentle, sweet even. He swirls his tongue around mine and pulls my lower lip between his teeth as he brings my body flush against his. I’m surprised to notice his member is bigger than before. I didn’t think it would be possible. He’s taking his time tasting my lips. I know he’s coaxing me into trusting him and lowering my guard. I stop fighting because my movements only brought our bodies closer together but I refuse to kiss him back. When he notices I stopped struggling, Eochaid splays his big hands, one over my lower back and the other between my shoulder plates. He holds me closer and rubs his crotch against my softness. I can’t hide the shudder that rakes my body.

Eochaid moves forward until my back is resting against a tree trunk. He presses one thigh between mine and pins me to the tree with his weight. Without interrupting the kiss, he lifts the hem of my tunic with one hand and cups my breast with the other. My legs go wobbly below me and I only manage to keep standing up because I don’t need them to do that. I keep my arms straight down my sides and refuse to hold or caress him in any way. The warrior is hell-bent on proving his point to me so he ignores my lack of enthusiasm as his fingers move up my inner thigh, slowly until they find my mound. He hesitates for the briefest moment before pressing a finger on my hard nub. I gasp and he releases my mouth to look me straight in the eyes, certainly hoping to gloat over his success. He pulls away completely when he sees the silent tears rolling down my face.

“What’s wrong, my lady? Have I hurt you? I didn’t mean to.”

“You haven’t hurt me physically but you assaulted me nonetheless. What did you expect? That I would throw myself at you, laughing and carefree? That I would fall at your feet?”

“I don’t understand why you deny me. You are not married, so you’re not betraying anybody. You are young, healthy and beautiful. Why does the touch of a man make you cry?”

“The fact that I’m not married doesn’t mean there isn’t another man. I would betray him if I allowed you to go any further, sir. I’m an honorable woman. I’d never willingly betray Caddaric’s trust like this,” I’m sobbing so hard now that my body shakes but I can’t control it.

Eochaid embraces me, careful not to hold me too close this time, and speaks to me as he would do to a child.

“Calm down, now. Stop crying, my lady, please. There’s no reason for that. I hate to see a woman cry. I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t help it.”

When I pull myself together, he releases my body but holds my stare.

“I don’t understand what you said, Priestess. You are not married but you said you are involved with a man. Who is he?”

“Caddaric is a Druid. We have been together for many lifetimes, ever since I can remember. I love him with all my heart and so does he.”

“But if that is so, why does the Lady of the Lake wants us to conceive a child at the Great Marriage? Your beloved Caddaric certainly is from the right bloodline, maybe even better than mine, to help her restore the Old Ways. Why me?”

“What are you talking about? How do you know about that? I was alone in the Sacred Grove when she came to me?”

“She crossed the gap and came to me during the last Beltane celebrations. It took me a long time to convince the High King to let me come here with my men. I wanted to be here for the Samhain festival, as I told you yesterday, because I thought it would be the best way to introduce myself to you, such a powerful High Priestess. But you know how it turned out. And now you tell me you are betrothed to a Druid. It doesn’t make sense. How could she be wrong about it?”

He paces while he speaks. Then he halts, turns to me and his eyes are alight.

“You said she came to you as well. So I’m not wrong about it. And neither is she. What did she say to you?”

“The same things she said to you, apparently. Except she forgot to mention who you were and that you had just arrived,” my words are dripping with bitter irony but I don’t care. I’m furious.

“You still haven’t explained to me how you got to be involved with a Druid without the Lady of the Lake knowing about it.”

“Oh, but she knows about it, sir. It’s a long story best left for another day. It’s getting late. We need to go back to our duties.”

“This isn’t over yet. But I agree we must return.”

Eochaid punches a tree trunk hard in frustration before we walk back to the village. I take a deep breath to calm down and pray he doesn’t find out the whole truth about Caddaric any time soon or I’ll be in trouble with this persuasive man. For some moments there, I seriously considered returning his kisses and surrendering to the delicious feelings he aroused in me. Only the memory of my sweet Caddaric kept me from doing that.

* * * *

I toss and turn. Sleep still eludes me. I cry some more and finally drift into a deep slumber. I’m standing on the shores of Avalon once more. Only this time it’s Caddaric who welcomes me. I hold him tight before kissing his lips. When I reach down for his robe sash, he holds my hand and, intertwining our fingers, brings it up and kisses it.

“We need to talk, Rowen. Why are you so sad, my love?”

“I long for your touch, Caddaric, when we are apart. The months drag by and I count the seconds until the next Samhain or Beltane, when we can really be together, not like this, in my dreams. Then the day passes too quickly. I wish we could be together forever.”

I can’t hold back the single tear that rolls down my face although I do not fuss about it. He kisses the tear, cups my chin and tilts my head up to face him.

“Don’t say that, my love. You know very well we’d only be together if you died. You have many things to do before returning to Avalon, to the spiritual world. A lot depends on that, too. You shall not forsake your duties. You have studied and prepared yourself so hard when you were here to be able to fulfill your obligations once you reincarnated. We both knew it would be difficult to be apart like this but we’ve accepted the task. You cannot balk now.”

“I know it all, Caddaric. But still I am confused, alone and afraid. Others have tried before us and failed terribly. They were powerful druids who could not prevent the spiritual world of Avalon drifting away from the material realm. Why did I believe we could?”

“Because the Goddess believes in you. I’m only guiding and protecting you, remember? Besides, the Lady of the Lake trained you herself and is supervising our mission. And you know you have been doing an excellent job.”

“Yes, but still the people are abandoning the Old Ways in favor of the Roman God. Their priests are everywhere. They’ve even gotten to Iona. I’m guessing it’s a matter of time until they come to Tìr Iodh as well and start trying to convince our people the Great Goddess is an ancient superstition. You know the less people there are following the Old Faith, the greater is the gap between our worlds.”

“I know, Rowen. That’s why your mission is so important. Nowadays, we are able to cross the threshold to the world of the living only on Beltane and Samhain. It is not enough. We want to help people, guide them whenever they need but it’s getting harder and harder to do that.”

I hold him closer and rest my face on his chest. His strength has always restored my energy and faith. I need it more than ever.

“Just let me be like this, in your arms, for a while longer. You give me peace and I need a lot of it now.”

He frames my face in his gentle, soft hands and kisses me long and sweetly. I lose track of time as I bask in his love. He plays with my mouth, his tongue runs over my lips as his thumbs caress my cheeks. When he pulls back to lean his forehead against mine, we are both short of breath. He moves his hands slowly from my shoulders to my waist and rests them on my backside, pulling me closer. I laugh at him and raise my mouth to kiss him again but Caddaric smiles and starts speaking before I finish my gesture.

“There’s more troubling you, little one. Do you think I don’t know about Eochaid?”

My face turns a deep shape of red and I drop my head to avoid his piercing green eyes. But he won’t have any of that. He leans his head and lifts my chin until our eyes meet again, his eyebrows are raised and I feel he’s suppressing his laughter. That ignites my temper.

“Don’t you dare mock me, Caddaric Seagha. I won’t have it.”

“I’m not mocking you. I think it’s lovely the way you blush. You didn’t think you’d go through this lifetime alone, did you?”

“I don’t want anyone but you, my love.”

“It’s not right and it’s not natural. The Goddess wants us to live life to the fullest and that includes love and sex. That’s the way it’s supposed to be, Rowen. The Great Mother symbolizes life, so lovemaking is a way to worship Her, too.”

“But we can have all that. We love each other and on the festivities, when you come visit me, we can make love.” I feel my face is burning more than it was before. He kisses each of my cheeks before replying.

“That’s not living to the fullest and you know it. I can’t give you children, for one thing, and I only exist in the material world temporarily, on such occasions. I don’t belong there, you do, for now. You knew that before you accepted to be born again and you can’t deny it now.”

“I’m not denying anything. It’ just that I love you and I don’t want to betray you.”

“You’re not betraying me, sweet Rowen, if I agreed to all this, are you? I want to see you happy because I love you beyond measure and if your happiness, in this lifetime, lies in the hands of Eochaid, I will never stand in your way. Not even as a shadow in the back of your mind because that’s what I am. Please, my love, you have to let go of me.”

“I can’t forget you, Caddaric. Don’t ask me to do that,” I have burrowed my face into his chest and I’m sobbing now and holding him tight.

“I’m not asking you to do that because I wouldn’t stand it. I’m asking you to give him a chance to show you his intentions and to show you who he really is. He is a good man, from an old family and with many ties to Avalon, too. You don’t remember him now, but it’s not the first time your paths have crossed. You and Eochaid have met in past lives just like we have. He’s lived many lifetimes and learned many things. He hasn’t always been a warrior, you know.”

“I don’t want to talk about hom now. We have so little time together, soon I’ll wake up back in the material realm and you’ll be here in Avalon. I want to cherish every second we have.”

“Promise me you’ll think about it when you wake, though.”

“I promise. Happy?”

“Very,” he laughs and rubs his nose against mine exactly like he used to do when he was alive, in another lifetime.

“So kiss me.”

Caddaric does as I ask. We lie down on the sunny grass; he opens my robe, his eyes shine in the magical light of Avalon as he leans down to kiss my breasts. We make love without hurry, rediscovering each other, until the morning comes in the material world and it’s time for me to go back to my body lying on my bed.

* * * *

Liz Gavin’s third full-length novel will soon be available. Don’t miss its release. Sign up for the newsletter.

Fallen Angel

Angela Hewson is a gorgeous, wealthy young woman of Irish-Italian descent. Her mother comes from an old, traditional Italian family. Her father is an idealist who wants to save the world. She rebelled against her politically correct parents because they didn’t understand her hunger for adventure and pleasure. She searched everywhere until she found her match in Greg.

Greg is older than time itself because he’s immortal. He has seen things people wouldn’t believe. He has done things people wouldn’t want to know. He’s sinfully attractive. He’s a tall, mysterious fallen angel. As such, he looks for the very best in life. He knows how to have a good time. He excels in the pleasures of the flesh. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants. And he wants Angela.

This is a teaser of Liz Gavin’s next novel - a tale of darkness, desire and deceit. Can a human resist a devious angel? Would a pleasure-seeking woman say no to temptation?

Fallen Angel

Chapter 1

Liz Gavin

Copyright 2014 by Liz Gavin

Published by Elessar Books

Watchers

They are the Watchers. They have been Watchers since before the dawn of time.

“What is it that they watch?” one might ask.

They watch Mankind. In the beginning, they were Angels. They were the Chosen Ones. Then, God gave them Free Will, which they used to rebel against Him. That was why they became Fallen Angels.

Meet Greg – short for Gregory or Grigori, as the Greeks called the Fallen ones. While the Ancient Greeks called them ‘angels’ many others called them ‘demons’. In fact, it all boiled down to who was telling the story. Today, Greg will tell you the story so let’s just say he is an angel. He is an angel with pretty impressive connections, as well. Some of his closest buddies are Kesabel, the Second Angel; Gadrel, the Third Angel, and Kasyade, the Fifth Angel. You will get to know all of them better in due time, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Well, where was I? Oh, yeah! I was introducing you to Greg. He is a Watcher who has been around for longer than anybody can remember. Longer than even he can remember. After a couple of millennia, time becomes irrelevant.

After all, time is just a convention that Humans seem to treasure so much. People like to count time and discuss it. They create schools of thought about it. They despair over it. They live and die pursuing it. They write prose, poetry and music about it. They talk about the past, the present and the future but these concepts mean very little to immortal beings like Greg.

For some reason, this seasoned and hardened immortal being is desperate. It seems he is running out of time. But how could that be?

* * * *

Chapter 1

I’m Gregory – no last name. I’m a Watcher. I’m Immortal.

But since humans love so much to discuss events in the context of time; let me just tell you that I have seen things you, people, would never believe. I’ve contemplated worlds being born and planets dying. I’ve followed civilizations from their cradle to their zenith. Then, I’ve witnessed their fall. I’ve seen all that first hand. Most of the time, I was an active, if not willing, participant in their demise.

It stands to reason that the lives of mere mortals should not hold any special interest to me. Right? Wrong. Oh, that is so wrong. Mortals fascinate me. Sometimes, they attract me because of their quirky behavior. Their psychology intrigues me because I can’t relate to them, therefore, it is very hard for me to understand many of their actions. Their reasoning and motivations are beyond my grasp. Most often than not, I think they are utterly illogical. All these characteristics make for a big part of their fascination, in my opinion, anyway.

Over the millennia, I’ve watched over countless people. I’ve witnessed the genius as well as the mediocrity. I’ve heard brilliant speeches and the stupidest ideas. I’ve observed bravery side by side with the vilest acts. I’ve seen it all - war, hope, disease, charity, murder, faith, greed, happiness. I’ve watched despair, kindness, poverty, innocence, villainy, beauty. There is nothing I haven’t seen. Or so I thought. I recently discovered I was deadly wrong to believe that.

Mortals think immortality is something wonderful, magical, even. They think it is something everybody wants. Some people would willingly give their souls up in exchange for immortality. Only humans would think like because they’re mortals. Ask me and you’ll get a very different answer. Maybe other immortal beings enjoy perks that Watchers do not. People hear about them and probably think we are all the same. Let me clarify things for you, then.

Watchers do not have any magical nor supernatural powers. We observe people but we cannot interfere directly. We have a wealth of knowledge, which we cannot share because people don’t listen to us anymore. We are everywhere, all the time, yet very few people can see us or even sense us. We live forever but we live alone. We look but may not touch. When we touch, most of the times, people don’t feel our touch. We do not have feelings. At least, not noble ones. We have sensations, though. We do not love. Most of us, most of the time don’t, anyway.

It’s said that our downfall came about when we were granted free will. Well, that was only the beginning of the story, really. When we got our freedom to choose our own paths, some of us chose learning. Knowledge can be a very dangerous thing. Some of the things those angels learned got to their heads. They decided they should rule the Universe and have Mankind worship them like gods. That was their pride talking, though.

In order to be adored, they taught human beings about a lot of things: astrology, writing, the use of cosmetics, lust, death and after life, among other things. That got all of us, Watchers, to be cast off from Heaven. That was nothing compared to the mess I’ve gotten myself into in my present situation. Don’t worry, you’ll get to understand it better later.

As observers, we are assigned to specific human beings to watch over them. But we are no Guardian Angels. Remember the Downfall? Remember we became outsiders? Therefore, do not confuse us with that all-graceful, white-robed, halo-carrying, harp-playing kind of angels. Watchers are heavy metal dudes. Watchers are the ultimate Bad Boys. Watchers are gorgeous - sinfully so. We are dark, dangerous, and exert devilish bad influence on humans. But, we are also a lot of fun. We are enticing, seductive.

I’m no exception to that rule. I surely know how to have fun. I can tempt anybody. Honestly speaking, those humans who can see me have little chance against my great looks, for starters. I’m 6’2”. I have shoulder length dark brown hair, wavy and thick. I have dark blue eyes, a strong, square jaw and deep-set eyes. I’ve got full lips and a charming smile, dimple and all. Only one, on my right cheek. Wide shoulders that narrow down to a small waist and a nice, round butt. Long, strong legs; toned, muscled arms. All these add up to form a well-built, chiseled body, which is usually clad in dark clothes, preferably black. Often leather.

As I said earlier, a Watcher is assigned to a person at their birth. They become our mission, not our ward. There is no sense of duty or loyalty on our part. No devotion, no noble feelings. We don’t protect them; we influence them to guarantee their souls are damned. We unashamedly resort to anything within our grasp to achieve that. We lie, deceive, lure, trick. Nothing is off limits since we have no morals, nor scruples. We are Fallen Angels so you get the picture. Our goal is to insure these mortals stay with us in the after-life. Forever. So why am I so hesitant? What is wrong with me? What’s the problem with this assignment?

Around thirty years ago, Kesabel summoned me. When I arrived in his office, he greeted me with a nod and told me to sit down across from his desk.

“You remember the Borghese-Cavazza, don’t you?” he asked me.

“How could I ever forget them? They made the Borgia look like a bunch of sweet old ladies.”

“You had a lot to do with that, if I recall correctly, had you not?”

“Well, I don’t like to brag,” we laughed at my joke. “So, let’s just say they were easily swayed. I mean, considering the seeds I planted in their minds always found very fertile soil to grow and multiply, you could say I merely fed their natural tendencies.”

“Yes, I remember. They were very creative when it came to political scheming and not so lawful material gains. Not to mention their sexual appetites.”

“Don’t make me blush,” I said and we laughed harder. “They threw the best parties. Caligula would have envied them if he were alive in the Borghese-Cavazza time.”

“Most certainly,” Kesabel nodded emphatically. Caligula used to be his pet project and he did an awesome job at it. “I had a chance to attend some of these celebrations and I can say I miss those times.”

“As much as I like to reminisce, I’m sure you didn’t call me up for that,” I cut him off. I’m not patient.

“No, I didn’t. When was the last time you had contact with the family?”

“I don’t know. A couple of centuries ago, I guess.”

“Well, let me fill you in. They are still obscenely wealthy but many things have changed. The family is much smaller now and the only heiress to their empire is a sweet girl named Gabriella.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” I replied after some seconds of trying to remember anything I might have heard about this woman. “That’s crazy considering they used to be big news.”

“That’s part of my problem, Greg. You see, they have been domesticated, pacified. Except for a couple of distant cousins, who have no direct access to the money but are easily influenced by us, we’ve lost control over the family. This Gabriella girl married a nice young man named Kane Hewson. He’s a child of the flower power generation. You know the type – concerned about the environment, about ending world hunger and poverty.”

“Argh, I hear you, Kesabel,” I exclaimed in disgust. “I often wonder why we failed so miserably with those hippies. What went wrong with our plans for them? They seemed so full of potential. Free sex, drugs, loose morals. Then, they turned their backs on us and started talking about peace and harmony for all Mankind and all that shit.”

“My point exactly. We failed back then. I don’t want to repeat that now. This Kane Hewson character is always trying to save the world and he has convinced Gabriella to help him. They have a bounty at their disposal. All the fortune that countless generations of Borghese-Cavazza managed to accumulate thanks to our hard work, I might add.”

“What a waste,” I uttered, enraged. I don’t deal well with wasted potential.

“So, you can see why I’m pissed off at this lovey-dovey couple, Greg. They have inherited more money than they can spend in ten lifetimes. They could buy and sell a few countries. But, no! They want to feed the world with it,” Kesabel slammed his fist on his desk, making it shake a little.

“What can I do to help?”

“In a few months, the happy couple will have a daughter. I want you to be responsible for Angela Hewson. They have already chosen the baby’s name,” he added when I raised an eyebrow at the information.

“How sweet of them to name their daughter after an old charge of mine,” I sneered.

“I know. Isn’t that a riot?” he laughed.

“I hope this one has a fraction of her great-great-whatever grandmother’s personality. I have very fond memories of the original Angela Borghese-Cavazza,” I said with a very sly smile. “What I remember from those sensual, crazy days with the first Angela could hardly be described as ‘fond’, more like sizzling and naughty.”

“Don’t I know that? I’m counting on your luck with the women in the family to bring this Angela back to our side.”

“Consider it done, Kesabel.”

* * * *

True to my word, when Gabriella and Kane Hewson rushed to the hospital, on a very cold November day, in New York, I was by their side, eagerly waiting Angela’s arrival.

I won’t go into the details of how these assignments are set up because I cannot tell anybody under penalty of annihilation. Yes, I am immortal. Still, as so often happens with anything else in the Universe, I can be obliterated by some creatures. They are big, and mean, and they get angry very easily. They also take great pleasure in their work, which is destroying others. My never challenging them has gotten me this far. I don’t intend to change my ways any time soon.

Let’s just say that, when Kesabel chose me to watch over little baby Angela, he also created a bond between the two of us. I’ll leave the details of this bond, and its implications, out of this part of the story. Survival instinct and all, remember?

I can give you an idea of how it works, though. Angela can sense me, which can be a little unsettling and disturbing, I must confess. Most humans are completely oblivious to beings from my realm - both the good ones and the bad ones. People often ignore their Guardian Angels’ attempts at interventions. Honestly, that makes my life much easier because all I need to do is create a certain situation and let people’s own tendencies and instincts do the rest of my work for me.

Not my Angela, though. Ever since she was born, she could detect my presence. I was also connected to her. I knew when she was in trouble. I could feel her emotions. Granted, I spent all my time around her, so I pretty much knew what happened to Angela. What I’m trying to say is that besides knowing what was going on I also felt her reactions in my own body. The intensity of those sensations was something new to me. I had never felt that away with any other human being before her.

As she grew older, our connection grew stronger. On my part, the fact that she turned into a stunning woman helped a lot. She doesn’t have a regular job. She spends all her time traveling and partying. If she wanted to work, she could have been an ‘übber’ model, which means, over and beyond your everyday super model. She is that beautiful. She has long, curly black hair, which she inherited from her mother’s Italian ancestors. Her dark blue eyes came straight from her father’s Irish family tree. They reflect her thoughts and emotions so effortlessly, although not everybody can read them as easily as I can. I have the advantages of our bond and the millennia of personal experience with human behavior but still I get a kick out of this particular ability of mine.

Her strong personality, combined with her impulsive and reckless attitude, push most people away, mainly men. They feel threatened. She has never found one man who could challenge her or keep up with her, except me. But that can never be. I live in a realm she is able to penetrate only when she’s unconscious. With a lot of effort, I can manage to exist in the physical world for only short spells of time. Not nearly enough for me since forever with her could never be enough.

Because Angela is one of those rare humans sensitive enough to reach out to beings from my realm I can contact her through her dreams, for instance. In her sleep, we have a lot of fun.

Just a couple of nights ago, she was sleeping alone, which had been rare of late. I entered her room and approached her bed, unable to resist the pull. As usual, her presence clogged my brain and I took a minute to gather my wits. I was eager to fuck her senseless but I knew I couldn’t spook her.

I lay down next to her and she got restless. She tossed and turned trying to find a comfortable spot on the bed without finding it. Although still deep in her slumber, she was agitated. The rhythm of her breathing changed. It became heavier, more excited. Her heartbeats picked up. I could hear them as I saw a vein pulsing in her slender neck. Her heart beat in rhythm with mine. I touched the vein and closed my eyes to better concentrate.

In no time, I was inside her dreams. She turned her gorgeous eyes up from a book she was reading. We were in her bedroom in her family’s villa in Venice.

“Good choice, my pet,” I smiled into her eyes. “I’ve always loved this place.”

“Greg! It’s so good to see you,” she stood up and threw herself into my open arms. “I hoped you’d come. I miss you. You shouldn’t take so long to come visit.”

I laughed at her pouting expression, “We met two days ago, Angie.”

“That’s a lifetime for me,” she replied as her hands traveled south and slipped inside my leather pants.

At that time, I preferred to think the pang I felt in my chest had to do with her cold fingers reaching for my shaft and grabbing it. I focused on that and ignored other possibilities.

“Now, who’s a naughty girl?”

“I am?” she feigned innocence and I had to laugh again.

“You like been naughty, don’t you?”

“That’s the only way to have fun, Greg,” she pulled my head down towards her luscious mouth.

“You are damn right, pet,” I whispered as I seized her lips.

We kissed. Our bodies ignited at once. I grabbed her by the hair and her hips as she threw her arms around my neck and pressed her soft curves against my hard body. I savored her mouth, exploring it with my tongue, biting her full lower lip. She gasped and touched me over my pants, squeezing me lightly and I saw stars.

I lifted her by her waist and she wrapped her legs around my hips. I walked to the nearest wall and pressed her back against it. She laughed and threw her head back to look at me.

“Really, is this all you’ve got, Greg? Fuck me against a wall?”

“This is foreplay.”

I pinned her upper body against the wall with my chest, lifted her arms up and held them with one hand.

“Keep your eyes in mine and your legs around me. Don’t move.”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to, Greg.”

I kissed her deeply again until she was out of breath. I withdrew and was glad to see her blue eyes were unfocused.

“That’s my girl,” I said as my free hand lifted her overlarge sweatshirt up to her neck. “Hmm, I like that. No panties, no bra.”

I cupped her sex pressing my cool palm to her throbbing entrance. I felt the quivers but I didn’t move. I waited. Her pupils dilated and she swallowed hard in anticipation. I pressed harder and she wetted her lips then bit the lower one. My eyes bore into hers as I tapped her with the tip of my index finger. She trembled and hissed but kept staring into my gaze. My digit was drenched enough so that I slid inside her with ease and went as deep as I could. She gasped and closed her eyes.

“Look at me, Angie, or I’ll stop.”

“No, please, don’t stop. I’ll be a good girl.”

I stopped moving my finger inside her and leaned towards her until my lips were an inch from hers, “That’s the thing, Angie. I don’t want you to be a good girl.”

I closed my mouth over hers as I rotated my finger inside her channel. I crooked it until I found her most sensitive spot and pressed hard on it. She whimpered inside my mouth and I felt her whole body tremble and her sex quiver. I bit her lips and drew a little blood. She didn’t notice it as her legs crossed behind my back like a vise.

I added a second finger and let go of her mouth to find one of her tempting nipples. I sucked hard at it in rhythm with my two fingers inside her sex. Angela wailed and threw her head back.

“Oh, god, you’re killing me, Greg.”

I felt her body was at the brink of orgasm. I didn’t want things to end so quickly. I grazed her turgid nipple as I withdrew my fingers from her. She squeezed her legs tighter around me and begged, “Please, Greg, don’t stop.”

“I told you this was foreplay, Angie. Now, stand up.”

She stood up in front of me and I couldn’t hide a smile. She looked just like the spoiled brat that she was. That look brats will give you when you deny them their favorite dessert before dinner.

“Take off your sweatshirt. Toss it on the floor.”

She did as I told her and I took a moment to admire her splendid body. My own body reacted to hers in a delicious way. I took a deep breath and reached my hand out to hold hers.

“Come, Angie. Kneel down and take my pants off.”

When she knelt in front of me and grabbed my zipper with trembling fingers I added, “No hands.”

She looked up in surprise but her expression changed to one of kinky delight in seconds, “Yes, sir. If this is how you want to play tonight, I’m all for it, Greg.”

“Master, you mean?”

“Yeah, whatever, “ she laughed before taking the zipper between her teeth and pulling it down.

I pulled her hair playfully and laughed too. This Master stuff had never worked with Angela. It ended up as our own private joke. I was forceful and told her what to do during sex, like none of her human lovers dared do, but she wasn’t a submissive at all.

I didn’t care much about it at that moment because she was using her nose to open my fly and her teeth to pull the pants down my legs. I stepped out of them and kicked them aside. I never wore underwear, so she licked her lips at the sight of my very excited body.

“You know what to do, Angie. Still no hands, though.”

She opened up her lips and let the tip of my hard member inside her mouth. Her eyes didn’t leave mine. She flattened her tongue and used it to caress me as I slid inside her mouth. She licked me with abandon. I held her head in place and moved in and out of her mouth for a while. I took my time doing that. She moaned and blew around my hard flesh. I went as far down her throat as she could manage to go without gagging. That meant she swallowed less than half of my shaft.

“I know I’m long, Angie. Relax your throat for me, baby.”

She breathed through her nose and took another couple of inches down her throat. The friction left me breathless and I closed my eyes. She swirled her tongue around me and I moved in and out of her mouth until I felt my balls tighten. I withdrew before I exploded inside her hot mouth.

She frowned at me and I winked back, “Not yet, gorgeous.”

I pulled her up to her feet and, holding hands, we strode to her walk-in closet. It was larger than some studio apartments. I wanted to take advantage of the wall of mirrors there. I placed her several feet away from the mirrors, facing them, before I went to stand behind her.

“Don’t move. I want to try something new. Keep your eyes on your reflection and describe to me what you see.”

She smiled and nodded her agreement. I lifted my hands and cupped both her large breasts in them. They fit perfectly inside my big hands. When she didn’t say anything I stopped moving. She looked at me and I raised an eyebrow at her in reply.

“Oh, I got it. Your hands are on my breasts. You fondle them. You are so gentle. That’s not your style. Your hands are so warm. Now, you’re squeezing them together and pushing them up. Ouch!”

“I didn’t ask for your reactions or options. I want you to describe what you see,” whispered in her ear as I tongued it.

She hissed and closed her eyes. I pinched her nipples again.

“Look at yourself,” I demanded.

When she opened her eyes again and stared at my reflection in the mirror, I saw the flames of her desire laced with a touch of rage. Good. She was pissed at me.

“Now, I want you to describe what you see and how you feel.”

She swallowed hard and ran her tongue over her parched lips.

“You never stopped touching my breasts. I feel my nipples are tight. They hurt a little but it’s not bad. Every time your palm presses one of them, I feel it rippling through my whole body.”

She took a deep breath when I rolled both her nipples between my fingers. I saw her swallow hard again. Her throat must have been tight.

“My sex aches. It feels empty. I can feel the wetness from your shaft against the small of my back. I know you want to fuck me, Greg. Please, just do it. Put us both out of our misery.”

I let go of her and took a couple of steps back.

“I told you I was experimenting with something new. Now, fucking your brains out wouldn’t be anything new for us, would it?”

Her face turned red. She was getting angrier than I wanted her to be. I was all for adding a little spice to our sex but I had to keep it under control.

“What the hell do you want from me, Greg?”

“We’re almost there. Just thrust me, and I’ll show you what I wanted all along.”

Her defiant gaze warred with mine through the mirror for another couple of seconds. She sighed and I knew I had won that battle but her patience was wearing thin. Fast.

“Keep looking at me and describing what’s going on with you.”

“Your hands are back on my breasts, squeezing them tight. My body is tense but the sensations are good. They’re building up to my orgasm. I can feel my inner walls tremble when you do that,” her last words were little more than a moan and she leaned her head back over my shoulder. But she didn’t close her eyes this time.

In fact, the fire I saw in them burnt through me just as much as I knew it burnt her. Her flesh was on fire. Her breathing was elaborate, her voice sounded strangled and her skin was hot to my touch. Goosebumps covered her body and I could smell the sweet perfume of her arousal.

“When you stretch my nipples like you’re doing now I want to scream because my clitoris stands up, demanding attention but there’s nothing to fill me and help me come. I can’t breathe, Greg. Please, stop torturing me.”

“What’s stopping you from coming, love?” I knew she had a thing for British accents, so I spoke into her ear in my best one.

“God, Greg! I can’t come just from you fondling my tits.”

I doubled the pace of my hands caressing her breasts, poked her behind with my hard shaft and sucked a sensitive spot on her neck. The combination of it all was too much for her self-control. I knew it was slipping through her fingers. She didn’t want to admit I could make her come undone without touching her sex. She would have to swallow her pride eventually.

“Tell me how you feel, Angie,” my voice was throaty and I moaned inside her ear.

“I’m drenched, Greg. I’m quivering. I can’t take it any longer. I can’t – “ her voice died out as she trembled from head to toe. She closed her eyes and I let her do it this time.

Angie tried to keep talking but she wasn’t able to articulate any words. She shouted and wailed when her explosive orgasms hit her. I closed my arms around her chest and supported her body with mine. She pressed her back against my front as I kissed her neck, bit her shoulder and caressed her hips and midriff. I splayed my hand over her lower abdomen where I could feel her flesh trembling underneath her skin. Sweat broke all over her skin and mine. I had no self-control left. I needed to fuck her to get my own release.

I wasn’t sure her legs could hold her upright but I didn’t have time to check. I grabbed and pulled a low set of drawers to the middle of the closet. It was the right height for us.

“Grab the edge, Angie,” I told her as I bent her down over it. I held her neck with one hand and her hip with the other. “Spread your legs and keep looking at me in the mirror.”

Our eyes locked as I penetrated her still quivering sex from behind. The tip of my thick shaft hit her sweet spot, over and over again, as I moved in and out of her. My crotch hit her perfect butt pushing her forward. She bucked back as the most private part of her body opened up to receive me.

My skin was drenched in sweat. My breathing came out in gasps that matched her moans and cries. Her channel gripped me. Her inner walls clamped around my slick shaft just as my balls tighten again. We were very close and I moved faster.

We climaxed together. Our cries mixed. I pulled her back up against me, kissed her and muffled her swear words. The odd angle made no difference to us as Angie’s hands pulled at my hair, her nails scratched my scalp. My fingers tweaked her clitoris. She wailed and I exploded deep inside her.

Her legs gave out and she collapsed hard against my weakened body. I sat down on the floor, pulling her to sit on my lap. I framed her face and kissed her deeply and long. When I let go of her tempting mouth, I stared into her eyes for a moment. I didn’t understand why my throat was so dry or why it was so hard for me to make the words come out of my mouth. I sighed and pecked her on the nose.

“That was fun enough for tonight, Angie. I have to go.”

“Please, don’t go. I get so lonely when you’re not around,” she exclaimed as she grabbed my shoulders.

“I’m always with you. You know that.”

“You always say that but when I wake up I don’t remember any of this. I don’t know you’re around me.”

Once more I felt that annoying pang in my chest. I didn’t have time to look into it, though. Angela was going to wake up soon and I needed to let her go.

“That’s how it works, Angie. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

I got up, with Angie still in my arms, took her to bed and arranged her exhausted body in the middle of it, then, covered her with her silken sheet and wool blanket. I put my clothes back on, turned around and left the room.

I was too distraught to notice her sweatshirt was still lying on the floor and her body was naked under the covers. It took me hours to realize what had happened. When I did realize it, it didn’t make any sense. I was in her dream. Her clothes should have remained intact.

* * * *

A few days have gone by since that night. I haven’t been able to find an explanation for what happened. I even contacted other Watchers. Nothing like that has ever happened to any of them.

At this precise moment, I’m standing in the largest suite of the Monteleone Hotel, enjoying a panoramic view of the Mississippi River like only the French Quarter can provide. Although this hotel is no longer the ultimate luxury in the New Orleans, it is my favorite place in the city and Angela has picked that up from me.

Last night, she went clubbing with a couple of friends. She met with them away from her huge mansion in the Garden District because it is constantly under the scrutiny of the paparazzi. They never leave my girl alone. She disguised herself and left late at night. She wanted to indulge in some privacy away from the media. Her friends understand that wish because they are celebrities, too. So, they chose the most exclusive place they could find.

At the club, Angela ran into a guy who attracts more paparazzi than herself. Not caring much about that, which is true to her nature, she ended up hooking up with him. At the end of the night, when he asked her where she was staying, she didn’t want to take him to her house. The Monteleone was the first place that popped up in her drunken head.

She didn’t choose Bobby because he’s a big movie star. I’m not even sure she knew who he was when they started flirting. Later, when he introduced himself, she remembered what she had heard about him and his reputation as a ladies’ man. However, that was irrelevant to Angela. He could have been a Nobody and it would have made no difference to her. When she wants to fuck somebody, she just does it. She did exactly that last night. She liked what she saw and went for it.

Angela was completely hammered when he first approached her. That was understandable, though. She is quite intimidating. Her out-of-this-world beauty, her self-confidence and her magnetic presence keep most men away. Bobby knew who she was. He had seen her gorgeous smile on many celebrity magazine covers. Despite his notoriety as the king of all Bad Boys, the guy talked to her only when she was as high as a kite. He didn’t seem very audacious to me. Sometimes, Angie’s choices in men infuriate me. She has a knack for finding the biggest wimps, weaklings that she devours over breakfast. Granted, this Bobby character is not a complete loser, but I have many doubts about him. I’m all for Angie having fun and as much sex as she can but she should raise her standards.

I look out of the windows again. It is still dark outside. The February sun will take another hour or so to come up. I doubt it will be able to fight its way through the ominous winter clouds hanging on the horizon. That is perfect. I’ll have a little extra time.

Turning from the large windows, I cross the living room to gain access to the master bedroom. I stand a few feet away from the king-size bed and watch her sleeping. I bet she won’t remember much about last night once she wakes up.

I feel the familiar pull beckoning me to get close to her. When I stop beside the bed, Angela gets agitated, as she always does while she’s unconscious and I am around her. I also get aroused, which is my unfailing reaction to her proximity. I don’t have enough time to act on that. She is waking up. That will teach me not to drool over Angie instead of doing something about my urges and her desires when I have a chance. Now, it is too late.

Angela languidly stretches her naked body under the silk sheets. Her alabaster skin is softer than the fabric, the sheet slides down, slowly revealing her. Little by little, inch by inch of her glorious self. I know her body so well but I never get tired of looking at her. I’m hypnotized as my eyes follow the path revealed by the receding golden sheet. I can’t help myself so I stoop down and let my invisible fingers touch her warm skin. They follow each curve, each indentation, each hidden nook of her toned, perfect body as the sheet travels down. From her head to her toes.

I know I should leave these thoughts to another day. After the alarming news I received from Kesabel, I should be focusing on more pressing issues. Like my survival. And hers. But I can’t concentrate on anything other than my body’s reactions as my hands move along her skin. One day she will get me in serious trouble for not being able to perform my duties, when I’m around her. Not right now, though. So, I close my eyes and enjoy the sensations.

I frown when I notice she is awake. I shouldn’t be feeling the warmth of her skin under my finger tips any longer. She shivers and looks around the room, slowly taking it all in. I withdraw my hands and observe her reactions. She doesn’t recognize anything. She doesn’t know where she is. The suite is luxuriously appointed but she’s used to luxuries. There’s nothing new or surprising in that.

She looks at Bobby beside her and a deep wrinkle creases her eyebrows, Who the hell is he?

Flashes of the previous night pop up in her head and she remembers meeting the gorgeous movie star. He was dancing near her and her friends. She remembers flirting with him. After that, everything is just a blur. Her eyes are unfocused as she tries her damnedest to remember what happened last night.

I watch Angie move her hand across the mattress until she reaches Bobby’s thigh. It seems she has decided to make the best of the situation regardless of the fact she has no clue as to what they did last night. It doesn’t matter to Angela. That’s my girl! She is always willing to have fun. No worries about consequences. Some people say she’s got a death wish. What do they know?

She can’t see his face hidden under his arm. His snoring is very loud so it’s safe to say he is sound asleep. I lean against the wall to better watch the show. I wish I could do more than that, but Bobby would have to be an empath for me to take part in it. Angela skims her hand over his thigh. He takes a deep breath, rolls to his side and captures her hand placing it on his growing shaft.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he greets her.

“Good morning, baby,” Angela replies in her husky whisper as she locks her eyes in his green gaze while rubbing her soft but strong hand along his member.

The friction makes him harder and I can feel his lust in my own body. That is great. Bobby is an empathy. I can draw on his abilities to feel exactly what he’s experiencing. It seems I’ll be able to have some fun, after all. They won’t see me, hear me or feel me. They won’t know I’m there. However, the closer I get to them, the more excited Angela becomes, as a response to our bond. It’s a win-win-win situation.

I watch Angela splaying her long fingers across his chest dragging her carefully manicured blood-red nails up his body while holding his engorged member with her other hand. His breathing becomes erratic and Bobby moves slightly in bed, finding her full lower lip and pulling it into his own mouth.

Through his touch, I feel the softness of her lips. I focus on much Angela loves it when a man plays with her mouth and Bobby picks my idea up and does exactly that. She sighs and my dick reacts to that sound. It gets harder. I can’t resist any longer and lay on the huge bed beside them. All of a sudden, the air is charged with a different kind of energy. Their bodies grow restless as if sensing a foreign source of power that their minds are otherwise too busy to register.

“I don’t know about you, sweetie, but I love a morning ride,”’ Angie says.

She kneels on the bed and swings a long leg over his midriff to straddle him.

“Ride away, love!”, he eagerly agrees, in his unmistakable British accent.

I kneel beside her and run my hand down her spine, she shivers as she leans down and swirls her tongue over Bobby’s nipples. I can feel the moisture and the warmth of her mouth on my own nipples and they turn into hard nubs. I reach down between their bodies and press my palm on her entrance. She moans but I guess it’s because Bobby is caressing her smooth back, his hands move up and down, scratching her lightly. Her body reacts to his teasing as goose-bumps form over her skin. I keep fingering her and she bites his nipples hard.

“I don’t know how you’re doing this,” she smiles up at him, licking his abused little nub. “But keep doing it.”

Instead of replying, he grabs her head and pulls her down for a long, sensuous kiss. I get lost in their heat as her tongue slides against his and they fight for control. She is a demanding lover and Bobby is not backing down. I insert a third invisible finger inside her and kiss her nape. She gasps and breaks free from his kiss.

“God, that’s wicked,” she looks down at his hands. They are resting on her hips. “How can I feel you inside me if your hands aren’t there?”

“Wishful thinking,” he dismisses her offhandedly and goes on to trace her upper lip with the tip of his tongue, very slowly and deliberately, teasing her, while she bites down his lip and their blood pressure rise.

I get sidetracked by her comments, though. She wasn’t supposed to feel me. What is going on here? At last, my lust gets the best of me and I don’t want to understand any of this. I want to have fun with them. I go back to their show. It is so hot and intense I start to worry I might climax before them. So I close my eyes and try to cool down but it’s so damn hard to think straight. Or think at all.

When I open my eyes again and focus back on Angela and Bobby, I find out they’ve changed positions. He has pinned her down on the bed and is straddling her. He cups her full breasts with both his hands. They fit perfectly in my hands but Bobby’s hands are slightly smaller than mine. He squeezes them and Angela moans softly.

“You like that, don’t you?” he smiles and bends down to kiss her.

“You have no idea,” she whispers inside his mouth.

As they devour each other in yet another sizzling kiss, I grab Bobby’s shaft and pump him. My other hand finds Angie’s scorching folds to tease her. I bend down to add my tongue to her sweet torture.

“Bobby, you are driving me crazy. I don’t know how much more I can take,” she struggles to say the words. Her voice sounds even throatier them usual.

Bobby grabs her ankles and holds them over his shoulders. As he positions himself at her entrance and leans down to take kiss Angela, a piercing noise disturbs the morning quiet and all hell breaks loose. It’s the fire alarm bursting loudly.

For a few seconds nobody moves. They’re too shocked to register what’s happening until I shove Angela out of bed. She actually falls off of it taking Bobby with her. I got stunned. It’s the first time I can physically move her while she’s awake but there’s no time to think about it now.

They grab the first piece of clothing they can find and run out of the room. She ends up wearing his shirt. Bobby hops down the corridor as he puts on his jeans. They keep running down the stairs until they get to the street. They both stand on the other side, opposite the hotel, watching its top floor burn a bright red against the grey morning sky.

Because of all the adrenaline coursing through their veins they can’t feel the icy air around them. Because of the thick smoke that’s rapidly shrouding Royal Street in darkness, nobody notices a figure clad in black stealthily sneaking out of the hotel through a back door. Nobody but me, that is.

I know that bastard all too well. I also know why he’s here. I would gladly wring his neck out of sheer frustration and hate, sending his black soul straight to hell because he’s one of the reasons I’m running out of time. Apparently, it’s happening faster than I had imagined.

* * * *

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* * * *

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

When Liz Gavin was in Second Grade - just a couple of years ago, really - her teacher told her mother the little girl should start a diary because she needed an outlet for her active and vivid imagination. She was a talkative child who would disrupt the class by engaging her colleagues in endless conversations. She loved telling them the stories her grandfather used to tell her.

Apparently, the teacher wasn’t a big fan of those stories, and Liz’s mother bought her a diary. She happily wrote on it for a couple of months. Unable to see the appeal of writing for her own enjoyment only, she gave up on it. She missed the audience her friends provided her in class. She went back to disturbing her dear teacher’s class.

Since then, she has become a hungry reader. She will read anything and everything she can get her hands on - from the classics to erotica. That's how she has become a writer of erotica and romance, as well.

As a young adult, she participated in a student exchange program and lived in New Orleans for six months. She fell in love with the city and its wonderful inhabitants. NOLA will always hold a special spot in Liz Gavin’s heart. Nowadays, living in Brazil, Liz’s creativity has improved many times because it’s such a vibrant, gorgeous and sexy country.

Welcome to her world of hot Alpha males and naughty, independent women. Add a touch of the paranormal in the presence of some wicked souls and you get the picture.

* * * *

Other books by Liz Gavin

Sexy novels

Steamy short stories & Collections

If you want to contact me, please, write an email to lizgavin@elessarbooks.com

COVER DESIGN – Created by Elessar Books by editing a Big Stock Photo image.