I bet she'll be addictive. Once I've had a taste of her I won't be able to stop. I'll want to have her on my tongue all day long. I wouldn't be able to function if I couldn't taste the sweet cream that I'm sure she would make just for me.
I'm shocked when her eyes jerk open and she looks right at me like she can actually see me. It takes both of us a moment to realize what is going on. Her eyes widen and she pulls in a large gasp of air before she pushes herself to her elbows, "Y...you're the man from the painting?"
I nod and hold my breath as I pray that this isn't a dream and this woman really can see me.
"This used to be my house." Can she hear me?
This time she is the one who nods. "Your painting hangs in the library downstairs."
"You mean my study. Yes."
"You died." She sounds as sad about it as I am.
"Yes. This used to be my room - my bed even." She didn't even change the sheets. I wonder if she can still smell me on them.
"Really?"
I give her another nod. I can't stop myself from reaching out for her. When I touch her something happens to us. It seems like I can touch her. Not only can I touch her, but it seems she is sharing my last thoughts. It's like she is pulled into the last thing I was thinking which happens to be about eating her sweet pussy.
Something is happening to both of us as I feel a surge of power flow through me from just touching her. Something about this woman is giving me the ability to not just be seen or heard but also felt. She can feel me.
Why shouldn't I take something for myself? Why shouldn't I have one last night to take what belongs to me since she is in my bed? I'm already damned, what more can be done to me? So why shouldn't I show her what my favorite thing about sex is?
Chapter Three
____________
Makenzie
I end up on my back, knocked flat by this...man? I have to be dreaming. This can‘t be real. Waking up to find a man sitting on the edge of my bed would make me lose my fluff-n-stuff in any other situation. It's like I already knew I was dreaming when I...woke up.
Whatever, I'm not going to look too deep into this because then I might wake up to the cold lonely room I chose to sleep in. When the sexy guy from the painting downstairs reached out to touch me all I could hear in my head and through the room was a question I couldn't begin to answer.
Favorite thing about sex....my favorite thing about sex...show you my favorite thing about sex.
His head is already down by my lower stomach. I can feel the cool touch of his lips as he skates them over my lower belly. And the cold grasp of his hands as he pulls my legs apart so he can settle between my spread thighs.
Oh my God! I'm...I'm being eaten out by a ghost!
The swipe of his tongue against my skin doesn't seem cold at all. It feels warm too. Like he might burn me if he continues. I should stop him. I should spring up and run from the house screaming. But all I can do is lie back and let him do what he wants to me. His tongue runs up my center and focuses on the tight bud at the top of my sex.
Oh holy ghost sheets, Batman. He is really good at eating someone. My clit is already preparing me to give him what he wants. Hell, I’ll give him anything he asks if he keeps eating me.
I turn my head and happen to open my eyes. There's a full-length mirror on one of the curved walls of the room and I can see myself spread out on the bed. There are indentions in the flesh of my thighs but in the mirror, nothing is there. Oh my God! I don't know what is real and what’s a dream anymore. Is this real? Is there really a ghost going down on me?
Fear curls up inside my stomach but there’s also another feeling that completely overwhelms the fear. I've never been touched like this in the real world, never had a lover, never thought about what it would be like to be spread wide for a man so he could put his mouth on me. I watch as his hand slides upward and he unties the little ribbons holding my gown together.
When I look in the mirror I can see my bare breasts, the nipples hard and rigid, set free so the air can caress across them. Gooseflesh springs forth as the hot touch of his hand trails up my stomach and cups the swell of my breasts. He makes a moaning sound that is a mixture of something I would expect to hear from a ghost and something I would expect to maybe hear in a porn video if I ever watched one -which I haven't...watched a lot.
His invisible fingers pluck my nipples into even harder little buds that ache for something but I don't know what. Then he squeezes one of them and all I can do is push my head back into the mattress and release a moan of my own. Oh God! I never realized my body could feel like this. I never understood why so many people were crazy about sex.
"Only with me. It will only ever feel this good with me!"
I open my eyes and find his bright blue eyes shining back in the darkness. Did I say it out loud or can he pick up on my thoughts as well? He goes back to tongue-playing with the swelling bundle of nerves that seem to be sucking the thoughts right out of my head. All I can truly focus on is there. His tongue slowly drags over and around until he adds the perfect hint of pressure that causes my thighs to start twitching and my back bowing. I sink my nails in the bedding and scream out for him to help me, to push me over the cliff I am teetering on.
He finds a rhythm that’s perfect as he squeezes both of my nipples softly, adding just the right amount of pain to what he is doing to me. I tense and push my heels into the mattress as my body shoots across the threshold and everything below my belly button starts convulsing.
"My name is Sterling. Say it."