Page 34 of Ghost Hunted

Just that one lick is enough to make my whole body clench. It feels good, but scary. For my body to startle awake like this, with his tongue against my folds.

I twist and writhe, for some reason trying to escape him, but he pins my legs down, prying them open again when I shut them. Even though I can tell his arm hurts him, he’s still so strong, and I couldn’t move if I wanted to.

And then he licks me again.

And again. Before settling into a rhythm that has me gasping and crying with how terrifyingly helpless I am.

His tongue laves at my folds, torturing the parts of me that make me cry out, sucking in my clit, grazing it with his teeth and sending sparks of pleasure and pain up my core. His tongue enters me, fucking me fast and finding the spot that I remember now used to make me see white. It still does.

And then he attacks my clit again, letting go of one of my legs so he can push a finger inside me.

It’s just one finger, but fuck, it hurts after being untouched for so long. He fucks hard into me, and the pain gives way to a dizzying sensation that has me bucking against him.

“Come for me, brat,” he breathes, his words muffled against me. And then he sucks my clit again, adding another finger inside me, thrusting fast and hard. Moments later, an intense orgasm breaks over me, drenching his face in my arousal.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck.”

I hear the zipper of his fly, and then his cock nudges my entrance. “Tell me if it hurts too much, baby,” he murmurs.

I bite down on a scream as I feel his cock invade me, inch by inch. At last it’s entered me fully, stretching me far more than I remember. He stills inside me, letting me get used once more to his girth, and then he folds me in his arms, pulling me up into a straddling position.

“I don’t remember… how to move correctly,” I tell him, hugging him to me.

“You don’t need to move,” he whispers. “You don’t need to do anything but be here. You are here, aren’t you, ghost girl? You’re not just a dream?”

“I don’t think so,” I breathe. “I hope not.”

“You better not fucking be.” He starts to move in me, slowly at first, but each of his thrusts hurts like hell. And he doesn’t wait until I’m fully used to it; soon, his pumping gets faster and deeper, and I’m wriggling around him again, partly to try to get away from the pain, partly because I need to feel helpless in his arms.

He locks me to him, and after a while, I sag against him, my head on his shoulder, succumbing at last.

My body’s stopped fighting it, and little by little, the pain ebbs, pleasure taking its place. Now, it feels good to be stretched. It still hurts, but each thrust hits the part deep inside me that electrifies my nerves. My cries of pain turn into moans of pleasure, and seeing it, he drives into me harder, so hard that my body shudders with another orgasm. And then a third.

“Ooh, fuck.”

His cock swells, and I feel his cum fill me. He stills inside me, holding me to him for a few moments before pulling out. He lies me back on the grass, parting my legs and watching his cum trickle out of me.

And I let him. I’m so spent I no longer feel humiliated or confused, or awkward at the way he’s got me splayed on the ground, showing him all of me.

“You look so hot with my cum inside you,” he murmurs, stroking my belly.

His touch there brings back a sudden, horrible memory.

I sit up hurriedly, pulling my knees to my chest before he can stop me.

“What’s wrong?”

I pass a hand over my eyes, my heart racing.

“Baby? What is it? What did I do?”

I open my mouth, trying to tell him it’s not him. But how can I, when I don’t know what it is?

Just a vague image, a sensation, something that burned into me when I felt his hand on my belly and heard the words that accompanied his touch. Is it a real memory, or just that—an image? It feels so vague, so distant… far more distant than Aurora or Logan did, when I woke up. They were very strong memories. As though they were imprinted in my body.

But the other vision… it’s like a dream you half forget when you wake up, but that’s still there, haunting the deep recesses of your mind.

“What is it?” asks Logan again, pulling me to him and running his fingers over my back. “Why are you upset, Lia? Did I do something wrong?”