Ghost Stories #2
Genre: Contemporary; Paranormal;
Release Date: May 29, 2007
Format: Trade Paperback
Once Is Never Enough
Living in a former bordello definitely has it pluses—especially when the house comes with the bawdy, opinionated ghosts of the women who once worked there. Faye Grantham’s sex life has never been hotter, even if her love life is twice as complicated.
Because Faye has two in-the-flesh men to choose from. There’s smolderingly sexy Liam, the lawyer who wants to help her get to the bottom of Perdition House’s mysterious past. And there’s Mark, the businessman with the gorgeously sculpted body, who’s decided to settle in town for good. Two irresistible men, two times as many wildly delicious fantasies to play out…
Foreign Release: GERMAN
KOMM, FASS MICH AN!: Erotischer Roman
Blanvalet Taschenbuch Verlag
Erscheinungstermin: 15. November 2010
Scharfe Fantasien — für ein, zwei oder drei Genießer!
Die sinnliche Faye Grantham hat von ihrer Großtante ein Bordell, “Perdition House”, geerbt. Das hat entschieden seine Vorteile, vor allem wenn die Geister der selbstbewussten, sexy Frauen, die einmal hier gearbeitet haben, Teil des erotischen Erbes sind. Sie bringen Faye viel Lustvolles und Tabuloses über das Leben und die Liebe bei … Doch zwischen zwei unwiderstehlichen Männern und jeder Menge wilder, köstlicher Fantasien weiß Faye bald kaum mehr, wo ihr der Kopf steht …
The excerpt contains adult content. By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age.
Faye Grantham placed her cheek next to the smooth pine planking of the wall and peered through a peephole set at eye level. The angle of the hole gave her a perfect view of the bed in the next room. Odd how she already knew it would look like this. The walls were in shadow with the bed spotlighted.
All she could see was the bed and a couple standing beside it. Their faces were obscured. The woman wore her long blonde hair in a fall of cascading white and cream. Faye couldn’t make out her face behind the curtain of lustrous hair.
She fingered her own shoulder-length waves. Hers were shorter, but the color was similar.
The man’s upper face was in shadow. His jaw, strong and lightly bristled glowed from the odd lighting. His mouth, mobile and hard dipped in and out of the light so Faye couldn’t see it clearly. A mystery couple about to do unmysterious things.
The man untied the laces at the bodice of the woman’s nightgown to let it drift and skim down her body to her feet. White, cotton, chaste, the nightgown gave no clue to what era they were in.
The man wore trousers while his chest was bare. Suspenders dangled at his hips. His erection strained for freedom until the woman guided it to peek out the top of his waistband.
Yum. Great chest, slim hips, hard belly and a wide head on his cock. Faye responded as if it was her hand cupping his balls and feeling his hot thumbs swirl across her nipples.
Odd, but pleasurable, the sensation of his callused hands aroused her.
Hot! She was suddenly aroused beyond tolerance by the seductively slow foreplay she witnessed through the peephole. She slid her hand to her crotch and pressed a fingertip to her clit through her thin silk nightie. She was wet and needy and the finger pressure made it better, but she still couldn’t ease her need. She pressed harder, rubbed.
The narrow passageway she stood in closed in around her as she caught her breath. The man, naked now and gloriously hard, pressed the woman’s shoulders down. She sank to her knees and took him into her mouth. Drew him in deep.
Faye’s mouth worked in conjunction as she watched the woman suck him deep into her throat. Faye tasted hot man flesh and swirled her tongue around her mouth, feeling him.
Slowly, carefully, the man pumped into her mouth while the woman continued to suction and lick. He was big and she had to adjust, but eventually, she took most of his full length.
The man’s face was still in shadow and he hadn’t spoken. Silent but for the sound of mouth work, lit from a spotlight, the two performed while Faye watched through the bullet-sized hole. The man pumped harder, the woman’s head bobbed more quickly. Tension rose around the silent couple, while Faye’s arousal deepened.
Faye closed her eyes in passion while she worked to bring herself closer to climax. Next time she could focus, the couple had climbed onto the bed and were writhing together, with deep kisses and rough and ready hands. Still, no sound came to Faye. No bedsprings, no sighs or moans torn from the amorous pair.
The woman’s pale calves flashed in the dim light from the bedside lamps, as she raised them to offer herself to her lover.
Was this her room? Was she watching herself with Liam?
The long slick invasion stretched her wide and she felt the man enter her, knew what the woman knew. The man’s heated scent, the feel of his weight on her chest, the incredible stretch of his cock as he pressed her deep into the mattress.
Faye rolled her hips in acceptance and began the dance of need.
Vaguely, she understood she was dreaming. In Perdition House, anything could happen, and often did. She lived with ghosts who saw nothing wrong with siphoning off her orgasms, inciting her to sex with strangers and causing wild insatiable desires to bubble under her skin.
Pleasure rose under her hand as she played voyeur and rubbed at her pussy. Suddenly, her nightie slid off her shoulders and drifted away on a breeze that caressed her heated flesh as she watched the lovers, moaned along with them and felt every sensation they did.
She fought the rising tide, trying to see whose room they were in. As she focused her eye away from the couple, the details of the room came clearer. Past the bed, light shone on a wallpaper design decades old.
With no french doors, no staircase to a widow’s walk on the roof, it wasn’t her room. Hers was larger, airier, prettier.
Comforted, she settled in to watch, unable to tear her eyes away even though the couple deserved their privacy. After all, the man had paid for it.
The light in the room dimmed but still the wall danced with the lovers’ shadow, grotesquely erotic. A woman prone, her legs raised, the man’s head at her crotch. Finally, she heard sucking and licking sounds as the man pleasured the woman.
The lover’s lips and tongue slid harder against her tender flesh, wilder and wilder until the woman crested and moaned, eyes closed in a low, deep, delicious orgasm that pulsed out in waves from her lowest reaches. Faye rode out the come, closed her eyes and melted and shook along with the lovers.
A sudden scream rent the air, ripping into Faye. The piercing wail came through the wall, clear as a chime and full of terror.
Faye opened her eyes and tried to see what had happened, who had screamed, but the light in the room was suddenly bright as a cloudless day and hurt her eyes. She could see nothing and all sound faded.
She rolled over, and woke, fading pulses the only proof that she’d dreamed again.
A nap, it had all happened during a nap. Groggy and sated from the still-pulsing orgasm, she rose to her elbow to look at the bedside clock. She had two hours. Lots of time.
She stretched, still shaken by what she’d heard. This dream was different from her usually pleasant unfolding stories, she could hardly make sense of it.
The narrow, secret passageway ran between two bedrooms on the second floor. She’d been in there once. The peepholes were installed by the original madame, who built the house. She and a troupe of intrepid women had come to Seattle from Butte, Montana. They’d operated an exclusive men’s retreat that catered only to the very wealthy and powerful.
Retreat being a polite word for the country’s most expensive whorehouse of the last century. Completed in 1911, Perdition House was now hers, left to her by her Great-aunt Mae Grantham, who in turn had inherited from the original madame, Belle Grantham.
Faye had decided to sell and cash in on her inheritance. The only obstacle to that decision was Belle still lived here. As did the original four prostitutes. Salacious spirits, the five of them wreaked havoc on Faye’s libido.
Not that she minded all that much. What red blooded woman wouldn’t want three or four orgasms a day, she reasoned.
Faye had moved into the mansion and discovered Perdition House was a place of sin, sex and secrets.
Faye loved every minute of living here.
Logic dictated that the screamer in this dream was one of the women who’d worked here. She hadn’t recognized the woman though, except that the color of her hair was so similar to Faye’s.
She couldn’t trust anything she’d seen in a dream anyway. Her Great Aunt Belle would have done anything to keep Perdition House going when she was alive. And now she was dead, she was even more determined. Belle manipulated everyone who came here with sexual need and sleight of hand.
“Are you sure what you heard was a frightened scream? It might have just been a rapturous climax.” Belle, her dead for decades Great-great Aunt suggested.
For the moment, the beautiful spirit was perched on the staircase to the widow’s walk. One of her favorite spots to sit.
“I don’t know,” Faye said, no longer fazed by speaking with a long-dead madame. “Maybe it was just a lusty come. Why not tell me what happened? Why the secrecy?”
Stupid question. The keeping of secrets was the backbone of Perdition House. It’s whole structure was propped up by secrets.
“Oh, Faye, if I told you everything at once, we’d never have any fun.”