Ghost Stories #3
Part of the BUILT anthology
Genre: Contemporary; Paranormal;
Release Date : July 31, 2007
Format: Trade Paperback
Florida carpenter Jake McKay can’t resist the honey voice insisting he travel cross country to renovate an historic Seattle estate. When he meets Lexa Creighton, it’s a lust at first touch, and skin-scorching pleasure all the way. But it’s going to take a little help from some amorous ghosts to keep this rock solid man where he belongs—in Lexa’s bed.
The excerpt contains adult content. By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age.
His cell phone rang and vibrated, burning a hole through his dream. Shit, it was a good one, too, all heat and womanly body parts. Jake MacKay slid his cell phone out from under his pillow and flipped it open.
“Wazza matter?” Anyone who called at four a.m. had to have an emergency. Dread clenched his gut.
“Jake MacKay?” a woman’s voice ghosted through the line, husky and feminine. Not his father. He sucked in a relieved breath, while his mind went muzzy.
“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Her voice, honey velvet and hollow, stroked through his chest and down to his cock, curling around his shaft with a heat he strained toward. His body woke, while his mind headed back toward sleep.
Half dreaming, half wakeful, he stretched out on his back to let the voice play him.
Rock hard, he closed his eyes. Pulled up the pictures from the dream he’d been having. The kind of dream that made his balls ache. Images and sensations flashed back to life as the voice stroked and pumped his shaft.
He knew the voice, had heard it all night long as the dreams had come in waves, rushing and receding. Crashing into him and carrying him along on crests of release.
“Who is this?” He tried to pull his mind to wakeful but the dark of pre-dawn stayed with him. The woman’s voice soothed in his ear but the words didn’t make sense. Insistent energy gathered in his sac, rolled up to his belly, hovered then dropped to his cock again.
The phone slipped from his hand, forgotten, while the voice murmured inside his head.
A whole night of dreams. He was seeing more action than he’d had in months. Make that years.
“I need your help,” the woman said smoothly, clearly. “My house needs your expert care.”
“House?” He bit back a moan as his cock flexed once. Twice. He pulled his control back into place, tried to rouse, but his brain was addled and his cock was in charge. “Where are you calling from?”
“I’m in Fremont, it’s part of Seattle these days.”
“How did you get my name? I’m in Florida.” Every word pulled against the tide of dreams.
“You were recommended, Jake.” The way she said his name spiked his arousal, tweaked it, played it. So hot. The voice was heated honey, ravishing with sensuality. “Word is, you have the touch. And I need a man with just the right touch.” The word touch sent a shiver through to his spine. “And only the best will do. And you’re the best, Jake, the very best.”
Her heat around his shaft tightened, squeezed, released, pumped. He moaned with more flexes. Could a man dream this kind of sensation? It felt like a blow job without a mouth to go with it.
Reining himself in, fighting for control against the mind-numbing need she created, he ground out, “I don’t travel for work. Call someone closer to you.”
“No one here has the touch. Not the way you do, Jake,” she purred in a voice that conjured more stimulation. He groaned. “It’s you I need.” Pump, pump. Slide up, slide down.
Intense. A kaleidoscope of color rolled behind his eyes. He groaned and finally allowed a heated release and followed an outrageous come to the end.
With the last of his spasms, came a clearer head, but he still couldn’t rouse himself to full wakefulness. He tried, but something blanketed his thoughts, made them heavy and slow. “I can’t leave the jobs I already have. I’m not the kind of man to leave clients in the lurch.” I can’t leave my father. He wouldn’t leave his father. Not now. The old man wasn’t ready to be alone.
“I know,” she soothed, all warmth and understanding. He wasn’t sure if she agreed he couldn’t leave his clients or if she meant he wouldn’t leave his father.
Either way, his mind eased, worry drifted away.
“You’re rock solid, Mr. MacKay, that’s one of the reasons I’m calling to you.”
Even though he’d dropped the phone, he expected to say good luck and so long, but she went on, “I wish there was something more I could do to entice you.”
His cock filled again, insistent and throbbing.
“But your father will understand, he’ll want you to take this job.” He’ll take care of the clients, see the jobs through while you’re gone.
The thought wasn’t his own. But it was certainly in his head. He struggled to get control of his mind, but she was still there. The voice in the pre-dawn dark held him in thrall.
Entranced, all he could do was listen.
Something of the responsible man he was stirred in him. Rebelled and tried to rise. Jake never dumped his work on the old man. Especially not now. Jed MacKay needed his son at home, taking care of business. Jake never let anyone down.
“But your father always encouraged his sons to follow their hearts, did he not?” Her whisper came warm and cozy in his ear. The heat on his cock intensified.
“If you know my father, then you know he’s had a rough time. He needs me here more than I need a job in Seattle.” The sucking on his cock started again and he thought he heard a sigh of satisfaction and arousal.
This time he even felt wet heat on his straining shaft. Wet heat and suction.
A tickle of air blew across his balls and he shut his eyes, letting hot licks of desire settle in the small of his back. He arched into the seeking wet heat and fell back into the dream.
“You really need to come to Perdition, Mr. MacKay. And you will.”
For two more hours, Jake MacKay had the wildest dreams he’d ever had. Sex and seduction, push and pull, man to woman. He saw himself fall, grasping a woman he’d never seen before, his arms on fire as he held her, loved her. A burning touch seared every part of him connected to her. He broke into a sweat he barely acknowledged.
When he woke up at six a.m., he was freezing cold while his blood boiled with a need to follow the voice.
Straight to perdition.
By six fifteen he was on the phone booking a flight to SeaTac airport.
By seven, he was showered, dressed and had the coffee on. He reached for a mug off the rack he kept beside the machine and caught the time. Made a rapid calculation of the time difference between Miami and Seattle.
Who the hell called for a carpenter’s estimate at one a.m.? No one he’d ever heard from. Until last night. Odd though, he could barely remember what she sounded like. Although she seemed acquainted with his father, and more importantly, how Jed MacKay had raised his sons.
He hit number one on his speed dial and his father answered on the second ring.
“Got a call last night from Seattle. You know a woman named Grantham?” He thought that was the name she’d given him, but it was fuzzy now.
“No, got a first name?”
“I can’t recall. It’ll come to me later.”
“Grantham,” his father repeated. “No. Don’t know anyone by that name. Why?”
“She’s got a Victorian mansion in Seattle she wants me to take a look at. Calls it Perdition House.”
“That’s great, son, when you leaving?” No questions about why he’d go that far. No doubt that he’d want the job. That was Jed MacKay.
His father was so set on his sons’ happiness and success that he even refused to fault Jake’s brother Jared for his useless decision to drift aimlessly around the Caribbean on his charter boat, the SandJack. So now, it was nothing for Jed to encourage a cross country trip just to do an estimate.
Jake frowned because this was exactly the way the woman had said the conversation would go.
“I’ve booked the first flight out…