The Haunted (Sleeping with Monsters Book 1) Read online

  “Come on now,” Richard whispered.

  “You’re going so fast –“ she said, like she was turned on.

  He grit his teeth, pulled out, and pushed in again and she panted. It hurt, but, some traitor part of her was getting turned on. He stroked the head of his cock in and out with what little lubrication there was until a dam broke inside of her, wetness flowed, and he could thrust in her freely.

  He groaned, sliding home, and she exhaled in a rush, and together they began to rock on the bed, his cock in her pussy, locked in a familiar dance. She clutched her hands in the back of his shirt, holding on as he took her desperately, looking for forgiveness in the sex, trying to plow it into her, attempting to prove his devotion.

  And Daphne closed her eyes and let her head roll back and thought of another man, one she couldn’t quite see. With each pant out she thought, “The house.” And with each groan in, she thought, “A baby.”

  She wound her hands tighter, pulling him closer to her so their lips couldn’t touch, so she was breathing into his shoulder, as his hips started to spasm and his cock got rock hard – and he moaned over her, shouting out, ramming his seed deep inside her where she prayed it took – thrusting a few halfhearted moments more before pulling out and falling to lay beside her on the bed.

  “I’m sorry pet – I want you to come too – I just needed you so bad, and you’re so hot right now and I missed you –“ Words burbled out of him just as cum leaked out of her, she could feel the wet heat of it seeping between her thighs.

  “That’s okay,” she said. “I wanted you too,” she lied.

  When she got out of the shower, Richard was waiting in his robe, holding hers out to her. “Come on, pet, I want to get the tour.”

  “But –“ Robes seemed awfully familiar. “Arthur’s downstairs working. And this is the only room that has curtains.”

  “We’re paying Arthur – he can look the other way. And curtains – who cares? There’s no one out for miles to look in.” Richard shook the robe. “Come on, I want to see my property.”

  Daphne took the robe and forced a grin. “Okay.”

  She took him through the upstairs first, and showed him the room – not the green one – that she wanted for a nursery. Then she showed him the other wing, with its massive final bedroom, and the piano waiting for a child to want to play.

  Then they walked down through the assorted living areas of downstairs. She knew the ghost was watching her – that or guilt was prickling her neck at every turn.

  And then they wound up in the library.

  Richard made an approving noise at seeing his neatly alphabetized books, but frowned back at the portrait staring down from above the fireplace. He leaned against the massive desk that, along with a couch, was the library’s only other furniture, and shook his head at the portrait.

  “That has got to go,” he said.

  “What?” She’d been looking at the shelves where the ghost had ravished her after her realization of Richard’s betrayal. Would the ghost think she was betraying him, now?

  “That painting. It’s hideous.”

  Daphne drew up straight. “It is not. It’s an antique. It’s part of the house’s history.”

  Richard gave her a disbelieving look. “I thought you had more taste than that, pet.”

  “I think it goes perfectly well in here. The shelves even go around it – if we take it down, it’ll look out of place.”

  “We can fix the shelves, or hang another portrait. One of me, perhaps,” he said, sliding his hand into his robe in the style of Napoleon. Daphne snorted.

  “Or just leave that one there, where it belongs.”

  Richard opened his mouth to say one more thing. He hardly ever gave her ground, but this time he closed his mouth again and shrugged. In its own way it was one more small sign that he’d cheated on her.

  They both got dressed for dinner that night, Arthur presented it right at seven, and they sat across from one another, as though they were out on the town.

  “So,” Daphne began, holding her glass of wine conversationally. “How was Tokyo?”

  Cutting a piece of steak, he paused in thought.

  Times like these she thought she could actually see the calculations running behind his eyes. He was a banker, he couldn’t help himself.

  “Hot. Miserable. Certain investments we’d made there’ve dried up – the firm’s pissed off. International things always have a large amount of risk involved – different cultures, different ideas.” He shook his head, bringing his fork up, staring her directly in the eyes. “It was a bad idea and a waste of time. I won’t be going back.”

  Daphne pursed her lips. Even if she were to press Richard for a million years, that might be the only admission of guilt she ever got – and also the only apology.

  “Never again?” she asked, torn, and feeling small.

  “Never.” He planted the bite of steak into his mouth and chewed vengefully.

  After dinner, Richard excused himself and Daphne followed him upstairs. They got ready for bed like they always did while he was in town, brushing their teeth beside each other in the sink, and she saw him reach into his shaving kit for a prescription bottle.

  “Sorry pet – I know you were hoping for another round, but I’ve been up for two days straight, what with travel and fighting jet-lag,” he explained, pouring a pill out into his palm. “I’m scared I’ll go to bed for three hours and then wake up at dawn in Japan time.”

  “It’s all right, that makes sense,” she said, watching him swallow it. Each with pajamas on, they crawled into bed for the night.

  Daphne lay there for an hour listening to him breathe. His weight in the bed felt good, as did his heat, and the way he’d reach out for her if she rolled too far away. When he was sleeping it was easier to remember what she loved about him and the way it used to be.

  She was almost asleep herself when she felt the covers on the bed shift in the dark, as though someone were joining them. She opened her mouth up in a gasp, and felt it covered by a hot hand.

  She could breathe through the hand, it was a reminder, not a punishment – but even if she could speak, what should she say? That there a ghost was in the bed, haunting them? Even if she woke Richard up right now he wouldn’t believe her.

  Instead she arched back a little, feeling the heat of the ghost press up against her back – and one warm hand dart between her thighs. She bit her lips not to cry out as he started rubbing her there, right beside her husband’s sleeping form.

  The heat of him pressed against her, the illicit nature of it all, the fact that his hand was circling her clit – she started breathing in hot gasps, immeasurably turned on.

  But it was wrong. Richard was here. She should want to be with him. He was sorry for what he’d done, he’d said as much at dinner that night – and only Richard could give her baby.

  She shook herself free of the ghost’s embrace, and the ghost didn’t fight her.

  “Richard –“ She pushed her own hand down to keep what the ghost had started in her warm. “Richard, wake up – I need you – wake up –“

  She moved her hand over him and reached down into his boxers, finding his flaccid cock there, stroking it with desire. “Richard,” she whispered, begging him.

  His hands pushed her roughly away. “Too tired, Becca. Go.”

  Daphne let herself be pushed back in quiet horror. Becca. Who was Becca? How long had there been a Becca? Was she another secretary?

  She lay in bed quietly beside him, impotent tears streaming down her face. Who was Becca? Where was Becca?

  She felt sick to her stomach and went into the bathroom to throw up.

  Chapter Ten

  “Why?” she asked the mirror quietly. She’d been so good, up until this past week. She’d tried so hard, despite all the absences – God, what if he was living a separate life? What if instead of going off to international places, he was getting on a plane and flying to see another family? Someone else w
ho thought she was his wife, with three children? Maybe she was the other family, and that other one was his ‘real’ one?

  She sank to the tile of the bathroom floor, sobbing quietly – and after a moment felt hot fingers on her cheeks, stroking away her tears.

  “I’m so sorry,” she told him. “I don’t mean to be like this.”

  The Master’s presence around her calmed her, and she leaned into his heat like a cat.

  “You’ve never lied to me,” she whispered. “I wish – I wish there were some way I could repay you. You keep giving to me and it seems like there’s nothing that I can give to you –“ She licked her lips and opened them, trying to think of some way to pay the ghost back – and then it occurred to her. “Take my mouth. Right now. Like this. Use me how you want to.” She carefully opened her mouth wide in mid-air.

  Hot hands pushed through her hair winding it to the point that it pulled – and then she felt heat slide inside her mouth in the shape of a cock.

  The ghost was hesitant at first, but it didn’t last long.

  She closed her eyes and gave into it, anything else would have been creepy. With her eyes closed she could feel his hands in her hair and his cock in her mouth, pursing her lips against its warm length, tasting the smooth perfection of it pushing in and out, the head of him bobbing at the back of her throat, her face buried in the heat of his belly as she almost gagged – he rocked her back and forth on him, like she was a see-saw and she brought her hands up to clutch for support and found sizzlingly hot buttocks clenched, thrusting forward. They felt so real she opened blinked her eyes open –

  When the door opened up instead.

  “What’s wrong?” Richard asked, finding her kneeling on the floor, her hair wild.

  Daphne closed her mouth, her jaw sore and fell forward. “I -- I spilled some water,” she quickly lied, miming wiping it up.

  “Let Arthur get it tomorrow – I have something for you now –“ Richard growled, reaching down.

  He took her arm same as the ghost had and led her back to bed, lying back in the dark. “I had a dream you attacked me – that you wanted this –“ He pulled her hand down so that it touched his cock again, now completely hard.

  That was before Becca, she wanted to protest. But the house, and the baby, and the house – his hands reached for her hips and she didn’t fight him as he pulled her clothes off. She kicked out of her underwear and felt him lift her up, pulling her to rest on top of him. She straddled him and his erection and felt him slide home. She moaned as he chuckled to find her already so wet. He thought it was all because of him, little did he know – she raised her hips and slammed them down roughly. This had nothing to do with him. Nothing. It was all hers and no one elses, and she would use her pussy as she saw fit.

  She would take what she wanted from him, now, and any other time she wanted it, but he would never have the rest of her again. She would always know, she would always be holding a little of herself off, he would never get all of her, not again, never.

  She rode her frustration out on him and he groaned with every thrust, his drugged hands reached for her shoulders, just barely hanging on as she bobbed on and off of him. She licked the fingers of one hand and sent them seeking down to rub herself – she was going to take her orgasm from his cock and take his fucking cum deep inside until she’d gotten what she wanted – and after that she would never have to touch him again.

  “My pet – my pet –“ he started to pant as she rocked hard over him and then her hand shuddered one final perfect time and she howled, anger and frustration pouring out. Her hips bucked wildly, riding his cock into the ground, and he came at this, his hands clutching her waist tight.

  Daphne panted over him, her jaw still sore from the ghost earlier, knowing the ghost was watching her now, watching her be with Richard as he gave her something the ghost could not. She growled at the unfairness of everything and dismounted him, feeling him slide limply out. She fell to the mattress and put a hand to her belly.

  Please, she prayed to the darkness. Please.

  Richard growled and rolled over to pull her close. “You were like a wild thing. I’ve never been with anyone like you,” he whispered sleepily in her ear.

  More than anything else, Daphne wished she could believe him.

  Daphne woke next to an empty bed shortly after dawn. She blinked and sat up. “Richard?” she said, her voice weak.

  She got up and looked in the bathroom, no Richard, and so she quietly opened the door to the hall.

  His voice echoed up from the landline, clear as if she were listening in herself.

  “Don’t you think I know that?” A pause. “I – baby – I know. I know,” he said, trying to cut someone off. “I just need a week at home, okay? She needs some time with me, all right?”

  Daphne swallowed dry, wondering how the woman on the far end of the line was taking that. Apparently not well, judging by how long the pause was.

  “Don’t be like that,” Richard said, sounding offended.

  Daphne rolled her eyes. At least he wasn’t only a jerk to her.

  A longer pause, and then the sound of a manly purr. “No. She’s asleep now. I want to know. Tell me…”

  No matter that his dick still smelled like her, and that she still leaked his cum. She ground her teeth together. Go down there now and snap the phone from his hand? Use the cord to garrote him?

  But if he were dead, or they broke up…no house, and no baby. Goddammit. Why couldn’t this be easy? Why should she have to choose?

  The sound of a lawnmower began in the distance, and she blinked. That was right, Jason and his crew were back, getting an early start on all the acreage.

  She pulled back from the doorway, Richard’s death on her mind, and forced herself to be calm. She’d wait until he was done, until he tried to sneak back into bed – and then confront him. Tell him everything she knew, Tokyo, Becca, whoever it was that he was talking to now.

  She strode over to the window, and peeked out through the curtain. Jason was striding across the yard, hedge clippers in hand.

  Before she could think about it twice, she knocked on the glass.

  He stopped, looking up at her. He squinted, and then waved. Daphne, covered mostly by the curtain, waved back.

  Jason was the only man in sight right now, the rest of his crew were out operating the riding mowers that kept nature tame. He made a gesture, and took a few steps, heading for the door, thinking that she wanted to see him.

  But that wasn’t what she wanted at all.

  What she wanted…was to be seen.

  Daphne stepped out from behind the curtain. The wall of gray fabric fell closed behind her, showing her nakedness to the window’s glass.

  Jason stood there, transfixed. She thought he might storm away, angry, or in fear of being fired, but instead he looked up at her boldly.

  Daphne leaned into the window’s glass and breathed across one pane. She put her hands out and leaned forward until her nipples brushed the cold glass and went as hard as diamonds. She rose up on her toes and then down again, dragging her breasts across the glass.

  Was his hand clutching onto the clippers more tightly? Did his breath catch in his chest? She wanted to know she was turning him on, was controlling him like that long-distance witch was her husband right now. Daphne leaned forward again and licked a streak up the glass, and saw Jason’s jaw drop, and thought she could see the growing outline of his cock press against his jeans. She nuzzled the glass like it was a lover, and then let one of her hands down to play between her legs.

  Jason took this for the invitation it was. He dropped the clippers and undid his pants to set his cock free – it was as strong and tan as him. And then he started to stroke himself for her, a show for a show.

  Daphne spread her legs and dove her fingers deeper in. She didn’t want to come now, she just needed to have this power over him, to watch him stroke himself. She threw her other arm up over head and pressed her breasts against the g
lass like she was making love to it, to him, thrusting her hips against its chill.

  The more she writhed, the faster he touched himself, standing out in the open light of dawn like a misplaced Pan, stroking his cock and thrusting his hips at her, worshiping her from afar. She danced for him, turning around so that he could see her ass, bending forward so that he could see even more, her fingers still pulsing deep inside. He held his hand up to spit in it and then returned it to himself, his strokes becoming a blur.

  Daphne turned back around and put one foot up on her nightstand, holding herself up with one arm and leg, letting him clearly see her sex and – more than that – her fucking herself as hard as she could for him. What started as a lark became deadly serious as tension built and need mounted and she went up on one dangerous toe –

  She bit down on her lips to not scream when she came, her whole body rocking in passion, making the curtain behind her shudder. Below her, Jason’s face took on the determination of a man about to come and she saw his hips begin to buck his cock into his hand. His mouth opened, and she wondered if he was screaming, or if, like her, he had to swallow it down inside. And then his shoulders fell and his hand sagged, tucking his used cock back into place.

  He knelt and wiped his hand in the grass at his feet – she’d made him come, she really had! she realized with a thrill – and then he fastened his pants, and stared, still unafraid, straight up at her.

  Then a secret smile lit up his face and he tipped an imaginary hat to her before picking up his clippers again and walking on.

  Pleased as punch, she emerged from the curtains into her bedroom and crawled back beneath the sheets.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I know, pet,” Richard said to her, in the same tone she’d overhead him using earlier. “But even though I’m home, it’s not a weekend for me. I’ve got to get my computer running so that I can check the markets. I’ve already been off for a whole day of travelling, you know?”