Haunting Sin by Leila Knight

 
 
    The cool liquor swirled in my
mouth. I heard the constant thrums of the nightclub’s music like a second
beating heart. I ran my hands down the cold brick wall, clawing at the rough
rock. I liked the roughness under my fingertips. I liked the pain. I liked the
pain even more since it kept me in the present and not drifting away into
oblivion. I had to keep my mind about me. His large hands cupped the curve of
my breast and I knew I was falling out of reality.
      I moaned in appreciation at his wandering hands. It had been
too long since I felt a man’s touch and even longer since a man who knew how to
play me like an instrument. The music escaping the club had me heady or maybe
it was the half dozen drinks. I smiled at my joke and closed my eyes, arching
my back into those wonderful hands.
    The buttons of my top sprang free.
The desert night air felt cool on my sweat-slicked body. I could imagine my
body open to the world and snickered in my dreamlike haze. He tended to me like
I was an exquisite prize he just won and he had to learn every inch of me. It
really had been far too long since a man touched me.
    I could feel him lean in closer and
his cool breath pass over my breast. That soft cool breath snapped me from my
dream. A man’s breath shouldn’t be cool. I looked at him on his knees, as he
began to slide up my skirt. I saw the cool blue smoky mist seeping from his
eyes and his thin lips. His hands slid up my sides and he trailed cool kisses
up my body. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes in silent argument with
myself.
    Part of me wasn’t willing to make
him stop, but the other intrusive bitch wouldn’t let up. He was after all a
ghost. He had been dead for few years; otherwise he couldn’t hold his form this
well. My analyzing was starting to dampen my need. I was here for business.   I purred when he snaked his hands
behind me and roughly grabbed my ass. Trails of kisses over my collarbone
lowered to my aching nipples.
    I knew I shouldn’t enjoy this, but
a woman could get used to phantom hands. They could be everywhere and nowhere,
all at the same time. The cold bite of his mouth over my needy breasts was
enough to give me the strength to push him away. No matter how tempting it
felt, it wasn’t natural.
    I was finally grounded to reality
and standing only a few feet away from a devastatingly handsome ghost. He was
tall, hankering over my five foot eight inches. His hair was short, but long
enough to fall into his intense gaze. In life, he must’ve had the kind of eyes
to make a girl’s panties melt. In death, the soft blue light pooling out of his
eyes gave him a predatory stare, but it was sexy enough to make a good girl
want to go bad. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind he was bad too.
    I stared up the long lean length of
him, my eyes catching the bulge of muscles and stopping at the cruel quirk of
his thin lips.   The twist of his
lips and the taunting gleam in his eyes was like a bucket of cold water on my
libido. I buttoned up my blouse, not loving the tremble in my hands. A small
part of me wanted to rip my clothes off and beg for his touch; the other part
wanted to run screaming from the hungry look in his eyes.
    “You’ve been a very naughty ghost
Richard Parker.” The use of his name didn’t have the desired effect on him. He
only shrugged his shoulders and began to creep forward with a deliciously
masculine sway of his hips. I gnawed on my lips to concentrate. I held up my
hand and he stopped just enough so I could feel the hard muscles of his chest
underneath my palm. I wanted to fuck him and I wanted to fuck him really bad. I
pulled myself together enough to remove my now wandering hand.
    This ghost was starting to get on
my nerves. My voice hardened to the business tone I always use with ghosts.
“You’ve been luring women out here.” He blinked sheepishly at me. “I only want
to have a little fun. Don’t you want to have some fun with me?” When his hands
touched me