Page 21 of Scammed

“Then don’t. Take me back to the cottage and make love to me, Marcel.” Marcel did not need to be told twice.

The couple practically jogged to the cottage. Once inside, Marcel was incredibly nervous, so Amy took over. She removed her clothing, standing proudly in front of him. She was full, curvy, with soft hips and thighs. Unlike many women of her time, she still had a thick patch of hair between her legs, and Marcel practically growled his approval.

When he removed his own clothing, Amy was stunned at the beautiful body. He looked like a modern-day athlete, rippling with muscle. His skin was tanned, the manly triangle of hair on his chest sending shivers down her body. Noticing the scars, she reached to touch them.

“A rather unpleasant sword fight,” he smirked, lifting her fingers and kissing them.

“I’m glad you survived.” He nodded, then pressed his flesh to hers. Two hundred years of longing and desire surfaced in one fell swoop.

“I need you, Amy.”

“Same,” she said breathlessly, taking his mouth once again.

He lifted her to the bed, lying beside her as they began exploring their bodies. Just as Marcel was about to enter her, she looked down and wondered about condoms. Did ghosts, or former ghosts, need condoms? What if she got pregnant, and he went back to ghost form?

At that moment, she didn’t care. She would have a child from love because she knew that this is what she was feeling. Love.

“You feel delightfully warm and tight,” he growled. “It pleases me.”

“I’m glad,” she smiled, “because you feel incredibly thick and long. That pleases me.”

“Tell me what else will please you,” he whispered, thrusting in and out of her.

“All of you. Having all of you,” she cried out.

In the early morning hours, they finally rose to shower and change their clothes. They’d made love on and off through the night, sleeping only in short intervals, needing to feel one another. Every time Amy woke, she wanted to touch him to be sure he wasn’t gone.

Marcel ran back to his own garçonnière and gathered some things to bring back with him. Amy was already making coffee when he walked in. He wanted more of her but knew that her lips were swollen and sore from his vigorous exploration.

“What if we made a child?” he frowned.

“Then we will raise him or her together. If, if the worst happens, I will always have something to remember you by. I will love him or her forever and raise it close to your family. Here.”

“I believe I am in love with you, Amy.” He pulled her close again, holding her, smelling her shampoo.

“I believe I am in love with you, too, Marcel.” The door to the cottage flew open, and hurricane Irene charged in.

“Well, that’s good, ‘cause y’all are gettin’ married,” said Irene, storming through the front door. Gaspar and Matthew were close behind.

“Irene, I do not wish to force Amy to marry me. What if she’s left alone if I go back to the way I was?”

“That’s why you’re gettin’ married,” she said. “I think it’ll make it permanent. I had to be sure y’all were in love, but I heard you. You love one another. That’s a bond that nothin’ can break. Time to make this thing real. Let’s go.”

“B-but how? I mean, how did you hear it from out there?” asked Amy.

“Remember what I said, Amy,” smiled Gaspar. “Strange things happen here. Miraculous things. Let’s get you two married and pray that this will all be a permanent thing.”

“Y-you don’t have to,” she said, looking up at Marcel. He smiled, then threw his head back in laughter.

“Have to? Woman, I demand to marry you. Please. Please, do me the honor of making me your husband,” he begged.

“Yes,” she laughed. “Yes.”

“That’s good,” smiled Matthew, “because she’s having twins.”

“What?” they both screamed.

“Mr. Matthew, we only just made love last night,” she said with a blush.

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