Page 6 of The Ghost of Christmas Present

Mortimer put down the book, staying behind her with an effort. “You have no idea how badly I want to touch you. I would bring you so much pleasure.” His hands came to rest on her shoulders, sending warmth into her sleepy muscles, making her mewl and sigh in contentment as her hand began lazily circling beneath her panties. “I’d be the most attentive scholar of your body. Read your curves and edges like a book. Memorize you like a poem, my Louisa. All you have to do is say yes, my love, and I’ll be yours to command, devoted to worshiping your body and cherishing your conversation.”

He massaged her shoulders, pleasure spiking through him and muting the shouts of his conscious that he was behaving badly, that he shouldn’t touch, should leave, that she would never—

“Yes. Yes, my love,mi amor.”

Mortimer swallowed hard, hands freezing.

You can’t actually make love to her, Mortimer. Sleeping consent is hardly a right to consummate a relationship she thinks is a dream.

But there’s no harm in telling her how I wish it would go—and rubbing her shoulders...kissing her neck...

“It’s late on Christmas Eve. You’re all alone in the snug little attic love nest for two, wearing something silky that hugs your curves, my dear.” His thumbs kneaded along her shoulder blades. “Are you ready to meet your secret admirer and let him have his way with you?”

“Mmm!”

Louisa’s exclamation was a sleepy giggle that stretched her smile and made his heart leap.

“Well, he’ll start with a kiss of those ruby lips and work his way down to the jewels of your breasts...” Mortimer dared to brush a hand across the peaks where her nipples rose under her shirt, hard, hidden gems. Louisa gasped, and her hand jiggled more urgently at her crotch, sending a wave of wet, sexual heat into the air around them.

“But the kisses trail lower until he arrives at the goblet between your thighs, a sweet river he’s been longing to drink from.” Mortimer closed his eyes, imagining losing himself between thick, soft brown thighs, face buried in her most private places, tongue and fingers invading where he would eventually interlock with her, making them one. “I want to hear you scream your pleasure when I learn your secrets, when I master the art of making love to you there. Even just thinking of seeing you bare, every petal and fold on display...” he had to stop and lock his jaws together, resisting the urge to take his manhood out and stroke himself while touching her.

This is her gift. Perhaps mine will come later.

With a supreme effort, he kept his hands on Louisa’s shoulders and kept whispering about their first night together.

LOUISA AWOKE AS ANorgasm crested over her, making her eyes fly open as her pussy throbbed and her hands flew to her sides to brace her spasming body.

She’d had vivid dreams before, sure, but nothing like this!

She could still hear his voice, soft and seductive in her ear. Her secret admirer, her dream lover had called himself, but she had an uncanny feeling that she knew who it was.

Only it couldn’t be.

But the unusual patterns of speech, some of the flowery, poetic words... Her lover was a scholar from the past.

The dead and buried past.

Mortimer Ashfield.

“It’s just because I was looking at his picture. Found that newspaper,” she panted, rising on wobbling legs.

But the dream was real enough to make her wonder if she should actually return to the library tonight, on Christmas Eve, and call for her lover.

Wait, had he even told her his name?

As she was peaking and her dream lover’s masterful erotic storytelling was ending, she was sure he’d mentioned his name.

I’ll see you tonight my love. The ghost of Christmas Present will give you every gift of love if you only accept it. Please come to me, Louisa. Come home to me.”

No. Not his name, but...

Well, there was one perk of being alone in the library and feeling strangely energetic.

Louisa scrambled back into her skirt and made a beeline for the small “Staff Only” bathroom on the second floor of the old Victorian building. Once she freshened up (and cooled down) she would turn her sudden wave of enthusiasm into one skill every librarian longed to use.

“Research time.”

Chapter Three

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