Page 15 of The Ghost of Christmas Present

“Very. And if you stop, I’m going to have you exorcized.”

It was his turn to laugh. “I’ll earn my keep, madam.” He plowed his hips forward, crying out as he grabbed her hips.

He really is the gift that keeps on giving, Louisa thought as he smirked and started pounding against her.

MORTIMER HAD PASSEDaway a virgin, but he had long held the belief that study could give a man a keen knowledge of method without actual practice. Reading Louisa’s steamy romances and the delectable selection of erotica the library offered had helped him please his beautiful bookish darling.

It hadn’t prepared him for the fact that his body would feel like it was boiling over when he entered her tight, slick heat—that his entire body would tighten and his seed would swell in him until he felt like he would go insane if he couldn’t come.

But he didn’t want to end this moment, the feeling of her wrapping around him, the way her walls clasped and molded to him, the way he sank into her and felt alive again. Whole for the first time.

“You... How do you get bigger like that?” Louisa groaned, her cheek pressed to his.

“Like what?”

In answer, she squeezed him inside her depths, and his cock throbbed and compressed.

“Fuck!” she mewled, eyes rolling back.

“Oh, I suppose it’s because I’m not fully solid. I’ll mold to fit you.”

“The perfect man does exist,” she whimpered, hand moving between them.

His thrusts were starting to remind him of the waves lapping the shore. The wet sounds of her womanhood filled the silent attic as the snow fell outside. The only other sounds were their tandem moans and pants.

“Do you... Do you come? Am I going to get slimed? Like inGhostbusters?”

Mortimer had imagined sex would be sacred and poetic, a sort of cross between the rites of Bacchus and Aphrodite. He hadn't thought there would be teasing and laughing, but now he laughed once, long and loud. “I will fill you with an essence that’s closer to water, not ‘slime.’”

Louisa met his gaze and licked her lips. “You know what I read. I wouldn’t mind if you got me messy. Well, messier. I’ve never been this wet in my life.”

“You’re about to get wetter, my love. As soon as you—” He stopped speaking. The strangling sensation of her pussy milking his cock made his knees collapse, driving him deeper into her as she climaxed with a lung-emptying cry. Her thighs trembled against his hips, and his cock gave her what her expert walls demanded.

“Oh, sweet mercy!” He gasped out, lower back bowing and hips locking as his cock erupted, sending hot, wet jets deep inside of her.

For a moment, he was lost, spinning between planes, inside of her but sure he must be in heaven.

I’m in love. I’m in the woman I love. I’ve made love to my Louisa. I could leave this world right now... Or I could stay, to remain by her side. If I left her, she’d mind.

“Mortimer? Mortimer! I can’t see— oh, thank God. I thought you left. You went all shiny and transparent for a second.” Louisa hugged him tight. “You feel different! More solid.”

“You’re getting used to me.”And maybe being with a human, using my semi-corporeal form is changing me, too.

“Well... I certainly wouldliketo.” Louisa smiled up at him. “If you suddenly disappear now, it’ll give a whole new meaning to the word ‘ghosted.’”

“I shall never leave your side—well, except when you want to be alone, of course.” Mortimer kissed her lips and reveled in the comfy bed he’d found, nestled inside of her and on top of her, her soft curves creating luxury he’d never dreamed of.

Louisa stroked a finger thoughtfully down his face. “But you’re haunting the library, right? I mean, I come here every day, but you don’t get to go home with me—do you?”

“No, I haven’t come home with you. But I could. There’s such a thing as a spirit bottle. If you carry it for me, we can go wherever you like—for a day or two at a time, at least. Any longer than that, and I’ll pop back here, where my soul seems to be tethered.”

“Wait... I could take you home for Christmas?” Louisa sat up so fast that her head went through his chest and he pulled out with a sudden slick slide that sent him onto his backside.

“Y-yes. I mean, you could. If you wanted to.” He hastily envisioned himself in neatly buttoned trousers and an immaculate waistcoat and shirt, wondering if Louisa could tell that he was blushing—and wondering why sitting level with her parted, glistening thighs seemed perfectly acceptable to him, but his trouser furniture dangling out was making him as flustered as a virgin choirboy.

Because until a few minutes ago—you were a virgin, you ethereal idiot.

Louisa sat up and rearranged her skirt and blouse, eyes shyly peeping at him as she tugged and pulled her clothes back into place. “Most guys think spending the holidays together is a big deal. They don’t want to do that until they’ve known each other for a while.”

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