Page 13 of The Flesh Remembers
Frye’s thick fingers found her slick folds, and with surprising delicacy, he slipped a single finger between them. Eleanor cried out involuntarily as Frye found her swollen clitoris and rubbed slow, lazy circles over and around it.
From very far away, Eleanor heard the silky, almost hypnotic voice of Lord Blackwood. “Yes, yes, that’s good.” There was a hint of something in his voice that sounded slightly pained, as if he were trying to hold something back. “More,” he all but whispered. “You must go further.”
Eleanor felt like a lifeless doll in Frye’s arms as he continued his gentle assault on her. He continued rubbing her, but now increasing the pressure and speed. Eleanor closed her eyes tightly and began to whisper James’s name to herself. It was almost like a mantra or a protective spell she cast over herself. Perhaps to absolve her of the guilt that undoubtedly would come from letting another man touch her in such a way.
“I’m going to fuck your pussy with my finger, sweetheart,” Frye said roughly. Eleanor briefly wondered what had taken hold of Frye. He had seemed coarse, but he hadn’t been vulgar or crass with her like this. It was as if this ritual was releasing something within all of them.
Eleanor pushed impatiently against his finger, wanting what came next even as she dreaded it. No one had touched her this way except James. But this wasforJames. She wasdoing all of this for him. Surely, he would understand how desperate she was to get him back.
Frye moaned as his finger slipped into her entrance and then ventured further and further within. He went slowly at first, his finger slightly curled upward as she began to pump it in and out of her slowly.
Eleanor clenched her eyes even tighter as she felt another finger follow the first and then another. She clutched Frye’s forearms for support as he began to work her faster and faster. His fingers slipped in and out with ease as her wetness coated everything.
Eleanor cried out, feeling a tingling begin to spread from her sex to her thighs, then her belly. Her orgasm was building, and it was only a matter of seconds before she would explode.
“Yes, sweetheart, yes, come for me. Come hard for me!” Frye called out to her, pumping her roughly with three fingers, her juices coating his hand.
All at once, Eleanor felt her body seize with uncontrollable pleasure. She screamed out as the orgasm overtook her, muscles jerking and spasming as the ecstasy filled every part of her body. Then, when she thought her body could not take more, she felt a tremendous build-up, then release fill her and a fresh surge of wetness, stronger than before. It gushed out of her like a flood, leaving her quivering, wet, and spent.
Eleanor opened her eyes and took in the scene around her. Frye stumbled back away from her, his face red and sweaty. He looked ashamed, nervous, even a bit frightened. It was as if he had been sleepwalking and had now woken and realized what he had done.
Marian stood nearby, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. Her eyes were glassy, and she stared at Eleanor with a barelycontained lust which she quickly sought to hide as she turned away.
Lord Blackwood stood behind the machine, watching from the shadows. Eleanor could not make out much of his figure, but she thought she saw him grin at her in a way that made her feel like icy fingers were clutching her heart.
A sudden hush fell, broken only by the sizzling of the coils. The chanting died. Eleanor looked to James in time to see his eyelids flicker. Disbelief caught in her throat.Is it real?She watched, breath suspended, as James’s eyes opened, cloudy, dazed, yet undeniably alive. A choked sob escaped her.
She leaned over him. “James?” she whispered, voice trembling.
His gaze roamed in confusion, eventually fixating on her face. His chest rose in a shallow, ragged breath. The shock of it paralyzed her, but then, in a single motion that seemed impossible for a corpse moments ago, he lifted one hand to cup her cheek. His touch was cool and fragile, but it washis hand,shape, and essence. Fresh tears streaked down her cheeks as she pressed her palm over his, searching his eyes for any spark of recognition.
As Eleanor looked down at James in emotional disbelief, she noticed his eyes appeared to be struggling to remain open.
“James?” she asked quietly.
The corpse that had once been James Sinclair blinked slowly once, then twice, before letting out a ragged and primal scream.
Excerpt from the diary of Dr. Eleanor Ashcroft
I thought I was a woman of reason. A doctor. A devoted fiancée.
But I moaned over a corpse tonight. I came with James’s name on my mouth, and other men watching.
No, not watching. Guiding.
I did it because I love James. Didn’t I?
Because now, hours later, I keep feeling the air brush my thighs and wondering if the clinic wants me to do it again.
My hands tremble, but not from fear. From want.
I was supposed to resurrect a man. But I think I’m the one being resurrected. And I’m not sure I was ever holy to begin with.
The Rules of Life and Death
Eleanor’s footsteps echoed in the clinic’s dim corridors, swallowed by the oppressive hush that clung to the air. The sterile tang of antiseptic mingled with the faint metallic undertones of the laboratory, yet none of it could drown the sensations haunting her. She relived James’s partial awakening with an intensity that made her body tighten, the flicker of his eyelids, the way his lips had tried to form a word. Perhaps her name?
She’d told herself the euphoria would pass. That logic and determination would return, anchoring her focus. Instead, the memory had become a craving, primal and all-encompassing. It wasn’t just his touch she desired; it was thelifein him, the heat of his skin against hers, the promise of his body intertwined with hers once more. Nights stretched endlessly, her body felt like a coiled spring as her thoughtsventured to places she hadn’t dared linger before. The ache was maddening, her body strung taut with restless hunger.
