Page 41 of Haunted Hearts
Lydia scoffs, holding my gaze. As she moseys across the kitchen to me, coming to stand in front of where I’m sitting, I realize my heart is racing. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a ghost who looks as goddamn scary as Lydia does at this moment.
“Okay. Let me put this another way. You had this knowledge when you decided it would be a good idea to fuck me? Next to the fucking beach?”
Shit. This is not good.
I chew my lip for a moment, thinking of how the hell I’m going to get out of this one. But hearing Lydia talk about last night, hearing her say aloud that I fucked her, is hot as hell. And my cock is not getting the message that this moment isnota good one to get hard. Down, boy.Down.
“Yes,” I mutter. I break eye contact, trying to concentrate on anything but Lydia’s full lips. My dick’s still stiffening in my jeans, and I shift slightly on the stool to try to make it less noticeable.
But it doesn’t work. Lydia’s eyes flash to my junk. She sniffs, eyes narrowing.
“Are you kidding me, Will? Are you seriously getting hard while we’re having this conversation?”
“Yes. No. I mean, I can’t help it. Ignore it.”
Good god. What the fuck was I thinking, coming here? This was not a good plan.
“Ignore it?! Haveyouever tried to have a serious conversation with someone who’s got a fucking zucchini pressed up against their pant leg?”
I can’t help but chuckle at that, and I’m relieved when the corners of her lips pull up, too.
“Can’t say that I have,” I concede. “I imagine it must be terribly distracting.”
“It is,” she says.
Her eyes trace the outline of my cock, which gives an involuntary twitch as I realize what it is she’s looking at. I close my eyes. My heart’s starting to race again, but I didnotcome here to fuck things up further. I came here to set things straight, to get us out of this mess we somehow got ourselves into. I have one job only, and that job is to?—
Oh, fuck.
When I open my eyes, Lydia’s moved closer. She’s standing between my legs, and her fingers are already moving toward the button of my jeans.
“Hey, hey, hey,” I murmur. I need to get her attention before she starts something in motion that we’re both going to regret. As though that’s even an option anymore. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“We aresofar past good ideas, Will. We both know this is a terrible idea, but we both know we don’t care.”
I swallow hard as Lydia unzips me. “Don’t we?”
“Stop talking,” Lydia says. “If you want to do something for me, just stop talking.”
That shuts me up. How could it not? She’s down on her knees now, tugging my jeans and boxers down, letting my cock spring up between us, and there’s no way I’m going to stop her. For what? So I can make some lame little speech about how we need to stop whatever this is because it’s only going to end badly?
I don’twantto stop whatever this is. Not when she’s got her fingers wrapped around my shaft. What, so I’m not going to say no to a blow job or whatever it is she’s planning to do here? Sue me. We’ll figure it out later.
Lydia presses her lips to the tip of my cock, and I hiss involuntarily. She looks up at me from under dark, fringing lashes, and she’s so fucking pretty I think I might melt. “Can I?”
I nod. She’s got to be crazy if she thinks I’m going to tell her no.
“Good.”
Lydia bends her head again and starts licking down the side of my cock. It’s been a while since anyone’s sucked me off, and the warmth and wetness of her mouth on my skin is enough to make me shudder. If Lydia notices, she doesn’t show it, just keeps on with her tongue, licking and sucking around my shaft. It already feels so fucking good, and I’m barely even in her mouth yet.
Lydia runs her cheek against the length of my cock. “You’re so smooth.”
I give a shaky laugh, not trusting myself to speak. I don’t know what words are going to come out if I do, or if my voice will even hold. Instead, my fingers find the curve of her jaw as I guide her face toward the tip. I want to be completely inside her mouth.
For a moment, Lydia complies. She licks along the seam of my tip, swirling her tongue against the head, about driving me mad as she does. It’s all I can do not to grab her head and force myself down her throat as I groan with pleasure.
“Fuck, Lydia. Your mouth is so warm. So wet.”
