The Curse of Redwood (Ivy Grove #2) - Jaclyn Osborn Page 0,45
crawling onto the bed and lying beside me.
“You believe correctly, kind sir,” I answered in a phony accent before twirling my nonexistent mustache.
Another laugh rumbled in his chest, and his body flickered before holding a solid form. He regarded me with a smile in his eyes. “You are the most extraordinary man I’ve ever known. I have never laughed as I do with you.”
“Hopefully laughing isn’t all you’ll be doing in this bed.” I wiggled my eyebrows.
The smile never left his lips as I rolled on top of him and began removing his clothes. And there were a ton.
Men from his time wore way too many layers; a double-breasted coat with a vest and button-up shirt beneath it, plus trousers, high socks, and some kind of fancy ankle-high dress shoe. I kissed him in between the removal of layers, not losing the lustful urgency to have him naked in the sheets as soon as possible.
I used to joke with Ben about what it’d be like to have sex with a ghost, but as Z and I groped, grinded, and kissed, I didn’t think of him as a ghost. He was just Z, and I was Carter—two men who wanted to get lost in the feel of each other for the day.
Though, if I was being honest, I wanted him for much more than a day.
I kissed down his smooth, hairless chest, finding the coolness of his skin oddly erotic. My lips tingled from the mix of cold and warm because, like the other times we touched, he grew warmer the longer our bodies made contact. I practically inhaled his intoxicating scent as I bit his muscled belly.
“You smell so good,” I murmured, before nipping at him again.
“I would give anything to be able to smell you again. All I have is the memory of your scent from All Hallow’s Eve.”
Laying my cheek on his lower abdomen, I glanced up at him. “Oh. Right. Ghosts can’t smell or taste anything.”
“Sadly, no.”
“What did I smell like?” I asked, drawing circles on his skin with my index finger.
He brushed his hand over my hair, giving me the gentlest of smiles. “Like woodsmoke on a winter morning.”
My heart skipped a beat. Everything about Z screamed that he was a seductive charmer, yet when he spoke, he was such a romantic as well. My brain had trouble processing it. No other man had ever treated me that way.
Words failed me, so I used my body to speak instead. I was good at that.
A soft sigh escaped him when I slipped his hard cock into my mouth.
When we had sex before, I hadn’t sucked him off, so it was new territory for me. The fleshy, weightiness of him was just like the dicks I was used to sucking, though he lacked the musk of human men, instead smelling like roses with an underlying spice. He held my gaze as I took him deeper.
“The ring on your tongue adds a certain…” He faltered in speech as I flicked the ring against his tip. “I have never felt anything like it.”
Encouraged by his statement, I did it again but also added my hand to the mix, stroking his shaft. My own cock ached with need, as did my ass. When the ache became too great, I crawled back up his body and grabbed the lube. Blue eyes watched me as I popped the cap on the bottle and squirted some lube into my hand, eyes that briefly closed when I used that same hand to make his cock slick and ready for riding.
As I sunk down on him, he moved his hands to my hips and smirked up at me. He wasn’t the biggest I’d ever had, but he was perfect. Not too big and not small. Just right, as Goldilocks would’ve said.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, as I winced.
“Not really,” I said, pausing. “Just kinda… you know, cold. Needs some time to warm.”
“Apologies.” He reached up to brush my bangs from my eyes. “On All Hallow’s Eve, our bodies are nearly as they were before we died. Which is why you probably didn’t notice much of a change in body temperature back then. Do you wish to stop?”
“Hell no,” I said in a rush, splaying my fingers on his chest as I took him deeper into my body. “You’re already warming up. Reminds me of when I stick a dildo up my ass. It can be cold at first but then adjusts to my heat.”