Reawakened Passions

Awake. He was awake and knew it, but couldn’t struggle up from the bed. He couldn’t move. Eyes wide in the dark, seeing nothing, he felt everything.

A woman’s hands. Soft. She smelled of flowers, something powdery and sweet, not musky like modern perfumes. He felt the brush of her hair against his face. And her hands again, on his body. Moving over his chest, tweaking his nipples tight and hard. Lower, over his belly. Between his legs.

She wasn’t touching Jon; he knew that. She was touching the angry guy, who wasn’t so angry just now—even though he’d just been smacked a good one in the kisser. The sting was still there, but it only got his cock even harder. It was like rock, throbbing, and all he could think about was her mouth on it. Her hot, slick pussy. How she’d ride him so hard, maybe slap his face again when she came. She did that sometimes.

This wasn’t like dreaming. A dream would show him all of this. Jon would either see it happening or see himself in it—but this was different. All he saw was the darkness of his bedroom, a hint of ceiling hung with shadows. The faint outline of his doorway and the line of light behind the blinds on his window. He wasn’t seeing what was going on, just feeling it. Hearing it. Tasting it.

Jon groaned, but it wasn’t his own voice that came from his throat. It was the guy’s. He muttered words. Nothingthat made sense, just gibberish. It was hard, pushing past the veil. Touch and scent and sound were easier than actual communication. Jon’s cock twitched, enveloped by an unseen hand. When the heat of her mouth slid over him, his voice mingled with that of her true lover’s, both gone low and hoarse with pleasure.

He could smell her. He could taste her. The sweet, slick heat of her cunt on his mouth and tongue. She cried out. Her mouth moved on him. The scrape of her teeth sent jolts of pleasure-pain coursing through him—Jon was no fan of teeth on his prick, but the sensation nearly sent the guy in his head shooting off like a teenage kid looking at his first porn mag. They were doing it sixty-nine, her mouth sucking and licking while she rode his face. Jon couldn’t feel the weight of her on him. The bed didn’t dip. It wasn’t at all like making love to a woman with his mouth… except that it was exactly like it.

Jon had stopped feeling voyeuristic about whatever scenes he was forced to live through from other people’s lives a long time ago. Usually everything was so disjointed it didn’t matter, and even when it was crystal clear, well-—these poor saps were dead and gone. They were lost. It wasn’t his place to judge, it was his reluctant place to just push them on through. Most of the time, that meant dealing with their pain. Sometimes, it meant sharing their pleasure.

His cock was hard, for real. It strained against the soft flannel, the dual sensations of his skin pressing the material and yet at the same time being engulfed inside the phantom woman’s mouth driving him crazy. His hips pushed upward without thought, though he couldn’t do so much as lift a finger. Every part of him felt weighted to the bed, incapable of moving. Well, everything except his dick, which didn’t seem to give a flying fuck that none of this was really happening, and all he could do was ride it out.

Oh, God. Ride. Ride it. Ride it so hard. Ride my tongue. Ride my face. Fuck my mouth. Just like that.

The string of thoughts were suddenly crystal clear. The sound of the woman’s voice, moaning, and her cries became louder. Her mouth moved more frantically on his dick. Her hand cupped and stroked his balls, the pleasure mounting as her taste flooded him. Jon could still see nothing, but he imagined how she bucked and ground against his mouth. His hands ached to touch her, to grip her hips and hold her against him, forcing her still as he licked and sucked on her clit, making her come…

A slick fingertip slid into his ass, and Jon shouted. Pleasure flooded him. His cock jerked, balls going tight. He came so hard he saw stars and had to gasp for breath as the smell and taste of the woman faded away and left him with nothing but a pounding heart and soaked pajamas.

He could move. He did, slowly, testing his arms and legs. He swiped a hand across his mouth, convinced his fingertips would come away coated in her honey, but there was nothing. He sat. Turned on the bedside lamp.

Whatever had just happened meant the spirit haunting this apartment was way more powerful than he’d thought.

Chapter 2

Mel had killed the rabbit.

Not as in a pregnancy scare, thank God, though she supposed to have a scare she’d have needed to have some actual sex within the past few months. Not in an Elmer Fudd at the Opera opera sort of way, either. Nope, she’d simply worn it out.

Now it was just a useless piece of battery-operated rubber, and she mourned the loss more than she had her last relationship.

Time for a new one. Mel had bought her original rabbit from a mail-order catalog what felt like a million years ago. It had seen her through four boyfriends and countless nights of single pleasure. The internet now made buying such toys so much easier and less embarrassing… except, of course, when the mailman delivered your package to the new downstairs neighbor instead of climbing his lazy ass up a couple of flights of stairs to leave it at her your door.

“Hi. I’m Jon, from 1-B.” He held aloft the package, discreetly wrapped but with the name of the company emblazoned all over it as bold as anything. “They left this at my door, but it’s really yours. I mean, if you’re Melissa Benjamin.”

She should be embarrassed only if he knew that Garden of Eden was a sex toy company, Mel told herself as she held out her hands. “Oh. Thanks. I am. But you can call me Mel.”

Their fingers brushed as he passed it to her. The zing was a total cliché, but she felt it anyway. All through her. He felt it too, because he jumped a little, eyes going wide. There was even a spark.

An actual spark.

“Ouch,” Mel said with a laugh. “Sorry about that. Static.”

“Yeah.” Jon looked at his hand, wiggling the fingers, then back at her. “That’s all it was.”

It seemed kind of a strange thing to say, but she was so taken by those gorgeous hazel eyes, that hesitantly quirking smile with a hint of straight white teeth, the broad shoulders and lean waist… She was staring. Gape-mouthed, no less. Like a freak.

“Um… you’re new,” she managed to say. “To the building. You moved into Mr. Henry’s place, right?”

Jon nodded and put the hand that had been shocked on her door frame. He leaned a little, one long leg cocked. “Yeah. Just moved in yesterday.”

“It’s a great building.” God. Those legs. He was so tall. She’d have to stand on her tiptoes to reach his mouth with hers… Mel gave herself a shake and found a smile. “You’ll like it here.”

“I like it already.” His smile warmed her, even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Those eyes.

Damn it, there she went again, mooning like some horny schoolgirl with a crush. The package rattled as she tucked it closer to her. Was it possible to be addicted to a sex toy? Was she going through withdrawal? It had been only a week or so. Even for a woman who viewed orgasms as much a part of her daily routine as taking her vitamins and brushing her teeth, that hadn’t been long enough to turn her into some kind of sex-starved lunatic… had it?

“You should come inside.” The words popped out of her without warning, but Mel was already backing up and stepping aside to let him in.

Jon looked surprised. A second later, wariness flickered across his face, gone so fast she couldn’t be sure that was what she’d seen. His smile got a little bigger, and he moved past her into the living room, turning as he did so he could face her.

“Would you like something to drink?” Her package rattled again. Her hands were shaking a little, the way they did when she forgot to eat lunch. Except she hadn’t forgotten. She hardly ever forgot. She wasn’t even hungry, unless it was for a good old-fashioned rogering… Mel let out a squeak.

Jon tilted his head a little, looking her over. “You okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Oh. Hot in here.” She fanned her face. “I should open the windows.”

“The weather. It’s changing.”

It was a stupid, stilted conversation. They stared at each other. Mel made sure her mouth was closed this time, because the way she was feeling she wouldn’t be surprised if she drooled.

“A drink,” she said suddenly when a long minute had slipped past while they gazed at each other like long-lost lovers. “I have water, juice, cola. A beer. Could I get you a beer? Shot of whiskey? I think I have some tequila…”

God. He’d think she was a lush. Mel clamped her lips closed against the torrent of words, but more came out.

“Iced tea,” she blurted. “I brewed it yesterday. It’s good. Sweet. With lemon.”

“That sounds great.” Jon sounded relieved.

“Great!” Mel backed up toward the dining room, the kitchen just beyond. “Come with me. I’ll get it.”

She turned her back, the package still clutched in her hands, and swallowed hard. The scent of lilac suddenly seemed overpowering and didn’t help this weird lightheadedness threatening to trip her up. In the tiny galley kitchen she put the package on the counter and pulled the jug of iced tea from the fridge. Then two glasses from the cupboard. She filled them both and handed one to Jon, then gulped her own. The sweet, cold liquid helped, but only a little.

He only sipped at his. “Have you lived here long?”

“A couple years.” The sweetness now seemed cloying. Mel licked her lips.

His gaze went to her mouth. It brightened. When her tongue swiped again, his lips parted.

“Do you like it here?”

“I love it,” she heard herself say in a low and throaty voice that sounded nothing like her own.

Jon backed up a step, but there wasn’t really anyplace to go. His hip nudged the kitchen cart holding her toaster oven and knife set hard enough to make the knives clatter in their holder. The tea sloshed in his glass.