Read Online Body Temperature and Rising - Book One of the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy by K. D. Grace - Free Book Online
Authors: K. D. Grace
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never listened, and in a way that always gave him an excuse for the wank he knew would follow, and he needed an excuse tonight.
Lisette slid her flapper skirt gracefully, almost demurely up over her hips. ‘I haven’t worn any panties tonight. I left them off just for you, Tim Meriwether, because I want you to look at my cunt.’ She shifted on the duvet and lifted one shapely leg onto the bed making it impossible for him not to see the glisten of her swollen pussy lips. ‘I want you to see what you’re missing; I want you to see how you make me suffer.’ Then she plunged her nimble fingers into her split and began to thrust and stroke, eyes fluttering, breath that was not real spilling desperately between the full painted bow of her mouth.
God, Tim thought, if she were real, if she were flesh and blood right now, he’d never be able to resist. He’d crawl between her splayed legs and hump her brains out. But she wasn’t real, she wasn’t flesh and blood, not like Marie. He tugged at his cock and ground his arse against the mattress.
The ghost gave a throaty chuckle. ‘I know what your hand is doing against that lovely hard cock of yours.’ She leaned forward, ‘And we both know it’ll feel better if you throw off the duvet and let me watch.’ The ghost excavated the other tight breast from the flimsy front of her dress and gave it a hard squeeze. ‘Come on. I’ll pretend to be your Marie for you. I don’t mind. You can even call me Marie and tell me what you want to do to me.’ She leaned close, fingers shoving hard into her gape for emphasis. ‘I know you want to fuck her.’ She nodded to his hard-on hidden in the folds of the duvet. ‘I know that’s for her, for her warm round body.’ Her thumb went to work on the nub of her clit. ‘I could have a warm round body if you’d listen to the witches, if you’d do as they asked, and I would let you fuck me until I was raw, until I couldn’t walk. You’d like that, Tim Meriwether. I know you would.’
‘Then why don’t you go to the witches and let them take care of you,’ he said between gritted teeth as he cupped his balls and kneaded them almost to the point of pain.
‘I don’t crave women flesh, Tim Meriwether, and it’s you I want.’
Almost as though his body had a mind of its own, he heaved off the duvet without missing a stroke, and the ghost gasped her appreciation. He shoved himself upright against the headboard, spat on his hand and rubbed his saliva over the hot length of him, too impatient to dig in the bedside table for the lube he kept handy.
Lisette shifted her weight back and lifted her hips until he could see the whole of her cleft clear down to the shadowy clench of her anus. She wasn’t what he wanted, and he hated it when he gave in to her tauntings, and yet that was also a part of what made their little trysts so nasty. It was a game of substitution really.
‘If I were flesh, you would fuck me now, wouldn’t you, Tim Meriwether? I know you would, and I would be slippery enough and pouting enough to accommodate your heavy cock.’ As if to demonstrate her point, she thrust another finger into her sucking, slurping pussy until all that remained visible of her hand was her thumb rubbing against her marbled clit. ‘You can see it,’ she grunted. ‘But you can’t feel it any more than I can, you selfish prick. I make you come every time, but I only get to watch.’
He was getting close, thinking about Marie, thinking about her and the ghost on the fells, thinking about her masturbating in her bed. Had she played with her pussy before she fell asleep tonight? Had she fondled and tweaked her lovely breasts. Had she thought about him? He reached for the hand towel he needed more often than he cared to admit these days and convulsed his heavy wad into its folds just as Lisette vanished with a little yelp. He felt like he would come forever. The hard shudders prying him open from the inside somehow felt dark and raw,
Lisette slid her flapper skirt gracefully, almost demurely up over her hips. ‘I haven’t worn any panties tonight. I left them off just for you, Tim Meriwether, because I want you to look at my cunt.’ She shifted on the duvet and lifted one shapely leg onto the bed making it impossible for him not to see the glisten of her swollen pussy lips. ‘I want you to see what you’re missing; I want you to see how you make me suffer.’ Then she plunged her nimble fingers into her split and began to thrust and stroke, eyes fluttering, breath that was not real spilling desperately between the full painted bow of her mouth.
God, Tim thought, if she were real, if she were flesh and blood right now, he’d never be able to resist. He’d crawl between her splayed legs and hump her brains out. But she wasn’t real, she wasn’t flesh and blood, not like Marie. He tugged at his cock and ground his arse against the mattress.
The ghost gave a throaty chuckle. ‘I know what your hand is doing against that lovely hard cock of yours.’ She leaned forward, ‘And we both know it’ll feel better if you throw off the duvet and let me watch.’ The ghost excavated the other tight breast from the flimsy front of her dress and gave it a hard squeeze. ‘Come on. I’ll pretend to be your Marie for you. I don’t mind. You can even call me Marie and tell me what you want to do to me.’ She leaned close, fingers shoving hard into her gape for emphasis. ‘I know you want to fuck her.’ She nodded to his hard-on hidden in the folds of the duvet. ‘I know that’s for her, for her warm round body.’ Her thumb went to work on the nub of her clit. ‘I could have a warm round body if you’d listen to the witches, if you’d do as they asked, and I would let you fuck me until I was raw, until I couldn’t walk. You’d like that, Tim Meriwether. I know you would.’
‘Then why don’t you go to the witches and let them take care of you,’ he said between gritted teeth as he cupped his balls and kneaded them almost to the point of pain.
‘I don’t crave women flesh, Tim Meriwether, and it’s you I want.’
Almost as though his body had a mind of its own, he heaved off the duvet without missing a stroke, and the ghost gasped her appreciation. He shoved himself upright against the headboard, spat on his hand and rubbed his saliva over the hot length of him, too impatient to dig in the bedside table for the lube he kept handy.
Lisette shifted her weight back and lifted her hips until he could see the whole of her cleft clear down to the shadowy clench of her anus. She wasn’t what he wanted, and he hated it when he gave in to her tauntings, and yet that was also a part of what made their little trysts so nasty. It was a game of substitution really.
‘If I were flesh, you would fuck me now, wouldn’t you, Tim Meriwether? I know you would, and I would be slippery enough and pouting enough to accommodate your heavy cock.’ As if to demonstrate her point, she thrust another finger into her sucking, slurping pussy until all that remained visible of her hand was her thumb rubbing against her marbled clit. ‘You can see it,’ she grunted. ‘But you can’t feel it any more than I can, you selfish prick. I make you come every time, but I only get to watch.’
He was getting close, thinking about Marie, thinking about her and the ghost on the fells, thinking about her masturbating in her bed. Had she played with her pussy before she fell asleep tonight? Had she fondled and tweaked her lovely breasts. Had she thought about him? He reached for the hand towel he needed more often than he cared to admit these days and convulsed his heavy wad into its folds just as Lisette vanished with a little yelp. He felt like he would come forever. The hard shudders prying him open from the inside somehow felt dark and raw,
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