a gentle thrust. Her legs gripped his backside. A long drawn out sigh slipped from her mouth.
Cheeks heating, her desire grew. They were a mare and a stallion, only becoming complete when they were bound. Would he feel the same way about her?
Pulling out to the edge, he found her G-spot. Oh God he knew how to work it. His tongue laved her nipple. He nudged and caressed. Elbows on the ground, he held her head between his recently callused hands. He kissed her, moving his lips slowly against her, then added tongue. She gyrated under him. He entered her again. She spread her legs wide inviting him to go deeper. An orgasm overpowered her, and in turn he spilled his seed.
She squeezed her eyes shut. So much sadness had bombarded her life in the last few months, but now rolls of happiness flooded her by being with Basil—he rescued her.
Chapter 8
Darkness surrounded him. Being in Wilson’s childhood bedroom wouldn’t provide solace or an inkling of the man’s whereabouts. Basil stared at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do next. Should he apply pressure to Pippa in order to locate her brother? Shards of lights sprinkled the white walls. He shot forward to sit on the edge of the chair.
Skogul’s body formed from tiny fragments into a unified whole. The flash of light freaked him. His gaze went from her smirk to the rest of her body. Wafts of lavender and frankincense or sage or something herbal surrounded the bed where she appeared. She was wearing a dress, matching the description of the one Pippa mentioned as missing several hours ago, and the black thigh-high boots from her previous attire.
Using the glow, he reached across the table and turned on the lamp. “Aren’t ghosts supposed to stay with the subject they’re haunting?”
Her head jerked toward his voice and her eyes narrowed to small slits. “Why are you awake?” She glanced at the clock. “You’ll be scooping poop in two hours.” She sauntered to the side of the bed and reached under, extracting a plastic bag. “I’m not a spy and I’m certainly not hunting you, because I’ve already found you.”
Christ, what if Mattie or Pippa found the large bag, with a zipper and department store logo, under the bed in his room? The apparition had deliberately changed the meaning of his comment. Was she the ghost of a quick screw-and-leave from his younger years? All the warnings from Harry through the years about loving and leaving women rang through Basil’s head.
He decided to test his friend’s theory on the illusion in front of him and lifted the .45 MEU. Civilians didn’t have ownership of the type of pistol, but he did and the Marines allowed it. “If you don’t answer my question, soon you’ll be a true phantom instead of whatever you’re supposed to be.”
She chuckled and unzipped the white, almost iridescent dress hugging her form. No other clothing clad her ripped body beneath the borrowed dress. The skirt caught on her boots as she slid the shiny fabric over her hips. “What does sap mean?”
Despite her beauty his throat didn’t dry out as he’d expect. “Gullible. Someone who is easily fooled. Don’t tear the dress.”
Skogul huffed. “When did you become such a girl?” She did, however, place the dress on a hanger and slide the gown into the plastic bag.
He sighed, wondering how much longer this trickery would last. Maybe the darkness had taken on a new form, by the name of Skogul. “And how is it you’d know what kind of person I am?”
She frowned, as if she’d said too much. It would be interesting to find out how easily lies came from her perfect pouty lips. “You know me, Basil. I’m Skogul, a quick screw from your past.”
Had she read his mind? She must have divined his thoughts because, vague past or not, he’d remember a hot broad of this caliber. He pulled the slide on the gun, felt the memory bump on the pistol. She glided around the bed and skimmed over his legs, while taking the revolver from his
Cheeks heating, her desire grew. They were a mare and a stallion, only becoming complete when they were bound. Would he feel the same way about her?
Pulling out to the edge, he found her G-spot. Oh God he knew how to work it. His tongue laved her nipple. He nudged and caressed. Elbows on the ground, he held her head between his recently callused hands. He kissed her, moving his lips slowly against her, then added tongue. She gyrated under him. He entered her again. She spread her legs wide inviting him to go deeper. An orgasm overpowered her, and in turn he spilled his seed.
She squeezed her eyes shut. So much sadness had bombarded her life in the last few months, but now rolls of happiness flooded her by being with Basil—he rescued her.
Chapter 8
Darkness surrounded him. Being in Wilson’s childhood bedroom wouldn’t provide solace or an inkling of the man’s whereabouts. Basil stared at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do next. Should he apply pressure to Pippa in order to locate her brother? Shards of lights sprinkled the white walls. He shot forward to sit on the edge of the chair.
Skogul’s body formed from tiny fragments into a unified whole. The flash of light freaked him. His gaze went from her smirk to the rest of her body. Wafts of lavender and frankincense or sage or something herbal surrounded the bed where she appeared. She was wearing a dress, matching the description of the one Pippa mentioned as missing several hours ago, and the black thigh-high boots from her previous attire.
Using the glow, he reached across the table and turned on the lamp. “Aren’t ghosts supposed to stay with the subject they’re haunting?”
Her head jerked toward his voice and her eyes narrowed to small slits. “Why are you awake?” She glanced at the clock. “You’ll be scooping poop in two hours.” She sauntered to the side of the bed and reached under, extracting a plastic bag. “I’m not a spy and I’m certainly not hunting you, because I’ve already found you.”
Christ, what if Mattie or Pippa found the large bag, with a zipper and department store logo, under the bed in his room? The apparition had deliberately changed the meaning of his comment. Was she the ghost of a quick screw-and-leave from his younger years? All the warnings from Harry through the years about loving and leaving women rang through Basil’s head.
He decided to test his friend’s theory on the illusion in front of him and lifted the .45 MEU. Civilians didn’t have ownership of the type of pistol, but he did and the Marines allowed it. “If you don’t answer my question, soon you’ll be a true phantom instead of whatever you’re supposed to be.”
She chuckled and unzipped the white, almost iridescent dress hugging her form. No other clothing clad her ripped body beneath the borrowed dress. The skirt caught on her boots as she slid the shiny fabric over her hips. “What does sap mean?”
Despite her beauty his throat didn’t dry out as he’d expect. “Gullible. Someone who is easily fooled. Don’t tear the dress.”
Skogul huffed. “When did you become such a girl?” She did, however, place the dress on a hanger and slide the gown into the plastic bag.
He sighed, wondering how much longer this trickery would last. Maybe the darkness had taken on a new form, by the name of Skogul. “And how is it you’d know what kind of person I am?”
She frowned, as if she’d said too much. It would be interesting to find out how easily lies came from her perfect pouty lips. “You know me, Basil. I’m Skogul, a quick screw from your past.”
Had she read his mind? She must have divined his thoughts because, vague past or not, he’d remember a hot broad of this caliber. He pulled the slide on the gun, felt the memory bump on the pistol. She glided around the bed and skimmed over his legs, while taking the revolver from his
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