Feel That Fire

Even if Jonathan was dead, Mary could feel the heated sexual magnetism that made him so self-confident. Or was it arrogant? To say that her attraction was perilous was an understatement, much like thinking his eyes were penetrating--the contrast of the fresh grass green of his eyes to his glowing ghost skin was shocking, striking and undeniably sexy. "Jonathan, how do you expect me to exorcise you if you aren't even sure how you died?"

"I was thinking," his eyes widened as he gulped down a look at her naked thighs, "that's less of a priority now that I seek the perks of poltergeisting."

The involuntary deluge of erotic flashbacks colored her flesh and shifted her gaze downward. Necrophilia definitely wasn't her thing, but thinking again of the kiss they'd shared (and the simultaneous groping) made it feel as if the very air was crackling with electricity. It was insane that it happened--he'd just leaned in and tried and it worked. Yet, when he tried to touch any object anywhere else in the apartment, it was transparency all over again.

Her stomach tightened and swirled with her mixed thoughts. He could touch her, so that gratified the attraction she felt for him. But knowing she was actively helping him leave left her desire starved and anxious. He wanted to leave. She wanted to help him. She knew it wasn't right to want to be with a ghost or try to keep a ghost around. Still, she selfishly felt twinges and sad pangs thinking he wanted to leave her.

He raised an eyebrow, looking amused and glided towards her, a predatorily cat before the kill. "Don't look so sad," he cooed into her neck, pressing buttons of kisses down her skin. His large hand possessed the curve of her cheek with more over-confident finesse, but she was too carried away with her own responses to discourage his continued willfulness. Her pulled her toward his surprisingly supple and hard, muscular body almost violently and his arms encircled her, one hand gliding to the small of her back and tearing down and off her panties. She shuddered as his hands touched her inner thighs but missed the hottest part of her that needed that touch.

"L-let's go to the bedroom," she mumbled with little strength in her voice. He shrugged and swung her over his shoulder. When he entered the bedroom, he laid her down and tore away his clothes which vanished when they hit the floor. He raised his shoulders in a nanosecond, showing he didn't care. Her thoughts frantically raced--would he be naked now until she helped him go? Was she helping him go? Her eyebrows knit involuntarily and he swooped atop her with devilish eyes--his rascally way of soothing her.

He wasn't expecting his hand to go through the bed. "Guess we're floor bound honey." She resisted his manhandling when attempted to make it so.

"I'm capable of moving, you know."

"I'm counting on it." She swore she saw flickers of nutmeg in his eyes. He lifted her ankles, this time being smoother and softer, and rested them on his shoulders. He kissed just below her navel and her frantic stomach pangs went from anxious to a frenzied swirl she didn't care to analyze. What she did care about was his lush tongue darting, tantalizing her skin down her the manicured auburn of her sex. How could his tongue touch her?) She pushed away those thoughts. How could she tell him not to stop? She released her tension in wordless moans. He added his knuckles, softly yet again, as moved to her slit and glided along its wetness, blooming her for him.

Suddenly, he stop and met her eyes with a gaze like his eyes were photographing her. His voice had a tremble in it she'd never heard, "I can taste you, really taste you. Amazing. Like one of those flowery herbal teas."

"Umm, thanks?" She wasn't a prude, but these weren't the sorts of conversations she had when she was doing the deed. In fact, conversation was really a thing that happened at all.

His smirk returned, along with his suave, cool voice. "Aside from being delectable, it's a damn miracle. I can barely even see and with you my senses are actually alive!"

She squirmed uncomfortably. It was silly, but that made her feel like he didn't want to be here. Like it was "just because"--she happened to be there and he happened to want some.

His tongued slither into her inner sex and she felt her walls enveloped him. He kicked up the pleasure notch as she tremored against and around him. Thoughts were now hard to keep inside her mind. He placed slow, drugging kisses on her nether lips that pressed enticingly into her. The aching inside her scorched and turned her thoughts to ash.

Seeing his hard member deliciously close to entering her pushed away any further questioning thoughts about the ethics of sleeping with someone that looked so angelic. He plunged inside of her and boiling tidal waves of pleasure flushed over her skin as she leaned in to rock gracefully on him. The ferocity of their rocking grew and their shared intense pleasure was nearly unbearable it was so good.

His hands possessed her waist and slowed her, the need becoming more unbearable now. He undulated her in a delicious thrall of a deep grind. It felt like the top her head was going to explode. She wanted to fuck him hard and fast until her close orgasm erupted but she felt equally stunned with pleasure and anxious at his possessive touch. It was okay, now that they were in the midst of an amazing fuck, to enjoy some of that arrogance. Crave it even. She fell into his embrace and he bucked and bounced her on him. She slid up and down his cock and surrendered completely, both immobile and frenzied in her lust. She felt his cock become more rigid and deep twinges throughout her body responded with a thunderous, soaking orgasm. Her mind fluttered and fell and her eyes closed to enjoy the pleasure. She slid from him and laid down to curl into his armpit crook in her ecstasy.

Her face beat onto the floor and her eyes shot open, hazed in the moment and confused with her position. He was gone. All the heat in the room and in her body--gone. Surprisingly, his clothes weren't. She snatched the earthy brown button-up he'd worn and sobbed into it.