Chapter 14: Chapter 14

LYNN

I’m tucked behind the bookstore counter, trading texts with Chelsea. Zoey’s curled up on the couch, engrossed in a steamy romance novel. I can’t help but smile as I watch her lips move along with the words.

My phone buzzes with a new message. It’s a photo of Chelsea and Brian’s mom at the hospital. I feel a wave of relief knowing Chelsea’s out and about, keeping tabs on Brian.

Suddenly, the front doors burst open and in storms the grizzled old man from before.

“You ignored my warning, and now someone’s paid the price!” he bellows.

Zoey snaps her book shut, leaps up, and joins me behind the counter.

“Who?” she demands.

“You know who!” he retorts.

My phone’s still in my hand, so I punch in 911, ready to call, but I hold off. I want to hear more.

“What do you know about this place?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but maybe he can shed some light.

“That house is haunted,” he declares.

“What house?” Zoey asks, her voice shaky.

“The one your friend inherited.”

Zoey’s grip on my arm tightens so much that I have to pry her fingers off. “How do you know it’s haunted?” I ask, forcing calm into my voice.

He glances around nervously. “They know I’m here. If I say more, they’ll kill me,” he mutters, his eyes darting around the room. He pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, tosses it at me, and bolts out the door.

“I told you I wasn’t drunk that night. Something really did happen to me there,” Zoey whispers, her body trembling.

I stoop to pick up the crumpled paper and smooth it out. It’s a cover sheet from the county records—a deed for Dorothy Strange’s property. There’s a plot number in the corner and a date: June 19th, 1961.

“What the hell?” I mutter, folding the paper and tucking it into my pocket.

CHELSEA

Leaving the hospital, I feel reassured knowing Brian’s in good hands. His mom plans to stay with him as much as possible. She’s urged me to keep writing and promised to update me on his condition.

I park in front of the house and step out. Instead of heading inside, I decide to explore the grounds. I spot Detrick mowing the lawn on a zero-turn lawnmower.

I wander around, admiring the blooming flowers. I bend down to inhale the sweet scent of the tulips. As I straighten up, I notice a fenced-in area off to the side. I head over and push open the gate.

It’s a garden, once tended by my great-aunt. It’s already flourishing with tomatoes, onions, carrots, and basil.

Detrick pulls up on the mower. “Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t know when you’d be moving in, so I planted some stuff a while back,” he apologizes.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad it’s being used,” I assure him, admiring the plump tomatoes.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he replies, and resumes his mowing.

I step out of the garden and latch the gate. Beyond the garden, I spot the path Christopher takes through the woods. On a whim, I decide to follow it and see where he lives.

The path is well-trodden, as if someone walks it daily.

After about fifty yards, I reach a fork in the path. A tree stands in the middle, with a wooden arrow pointing right. To the left, a small sign reads Do Not Enter.

I follow the arrow to the right and soon come upon another Victorian-style house, similar to mine but smaller.

I’m awestruck by the beauty of the place. I climb the porch steps and ring the doorbell.

A shadow moves towards me. The door opens, and there’s Christopher.

“I wasn’t expecting you today,” he says.

I can’t help but stare. My heart flutters and my breath catches. He’s standing there in nothing but cargo shorts.

I bite my lower lip, not even looking at his face until he steps closer, wraps his arms around me, and kisses me.

I melt into his arms, wrapping mine around his neck, deepening the kiss. His lips are soft and warm, and I breathe in deeply through my nose.

My tongue ventures into his mouth as he parts his lips. A low moan escapes me as he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, our kiss unbroken.

I pull back and look down at him.

“Hi,” I say, smiling.

“You seem to be doing better,” he observes.

“You’re all I think about.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks.

“No. It’s just... I can’t stop thinking about you. I want you. I need to touch you. I want to feel you inside me—”

Before I can finish, his lips are on mine again, kissing me with a passion that leaves me breathless. I’m instantly aroused.

I feel his hand cup my right breast over my bra. He holds me up with one arm as I reach around to unhook my bra. His hand slips under the fabric and squeezes my breast. I gasp.

I pull my shirt over my head and let it drop to the porch. My bra follows suit. Now his mouth is on my breasts, sucking each nipple in turn.

I arch my back, inviting him to explore further. His tongue traces circles around my nipples, then licks the sides of my breasts. I moan loudly at his touch.

I can feel his cock hardening in his shorts, pressing against me as I grind against him.

A low moan escapes my lips. He sets me down, a playful wink in his eyes. I unfasten my shorts, sliding them down along with my panties. Once again, I’m standing naked before him on his porch.

He bends down, flipping me upside down so my legs rest on his shoulders. His face buries into my wet pussy, his mouth latching onto my clit.

I brace myself against his legs, my arms acting as supports. My eyes catch the bulge in his pants. I unbutton his shorts, letting them fall to the ground.

There it is, his magnificent cock, standing at attention. I wrap my hand around him, guiding him into my mouth, taking him deep down my throat. We’re locked in a standing sixty-nine.

He grips my waist, holding me upside down as he devours me. The sensation sends me over the edge, and I cum instantly on his face.

I take a deep breath, taking him deeper. His balls brush against my nose as I bob up and down on his shaft.

In my mind, I’m begging him, ~Cum for me~. Suddenly, he lets out a moan, his cock pulsating in my mouth as he shoots his load down my throat.

I wait until he finishes before releasing him. He sets me down, allowing the blood to rush back to my body. He holds me close as I catch my breath.

I wipe my mouth with my arm, glancing down at him. He’s still rock hard. I reach out, taking hold of him.

“Still hard,” I comment, stroking him. “What’s next?”

He grins at me, guiding me to the railing and bending me over it. He lifts my leg, propping it up. Positioning himself behind me, he teases his cock against my still-wet pussy before plunging in deep.

One hand wraps around my throat, pulling me back against him. His other hand roams over my breasts as he fucks me.

The leg I’m standing on begins to shake as another orgasm hits me. The sensation of his balls slapping against my clit sends me over the edge again.

He releases my throat, allowing me to lower my leg. Now, I’m draped over the railing, my breasts hanging over the side. He grips my hips, thrusting into me with a renewed vigor.

Each thrust sends my breasts bouncing, the sensation bordering on painful. I release the railing, cradling my breasts, praying the railing will hold me as his cock continues to pound into me.

His right hand drops down, fingers circling my clit. My legs start to shake uncontrollably.

“Holy fuck,” I scream, cumming hard on his cock.

I’ve never experienced an orgasm that intense. My legs give out, my body going limp. I feel like a rag doll in his arms, my limbs too heavy to move.

“I can’t,” I manage to say, waving my hand in front of my face. Sweat trickles down my face, pooling between my breasts, and trailing down to my crotch.

Christopher stands before me, still stroking his cock. I look up at him.

“I can’t. I need to go home and recover from this amazing sex. But I can’t stand,” I admit.

He bends down, gathering my clothes. He holds up my T-shirt, waiting for me to lift my arms. I comply, and he slips it over my head. Then, he scoops me up in his arms, carrying me through the woods back to my place.

Christopher opens the screen door at the back of the house, carrying me up to my bedroom and laying me on the bed.

He disappears into the bathroom, turning on the water for the tub. After a few minutes, the sound of running water stops.

He reappears in my room, pulling my shirt over my head before lifting me into his arms again. He carries me into the bathroom, gently lowering me into the tub. I sink into the water.

The temperature is perfect.

“Thank you,” I murmur, closing my eyes.