Page 32 of Are You Scared, Krowe?
"When I stepped into you... you didn't...?" He clears his throat, thinking better of whatever he wants to know.
I don't know how to tell him I felt his presence, that I felt the arousal swelling, but that I didn't physicallyfeelit... not the way I would feel hands on my skin.
"Try something with me?"
"Anything." He agrees easily.
"Don't move." I instruct him, watching his face as I approach him slowly.
His eyes hold mine, but I see something in them shift as I stand before him and stretch out my hands. When my fingers fall upon his face, he swallows, like he's afraid of my touch. But then his dark lashes flutter and the smallest sigh of contentment slips from him, so I pause, letting him soak in the feeling of me as I appraise him.
It's hard to see beneath the paint on his face, but it doesn't cover anything of his beauty. A chiseled jaw and full lips, cheekbones that look like they could cut glass. He's gorgeous.
I'd lose my nerve if it weren't for the longing in his eyes. The soft brown is swimming with desperation, like he's never wanted anything more than what I'm about to give him.
His lips are plush beneath mine when I place my mouth against him, waiting a moment to assess whether he feels it.
I do.
It's everything a first kiss should be, even before either of us moves. His mouth is warm, soft, velveteen. I groan, suddenly desperate to feel the rest of him.
"Gianna..."
My name from his lips sounds like praise, and it's single-handedly the most addictive thing I've ever heard. It sends a chill through me that's less of a chill and more of a full-body vibration.
I moan into his mouth, unable to stop myself.
And then, all bets are off, because whatever restraint he had, snaps.
Chapter 11
Ghostsex.
What the fuck has my life become?
I nearly laugh at that thought, the irony of it. It became nothing, and yet... somehow in this moment, I feel more alive than I can remember ever being.
We are made of nothing, except maybe the particles of light and dust that float in through the window in the old farmhouse, and yet wefeel. Together, we feel amazing.
I don't know how to describe what we do.Sexfeels like putting it too simply; like calling this thing between us strange when, in fact, it's the most potent thing I've ever felt... alive or dead.
There's no exhaustion, no limit to what we can do. And what we do is beyond the pale.
Each rippling touch from him sinks into my soul, permeating my very essence so that I don't know where the divide is between him and I. Maybe there is none. Maybe it doesn't matter. Logistics don't seem to matter much at all, considering that I justdied, and I'm here chasing pleasure like it can unwrite pain and violence that doesn't even feel like it happened to me.
Part of me thinks I shouldn't be doing this, that it violates all reason and sanity. But those are the last things I care about clinging to right now. That doesn't keep me from soaking in the pleasure of his mouth on me, all over me.
I don't know how it happens or how long it takes before it does, but suddenly, I'm on my back on his bed and he's overtop of me trailing kisses down the valley of my body, which somehow feels more solid now that it's beneath his touch. When he presses a kiss against my mound, I think I could come undone. Whatever is holding me together seems like it's going to unravel and leave me in pieces to drift through the air like confetti.
"Spade," I gasp when his breath whispers against my flesh. For someone who doesn't have a body, I sure can feel every little thing he does. Maybe because my body isn't focusing on keeping myself alive, my heart pumping and lungs breathing. All those little processes we do from the moment of birth are now irrelevant, and I think it lets me sink deeper into the bliss.
Nothing exists beyond what we're doing, his mouth and mine, our bodies moving in this dance like we've known one anotherfor all of time. It's nothing short of magical... better than anything life ever gave me. And I can't contemplate that, because all I can do is soak in the pleasure.
Ecstasy ripples through me at the first flick of his tongue against my clit, and I dig my nails into his back, half afraid that the pleasure is going to wash me away from him.
"Spade..."
"Let go, little wraith. Let me love you."
