Haunted Seductions Page 4

  Oh well.

  Louis finished his soda and reached for another one, making a mental note to pick up more next time he went to town. Whatever was gonna happen would happen. He’d just relax and, like they said all the time in Louisiana, laissez les bon temps rouléz.

  Let the good times roll. Whether they involved rolling around with Honey remained to be seen.

  He grinned.

  And jumped when a shutter fell off the kitchen window with a huge crash.

  Chapter Five

  Honey ignored her surroundings—a dingy room that smelled musty with a big full-length mirror on a stand in one corner. Other than that, there wasn’t much to see. A couple of suitcases lay awkwardly beneath the window, and it looked as though Louis might be planning on using this room as his bedroom, although right now there was only a lawn chair with a sleeping bag on it.

  Honey had other ideas. She’d noticed a new hammock strung up on the shady side of the huge porch, and that would suit her just fine. She’d never done it in a hammock. Perhaps they could come up here later when the sun set and the bugs would make life pretty sucky for a couple of hours.

  She shrugged. Whatever.

  Peeling off the clingy wet tank, she thanked her lucky stars that she hadn’t worn a bra that day. Her breasts were still damp and cool, their dark rose nipples standing proudly from the creamy mounds.

  She cupped them with her hands, enjoying the feel of the silky skin weighing heavily in her palms. Her surgeon had really done an outstanding job.

  A slight chill swept over her, reminding her that her shorts were sticking like wallpaper to her buttocks, and with a regretful sigh she stripped them off too. They really did make her ass look fine, but they had to go. There was no underwear beneath to worry about so she stood there nude and let the air sweep over her skin for a few moments.

  Honey was a sensual woman. She loved her body, she loved men’s bodies and she loved what they were capable of when the two got together.

  Just thinking about having Louis’s cock between her thighs got her wet. Thinking about his head between her thighs got her even wetter, and sent a shiver of delightful anticipation over her flesh.

  Or was it anticipation? She slid her hands between her thighs to touch the slick of hot liquid that coated the folds of her smoothly shaved pussy. Oh yeah, sugar. Honey’s makin’ honey.

  Standing there in the shadowy heat of the room, Honey caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stopped still, caught by the play of light and darkness over her body. She looked almost insubstantial—yet erotic. A symphony of curves and lines that flowed slowly—seductively—like the waters of the bayou outside.

  Honey closed her eyes and let her fingers play around the center of her womanhood. Her clit responded to the slightest brush of air by shuddering and opening the floodgates of her sexual arousal even more. It was a moment to be treasured, relished, standing alone in Louis’s bedroom, touching and stimulating herself in front of an antique mirror.

  Or was she alone?

  Awareness prickled her neck, making her turn quickly in the expectation of finding Louis watching her.

  There was no one there.

  She turned back to the mirror and what she saw choked a gasp from her throat.

  She was wearing a corset.

  Tentatively Honey ran her hands across her ribs in an attempt to touch the creamy satin or the stiffening seams, which ran to the base of her breasts and uplifted them into full swells of soft flesh.

  She could feel nothing but her own skin, warm and silky beneath her fingertips.

  No embroidered flowers twining around her hips, no lacing up from navel to chest—no corset at all. But it was there. She could see it.

  What the fuck?

  It straightened her posture, narrowed her waist, and thrust her breasts into erotic prominence. It heightened every single sensation that Honey was feeling, and although it did not exist, the corset seemed a part of her arousal—a tool of her sex.

  She parted her thighs in a lascivious gesture, revealing the pink and shining folds of her aroused pussy, relishing the flood of excitement that rippled through her. This was the craziest shit, but nothing could prevent the wet heat from flowing down over her skin.

  She stilled as the woman in the mirror breathed in and filled her lungs with a quivering rush of desire.

  And two hands crept around her waist to clasp her breasts.

  Honey surrendered. This might be some weird hallucination, but it was turning her on—big-time.

  They squeezed tight—almost painfully tight—forcing her nipples into rock-solid peaks and then strumming them with fingers that seemed to know the exact amount of pressure to exert on the excruciatingly sensitive buds.

  Warmth blossomed up and down her spine as something solid pressed against her.

  A man.

  Honey closed her eyes against the impossible vision in the mirror and leaned back a little, bringing more of her flesh into contact with the owner of the hands. And what hands they were.

  They cupped and kneaded and stroked and pulled. They teased and tantalized and worked Honey’s breasts until she was nearly weeping with need and thrusting her hips forward in a crazy attempt to come.

  Flooded with crazed arousal, Honey panted. She burned, yearned and leaned every which way as she tried to touch herself since those strong hands wouldn’t. But it was to no avail. Her arms seemed like lead weights, unable to move or reach for the clit that ached so ferociously.

  “Oh God…” she sobbed and opened her eyes, seeing a twisting muddle of barely clothed woman in the mirror.

  She saw something else, too.

  There was a man’s face leering at her over her shoulder. Long matted hair hung down either side of his face, pockmarks scarred one side of his cheek and an angry red scar sliced his lower lip neatly in two.

  Honey nearly passed out, but managed to suck in enough air to scream. Without a second thought she ran. Down the stairs, past a dumbstruck Louis, heedless of the fact she was naked as a jaybird, she ran.

  She didn’t stop until she’d poled her pirogue out of sight of Love Alley.

  In one of the small salons, a dusty portrait adorned a grimy and mold-covered wall. The barely legible caption read “M. Jean Argent, 1804”. Instead of the usual formal expression, this portrait featured a harsh-faced man with a wicked smile.

  A smile that curved around his scarred lower lip.

  *~~*~~*

  Louis was tired, sore from all the day’s work, and as he saw a buck-naked woman run screaming from his house his jaw dropped. He knew he probably ought to find out what the hell was going on with Honey, but she’d caught him completely by surprise. He stood on the porch and watched her remarkably fine ass as it bounced down the path to the bayou and disappeared.

  He debated with himself about rushing after her, but common sense told him it wasn’t wise to go careening into an unknown bayou after a naked woman. Since a splashing sound followed by the thunk of an oar told him she’d reached her pirogue, he sighed with relief and concluded his internal discussion of the whole matter.

  Well. So much for a hot roll in the hay with my neighbor. Probably for the best, all things considered.

  His hammock and the soda called to him silently. Not the type to go against such commands he obliged the little mental voices and popped open the other cold one, swigging it down like a college senior with his first beer on a Friday night. He wondered if he’d ever be able to drink enough to cool his thirst.

  The sun was lower now and slivers of light shone through the trees surrounding the house.

  Louis knew that night was coming soon but he wanted to see the glorious sunset over the river. He had a front row seat and wouldn’t have too long a wait. The inevitable mosquitoes would drive him indoors soon enough, but for now he climbed into the hammock that stretched across the porch and relaxed.

  The sweat on his chest shimmered as he breathed and with each cleansing breath, Louis felt more r
elaxed and at home. Deep down he found he was probably a country boy trapped in a citified lifestyle, since the sounds and scents surrounding him were pleasant, lulling him into a kind of tired bliss.

  Twilight crept over the bayou. It was still warm enough for Louis to rest shirtless in the open air. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in quite a while. Life’s daily chaos always interrupted times of great peace.

  His eyelids drooped by the minute and after one last glance at the sun setting over the trees, Louis looked up to see a few early sparkling stars in the sky.

  He stretched his arms high above his head. A few cracks of his bones later he was comfortable with his fingers twined around the rope atop the hammock. He vaguely imagined how this could be a sexy way to tie a woman down. The breeze blew around the house and as the leaves rustled against the wooden porch, Louis savored the clean green scents of the bayou, so different to the city smog he was used to.

  Before his eyes closed he swore he thought he glimpsed something flicker through the window nearby. It looked like it might have been two glistening visions of loveliness in white, with blonde hair. But exhaustion claimed him and he let it come, aware of that annoying itch again in the moments before sliding into unconsciousness.

  He slept.

  *~~*~~*

  Inside the house, soft curls of mist formed low on the floor, whirling upwards as Louis snuffled into a deeper sleep. The wraiths took shape, faces forming atop the drifting clouds, female faces, surrounded by loose blonde curls.

  Their bodies followed, lush and rounded, curvaceous in a way that contemporary women did their best to avoid. These were no wafer-thin impossibly slender models, these were warm, lusty and wantonly sensual girls.

  “He’s somethin’, ain’t he, Maxine?” The whisper was soft, slurred with the soft musical words of old Louisiana.

  “He sure is, Mabel. He surely is.”

  Both Mabel and Maxine moved from the house to stare at Louis as he slept.

  “You see how hard he worked, girl? See them hard parts there?” Maxine licked her lips.

  “I see ‘em, honey-chile. I knowed as soon as he started workin’. His smell woke me from my sleep.”

  “Mmm. He makes me hungry. He makes me want things. Hot things we ain’t had for some long time now.”

  Maxine let her hand fall before her and dragged her fingertips up her body. Her eyelids fluttered as the tips brushed her pubic area. Her lace underwear floated over her skin, barely touching her. The outline of her shape was only visible when the fabric blew against her skin from the breeze. Her nipples became even more aroused and the pink lace revealed them risen and erect.

  With the sun’s glow dimming, and nighttime upon them, they looked out the window to see Louis swaying slowly in the hammock as he slept.

  In a flash Maxine and Mabel swept into Louis’s body—becoming one with him.

  *~~*~~*

  Louis frowned at a nagging pull between his legs. He tried to reach for it but his hands wouldn’t move—they were somewhere above his head. He was a captive in his own dream.

  He looked down to see two blonde women pulling and jerking at his pants. They had bright blonde hair and were wearing old-fashioned lace undergarments. He struggled to free his hands but to no avail. Above him were the beams of a darkened cellar and he could see his arms bound with straps over his head. He was well and truly trapped.

  The two women finally freed his pants and one pulled them down along his legs, her nails scraping the soft skin of his inner thigh. He stood helpless and felt a shiver of fear—but within seconds that fear changed to something else.

  One woman pulled her long hair aside and Louis’s eyes widened as she slowly drew his cock into her mouth.

  Warmth shot through his body as the heat from her mouth made his blood boil. The other blonde had shorter hair but he could instantly see they were twins—nasty fucking little twins. Proving conclusively that there was a God and he did answer fantasy prayers.

  Louis felt the velvety wetness of her mouth envelop his cock. No struggling to free himself…this was too good to be real. So, as every boy does when a sexy woman is kind enough to suck on his cock, he just smiled and let her.

  The other woman stepped behind him and pressed against his body. Her breasts molded to his back as he stood with arms bound above his head. Her breath brushed the thin hair on his neck as her hands caressed his back. Her fingertips dragged along his ribs and she kissed his shoulder. Louis moaned, falling willingly into the passion of the moment.

  “I’m Mabel, an’ that’s my sister Maxine with your cock in her mouth.” The husky voice sent a chill through Louis. “You got two of M’dame Claudine’s best gals for yo’ pleasure this evenin’.”

  Mabel lifted one hand up under Louis arm and she flicked her finger over his tight nipple. Maxine began to deep throat his cock, her saliva trickling along the base and onto his balls.

  Louis’s eyes fluttered. Something was different in this dream. He couldn’t speak. Either the fact that there were two hot women taking him or because it seemed more real than any he’d ever had…he didn’t know. It was wild, it was weird and it was pretty fucking wonderful—which had probably struck him dumb.

  Maxine slid down his body, her breasts rubbing his bare back. Soft kisses followed the dip of his spine and with Maxine sucking his cock, Louis was in ecstasy.

  With a hard squeeze, Mabel grabbed his ass and bit his hip. “Lordy, Lordy, I’m surely fixin’ to enjoy fuckin’ this guy. We all gonna have ourselves a private Mardi Gras…”

  She released his ass and grabbed Maxine’s hand, pulling her mouth from Louis’s swollen cock.

  The two girls stood together in front of him and painstakingly began to undress each other. Their eyes were focused on Louis—his eyes on their bodies. Mabel pushed the thin silken robe off Maxine’s shoulders. It fell to the floor on a silent swirl of wind. She had on a corset that pushed her firm pale breasts upward. The pink nipples stood erect, just begging to be suckled. Louis’s cock said all that needed to be said. It began to throb with anticipation.

  He was being seduced with his full cooperation.

  With a wicked grin on her lips, Maxine turned her sister around to face him and stood behind her. Untying the white robe Maxine pulled it back, revealing Mabel’s nude body to his appreciative eyes. He raised an eyebrow. Wow. She’s a real blonde.

  Mabel’s knowing smile told Louis she was aware of his arousal. Maxine reached around her sister and held her close. Her hands stroked along Mabel’s body, grasping her breasts and giving them a friendly squeeze. Mabel had one hand behind her, resting on her sister’s leg. With her other hand, she caressed her own pussy.

  He could only watch and beg with his eyes to be free of his bonds.

  Mabel slid a finger into her pussy. Her eyes closed and she swirled it around the slippery entrance to her heavenly box.

  Pulling it free, she opened her eyes and moved to Louis. Maxine turned and walked toward the darkness behind her.

  Mabel held her glistening finger out just below Louis’s nostrils. Breathing in, he could swear his lungs were filled with the fragrance of an angel.

  Straining to free himself, he was crazed with lust and it only got worse when Mabel pressed her breasts against Louis’s chest. They were warm and her hand lowered to his cock, stroking it slowly with her fingers. A deep moan rumbled through her body and Louis gasped when she squeezed hard.

  “Oh sweet sugar man, I’m lookin’ forward to this,” Mabel groaned and began licking his chest.

  She lowered herself before Louis and took over where her sister left off. Her mouth was wet and she sucked hard, drawing his length into her throat. She dropped her hand lower and began playing with her pussy again, moaning around Louis in her mouth.

  Louis gulped and looked up to see Maxine’s nude body moving nearer, carrying a chair with a high wooden back. She spun it around and sat down, quite ladylike, legs crossed at the ankles with her hand over her pussy. Louis was mesme
rized when she spread her legs apart. His mouth watered and his mind raced with mindless excitement as Mabel began to fondle his balls as she sucked him.

  When Maxine pulled her hand away from her pussy, Louis saw a shimmer of gold between her legs. She had inserted something into her pussy and the light reflected it just right to make it sparkle.

  Maxine was putting on a show just for him.

  Mabel let him free and began to caress his legs and kiss him to prolong his excitement and torture.

  Louis began to pant. He was so aroused he swore his mind would melt. His mouth hung open as Maxine pulled on the strand of beads she’d inserted into herself. Each bead would spread the opening slightly wider and she would shiver and shake as it closed back. Each bead made her more and more juicy. Her eyes closed, and Louis realized she too was being sensually tortured.

  Maxine lured him in. In most dreams he would climb on top of her and fuck her into submission. But something about this fantasy was different. He wasn’t the one in control of it—they were.

  Mabel continued to massage his legs as he watched Maxine pull the beads out of her soaked pussy. His arousal couldn’t last much longer without him shattering into an explosion of massive proportions.

  Maxine pulled the last few beads out with a quick tug, shuddering at the jolt of pleasure shooting through her body. Apparently she was now going to share that pleasure with him.

  With hard tugs at the ties binding his wrists, Louis frowned, a ripple of unease dancing up his spine. He couldn’t free himself and Maxine was coming close with something leather in her hand. It was a long, thin piece of leather, smooth and stiff. She grabbed the chair as she walked toward him. The rumble of the chair’s legs across the floor vibrated through him.

  “Oh good girl. You brought your toys, chère.” Mabel stood behind Louis. “My sister loves her toys, honey man. When I was wed, and she’d come to join us in bed, those toys sure did drive my poor husband near to crazy.”

  A tight black leather glove had materialized on her Mabel’s hand and she dragged it across Louis’s chest. There was something sharp in each fingertip that scratched his chest.