Page 30 of Adored by the Grumpy Ghost (Mapletown Monster Mates #1)

Natalie

M y body is wrecked. A mess of loose limbs and dark red marks from his bruising grip and wicked mouth.

I’ve never felt so utterly satisfied. When he carries me bridal style up the stairs, my mind doesn’t take me to that dark corner of self-loathing about my body and how heavy I am and how I look to him from this angle.

It can’t, because my mind is empty. He fucked me so well that I couldn’t recite the alphabet if I tried.

Winston places me on my feet inside the bathroom attached to Penelope’s bedroom.

My legs feel like jelly, and it takes a minute of holding on to Winston before I can stand on my own.

This is not a room I’ve seen. Since the bedroom hadn’t been touched after Penelope’s passing, I assumed the same was true for her bathroom.

But it’s massive and surprisingly clean.

Not a speck of dust to be found on the toilet seat or the support bars on either side of it, the sill of the oval-shaped window overlooking Mapletown forest, the walk-in shower, or the oversized tub that could fit at least three Winstons.

“How long have you been plotting to run me a bath?” I ask, knowing that Lindsay certainly didn’t bother to clean this room before she left me here. What he says next stops my heart.

His cheeks flush as his gaze travels down my naked body.

Shy Winston is about to peel back another layer of himself for me.

“Since the first time we spoke, and I heard the weariness in your voice.” He nods.

“I saw how defeated you were, in the way gravity was pulling you toward the ground by your shoulders. I thought, this woman needs a long soak in a cloud of bubbles.” He chews on the inside of his lip, hesitant to continue.

When he does, he says, “What I didn’t expect was that I would be the lucky one to run it for you. ”

I scoff. “You feel lucky to pour bubble bath into a pool of hot water?” It can’t be that much fun. “I would say you need to get out more, but…”

His lips twitch, and for a second, I wonder if I’ve offended him. Something flashes across his face. I can’t tell what. When it morphs into amusement, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“One day, you’ll understand. For now, get in the tub, sweetheart.”

I shiver at the authority in his tone. He holds out his hand, and I take it, letting him guide me into the tub, his strong arms ready to catch me if I stumble.

The water’s so hot it stings my calves, but the deeper I sink into it, the quicker my body adjusts, and soon I’m moaning as the tension leaves my muscles.

I wait for the feel of Winston’s calloused fingers against my skin, but it never comes. A needy whine escapes my lips at the sight of him leaving the room. He dims the lights, and his tight ass flexes, my mouth filling with saliva.

“Where are you going?”

He reaches me in a single stride, grabbing my chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting it up.

My gaze locks with his. His green eyes dart down to my lips, and it’s like he becomes hypnotized.

I open my mouth to break his trance, but before I can, he says in a low rasp, “If you think I’d abandon you like this, naked and soaking wet, you’ve underestimated my obsession with you. ”

My stomach flutters, and I wonder if this is just him engaging in some innocent post-sex flirting, or if there’s any truth to his words.

We’ve come a long way since that first conversation in the driveway, where he scolded me for inviting Mark over, but obsessed?

Could that really be how he feels? The term isn’t exactly a synonym for love, but it’s adjacent to it, right?

If Winston behaved in a toxic manner, I’d say no.

And, admittedly, he got a little territorial when Dominic dropped me off.

And before I knew he lived here, I guess it could be argued that his penchant for making himself invisible and watching me was stalkerish.

On the other hand, Winston is the first romantic partner that’s ever made me feel precious, that my needs are important.

The sex is amazing, the best I’ve had, but more than that, he makes me laugh.

I feel safer in his arms than anywhere else.

If that’s how Winston defines his obsession, couldn’t I say the same about him?

If I were to add those factors together, wouldn’t the more appropriate term be lov–

No. I can’t go there. Not yet. After Kyle, I swore I wouldn’t lay my heart bare until I was sure about how the other person felt.

I also have no idea what’s going to happen when Lindsay decides to reclaim Caraway Manor for her own use.

We decided to keep this casual, so that’s what we’re going to do.

There are too many unknowns to make any serious declarations.

Winston kisses the tip of my nose and leaves, and I sink deeper into the heat of the water. He returns quicker than I expect, fully dressed, apart from his bare feet.

“Boo,” I say with a dramatic pout. When he starts rolling up his sleeves, exposing his thick, veiny forearms, my mouth falls open. I wouldn’t be surprised if drool spilled out.

He notices, then laughs as he comes to kneel behind my head.

The second his hands are on my shoulders, I melt.

My hands grip the sides of the tub, my knuckles whiter than milk as his thumbs dig into the knots on my upper back.

It hurts, but in the best way. He moves up my neck and into my scalp, then down the base of my spine.

My eyes remain closed the whole way, moaning, my core clenching around nothing.

His lips close around my earlobe, moving down my neck.

“Those little noises you make drive me fucking crazy.” It’s practically a growl, and when his teeth graze my pulse, my hips buck in the water.

I suck in a breath as I watch his hand move to the front of my body and slip deeper beneath the bubbles.

He parts the lips of my pussy and swipes his thumb across my clit.

Despite the time that’s passed since we had sex, I’m still oversensitive––not enough to have me pushing his hand away, though.

I don’t even notice his other hand squeezing my breast, because he sinks two fingers inside me and I’m so wet, my body taut like a bowstring, that I’m arching into his hand, sending water splashing over the sides of the tub.

“Yes,” he grits, pressing rough, bruising kisses along the column of my throat.

“W-Winston,” I gasp, my nails digging into his arms as I hold on for dear life.

There’s a steady rumble deep within his chest, and I feel it vibrate against my back as he adds a third finger, hooking into me and reaching that place deep within my pussy that sends a sharp buzz throughout my body and has my feet kicking up out of the water.

I’m close. I can feel it crawling up my spine with every thrust.

The bump of his palm against my clit has my thighs quaking, my grip tight around his wrist as I hold him in place.

“More,” I keen in a low voice I don’t recognize.

Hot tears sting my cheeks, a stark contrast to the rapidly decreasing temperature of the water.

My body is on fire as Winston pulls me slowly up the first hill of the rollercoaster.

The anticipation, the tension, it’s almost too much to bear knowing how close I am to the rapid descent into euphoria.

“You want more, Natalie?” His breath hitches against my ear. It sounds as if he’s as close to coming as I am.

I nod. “Please.” I’m begging, whimpering as I continue to buck against his hand.

“I’d do anything , hand my soul over to the devil, just to see you come again.”

When he pulls his fingers from my cunt, I want to scream in protest, until those three fingers start rubbing my clit, circling it.

I unravel almost instantly after that. My vision blurs as my hips jerk against his hand and water sloshes onto the tiled floor.

The sound that fills my ears is the roar exploding from Winston’s throat.

His head is pressed against my cheek, his tight grip on my breast painful, but in a way that extends my orgasm, a slower wave that I ride for what feels like a very long time.

When our breathing returns to normal, Winston hauls me out of the tub, wrapping a towel around me and sweetly rubbing my sides as he kisses across my cheeks and eyelids. I look down at his pants and laugh at the wet spot. “What was the point of getting dressed, exactly?”

He grins as he pulls me against his chest, not caring how wet my skin still is. “You’re just jealous because I never have to do laundry.”

I nod. “Damn. That is unfair.”

“Nothing about life is fair, and I’ll never understand why our kind assumes it should be. Being alive is mostly monotonous, with the occasional chaotic break to keep us from losing our fucking minds.”

I pull back to look at him. Is he really that cynical? “Then what’s the point of all this? Why do we keep going, do you think?”

He brushes a lock of wet hair behind my ear.

“I don’t know. Maybe because, in this whirlwind of tedium and confusion and unspeakable pain, there are moments when everything makes sense.

When it feels like time stops just for you.

You, and, if you’re lucky, the person you’d die to protect.

We don’t rise each day seeking fairness.

It’s the search for wholeness that keeps us going.

” He clears his throat. “It is for me, at least.”

Winston undresses, tosses a few towels around the tub where the water is splattered across, and we make our way back across the hall, into my bathroom. He pushes the towel off my body and pulls me into the shower, where he makes me come two more times with his mouth before the water runs cold.

I’m sated, relaxed, and my body is begging me for a nap when my phone rings.

My heart stutters when I see it’s Lindsay.

Not that I dread talking to my closest friend, but the idea that one of these days, she’s going to call and say, “Hey, I’ve decided I’d like my house back now,” sends me into a sticky web of anxiety.

Winston sees the name flash across my phone, and his lips form a grim line. He must have the same fear.

“Hey Linds,” I say, trying to sound delighted and not at all nervous to talk to her.

“Nat! Girl, guess what?”

I don’t want to guess. This game sucks for anxious people. There’s absolutely no way to win, and the only thing it makes us better at is catastrophizing. “What?” I finally ask.

“I’m taking Friday off, and we’re going to have a girls’ weekend!”

What? This Friday? That’s two days away. As long as I’ve known Lindsay, she’s been a meticulous planner. Spontaneity is not her thing. “Is everything okay?”

“What? Of course! Couldn’t be better. I just need a break.

From work, from life, from disappointing men , i.e.

men.” Her tone is jittery, and a little manic.

There’s something she’s not telling me. “So I figured we’d have a good ol’ fashioned sleepover, and you can show me this bar you’re working at now, and we’ll hit the town! Sound good?”

What can I say? No thanks, Linds. I really appreciate you giving me a free place to stay, but you’re not allowed to come visit because I’d rather spend the weekend having sex with my ghost boyfriend in every room of the house you own.

“Sounds great. I can’t wait to see you,” I tell her, dodging the impatient, frustrated look Winston’s giving me.

“Okay. I’ll text you when I’m on my way. Byeee.”

The phone disconnects, and Winston and I exchange a knowing, panicked glance.

“Lindsay’s coming up this weekend.”

He runs a rough hand through his hair. “Well, shit.”