Page 34 of Adored by the Grumpy Ghost (Mapletown Monster Mates #1)

Lindsay finally picks up on the flirtation, and she smirks, but holds up her hand. “I’m incredibly flattered,” she lets her gaze linger on Rizlan’s sharp jawline and wide chest, “but I’m not open for business. Maybe never again.”

He nods, patient and mostly unbothered, before heading back behind the bar and talking to Vlad the vampire at the far end.

I never get my chance to tell Lindsay about Winston.

We have two more rounds––my last is a water, and Lindsay’s is a Long Island Iced Tea––before walking home.

I’m not drunk, but I’m still in no shape to drive, so Lindsay stumbles and I hold her up on our long walk up the hill to Caraway Manor.

Anything I tell her now, she likely won’t remember, so I promise myself I’ll tell her tomorrow over coffees and breakfast burritos at Hot & Steamy Coffee Bar.

I text Winston on the walk home that Lindsay still doesn’t know. That he’ll have to remain invisible until tomorrow.

Winston: I refuse to meet the morning sun without feeling your lips on mine. Sincerely Yours, Winston.

A fluttering warmth spreads throughout my stomach, and I don’t even try to hide my smile.

Lindsay is singing “Creep” by TLC to herself between hiccups, and has no idea what I’m doing.

I didn’t think this giddy feeling was possible for someone my age, but holy shit.

The butterflies are there, and they’re multiplying by the second.

I miss you too. Meet me in my room once Lindsay’s asleep?

Btw, you don’t have to add a signature to each text. I know it’s you.

Winston: What is “Btw?” Sincerely Yours, Winston.

It means “By The Way.”

Winston: I see. Regardless, I won’t adhere to the shorthand ribaldry of your generation. It’s embarrassing. How are you not embarrassed?

Whatevs, old man.

Winston: Do not disrespect me, young lady. I’m not above punishing you.

My pussy quivers at the idea of Winston landing a firm hand on my ass enough times to leave a mark.

Mmm. I’m not above begging for that.

Seconds pass as I wait for his reply.

Winston: Come home right now.

I chuckle as I bite my bottom lip, buzzing with anticipation.

When we make it home, Lindsay kicks off her shoes haphazardly in the entryway and staggers up the stairs. I carry her luggage, pulling out a pair of pjs and her toiletry bag, leaving them on Penelope’s bed. My brows lift in confusion when I find her washing her face in my bathroom.

“Linds? I put your stuff in your grandma’s room. I changed the sheets this morning.”

She looks at me in the bathroom mirror. “Dude, no. Nonna died in that bed. I figured we’d share yours.”

I can practically hear Winston’s disapproving groan behind me.

It’s not ideal, and I’m more than a little frustrated, but I’m trying not to judge.

Some people are weirded out by death and their proximity to it.

I understand. Plus, she’s heartbroken and needs comfort.

She drove all the way up here from Boston for the comfort she can only find in me.

I’d be a shitty friend if I denied her that.

We take turns in the bathroom changing, brushing our teeth, and going through our respective nighttime beauty routines.

Lindsay takes an ibuprofen, chugs a glass of water, and covers her eyes with a sleep mask.

I play on my puzzle app to pass the time until I hear Lindsay’s light snores.

Then I tiptoe out of the room and down the hall to the study.

I’m not sure why I assume that’s where he’ll be.

The only plan we had was to meet in my bedroom.

But I know he’s here. I know he’s watching.

My hand is still wrapped around the door knob, the door letting out a final pitiful creak before it’s closed when a pair of strong arms wrap around my middle, hot breath against my ear. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he rumbles.

I try to turn in his arms, but his grip is like a vise. My hand reaches back to cup the side of his face. “I’m sorry I took so long. I didn’t expect her to want to sleep in my bed.”

His dick is a hard steel pole against my ass.

My breath hitches when he thrusts against me.

His hand squeezes my breast, then moves down to my stomach.

Another squeeze. Then, his fingers slip beneath my boxers.

I didn’t bother with underwear, since I knew we’d have this sneaky playtime, and also, I feel like I’m missing a few pairs, and clean underwear is hard to come by until I do a load of laundry.

“What is it, sweetheart? Are you lacking in attention?” He asks. I’d find it patronizing if his voice weren’t so gravelly and low. “Do you need my touch?”

The part of my brain that’s desperate to avoid the insinuation that I’m needy or clingy wars with my need to come.

Being seen as clingy is a turn-off for most, if not all men, right?

I think of Lindsay, being ghosted after falling hard for that twenty-five-year-old.

I can’t see Winston’s eyes since he’s behind me, but the sound that escapes his lips, and the way he’s gripping my body, doesn’t seem like he’s turned off.

If anything, he seems hungry to provide what I want.

But what I need from him is just release. Not anything more, right? If it’s just sex, I shouldn’t worry about pushing him away. Our needs are perfectly aligned. I want to come, and he wants to make me come. Why am I so terrified by the thought of him breaking my heart?

I nod, trembling too hard to offer a verbal response.

“Let me take care of you.”

He walks us backward until we’re both sitting in the oversized chair with the high back.

His favorite. Where I always find him reading, or drawing in his sketchbook.

He settles my body between his muscular thighs, pulling my back flush against his chest. His fingers graze my nipples through my t-shirt, and my breath turns into shallow pants.

Winston’s touch is slow, agonizing, and sends an electric current straight to my clit.

“Please,” I whimper. He rewards me with a hard pinch of my nipple. It hurts, but the pleasure covers it like a blanket, and I arch my back, needing more.

His hand moves even slower, down my belly, stroking lovingly across it, then down the center of it, then lower, and lower, until his middle finger swipes along the wet seam of my pussy. He does it again, from the bottom of my entrance, all the way up to my clit, before circling it.

I cry out, and his free hand covers my mouth.

“Shh. You need to be quiet, Natalie. You don’t want Lindsay to hear, do you?”

I shake my head, desperate to do what he says, not only because it would be a disaster for Lindsay to hear me, come in here, and discover that I’m getting finger fucked by the freeloading specter living in her house, but also because this dominant side of Winston is so hot I can barely keep myself from falling apart in his arms.

“Good. You’re so good for me, sweetheart.” His mouth is hot on my neck as he kisses and sucks my sensitive skin, continuing to whisper praise against my throat. I feel his pointer finger and middle on either side of my clit, and when he starts to move…

“Oh god ,” I mewl against his palm. Two strokes later, and I’m coming, my vision blurring as my body jerks in his hold.

“Let it out, my love. Bite my hand if you need to.”

I can’t focus on the endearment, on how I haven’t heard it before now. My body is on fire, and I’m trying to escape it and bathe in it at the same time. The only thing I can do is sink my teeth into the fleshy skin in front of my mouth until I start to come down.

Winston’s hand leaves my mouth, and I hear him chuckle. His hands roam my body, caressing and rubbing as he kisses my temple. When my breathing returns to normal, he shows me his palm. It’s bleeding, and the surrounding skin is an angry red.

It feels like a stone drops into my stomach. “Oh. Oh, Winston. I’m so sorry.” I pull his hand closer to my face so I can examine the bite more closely.

“It’s okay, Natalie,” he reassures me. “I’ll be healed in under a minute. Quicker, if I shift into mist and back.”

I get off his lap and wait. He sits there, his lips parting as his green eyes linger on my tits.

“Well?”

“I’m not going to shift. I want this mark to stay as long as possible.”

I shouldn’t like the sound of that as much as I do, but fuck it. Winston is bringing out a new side of me, and I…like it.

He’s still sitting in the accent chair, male pride and arrogance curling his lips into a smirk. It’s then that I realize there’s something we haven’t done, that I’ve been looking forward to doing, and there’s no better time than right now.

I lower to my knees in front of him, pressing his thighs open as I unzip his pants.

“Natalie, what are yo–”

Reaching up, I pull his suspenders off his shoulders, and tug on the open waistband of his pants. “What does it look like I’m doing?” I ask through my fluttering lashes, feigning innocence.

He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to do this. Really.”

Yet, he’s not stopping me, and I don’t want him to. “I know I don’t.”

His dick is throbbing and hot in my hand when I free it from his underwear, whitish liquid pooling at the tip.

I’ve had him inside me, but now, it’s close up and perfect .

It’s thick and pink and mostly straight, with a vein along the underside and a fat mushroom head that I want to lick like an ice cream cone.

It felt amazing inside my pussy, and my mouth waters as I lower my lips to it.

Unable to resist, I press kisses to his inner thighs and the neatly groomed hair above it, teasing him. Building the tension.

He throws his head back against the chair, groaning, “Fuck, Natalie.” His grip tightens on the arms of the chair, knuckles white.

I quickly grow tired of the teasing, mostly because of the way his dick twitches against my lips. I run the flat of my tongue along the underside, tracing the vein. Then, I swirl my tongue around the head before taking him into my mouth, sucking hard.

He lets out a low grunt, guttural, as his fingers tangle in my hair, tugging until my eyes lift to his.

I wrap one hand around the base, the other massaging his large, heavy balls as I continue to lick and suck and take him in as deep as my throat will allow.

“Your fucking mouth, Natalie.” His words are reverent despite the tautness in his jaw. “You’re perfect. Made for me.”

My mouth moves faster, and I suck harder, keeping my stroke steady.

“Fuck! I’m so–” he grits. “I’m clo–”

He explodes on my tongue, his hot seed sliding down my throat. It’s sweet. Sweeter than I expected it to be, and I can’t seem to get enough of it as I lap at the rest still spilling out of his cock.

It takes a minute, but when it hits me, I’m so taken aback, so baffled that I stagger to my feet, forgetting my surroundings and the need to remain quiet when I shout, “Winston, why does your come taste like salted caramel?”