Page 4 of Mend My Soul (Shattered Hearts of Carolina Ghost Psychic Mystery Romance #2)

Chapter Four

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RAE LEE

I brush away the lock of hair that’s fallen across my forehead. Looking out the windshield, I can’t believe my eyes. The brick hotel, at the center of the historic district, where we are staying, is six stories tall, with an impressive circular drive.

Around the time of our first anniversary, Anson asked if there was anything special I’d like to do to celebrate one year of dating. Together, we decided on a long weekend in Charleston.

Although this getaway is after our official first date—which happened at Mark-39 when Anson took me out to dinner to go over more about what I’d sensed about Pearl during my walk through at her childhood home, not when I gave him a false name and hooked up with him at Sweet Caroline’s music hall—I’m still excited for it.

More so when Anson said part of my gift was if I made a list of places I wanted to see, and restaurants I wanted to try, he’d plan everything else.

So, it’s not as if I expected he’d booked us at the no-tell motel. But this hotel? Next level.

We get out of the car under a portico. Thankfully, rain isn’t included in the weatherman’s predictions. This weekend is supposed to be beautiful. Sunny with light breezes coming from the harbor.

Before the car comes to a stop, we’re approached by two valets and a bellhop. In perfect coordination, one valet opens my car door, the other takes the keys from Anson, and the bellhop pops the trunk and removes our luggage. The second valet gestures for us to come this way .

Anson grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. The reflective lobby doors open like magic and the bellhop pushes the suitcases behind us on a brass bellman’s cart inside.

Anson checks at the front desk. The concierge gives him the keys to our room, and up we go in an elevator with an honest-to-god lift girl. Her outfit is complete with an adorable usher hat.

My cheeks bunch. This is extravagant. Almost an out-of-body experience. I’m tempted to ask my boyfriend to pinch me.

The bellhop requests the key card from Anson. They open the door for us and place our bags on the plush carpet.

I walk into the suite. If my jaw could drop lower, it would. I press my fingertips to cover my absolute awe. Then I spin toward my boyfriend, who is tipping the bellhop.

“Ohmigod, Anson. This place has more room than our apartment! It’s amazing.”

It’s just a single room with a massive four-poster bed…

and a king-size mattress…two cozy reading chairs…

a long marble-top dresser…and a Juliet balcony that overlooks a charming street below.

But when I couldn’t take any more of Angeline’s incessant hovering at his place, I asked Layla and Julian if the loft I’d rented from them was still available, and moved back into their home.

Anson didn’t hesitate to follow me. Along with Fred, the orange kitten he gave me, we’ve been squeezed into less than six hundred square feet of living space.

He smirks, shuffling closer. “A hotel should be better than what you’re used to. If not, why would anyone want to go on vacation?”

“I’m not sure I’ll want to go home after this.”

“You will. By the end of the weekend, I bet you won’t be able to wait to tell Layla every last detail,” he says of my best friend.

I lift my arms over my head, and fall back onto the luxurious bed. About to sink into the fluffy softness, my memory jogs, and I glimpse myself starfishing off of the boat ramp into the water.

I’m certain Anson doesn’t notice how fast I sit up and shake myself until he sits next to me, popping off a shoe.

“Are you feeling better than before?” he asks.

“Much. Thank you.”

Anson’s not as uptight as he was when we started packing for this trip either, and that makes me deliriously happy. I don’t want any silly squabbles coming between us and ending our vacation on a sour note.

I turn his face, cup his cheek, and kiss his lips tenderly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spy a vase filled with colorful roses, lilies, and wildflowers on the writing desk. Next to the flowers is a tray of four of the largest chocolate-covered strawberries I’ve ever seen, covered by a glass cloche.

My mouth waters. We stopped for lunch hours ago.

“Is that for us?” I point. “Can we eat them now?”

“No, it’s to keep any tagalongs happy. Yes, it’s for us.”

I squeal, throw my arms around Anson’s neck, then jog across the room, lifting the dome. I bite into a juicy strawberry. It’s massive, two or three bites, and so sweet, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. Holding the stem, I bring it over for Anson to sample.

Pulling the hem of my skirt up with my opposite hand, I straddle his lap. Anson chomps a section off. Juice dribbles down his chin. He uses a knuckle to brush it off.

“I could have cleaned that up for you,” I tease, removing the green leaves.

“Oh yeah? How about one more bite then?”

I pop the rest of the strawberry into his mouth. He grabs my fingers, sucking the juice from each one. The curl of his tongue makes my nipples pebble in my bra.

That wasn’t what was supposed to happen, but your girl’s not criticizing. Anson and I both want the same thing. How we get there doesn’t make a difference as long as we get there.

He drags his finger over my lower lip, and I lick the wetness away.

“I didn’t think I’d ever encounter someone as special as you are, Raleigh,” Anson says.

I blush when he uses his nickname for me. The name I gave him when I was hoping against hope the broad chested guy with thick eyelashes who I picked up at a bar wasn’t the police detective who had contacted me to consult on a case the next day.

From the moment we met, I’ve been drawn to Anson.

I can blame it on how sexy he is, or the itch I needed him to scratch that night.

But giving into my libido risked my reputation, and worse, I risked Anson’s boss, Chaim, and other officers at the precinct treating him with disrespect for bringing a medium into their midst.

I’m lucky the stars aligned, and what we uncovered led to far more than one night in his bed.

Anson tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear and drags my lips toward his. His tongue swipes my seam and I open for him. He tastes of velvety chocolate and syrupy berries. I moan, starved for more than the delicacies on the plate. In return, he groans, fusing our mouths together.

My hips rock against the growing bulge behind his zipper. Anson uses one hand to hold me down as he grinds up. Dampness soaks my panties.

He tucks his nose to my neck, trailing kisses over my clavicle. When the fabric of my shirt impedes him from going any further, he grabs the sides, and rips it over my head.

My hands land on the broadcloth of his button-down. My chest rises and falls in sharp pants. My breasts swell over the cups of my bra. Looking at me with a dark gleam in his eyes, Anson skims a thumb over my taut nipple. Then he deftly flicks the clasp, freeing my breasts.

“Do you know how fucking hard you made me the first time, Raleigh? With your skirt around your waist like this, and your perky little tits begging for my mouth?” He squeezes rough, sucking the tip and tugging on it with his teeth.

Electric sparks travel to my pussy, and I mewl.

“Tell me how much you want my cock between your legs.”

“So fucking much.” I rock my core against his lap. My pulse beats faster. I’m so close.

“Prove it. Keep rubbing that sweet cunt on my dick. Show me how fat you can make it. Soak my slacks.”

He plunders my mouth, jerking my hips forward while I hump him. The friction from the sheer layers of fabric separating my panties from his pants sends a decadent thrill through me, and I explode.

Anson twists me off of him. My back lands on the plush comforter. He stands and drags my underwear down, splaying my legs when he’s finished. I feel a trickle from my lower lips to my ass. He unbuttons his shirt and sheds his slacks and boxers, the heat of his gaze burning me the entire time.

And then with one thrust he’s filling me.

“Oh, fu—” the words die on my lips, becoming incoherent mumbles of “more” and “harder.”

I never enjoyed sex quite as much previous to Anson being in charge of my orgasms. And I initially thought his dirty mouth would get old, but nothing he says is degrading, so it hasn’t.

Sometimes I swear he saves the filthiest lines to tip me over the edge until he’s taken me to the precipice and back so many times my pussy can’t take it anymore and I’m clenching around him as he slams into me.

I grab his ass, meeting his every deep thrust.

“You want me to fill you everywhere, sweetheart?”

“Oh, please,” I beg, slickness coating my thighs.

Anson’s hand tucks between my butt and the hotel bed covers we are soiling. I feel his finger prod my slick asshole, and I see the devilish gleam stretch over his face.

I lift my hand. “Lick,” I say, shoving two fingers into his mouth as he breaches my hole. My pussy clenches at the invasion, and I moan at the intense fullness even a single knuckle brings.

I’d refused to let anyone anywhere near my ass before him, and agreeing wasn’t without negations. I was shocked he’d agree to any sort of ass play, let alone like it. But I love the power of commanding his orgasms, too.

Falling off the edge, my limbs are like jelly. It’s a wonder I have the strength to move my arm to circle the pads of my fingertips in the same place on him.

“God, you’re a demon.” Anson bucks, coming with a roar, and collapsing on top of me.

He pants in sharp, hot breaths against my neck. Then disengages, dragging my limp body off the bed. I feel his cum dripping down my thighs.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says.

My legs are rubbery as we make our way toward the bathroom. It is as opulent as the rest of the suite: marble sink and floor, plush towels, tiny bottles of designer soap and lotions.

Anson turns the glass-encased shower on to warm. The water cascades out of a rainfall showerhead. When the water temperature meets his expectations, he hits me with a devilish grin, and I know what’s coming next. Me.

Neither of us wants kids. It took me years to gain control over my abilities.

I was teased and a loner growing up. I can’t see passing on my talents to an unsuspecting child.

And because my mediumship has given me long-term health problems, I take care of birth control.

But unlike a man with a breeding kink who fingers their cum back into a pussy before it drips out, Anson takes his own unique approach to making sure I don’t get pregnant.

He moves me into the steamy shower, presses me against the tile, sinks to his knees, and lifts my leg over his shoulder.