Disclaimer:Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.Plagiarism is theft. No copying or reproduction of this one shot is permitted.
©2010 Bronzehyperion. All rights reserved worldwide.
This story is rated M for a reason.
The air was thick with lust. I could feel it surrounding me. Invisible hands roamed my body, causing me to moan in pleasure. It felt like whoever was touching me was made up of nothing but air. The gentle feather light caresses made me shiver with desire.
"Bella," a voice whispered, so soft I thought I was fooling myself.
I opened my eyes and there was nothing there.
Such a cop out.
It was the third week this had happened. I would spend half of my nights lusting after a fantasy that felt so real it made me wonder if I was losing my mind.
And it was starting to affect my daily life. I'd ran late for my classes three times this week and I was pretty certain my roommate Angela was starting to notice there was something wrong with me since she had started to brew me large pots of coffee before class for days in a row now.
The thing was though…it didn't feel like there was anything wrong with me. In fact, besides the exhaustion because my nights were so extreme, I felt pretty good. The fantasies I had at night were etched into my brain, making me think of them during the day. That was definitely a good thing.
His hands were like silk, his voice like a velvet symphony.
He was a tender lover, who knew how to use his hands and wasn't selfish in giving pleasure instead of taking it. His lips were warm and wet, full and red. I could see his lips but I never saw his face. I knew he had to be perfect because a creature this sensual had to be perfect.
But perfection couldn't be real.
This had to be a figment of my imagination.
"Bella," Alice whined, "you need to pack, and we're leaving tomorrow. And I have a whole list of things you need to bring."
Alice Cullen. She was a bundle of enormous energy, always bouncing in and out of places, often hyped up on coffee and sugar.
You either loved her or hated her, I happened to do the first. In my book, Alice Cullen was sweet and caring, despite the fact she needed a heavy dose of whatever medicine to chill her out a bit.
I had met her during my freshman year at the New York Fashion Academy in Seattle.
She had become a close friend because we shared most of our classes together. We'd done numerous assignments together in the two years we'd been at the academy and it turned out we made a good team. She was more creative than me with fabric – I was perhaps too analytical for fashion in a way but I loved the way clothes could seem ethereal on women – and I had a killer technique; my skills in cutting and draping triumphed Alice's. We were truly a great team and great friends to boot.
Her parents were loaded, but Alice refused to let them pay for her education. She worked at a bar called "Jazz's" and secretly crushed on the owner: Jasper Whitlock.
She had a cushy trust fund too – left by her grandfather who had died a year before – but had opted to have the fund frozen until she was finished with school, so she could use it to start her own line of clothing.
While her parents didn't pay for her tuition and housing, Alice did however persuade them every year to lend her their house in the Hamptons for her annual Halloween bash.
"It's such a great house, Bella," she had boasted. "There are six bedrooms with adjoined bathrooms, which are private of course.
"It's close to the beach and we have an indoor swimming pool, so it doesn't matter if the weather is bad. Oh, and let's not forget a hot tub on a platform on the right side of the house and one of those mysterious gardens with a replica of the Parthenon and creepy Greek statues."
I had looked quizzically at that comment, but Alice had just laughed. "My mom is an interior designer, but she had this phase where she did landscaping too. My parents had just gotten back from a trip to Greece, hence the inspiration."
Alice originated from New York and her parents – her father Carlisle, a paediatrician and mother Esme, an interior designer with high-end clients like Donald Trump and even the mayor, Michael Bloomberg – still lived there. Alice had two brothers, one of whom lived in Seattle too.
Emmett was a nice guy, though a bit brawny. His girlfriend Rosalie was perfect for him, with her model looks and athletic physique. He was the oldest of the Cullen kids and worked as a computer technician at a law firm. That's where he had met Rosalie. She too was a computer tech.
There was a third Cullen; the middle child named Edward but I had never met him. Alice said he was a "fly by the seat of his pants" type of guy who lived all over the globe. He currently resided in France, according to her.
"I don't know how he does it, Bella. He hasn't used much of his trust fund and clearly he manages to get around. I don't know, we don't keep in touch very much," she had told me once.
She hardly ever mentioned him. I didn't even know what he looked like, though Alice said he was a magnet for chicks. I'd taken her word for it.
The next day I was dragging along two bags when arriving at the SeaTac airport to catch a flight to New York. One large suitcase – because Alice had insisted that I bring a variation of outfits I could wear even though we were only going to be gone for four days and the weather was chilly, so I am not quite certain why I had to pack a mini skirt – and a small travel bag, because Alice insisted – again –that I might want to change outfits as soon as we landed in New York before we'd fly to East Hampton Airport with the family's private jet.
I didn't get the point of it – even though I was a fashion student – but I had appeased her to halt further discussion. At least I hadn't forgotten about the most essential item: a bikini.
Alice would have made me go back home if I had.
The flight was long and I felt uncomfortable being in the confinement of the airplane. I had never been a fan of flying but every time I closed my eyes, I sensed his presence around me.
My ghost lover.
He had to be a ghost. Someone from a different time who haunted me for some reason. His hands were becoming familiar, his lips an elixir I couldn't refuse. My body craved him and every time I closed my eyes, the essence of him filled my mind. I didn't know who he was nor what he was, but he filled me up completely.
In more ways than one – wink, nudge.
We arrived in the late evening, so there was no way to tell what the mansion truly looked like. Alice just showed me my room and then left me so we could get some rest, but not before promising to give me a grand tour of the house in the morning. Emmett and Rosalie would arrive in the afternoon, just in time for the party.
I decided against unpacking my suitcase, only pulling out my bag of toiletries to freshen up a bit before getting some sleep.
But then I remembered the hot tub and felt a sudden urge to soak in some hot bubbly water for a bit.
I searched through my suitcase and found the black string bikini I'd packed.
I put it on and covered myself in the robe that was hanging on a hook on the bathroom door.
The tub was situated on a small platform on the right side of the house – like Alice had said.
In the small illumination of only two lights placed on each side of the tub, I hesitated, unsure if it was a good idea to do this now.
Alice was probably fast asleep and while the tub looked welcoming, the dark shadows of the garden spooked me.
"Don't be a pussy," I muttered to myself as I turned the thing on and bubbles appeared.
I dropped my robe and got in, the water warming the skin where small goose bumps had formed.
I wasn't certain if it had been chills from the cold or fear of the surrounding darkness that had unnerved me, but the warm, bubbly water soothed me, lulling me into a comfortable spaced out feeling.
I would have fallen asleep there, had there not been a noise to alert me.
Instantly, as I looked from left to right, squinting into the darkness to see whatever was causing my discomfort – alright it was flat out fear – I felt like someone was watching me.
Great, the Hamptons were full of serial killers and I was going to die tonight.
Man up Bella, I chided myself.
I carefully rose and got out of the tub, grabbing my robe and putting it on. The sense of being watched was strongest at the entrance of the patio on the other side of the house.
From where I stood, I could see the entrance and as I searched the darkness for some sort of shape or any indication someone was there, I moved closer to the edge of the platform where the tub was on, to get a better view.
As I searched for anything to tell me I wasn't just hearing – or seeing – things, a pair of incredibly green eyes suddenly bore into mine.
Two beacons of jade in the distance.
The contact startled me so much, I nearly screamed and backed away only to almost trip over my own feet.
I hurried inside, hoping to have properly locked the door behind me - my heart hammering in my chest, my breath labored with fear.
I found my room almost blindly, as I felt treacherous tears of shock fill my eyes.
Shit, there was someone out there. Maybe a mass murderer.
A mass murderer with gorgeous eyes.
Double shit! I wondered if I needed to alert Alice or just hide under my covers and pray it would be morning soon.
I opted to wash my face and brush my teeth to regain some composure. I took a few deep breaths and tried to convince myself that I had just conjured something up in my mind. This place had a pretty high creep factor –which made it perfect for Halloween and I was just getting into the spooky Halloween spirit.
I undressed quickly – even taking off my bra because I wanted to give my girls some room to breathe - before sliding under the covers in only a tank top and a pair of boy shorts.
The bed was comfortable but big. Too big. The ceiling was pristine white, while the floorboards squeaked due to the wind that was blowing around the house. I shivered under the covers, pulling them up to my chin and rubbing my arms to feel a little warmer.
I was exhausted but the rush of fear and adrenaline had yet to die down.
To add to that and make me feel even more anxious was the fact the air was crackling with something much more potent than I had ever felt before.
Usually, as soon as I closed my eyes, he would appear instantly.
My ghost lover.
The moment I crossed over to the land of slumber, he would be here.
He would protect me.
Okay, so I was clearly in shock.
I closed my eyes firmly and hoped that sleep would take me over soon.
It may have been seconds, minutes, or possibly hours until I finally felt myself doze off.
Or did I?
As I drifted off into a slumber, I heard someone calling my name.
At first I thought it was Alice but the voice was too soft, nothing more but a whisper blending in with the rhythm of my heart beating and my lungs taking in air.
I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, because I didn't want to see whoever was disrupting my sleep.
Maybe Mr. Mass Murderer had found a way to get into the house.
"Go away," I mumbled.
Right, like that would stop a mass murderer.
A ghostly chuckle sounded in my ear.
"I can't," the voice whispered.
"You know I can't…"
I felt myself being pulled from the slumber, diving deeper into a subconscious state where I felt myself being lifted, almost like I was watching myself from a distance.
Like an out of body experience.
"Bella, open your eyes," the voice demanded.
The persistent voice didn't sound angry. It was determined sure but there was no malice. In fact, it was a seductive plea and I had no choice but to obey.
I opened my eyes and found a pair of the greenest eyes staring back at me. They were almost aquamarine with a hint of jade and some subtle specks of gold.
He was here. Mr. Mass Murderer.
He was glorious.
Kill me now.
The eyes were set in a face that was almost translucent and glowing.
Mr. Mass Murderer looked like a ghost.
An incredibly gorgeous ghost with strong features. His jaw was chiseled and his cheekbones nicely sculpted.
His eyes were shining and his hair was sticking out in all directions.
And I would recognize those lips anywhere.
Shit. My ghost lover was a mass murderer. Or vice versa.
Clearly I'd lost all coherency.
"It's you," I whispered.
"Hello, my love," the man whispered back.
Okay, Mr. Mass Murderer/Ghost lover was a romantic.
"How did you get here?"
He simply smiled and stroked my cheek. His hand was cold, but it felt like a soothing cloth against my now overheated skin. I welcomed it eagerly as I leaned into his touch.
Way to encourage a man before he kills you, Bella. Why don't you shove your boobs in his face?
I was very close to doing just that because this man was my undoing. Completely.
"I am always here," he whispered as he leaned in to breathe in my scent by skimming his nose along my collarbone.
"You smell heavenly."
"How did you find me?" I wondered quietly, contemplating momentarily if I had lost my mind for talking to a stranger who seemed more ghost than human.
More predator than prey.
"You don't know how long I have waited for you."
The words sounded amazing but a little eerie. This man – ghost, mass murderer take your pick - was gorgeous but unreal. There was no way I wasn't dreaming, losing my mind, or having some kind of psychic experience where I could sense and apparently touch the dead.
Or maybe I was dead myself.
I tried to comprehend what this creature, this heavenly man was telling me. He had been waiting for me? Was this a romance novel I had landed in?
Was I dead?
"What's your name?"
He simply smiled and brushed his full lips against my collarbone, slowly making his way to my neck and then my jaw until he met the corner of my mouth.
"Let me kiss you," he said, and it didn't sound like a question. It sounded like a passionate request that I needed to grant.
I had no time to give my approval because his lips met mine and silenced me completely.
And then everything fell away.
Mass murderer. Ghost.
It didn't matter.
The moment our lips touched was the moment I threw all caution, all suspicion, and all fear out the window. Everything I needed was here, pressed up against me.
As our lips wrestled, he made the unspoken request to get access into my mouth with his tongue as he licked my lower lip sensually.
I eagerly gave him that access. Like I'd deny him anything.
"Bella," he moaned.
Hearing him say my name sent me into a frenzy.
I know, it should have creeped me out that he knew my name, but I was too far gone.
I grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him closer. His hands – much like I had fantasized before – roamed my body and pushed the blanket away.
His lips left mine and moved to my neck until he moved lower to my sternum where he planted a chaste kiss.
"Your heart is frantic."
He then moved to the mounts of my breasts.
I moaned as his cool lips covered my nipples through my tank top. They betrayed me as they pebbled under his touch.
I could feel him smile against my skin.
Farther down I felt a bulge, realizing he was aroused as much as I was.
"I want you," he murmured as he pulled the straps of my tank top down to get better access.
Right, I wasn't wearing a bra.
My mystery lover groaned at the sight.
"Bella," he hissed as he dived in like a man dying of thirst in a desert.
He took one of my nipples in his mouth and sucked gently, causing me to moan.
One of his hands caressed my thigh while the other kneaded my abandoned breast.
"More," I begged. "Please give me more."
I was whoring myself out to ghosts/mass murderers now, apparently.
Slowly but firmly he massaged my one breast, while his lips moved lower to my abdomen. His tongue licked my belly button, as his hand left my breast and moved to the waistband of my boy shorts.
"May I?" he nearly begged as he looked up at me through his thick lashes, his eyes darkened with lust.
I could only nod as his touch left me needing more.
He moved painfully slow, as he gently removed my shorts.
For a moment he was silent, seemingly admiring my almost naked body. I should have felt uncomfortable under his stare, but frankly I had shook off all my inhibitions and would have dragged him down to touch my center, if he hadn't beat me to it and was already leaning in boldly to briefly brush his lips against my sex.
"Oh my god," I moaned – probably far too loud.
"You taste divine," he purred.
"Please," I begged as I lifted myself a little so his lips pressed firmer against my core.
By now, I didn't care who or what he was anymore. I just wanted to feel his lips against my skin.
I wanted to feel his essence consume me.
It already burned inside me every night and now it was about to materialize into something real.
Well sort of. My brain had probably snapped and that made it feel real.
I didn't care. For now, it was all I wanted.
His lips started kissing my inner thighs fervently, causing me to whimper under his touch.
"Please," I encouraged him in a whisper of lust. "Please touch me."
I didn't have to ask him twice, for he moved his lips to my center again, kissing my sex with adoration. My body shook under his touch, desperate for more friction. He seemed to sense this as he flicked out his tongue against my nub, practically making me come as he started nibbling my folds, lapping up whatever juices were pouring out of me.
"Oh, please, please, please…!" I moaned loudly.
"I want you inside me," I demanded. "Please…"
"You don't have to beg, my love. I want to be inside you," he assured me.
I felt a cold shiver as he left my body for what seemed like ages but was probably less than a few seconds. I didn't see if he removed his own clothing as he seemed to consist of nothing but air. How could I feel someone who wasn't real?
'Is this a dream?' I wondered, as he climbed on top of me. I could feel his body against mine and while it was cold, now that we were flesh to flesh, skin to skin, it heated me from head to toe.
"This is heaven," he murmured as he nudged my legs to open wider with his knee.
"I want to be inside you," he whispered against my lips.
I nodded and opened my legs wider to give him all the access he needed.
And then he pushed in, grunting and hissing as he filled me.
"Bella," he groaned. "You feel amazing."
I was pleased and decided not to worry whether or not I had lost my mind. I wasn't getting much at home, I might as well enjoy going all the way with a ghost.
He gently started rocking in and out of me, until I grabbed his shoulders to force him to quicken the pace.
"Faster," I demanded as I kissed him hard.
He was big; I could feel that much as he stretched me and filled me up again and again.
"More," I moaned.
"Whatever you want my love," he said as he started moving faster, pushing in and out of me with a steady but more urgent rhythm.
It still didn't feel like it was enough. I wanted him to take me harder.
I wrapped my legs around his hips and tried to push him in deeper. He sensed what I needed and grabbed my legs to lift them over his shoulders.
He was pumping in and out frantically now, grunting my name as he leaned in every few thrusts to kiss me. One of his hands kneaded my breast for a bit, while the other searched to find my nub. He started rubbing it in precise circles, causing me to start losing control rapidly.
I was near the edge.
"I am coming, please, please, make me come!"
This caused a frenzy inside him as he started thrusting faster, announcing he was about to come himself.
When we did –simultaneously – it was like stars covered my eyes and the world was one giant explosion due to sensory overload.
My heart was about to beat out of my chest, while he leaned in to kiss my lips gently. I could feel him soften inside me, but he didn't move away. He simply put his head on my chest and lay there, caressing my thighs gently.
"Wow," I breathed as I tried to figure out who this man was, why he felt so real and how it was possible he seemed to know me, while I didn't know him.
I yawned involuntarily.
"Go to sleep my love," he whispered, as he covered us up.
The last thing I heard was a declaration of love coming out of his mouth.
"I love you my Isabella."
I woke up the next morning, covered in the blanket.
I was alone.
I looked at myself to find that I was wearing my boy shorts againand my tank top nicely covered my breasts and stomach.
It had all been a dream, just like many times before. Only this time it had felt completely real. More real than ever.
The rest of the morning I spent pondering if my mind had snapped, since it was capable of conjuring up such powerful images.
Had I made the whole thing up: the mass murderer on the patio who was the ghost lover that had haunted my dreams long before I'd come here?
Sounded like decent psychiatric evaluation material, no?
I tried to focus on the reality of things, which was breakfast with Alice. She didn't look at me funny nor did she hint at having heard me moaning embarrassingly, so I figured she had no clue I was a total loon now.
After breakfast, Alice showed me around the house.
In the daylight I could see the living room was large and white and the entire south wall was made of glass, exposing a beautiful view of the large garden Alice had told me about. I had skipped this part the night before, because I had found the hot tub at a side entrance which hadn't led me through the living room.
She pointed out the hot tub and I decided not to fess up to having already used it. It didn't look as scary in broad daylight but it still freaked me a little.
The kitchen was modern with all the latest appliances and the six bedrooms were spread over three stories.
"This house has been in the family for a few generations," Alice explained, as she led me down a long corridor which was dark because of the ebony wood pallets that covered the walls. We were on the third floor, which was currently unoccupied.
Alice led me past a few paintings and explained they represented her ancestors.
"I think I have a great grandfather named Edward, my brother was named after him," Alice prattled on as she pointed at paintings that covered the walls.
I took them in one by one, finding nothing significant about her stories, until we reached a painting that hung closest to the end of the hallway.
No freaking way.
"This was him. Edward Cullen the first. He's about twenty-five here."
I was shocked by what I saw. It was the portrait of an undoubtedly handsome man, with eyes that were like aquamarine, jade, and specks of gold. A full red mouth with lips that were amazing at kissing every surface of my body. A mop of bronze hair that felt like silk, skin that was ghostly pale and translucent.
Holy shit on a stick. I really did have sex with a ghost last night…
At least he wasn't a mass murderer.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. This was impossible. A coincidence perhaps.
"He was hot, right?" Alice grinned, mistaking my reaction for awe instead of shock.
I simply nodded and then asked if we could proceed, because those jade eyes looked like they were seeing right through me.
Rosalie and Emmett arrived around noon and Alice was starting to act more hyped up than ever, as she ran around the house to get everything ready for the party. Late afternoon we finally had a moment to breathe. Rosalie and Emmett were watching Poltergeist while it was still light out because Emmett said it was a Cullen tradition and Rosalie refused to watch it at night because it would scare her.
Granted, it spooked me too, but nothing was freakier than sex with a ghost.
Of course, I couldn't really bring that up.
Alice sat still for what was like two seconds, until she forced me upstairs to her room for some girl time.
This meant fashion time.
The moment we were in her room, she grabbed something from her closet and shoved it in my arms.
"Alice?" I wondered.
"Wear it Bella!" she commanded without explaining what it was I needed to wear.
"Alice, I..." I started but Alice snatched the thing from my hands and laid it out on her bed.
At first glance it was the perfect dress.
If you lived in the early 1900's.
It was a deep Prussian blue velvet dress with a wide skirt and a bodice that had to be tied in the back like a corset. One of those "don't you dare breath" pieces. I noticed that the bodice was surprisingly sleeveless.
It was stunning but certainly not what I had expected Alice to have in her closet.
"Isn't it gorgeous? You'll look beautiful in it!" she cheered.
She expected me to wear that?
"Alice, you're not implying this is my costume?"
"Of course I am, silly! It'll look stunning with your creamy skin."
I supposed she had a point. But the dress, which was truly gorgeous to look at, would probably be very uncomfortable to wear.
Not to mention, I would look incredibly outdated.
"I am not going to wear this. I'd look like someone who stepped straight out of Ann of Green Gables. I am a fashion student; I should wear something a little more modern, not something so damn ancient."
"Come on Bella, this is going to look so stunning on you. It's one of the dresses I found in the attic. I used to play with them for fun. This one belonged to my great grandmother. I took off the sleeves and created a strapless version. So it's not that ancient at all.
"Really, this would look perfect with your complexion and general look. Please wear it."
"Why don't you, Alice?" I shot back.
"This is a party. There will be dancing. There will be friends of yours from the area who'll look hip and happening in their snazzy outfits. I do not want to look like a Buffy wannabe from that one Halloween episode where she thought she was a damsel in distress from the era Angel was human," I spat.
"Bella, relax. You won't look out of place. And this dress is so much better than the one Buffy wore in that episode. Plus, I happen to know Em and Rosalie will be dressed as pirates. That's not exactly modern."
"With Jack Sparrow being a pop-culture icon, that is hip and happening," I countered.
"Can't you just put it on; see how it looks and if it fits. If it looks hideous, we'll go to Rent-a-Costume and get you something snazzy. I promise."
"Fine," I reluctantly agreed.
The party was a hit, that I had to admit. Alice had truly outdone herself in arranging all this.
The living room was covered in Halloween decorations – cobwebs, pumpkins, black candles with flames making eerie patterns on the off white cream walls - it was perfect.
There was a large table with refreshments - including an odd looking 'Halloween punch' which tasted like carrots, pumpkin, and liquor. The doors to the patio were open. On the patio itself there were electrical fireplaces, creating dancing flames in the darkness.
There were about a hundred people present and I didn't know any of them, except for my friends. Most of them were wearing costumes, some even wore masks to enhance the mystery.
The weather was perfect too – well, perfect for Halloween anyway. Rain was splattering against the windows and the wind had picked up a bit but not so much that we couldn't keep the patio doors open. It was a good thing the patio had a roof, so people could at least enjoy the small fires and get some fresh air too without getting soaked.
I had ended up wearing the dress Alice had forced upon me, since it turned out to be the perfect costume for me. The bodice fit me to a T and pushed up my breasts the right way, while the deep blue contrasted with the ivory of my skin and the mahogany of my hair.
I'd kept my makeup light and natural, while Alice had styled my hair into loose waves, pinning some of the curls back to create a purposely messy classy do.
The costume surely attracted some guys and had they known I wasn't wearing a bra and my underwear consisted of nothing but a deep blue thong under the dress – I might have gathered even more attention.
There was one guy – I think his name was Mike – who had tried to chat me up all night. He was kind of cute with sandy blonde hair and prominent dimples. But he was also shallow and kept looking at my chest instead of my face.
That got boring after a while and eventually I ended up on the patio, glad to be alone for a bit.
Except I wasn't alone.
I should have known.
I felt his presence the moment I stood there, warming myself with the flames, while the wind ruffled my curls.
It was like déjà vu, except last night I'd been watching the exact spot I was standing on now.
I looked to my left but there was no one there.
Nothing on my right either.
I shook my head, believing I had finally lost my mind.
No, you lost your mind when you deluded yourself into believing that you had sex with a ghost last night, who – might I add – you believed to be a murderer too, I chided myself.
I was about to head back inside when there was sudden movement on my right. A figure standing there to watch me.
He was wearing all black, his face mostly covered by a mask. But I knew what color eyes were hidden underneath.
His lips were red and full and drawn into a sexy smirk.
Sexy yes. Beckoning me.
And then he took off.
Leaving me to stand there.
That was just unacceptable.
I had to follow him.
The garden was dark and empty and the trees were shaking a bit on the gusts of wind.
I should have felt chills running around without something to cover my chest and I was clearly risking catching pneumonia, but my skin felt like it was on fire as I was determined to follow him.
I was walking blindly, as rain and wind clouded my vision. My heart was beating out of my chest, my throat burned with the small gasps of air I tried to take in while following him.
He was not getting away now. Real or not, he was a perv. A creepy delicious –wish he would sex me up again – perv.
"Wait," I begged the black night, as he retreated in front of me – seemingly moving faster and faster.
"Please don't go. Don't leave me."
I stumbled behind him as the wind and rain and the impracticality of the dress held me back.
I reached the back of the garden, which led to a broad cobblestone path ending at what seemed to be the mentioned replica of the Greek Parthenon.
The path was marked with Greek statues on each side, their stone faces seemingly judging me silently.
Please, like all those Gods wouldn't have wanted a piece of the one right in front of me.
I could still see him and it seemed like he was moving a bit slower now, which made me wonder if he wanted me to catch up. I tried to move faster to close the space between us and get nearer to him but it seemed I was caught in a mist of trepidation.
I felt like I was dredging through mud and this silly dress was like a deathtrap. At some point the skirt would make me trip.
And then I wouldn't be able to get to him and then he'd disappear.
And I needed answers before he could.
"Please," I whispered, not knowing if he could hear me.
My words must have had some impact, as he abruptly stopped and turned around. In the dark I could see his green eyes burning, a beacon of desire pulling me forward, like the night before – except then I had ran because I hadn't known what a wonderful lover he was.
He must have shed his mask, because his face was visible enough for me to recognize his features.
It was him, obviously.
As if there had ever been any doubt.
I wasn't certain if I should keep running or move slower to make sure I wouldn't trip myself on the dress, fall and break a bunch of bones. That would be horrible timing. But very typical for me.
I moved as fast as the dress would allow me and the closer I reached, the more slowly he moved backwards. We were reaching the pillars of the replica-Parthenon and soon he wouldn't be able to run from me.
I would do everything I could to trap him.
He was going to explain to me who he was – was he Edward the first?
What he was. A ghost then?
What we did. How was that even possible, if he was a ghost?
Also, I wanted to know if maybe he was willing to do it again.
What? I had lost my mind already anyway, might as well enjoy it.
"I like being chased by you fair lady," he murmured, his voice smoldering.
Seemed like he did.
His eyes were roaming my body, lingering on my exposed chest a bit too long.
I could feel my nipples strain against the velvet of the bodice, pebbling at the allure of his presence and what he could do to me.
They remembered him.
"Who are you?" I asked as we halted to a stop, right in front of the entrance of this large Greek tribute. "Are you Edward the first?"
"Who do you want me to be?"
He was enjoying this predator meets prey routine, that was evident.
"I want you to explain to me what happened," I whispered.
"I wanted you to follow me here," he whispered seductively.
"I noticed you at the party and wanted you to come to me," he said.
The emphasis on the word 'come' did silly things to my lower abdomen and farther below where my thong had probably flooded by now.
"Come here," he demanded as he reached forward to touch my arm.
The moment his skin touched mine, there was a zap of electricity that pulsed between us and while I wanted to be stronger and deny him, I was too weak to protest when he grabbed my arm, spun me around and pushed me up against one of the pillars.
"Your skin is overheated," he mumbled as his lips searched for the spot under my ear.
"Good," he smiled against my shoulder, before I could respond.
"I wouldn't want for you to catch a cold," he explained before his lips started making trails on every exposed part of me.
After that, there was nothing but pants and moans, steaming up the cool night.
I woke up the next morning with the worst hangover ever. I hadn't had much to drink at all – though I suspected Alice had spiked her Halloween punch with less carrot and pumpkin juice and more vodka and gin – but I still felt drained.
Emotionally devastated for some reason.
Last night had been a goodbye. My ghost lover was gone. I knew it was irrational to have it make me feel sad, but it did.
His kisses had been gentle and lingering, like he didn't want to let go. But then, when he took me, he was almost rough and aggressive, pumping into me with a force that demanded I call out his name and his alone.
I had gladly obliged.
I went downstairs to find the living room empty of trash but still smelling like a nightclub.
I opened up the patio doors to let some cold autumn air flow in, hoping it would clear the fog in my brain a little.
And deal with the bar stench.
I stood there for a while, staring into the distance when my eye caught the end of the garden and the pillar where my ghost lover had made his final mark.
I traced the side of my neck with my fingers, feeling the small scrape of a bite mark there.
At least that felt real. It was impossible I had done this to myself, right?
I sighed deeply. It didn't matter. He was gone. I could close my eyes now and see nothing there.
Nothing, now that I had the complete picture of what he looked like. Of who he was.
Edward Cullen the first.
Giving the pillar one more forlorn glance I turned to go back inside, deciding some coffee would heat me up and make me feel more human.
When I reached the kitchen, I realized someone had beaten me to it, because the smell of freshly brewed Arabica roast hit my nostrils.
Thank you, Alice.
But it wasn't Alice in the kitchen.
As I walked in hesitantly, I could only see this person's profile.
Chiseled jaw. Unruly bronze colored hair.
By the time I was close enough to see his face, my knees were buckling and I had to hold on to the breakfast bar to stay upright.
"You," I whispered.
This creature, my ghost lover was here. Sipping coffee while watching some news channel absentmindedly.
When his aquamarine, jade, golden speckled eyes met mine they lit up brightly.
Without saying a word, he stood, grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured me some coffee.
He still remained silent as he handed me the mug.
I observed him as he went back to sitting down. I half expected him to disappear again without saying a word.
I looked him over as I sipped my coffee, feeling uncomfortable in this silence.
Clearly this man wasn't a ghost, but he looked exactly like the man who had made love to me the night before.
And the night before that.
And many nights before that in my dreams.
He was wearing blue jeans and a white tee and he was also completely ignoring me.
"Are you a ghost?" I demanded stupidly as I broke the silence.
He looked up to reveal a smug look on his face.
Then he surprised me by reaching out his hand.
"Edward Cullen. The Third."
Edward Cullen…as in…Alice's brother.
"You look exactly like…" I didn't finish.
"My great grandfather, yes."
"I don't understand," I whispered to no one but myself.
"The dress you wore. It belonged to his wife. My great grandmother."
I nodded. "Your sister told me."
"I bet she didn't tell you what her name was. Nor what she looked like."
I stared at him blankly, not comprehending what he said.
"Isabella," he breathed as he stood to move closer to me…
"That was her name."
My jaw dropped in shock.
He reached out to twirl a lock of my hair around his finger.
"They were soul mates," he murmured with strange hope in his voice.
I still didn't know what to say.
His fingers traced the mark on the side of my neck and when our eyes met he smiled apologetically.
"Sorry about that."
Then, all too soon Edward pulled away to reach into his back pocket.
He pulled out a small square and a deep blue piece of fabric.
He placed them in front of me, before leaning in to press his lips into my hair.
"Pleasure meeting you, Isabella. I hope to get to know you better soon."
"Bella," he corrected himself before walking away, leaving me to stare at the items in front of me.
Deep blue piece of fabric.
Flashes of fingers and tongue pleasuring my center as he had managed to get under my skirt. He had ripped the thong right off to gain access.
My cheeks were burning at the memory.
I picked up the small square, revealing it to be a photo.
A woman in her early twenties.
Prussian blue velvet dress.
It was like staring at a mirror.
I flipped the photo over and read the text on the back.
Isabella Cullen. October 31st 1917
A/N: This is a one shot part of the Countdown to Halloween II One Haunted Hallows Eve I participated in.
Check all the greatness here (plus a collab. piece) : fan fic tion (dot)net/s/6326403/1/Countdown_to_Halloween_II_One_Haunted_Hallows_Eve
The premise was: Ghosts, sexiness, Halloween. Hope I succeeded.
I'll only explain the sexy part: Bella in the tub is being watched by Realward. After she has sex the first time with Ghostward. The second time (at the party) is Realward. The guy in the kitchen in the end...Realward.
I have no plans to turn this into a story... for now. Juggling 2 stories at the moment. But maybe I'll feel more creative in a little while :)
Thanks for reading :)