Excessica Anthology BOX SET Winter (3 page)

Jimmy Stewart
forgotten, she slid her hand beneath the band of his sweatpants and found warm,
living flesh. He was hard from her exploration and a noise escaped his throat
that was half moan, half cry. His rigid sex jumped against the palm of her
hand.

“You’re sure?”
It came out a growl and Jennifer felt a pulse start in the V of her thighs as
the primal smokiness of his voice flamed her desire.

All she could do
was nod—she didn’t trust her voice. He stood and took her in his arms. He
never stopped kissing her as he carried her. They settled gently in front of
the fireplace and simply lay there for a moment, staring at each other, soaking
in the moment.

“This is the
best Christmas ever,” he said with a grin. When he smiled like that, her heart
softened. He was beautiful. Kind.

Jennifer pulled
him to her and kissed him. Tunneling under the flannel of her top, his hands
found her breasts. Goose bumps sprang up at the sensation and she felt a shiver
work through her body despite the warmth of the fire. His touch was firm one
moment, feather light the next. He stroked and massaged the sensitive, fragile
skin at the swell of each breast. He took one erect bud in his mouth and sucked
gently as a new wave of desire coursed through her.

The pajamas
gone, she felt the urge to be embarrassed but shoved it aside. She would focus
on the connection and sensations—the feel of his skin moving across hers.

He kissed one
breast then the other, planting a trail of small kisses along her cleavage and
down the flat of her stomach, pressing his tongue against the shallow divot of
her belly button. Going lower, the heat of his breath and the softness of his
tongue made her heart beat erratically in her chest. When he sucked her clit
into his mouth and gently licked it, her whole body went rigid. Too long. It
had been way too long.

Expertly, he
explored each crevice and fold of her, his tongue pushing gently into her
opening, causing small blips of pleasure to pass through her. He slowed to a
languid lapping as he patiently worked her up and over the edge into orgasm.
When she came, she pushed her hands into his dark hair and her cries rang out
through the quiet house.

“Wow,” she
breathed. “I just…wow.”

He kneeled over
her with dazed smile. His hair was disheveled from her assault and his eyes
shone with firelight and good humor.

“Glad to
oblige,” he said in a fair imitation of Jimmy Stewart.

“Now come down
here,” she whispered and tugged him gently by his cock. He was hard and ready
and she didn’t want to delay it a moment longer. She wanted him in her at that
very moment.

Eric felt his heart
stop short in his chest as he slid into her. He took a deep breath to steady
his emotions and his body. He didn’t want to waste or rush a single second of
making love to her. He wanted to remember each slick inch of her pussy, each
pulse of her flesh. Her inner thighs brushed his hips as he moved slowly, deliberately.
That skin was quite possibly the smoothest thing he had ever felt. She was warm
and soft and all curves. Heaven.

He pushed into
her fully and stopped. Completely still, he memorized the feel of being deep
within her.

“You’re
beautiful.” He stared at her flushed cheeks and magical eyes. He had never
meant two words more. He had three other words for her too, but knew she wasn’t
ready. He would mean them when he said them, but he wanted her to be accepting
not scared.

His only answer
was a smile and a subtle tilt of her hips—enough to make him suck air and
shake his head. She had touched off every nerve ending and now he was powerless
to do anything but move. He thrust into her fully and slowly pulled back,
nearly withdrawing. She clamped her thighs to him, and thrust upward. She had
pinned him and was now forcing him faster and deeper into her. Her cunt was
like humid velvet, moist suede. She invaded his senses—clean soap, fruity
shampoo, sex—all mixed with the secret smell of a woman. The most
intoxicating scent of all.

Her hands found
his flanks and pulled him to her. Thighs and hands working in perfect unison to
lock them sex to sex as Jennifer rushed up to greet him. Tightening around him
in the first echoes of an orgasm, her body milked him. When her face went slack
and glowing with her climax, it capitulated his own. He was powerless to stop
it as it descended like a curtain of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

When he lowered
himself onto her, she embraced him. She trailed her hands along the broad
muscles of his back, settled them on his waist.

“It’s been a
while,” she laughed. “Next time I promise to be patient.”

“Next time is in
about ten minutes.” He grinned.

This earned him
another laugh.

“I’m not
joking.”

“I know.”

“I can’t believe
tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. I guess Santa sent me an early Christmas surprise. I
wasn‘t expecting this when you caught me assaulting a snowman.” She stretched
and her body went long and rigid like a cat. She reached one delicate hand
toward the fire and warmed it.

Eric felt a
brief stab of panic and she caught the look.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have a
gift for you. I know it’s silly but I’d really like to give you a present.”

Jennifer touched
him softly, toying with his skin, moving lower.

“I think you
just gave it to me. Want to give it to me again?”

About Sommer
Marsden

Sommer Marsden’s work has appeared in dozens
anthologies and on numerous websites. Some of her favorite books include I is
for Indecent, J is for Jealousy, L is for Leather, Spank Me, Tie Me Up, Whip
Me, Ultimate Lesbian Erotica ‘08, Love at First Sting, Open for Business,
Tasting Her, Hurts So Good and Yes, Sir. She is also writes The Seekers
novellas for Eternal Press and is the author of The Anniversary Party for
Whiskey Creek Press Torrid. She lives in Maryland and keeps her alter ego to
herself. Not really. She had a big mouth and knows how to use it. She has many addictions
and has no intentions of getting help for any of them. They currently include
red wine, writing smut, long walks, the downward dog position, emails, blog
hopping, and biscotti. You can reach her at
[email protected]
or visit her at
SmutGirl.blogspot.com
to keep up with her dirty ramblings.

SPIRIT YET TO COME

By Kiki
Howell

Chapter 1

This night was
his moment of truth each year. His body, close to solidifying now, trembled a
bit at his daunting task at hand. Each year on Christmas Eve, as families slept
with the expectations of the most joyous day of the year, he was charged with
becoming the physical representation of death. His work was to show one chosen
soul the empty future their current life would grant them. The visions he
created were persuasions for change, encouraging them to seek out their
potential, to diligently transform others lives. His visit was a gift. It was
his contribution to the betterment of the world.

A chill went
down his back as he stood but a foot away, watching her, his current
assignment. She gave a hasty yank to pull aside one panel of the rich
rose-colored window covering. He cringed in anticipation of the rod and
curtains falling to the wooden floor, while she continued on, incognizant of
the possibility, to the couch. Throwing her body down haphazardly, her head
rolled toward the small portion of window revealing to her the outside world. Following
her gaze, he looked out at the stunning array of elaborately decorated homes. A
stray tear weaved its way over her cheek, glimmering with the light of only the
TV. Her own living room remained barren of Christmas lights even on December
twenty-fourth.

He had chosen to
send away the other two spirits who were to visit her tonight, claiming there
was no need for them. Janie’s problem was not that she had forgotten her past. To
the contrary, the memories of being made fun of as a poor man’s child spurred
her on to create the false persona she hid behind today. It was her past that
had gotten her here. He also felt reminding her of her present, which held no
true happiness, would only further her depression, her descent into apathy. The
three spirits had agreed there could be nothing to gain from revisiting either
time period. Only the Ghost of Christmases Yet to Come could reveal to her how
her current state of living could ruin her remaining days. Only what he had to
show her could possibly persuade her to change her ways. Yet, the truth behind
his suggestion that the Ghost of Christmases Past and the Ghost of Christmas
Present leave had more to do with his desire to have her all to himself all for
the time he had.

Prior to his one
night gig, he would roam the earth unseen until a soul called to him. It would
be that one person he would follow similar to a guardian angel. Only he didn’t
guard them or even intervene, he just observed their actions. Learning about
his charge would be his only task for the remainder of the year up until
Christmas Eve.

Over the decades
he had performed this job, most of his subjects had been barely worth anyone’s
time. They were self-absorbed, driven only by their own gratifications, without
an empathetic dedication to the welfare of mankind. Their actions were too
often hard to watch being distasteful or upsetting. These undeserving souls had
been granted three visits on Christmas Eve like three gifts that could lead to
reformation and therefore redemption. His existence was proof that the Great
Creator wept for the loss of any of his children. All of this boiled down to
one night, with a star shining brightly down on the earth and carols of glad
tidings whispered by the wind, one chance to change or eventually die having
left nothing of value to this world.

Yet, this year,
this charge, had been different. Having conferred throughout the year with the
other two assigned spirits charged with reviewing her past and understanding
her present, he had seen glimpses of her two possible futures. She had within
her the potential to do great things as all of the others before her. Only, her
self-indulgence came not from a desire to gain money or some all-consuming need
for power, but from trying to prove to society she was someone worthy of its
approval. Over the years, she had more than obtained her original goal, but she
still lacked the self-worth that would ease her struggles. Therefore, she spent
her days still climbing the ladder of success without the true relationships
she secretly longed for. With her reputation as her only focus and false
friends with their own selfish ambitions, her true self had eluded her.

She was a
damaged soul who had tried desperately to change her life against all the
unbearable odds. Only, in her desperation for change, she had compromised who
she was. She had become an over-worked success who found that envy did not
fulfill her or keep her warm at night.

The painful
memories of childhood never allowed her to let her guard down in order to care
for others or to be cared for. At home, when she was completely alone, he had
seen her true sorrow, and she had broken his ethereal heart. She secretly hated
the wealthy woman she had become as much as the destitute girl she had left behind.

With her he had
become negligent somehow this year. He had gotten too close, too often and even
inappropriately at times. He had spent days upon days distracted by her instead
of studying her. Even on her overpriced couch in worn-out jeans, her contradictions
of person proved enticing. Physical longings had been a continuous problem for
him given he was of the spirit world. Being among the living, but not being of
them had been torture for the first time since he had died over four hundred
years ago.

There were many
times he had lingered too long in respects to her privacy. There were lines of
decency not to be crossed even in the spirit world, though he knew of many
ghosts who crossed them. Because of his calling, he had always held himself to
the highest of standards. Then came the night when she had started to remove
her clothing, and he neglected to remove himself. Just that momentary glimpse
of her breast had made him loose his sense of place, and he had touched her. At
first her shrieks in response to his cold, invisible touches had rallied him to
his senses. Unfortunately or fortunately, he was still unsure of which, she had
stopped being shocked at his presence. He wondered what price he would have to
pay come tomorrow morning for overstepping his bounds and lusting after his
charge.

He appeared as
usual, cloaked in the darkest of black like the angel of death. His said
purpose was to shock or scare someone into making the necessary changes mankind
needed from them. The feeling of his semi-earthly feet hitting the floor always
sent uncomfortable sensations similar to one’s feet having fallen asleep
through him. Only, this year as he stood before her body splayed upon the couch
there were the knots throughout his abdomen and other sensations just below. That
part of his anatomy he had thought dead long ago. Now as he braced for her
reaction to his physical manifestation, he glanced down to see if it was
lifting up his robe.

He used every
ounce of his energy to just restrain his hands from touching the few inches of
bare skin revealed by the bunching up of her t-shirt. Her body jumped when he
became solid before her. Having been momentarily preoccupied, he jumped as
well.

Chapter 2

She laid still
peering up at him hoping if she looked long enough he would disappear in the
same way he had appeared. It had only taken seconds before the blurring colors
descending like fog converged into a solid form under the shroud of black
cloth. A scream bubbled within her, but no sound emanated forth. Her body was
lifeless overshadowed by the dark figure. Initially, she had felt a jolt
through each of her limbs, and then they became weighted. Keeping her eyes on
the figure, veiled like the specter of death, she concentrated on the familiar
voice of Clarence the angel from
It’s a Wonderful Life
on TV. The blinks
of light from the television shimmered about the fabric, making it appear as if
the figure within was trembling. When the specter didn’t disappear, but just
stood there silent and still, she fought with herself about weather to scream
or try to run.

He pointed and
moved slowly toward the window. Her eyes had followed him with furrowed brows
when he hadn’t glided like she would have imagined him to. She scoffed to
herself that even her hallucination didn’t act appropriately. Then, he reached
out an arm towards her, and again pointed with his other out the window. Janie
closed her eyes and shook her head in a last ditch effort to clear the
apparition away. When her eyes opened again, he was still there. A sickness
rolled in her stomach as he gestured more aggressively toward the window. On
the loneliest night of the entire year, she was either hallucinating the angel
of death or death had truly come for her. A flood of tears came with a sorrow
so profound she closed her eyes to the shrouded figure again.

Sensing
movement, she saw him approaching her through the haziness of her tear-covered
lashes. When he finally knelt on the floor so close to her body that she could
feel the heat of him, he brushed away the trail of tears on her cheek with a
human hand. Her breath caught with the life-like, gentle caress that radiated
tiny shocks to her flesh. His hand rubbed over her cheek lovingly, and she
instantaneously missed the touch the moment it was gone.

Without warning,
he laid his hooded head on her stomach. Her heart beat wildly as a necessary
gasp for air burned her lungs. Her whole body strained wanting the contact of
the image she feared. He wrapped his arms around her pulling her midsection to
him hard enough that she thought momentarily he might hurt her. The physical
ramifications of his touch stopped the mental battle of real verses unreal as
she gave into the sensations he created within her. For so long she had yearned
to be touched like this that it didn’t even matter that death himself might be
the one doing it. Then her hands landed on his shoulders, and his lungs stopped
pushing repeatedly against hers. All she could fell was his trembling. Indecision
haloed with fear left her overwhelmed body quivering in tandem.

She remained
braced against him. The figure lifted his head. She didn’t stop him when he
moved his cloaked face inches above her breasts before placing his lips upon
hers. He pushed into the kiss swiping his tongue inside her mouth. Instead of
recoiling at the concrete evidence of the humanness of the stranger, her whole
body warmed. When she started to kiss him back, she didn’t even care that his
hood had bunched up over her eyes like a blindfold. He smelled like forest and
water; he felt real and virile. Her hands went around his neck, and she pulled
her body harshly up against his. Then, just as quickly she let go and pushed
him away.

Behind her on
the TV that man ran through the black and white streets of Bedford Falls as he
did each year yelling his love for the old Savings and Loan. She finally sat up
to confront the kneeling man before her.

“What do you
want? Who are you? What are you? You appeared from out of nothing, and yet you
feel human under that black shroud. You kissed me!” She shook from stopping
herself from yelling anything further.

In response he
hung his cloaked head and shook it back and forth slightly.

“I deserve some
words here!”

“Pardon me,” he
said in a hoarse voice. “Please forgive my inappropriate behavior. I am the
Spirit of the Christmases that are yet to come. I come not to bring you death. I
came to show you what the future could be if you continue on in the manner to
which you have become accustomed.”

“Spirit…of
Christmas? Right! You mean like the Dickens thing. I am losing it! So why
didn’t the other two, you know past and present, visit me first? Oh yeah, and
what about that Marley guy? I didn’t even know him.” She paused as the
idiocracy of her own words registered. “What is going on here? What kind of
trick are you trying to pull?” She scooted away from him to the arm of the
couch. Sliding her hand to the end table without moving any other part of her,
she produced a gun from the drawer where she hid it. “You have to be kidding
me. I can’t even be left alone on Christmas Eve?”

When she readied
the gun, he disappeared again. As she jumped off the couch, the gun hit the
coffee table and was knocked from her hand to the floor. Then, she collapsed to
the floor as well. Somehow the loss of her crazy hallucination devastated her.

“Even a figment
of my imagination doesn’t want to be with me.”

“I am sorry
Janie. I have messed things up.” She looked up in the direction of the words
but still saw nothing. “I get to use my old body once a year to complete my
mission. You were not supposed to touch me. No, I was not supposed to touch
you. It is my fault. I should never have touched you. I have been following you
for so long that… even though I thought after four hundred years of being dead
that I… I should have… I mean I never have before…”

“You have
never…what?” The tears started to flow again fueling the beginnings of a
headache.

“I have never
before touched one of my charges. I have been watching you for most of this
year. Somehow over that period of time I fell in love with you. Pardon my
honesty, it is easy to tell the truth when my time here is limited to only a
few more hours. I didn’t even know it was possible to feel as I do in the state
I am in. I am sorry for all of the times this year that my ghost invaded your
privacy and touched you. I have never done that before either, I swear it. I
swear I won’t hurt you…” He materialized again at the edge of her couch having
left a distance between them.

“It was you? You
are the ghost in this apartment. I had wondered if I had finally gone crazy
when I felt your cold touches. No, this can’t be…” she stopped speaking and
blinked her eyes twice before they narrowed.

“You are not
crazy. I touched you several times this year. I couldn’t help myself. The first
time I didn’t leave the room when I should have and you took off your clothes
for a shower, I touched your breast. You screamed. Only, you eventually stopped
screaming when I touched you. The last time I touched you was two nights ago. You
were wearing only that purple robe of yours, and I touched your face and then
your neck before you fell asleep.”