Tricks & Treats: A Romance Anthology (16 page)

Confidently Alex stood straight and stared at Ashley lying there exposed to the night air as he slid his hands to her waist and slowly removed her panties. Pushing on her one heel and lifting herself up for him to remove them made her feel exposed in a way she never felt before and she loved it. As she looked into the night sky, off in the distance Ashley could hear the party, recognized voices, and thought this was the best thing that has ever happened in her life. Just then she felt his warm breath on her waiting moistness as she closed her eyes in ecstasy.

At that moment there were ear-piercing screams and whistles and her eyes shot open to see fireworks from their party illuminate the sky and momentarily their space. The sounds and excitement seemed to be exactly what Alex waited for. At that exact moment she felt him suck her clit and insert one finger into her. With a loud gasp, she arched her back as an uncontrollable wave of pleasure erupted within her as her hands pushed down onto the steps. The pleasure was all consuming which made her not care that at that illuminated moment she realized she was on the steps of an old church.

His rhythm of sucking, licking and sliding his fingers in and out were perfectly synced with her breath and building climax. Another loud bang and the sky lit up just as he inserted another finger and she felt herself open up and want more. He licked her clit as he inserted his fingers deep with each blast of the fireworks. Building and building her climax in sync with the fireworks continued and she prayed for him not to stop as she neared ecstasy. Alex then reached up with the other hand, cupped one exposed breast and squeezed her nipple just to the painful pleasure point—exactly as the next explosive firework went off.  Again her back arched, he sucked her clit, his fingers slid deep into her and she felt herself explode in ecstasy just like one of the fireworks. As the fireworks rescinded and fell Alex kept sucking squeezing and inserting with every writhing flow of orgasm through her body.

The next firework bang was the perfect time for her loud scream of, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” just before her body collapsed in ecstasy and Alex stood, caressing her exposed body from the waste up, kissing, cupping and sucking both breast before laying his weight on her to keep her warm and giving her a deep passionate kiss.

Ashley felt a slight pleasurable whimper escape her lips around the kiss and tears of pleasure rolled down the sides of her face.

It was a very explosive and fulfilling show of fireworks. She could hear everyone in the neighbourhood cheering as if celebrating her life-changing orgasm. The feeling of complete fulfillment and ecstasy froze her in place for a few moments until she felt his erect cock against her. The need to feel him inside her in every way came rushing back to her as she sat up and pushed him back enough so she could stand erect. Looking toward the party she saw faint outlines of a very old and unkempt graveyard; could there be a more perfect Halloween?

Ashley turned to change positions with him, bent her knees deep and opened her legs enough to pull him in close. He backed against the steps, she undid his pants but they did not fall or slide down easily, she had to reach in and grab hold of his massive cock and pull it up and free from the constraints of his pants. Alex leaned over her with his hands on the steps as she stroked him. She could not do that for long before she had to feel him in her mouth. Forcing her mouth wide open to get the head of his cock inside, Ashley ran her tongue on the edge of the fully engorged head of his cock as she loved to do.

His cock was too big to put down her throat but she loved being able to fully stroke and suck him at the same time. Feeling his cock get extremely hard and pulse let her know he was near climax so she stopped, stood and turned to bend over the steps, spreading her legs in invitation. Without a word Alex lifted her dress and threw it over her back. She felt his hand brush against her ass as he guided his cock. The large head of his cock pushed against her wet waiting pussy, but it was too big to just slide in. She felt his large hands hold either hip as he pulled her toward him. Not letting his cock slide into her, but rhythmically pushing against her, made her wet wanting lips open and close but not go all the way enough for them to close around the head of his cock.

“
Does he want me to beg”
were fleeting thoughts just before she heard herself say “Oh please, please fuck me.”

With those words the pleasurable feeling of his thickness making her open wide made a shudder run through her whole body. She could tell he was not all the way in but savoured the pleasure of his thick cock as she rocked herself back and forth on him. With each rocking motion of her body and his slight thrusts he went deeper and deeper. Ashley pushed herself up on her hands; she wanted to take him all the way and pushed back a few times until she felt his pelvis push against her. Now each long thrust from him took her breath away as she got light headed, the saving grace was the cool air on her exposed breast. And with that thought he reached forward and cupped her breasts forcing the full length of his cock deep inside her. Alex held her breasts as he thrust hard inside her.

The feeling of complete openness and fulfillment accentuated the building orgasm in her. His moans and pace increased in volume and speed as he rammed harder and harder. The thought of his cum exploding into her and the feeling of him fucking her was too much and again she exploded into orgasm. Pushing herself back as she orgasmed she felt herself almost howl as he gave a forceful thrust. She felt the heat of his exploding orgasm fill her as he shuddered behind her. His orgasm made hers even more intense as his cum seemed to explode from his cock and filled her to the point each thrust pushed their juices out and down her thighs

After a few more lessening thrusts and uncontrollable orgasmic shudders they collapsed together on the steps. Ashley enjoyed the feeling of pressure lessening as his cock slightly softened and start to slide out. A slight movement released him from her and she felt her warm pussy exposed to the cool air slowly return to its natural way but the feeling of his cock inside her was not going away anytime soon.

She stood and turned and her dress fell before putting her ass against the steps. She grinned and wondered if there would be thumbprint bruises there tomorrow. They embraced and he said, “My God I was extremely attracted to you the moment I saw you and the connection I felt was right, that was the best orgasm I ever had in my life. You have to be the most beautiful woman I have ever met in so many ways. I need more of you.”

Alex leaned down to dress himself and for that moment Ashley let her face express her true self and just mouthed “Holy fuck” before he stood and she pulled him in for a deep passionate kiss. As they embraced she could feel his juices mixed with hers escaping and the warmth as they ran down her inner thighs.

After enough time had passed to compose them, she took his hand and led him back to the party before anyone missed them. The night continued with knowing glances across the room and physical, secret knowing brushes against each other. Each touch made her shiver with pleasure and made her want him more and more.

Ashley thought “
This has already been one of the best evenings of my life and a lot more pleasure to come in this Halloween for the both of us, he just does not know it yet.
”

About the Author

Bestselling, award winning author, Ian Gillies, has a number of passions which he enjoys exploring but writing tops the all. He draws from his wild and varied experiences that all come out in his writing. A life of passion, adventure, a love of history and the love of being a parent and part of an amazing family all combine to make for interesting and enjoyable reading.

Ian Gillies is from St. John’s, Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada.

Dear Readers,

Thank you to everyone who has read my books and support my fellow authors and me. You are the reason we can continue to do this great art of writing. Without your support none of these books would be possible and I hope my writing will make you feel something that will encourage you to read more. Nothing I enjoy more than hearing from my readers so please do not hesitate to contact me or to review my stories.

Ian Gillies

https://www.facebook.com/iangilliesauthor

Also by Ian Gillies

One Knight Standing—RONE Finalist for Anthology as part of Highland Flames 

All Catherine St. Clair understands about her family’s beloved Rosslyn Chapel is challenged by the gruesome death of the resident priest. The young warrior priest sent to replace him inspires forbidden thoughts she is sure will damn her soul.

Born the seventh son of a seventh son required battle training that did not prepare William Gillies for priesthood. Determined to carry out his duty, his destiny changes when he meets the enchanting and captivating Catherine, who forces him to question all he has learned.

Thrust together by desire and ancient secrets, Will and Catherine embark on a journey of discovery wrought with passion and adventure, revealing their true destiny.

Seduced: A Young Man's Coming Of Age

The first short story in a series of coming of age stories of Alex Night. In this story Alex has his first of many enlightening and amazing sexual encounters. His first real passionate sexual experience takes place in the family home with a friend of his brother’s girlfriend. What starts out with overwhelming and slightly embarrassing attraction, appears to end in rejection, but ends up in climactic passion.

Invited: A Young Man's Coming Of Age

The second short story in a series of coming of age stories of Alex Night. His physical and sexual maturity has given him confidence while his new job as a fitness instructor provides a wild location and an experienced, mature woman to explore new horizons in his sexual life.

Ravaged: A Young Man's Coming Of Age

The third short story in a series of coming of age stories of Alex Night. When he travels to a big city for the first time to attend stunt school, a world of new sensory experiences is overshadowed by his main drive—sex. A chance and slightly sexual subway experience leads to disappointment. Perseverance pays off and climaxes in a high-rise rooftop, luxury condo.

Scotland Enchanted

Timeless tales of love and enchantment in the Highlands. A collection of three Scottish romance novellas by award winning, internationally bestselling author,

Kate Robbins, featuring Ian Gillies.

Story Seven

Elixir Vitae by Charlene Carr

October 31
st
, 2009. 8:21 p.m. Outside the Halifax Citadel National Historic Site. Nova Scotia.

The city twinkles—headlights and taillights zoom by. Is it too late to escape?

“Rachel Fraser, get those tight little buns of yours up here!” Whitney turns with an excited scowl. “We’re going to be late.”

I stay on the landing below her. “And that’s bad, because…?”

“Because you promised.”

I stifle a groan and jog up the few steps to meet Whitney.

“That’s more like it.” Whitney grins. “This is going to be wicked.”

I sigh. “Interesting choice of words.” The clock tower looms against the night sky. Wispy clouds drift past a full moon. Normally I’d think this sight was beautiful. Normally I’d be in awe. But tonight? I repress a shiver and slow to a walk as I catch up to Whitney. “I feel naked.”

“You look hot.”

“Or slutty?”

“No, hot. Definitely hot.”

“What if the guys wear masks and we have no idea what they look like—don’t you think it’s creepy?”

“Or romantic. Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me I need to stop being so shallow? Get to know a guy for who he is, not how he’d rate on a scale of one to ten?”

“Sure.” We stop at the top of the hill. The gate to the Citadel looks sinister and uninviting. People mill in the lot, chatting and laughing. Nervous laughter?

A haunted tour is one thing. A thing I wouldn’t be the first to choose. But a haunted singles tour? It’s just weird. “And if the guy’s mask covers the fact that he’s sixty-two?”

“Perhaps he’ll have a fabulous son.” Whitney turns and puts her hands on my shoulders. “Listen, we’re here. We’ve paid. You haven’t had a relationship since, what? Grade Four when Bobby Parker pushed you up against a slide, kissed you, and told the whole playground you were his gal?”

Whitney is serious. Dead serious. But with her big white ears flopping onto her forehead and a painted black nose with whiskers glued on, I can’t help but grin. “I’ve dated since then.”

“Dated. Yes. But not had a relationship, if you could even call your playground affair with Bobby Parker a relationship.” Whitney drops her arms. “Besides, I’m having such a dry spell. If you’re not going to have a good attitude for you, have one for me.”

I paste on my biggest fake smile, the one Whitney hates. She lets out a grumble. “You smile like that and the men will be more afraid of you than all the ghosts and goblins this place can muster.”

A loud
creeeeak
breaks through the night. A hush descends on the crowd as we turn in unison toward the big metal gate keeping us from…whatever is inside.

As if out of nowhere, a man in a kilt and red coat appears on the drawbridge, a lantern in his hand. “This is so great!” Whitney squeals in a voice that’s not as much of a whisper as she thinks. Her manicured fingernails press into my arm. The man stares at us, unmoving, and several chuckles—definitely nervous—rise from the crowd.

Silently, the kilted man pivots and walks into the darkness. More chirrups of laughter. He raises a hand in a gesture that clearly means
follow me
, then disappears within the stone-walled fortress.

Whitney practically thrums with excitement as she squeezes my arm again—only her excitement seems to be about a group of guys just ahead of us with football shoulders. I take in the broad expanse of their backs—the…superhero costumes? —and find myself thrumming too, with uncertainty. I’ve never been good with the dark, with scary movies or fireside tales. I’m the one who had nightmares, who spent half of every scary movie my brothers goaded me to watch on top of the couch, my back pressed hard against the wall, trying not to whimper or scream. I’ve never been good with striking up conversations with strangers, either.

Almost the moment we pass through the gate, it swings shut with a loud groan. I jump and join a chorus of nervous, twittering laughter. As our event bracelets are scanned and we step further into the courtyard, the sounds of the rushing cars at the bottom of the hill fade away. Wind whooshes around us, then vanishes, leaving a thick and heavy dampness to the air.

“Welcome to the Warden of the North.” A voice booms. I shift my gaze, but can’t see where it comes from. The sound seems to surround us. “This isn’t just any tour,” it continues. “Oh no, it’s All Hallows’ Eve.”

The voice holds mirth. Mirth!

“A night for terror. A night for death’s victims to run free. Or, perhaps,” it pauses, “a night for love.” A figure appears. A man, broad and cloaked and standing in the shadows. This one’s not wearing a kilt. Rather, under his cloak is some sort of suit. Wool, maybe, with massive black buttons and huge leather boots. A large black hat shrouds his features.

“For over a decade we’ve been running tours, telling the tales of this haunted ground, and for over a decade we’ve stopped those tours before this night.” Another pause. “This year we decided to do an experiment, to see if the power of love could overcome the power of the grave.”

A gust of wind, as if on cue, sends a shiver through me. Damn Whitney for convincing me a full body leotard under this costume would be enough. Damn her for convincing me to come out at all. “They’ve never done this before?” I whisper in Whitney’s ear.

“I know.” Whitney’s eyes practically dance. “This is so great.”

I swallow and draw my attention back to the cloaked man. “I am Monsieur Crane, your guide for the night. The only guide. None of the others were willing to explore the tunnels on All Hallows’ Eve.”

More chuckles.

“They know the truth of the stories you’ll hear. Stories that, as far as we know, as far as many have experienced, are true. These stories have been compiled through the years.” His gaze travels across the crowd. “Some stem from documented accounts in the history books: Murders. Accidents. Unknown disappearances. Others from sightings and hauntings over the years. Many from the experiences of our graveyard shift commissionaires and staff whose job it is to patrol these grounds at night.” Another pause. “Some would call these tales folklore.
Some
.”

A soft light travels toward Crane. The kilted guard. He passes his lantern to Crane then retreats into the shadows.

Crane’s face is lit from below by the lantern. It casts eerie shadows, but reveals he’s younger than I thought. “Staff will be present for the event afterward, but during the tour it will be only us.” A slow grin creeps across his face. “No theatrics. No tricks. Merely the presence of the past.”

“Yeah, right.” A male voice calls. “I bet you’ve got ghosts rigged up to jump out at every corner.”

The smile disappears. Crane’s head turns toward the man. “We do not.” He addresses the crowd once more. The sombre tone in his voice falters. “And I would ask, for the safety and enjoyment of all, that no one add to anyone else’s experience.” The tone returns. “The experience, as it is, is all you require.”

A knot forms in my stomach. What’s the legality here? If this Monsieur Crane says there are no theatrics, is that binding? We signed waivers this afternoon, but I barely skimmed the page of print. Was there a heart attack clause?

“There are forty of you,” continues Crane. “There will be eight lanterns, including mine. It is easy to get lost in the tunnels. Heed my voice, and heed the light.”

To the right, a yellow glow appears and brightens, grows. The light approaches, illuminating the kilted guard and a woman in a threadbare dress not from this century. They start passing out the lanterns. I push through the crowd toward the light but a hand on my arm stops me. I swivel toward it. “No way!” Whitney, again, is grinning. “We don’t want a light. We want to huddle beside some hunky guy with a light.”

I open my mouth to protest but stop as Whitney shakes her head, a look of determination on her face I know I can’t counter. Twenty years of friendship teaches you some things. Whitney’s smile falters. “You’re not actually scared, are you?”

I bite my lip.

“Babe, we’re going to hear some made up stories, explore a cool old building, then spend an hour mingling with twenty single guys before heading downtown.” She puts a hand to my shoulder, her eyes still twinkling behind a look of concern. “Nothing to be scared of.”

“I know.” I shrug. “But— “

“It’s going to be fun.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Crane has been talking, and the group moves toward him.

“It would have been better if they’d had some mingling first.” Whitney whispers as we shuffle toward a dark hollow. We make our way down steep and uneven steps. “I mean, how are we going to strike up conversation or—”

Whitney tumbles into the arms of one of those broad backed men. Superman, it looks like. She smiles like a damsel as his friend—Batman? —holds up a lantern. “You all right?” Lantern Guy asks.

Whitney nods and bounces her smile between the two men. “Definitely. I guess walking and talking is a hazard on this trip.”

“Just be careful.” Superman is sweet looking, definitely wholesome farm-boy material, complete with a dimple in his left cheek. “The ground is pretty uneven all around here.”

“Have you been on the tour before?”

“In the day.” Their muted chat continues, and I tune them out. Unless something goes wrong, Whitney will be occupied for the rest of the night, and I’m more interested in staying close to the guide than what Batman has to say. I squeeze ahead and stop when Crane stops, in some kind of foyer.

“To our left and right are prison barracks.” His voice reverberates in the darkness. A lantern holder beside me extends his light toward an entrance and I catch sight of small metal cots and small holes in the wall that probably call themselves windows. “Many men entered these rooms. Not all left…alive, that is.”

A girl to my right lets out a nervous little hum. The group splits, crouching through the doorways and exploring the rooms. Crane’s voice seems to follow me wherever I go, telling the tale of a prisoner who came to his demise in the very room I’m standing in. His voice comes closer. An arm sticks out beside me and I pivot. “This,” he says, “is where Lieutenant Daniels took his last breath.” He steps back, his lantern and body turned toward the group. I shuffle away from the bunk he indicated and wrap my arms around myself as he tells a newer tale—a woman, three years ago, on a tour much like this one, except during the day, saw a soldier enter the room then vanish. She didn’t know about the haunted tour. She didn’t know the Citadel was haunted at all, but wanted to know how this supposed staff member, an actor, she thought, had disappeared from the room, when she was standing in the only exit.

Crane lets out a little laugh. A creepy laugh. “At first I thought she was playing a trick. I told her perhaps she’d seen a ghost.” His voice lowers. “But she described the soldier in such detail. The uniform. None of our staff wear a costume like the one she described. But Lieutenant Daniels, his uniform would have fit the description to a tee.”

It’s not very convincing. So some lady claims she saw some ghost. For all I know, there never was a lady, let alone a ghost. Still, when Crane leads us away from those two rooms, my breath comes easier. We head through corridors, deeper and deeper into the fortress. The darkness grows.

At the next spot, Crane tells the tale of the Grey Lady, a woman in a white dress, forever mourning her suicidal lover and smelling of roses. I’ve heard this one before. A sad and unromantic tale. I scan the shadowed singles for Whitney. About ten people separate us. She’s clearly not listening to the tale either. Superman, however, looks to be ardently listening to her.

Such a stupid idea. Strangers finding love on a ghost tour. And yet…I survey the room. Most people are clearly with their friends, but a few men and women seem to be mingling. Whispering. Hands on elbows and upturned gazes. A man—not wearing a superhero costume, not in any discernible costume—smiles at me. I frown and draw my attention back to Crane as the group moves on. He tells tales of a haunted shed, a haunted well, shouts, wails, slamming doors, and thrown objects.

“Any fans of Mary Shelley?” Several people, me included, raise our hands. Crane wears that grin again. He must practice the thing. It’s scarier than my fakest smile, but in an entirely different way. “The author of
Frankenstein
?” More hands. Some laughter.

“And have any read her tale
The Mortal Immortal
?”

I raise my hand.

“Just one?”

His grin is less creepy this time. “Well, I won’t put this learned angel on the spot.”

“Fairy,” shouts Whitney from somewhere behind me.

“My apologies.” Crane, sounding like a gentleman, sounding like a man who loves his job, and is hella good at it, smiles at me. He gives a brief summary of a tale I already know. But this one has a local twist. Officer Benjamin Johnston, a soldier of the 78
th
Highlanders, was an avid reader of Shelley. An obsessed reader, some would say. He’d lost his four brothers by war, sickness, and accident, and became enamoured with the idea of eternal life. “Obsession can lead to mental degradation,” cautions Crane. “Johnston began to think the story was true, that he too could develop the elixir for eternal life, but, he asserted, eternal life meant nothing without eternal love—the very thing Shelley’s hero was trying to free himself of. The very reason the sad soul came to abhor life.”