Ghost in the Machine (Undertaker x Female Reader)

Chapter Twenty.

He'd settled his hands on my thighs as I loosened my hold on him again; the feeling of hands other than my own wandering into that space was breathtaking, and I anxiously awaited his next move as I kept his shoulders captive in my embrace. He had touched his head to mine again, sweetly holding my gaze in his own between unhurried kisses. After a moment, I thrilled at the feel of his hands stroking higher up my curves, caressing my bare hips under the jumble of cloth and lace. I didn't have time to react, as he gripped the fabric in both hands and gently pulled it skyward.

Every other time he'd done this, it had been for a decidedly different reason. Or had it? Bathing, a change of clothes, things that he might have done for any of his lifeless charges. This time, as he eased the gown off my arms and let it flutter down beside us, I was keenly aware that the way he looked at me was no less enthralled than it had been any other time.

Always, I thought, as he stroked his fingertips down my bare ribs, lips brushing over my sternum. More or less since that first night, he'd always felt the way about me I'd hoped he did, and it took us both about this long to realize it. As he gently eased my body back onto the rug and crawled over me to warm my breasts with his lips, I felt a fleeting curiosity as to how long he'd been fantasizing about this. Maybe as long as I had...? I noted—not without approval, as I curved my form against his in response to his attentions—that he certainly seemed to know what he wanted to do.

I found then that my brain was beginning to short out, as his mouth was moving down my waist, trailing velvet touches and warm breath over my skin. His hair was trailing over me as he went, tickling me in my heightened state of sensitivity. I giggled, involuntarily curling, and his own chuckle rumbled against my navel. He paused then, lifting his eyes to meet mine. The bright chartreuse boiled with want; I was sure my eyes mirrored his.

"Shall we move?" He queried, raising his thin silver brows. "I'd rather you had a more comfortable setting for this, at least at first..."

I was quite comfortable with him as a blanket, but based on his slow, gentle approach, it was true that the stonework floor and the thin rug over it were not accommodations I felt I'd enjoy for the time we'd likely be devoting to this. I answered by reaching my arms to him, and he grinned as he sat back up, pulling me with him.

He hugged my body to himself, slowly wandering towards the bedroom as he used the opportunity to taste my lips again. His bare feet made no sound on the wooden flooring as he crossed it, carefully lowering me onto the bedding as he pulled back the coverlet. I let my arms fall alongside my head, drunk on the way his eyes wandered over me as he carried a lamp from the dresser to set on the night table.

"Well." His smile was intoxicating. "There appears to be a duchess in my bed."

I snorted. "Are you saying the undertaker I've been sleeping next to is an entirely different person who just happens to look exactly like you?" I lifted a foot to lightly press my sole against his chest as he hovered over me. "If so, that's the gentleman I should be marrying."

He feigned an air of outrage, but clasped my foot and raised it to his mouth to nibble its arch, sending a pleasurable ripple of goosebumps over my skin. "Well, it's too late now; by the time he comes back for you, I'll have made you completely mine." He had released my foot to undo the clasps of his pants, freeing his waist from the garment and letting the last of his own modesty slip to the floor before slowly fitting himself against me.

Well indeed, I thought.

I'd seen things. There were medical books in the house with details that no respectable lady should be privy to, or even interested in. However, it would be no secret to say that even the most respectable young lady might have trouble defying teen-age hormones. With that and the practicality about such matters that I'd developed as a healer-in-training, what my "husband" looked like did not frighten me, but neither was I prepared for the surge of my own body's reactions in response to an uninhibited view of his flesh.