Chapter 8
Noah
I don't know how any of this is possible.
I've been dead for over a year; I've watched the world change around me, completely oblivious to my existence.
Time has moved on and the world has continued turning, and I've tried to reach out to her, to my mother, to anyone who stood half a chance of seeing me and acknowledging that I was real.
Her dog is the closest I've gotten to someone seeing me, and I don't know if she realized she was curling up beside me the way she always did from that first time I went to Nikki's house, or if she just chose a spot that was comfortable.
I've screamed, I've cried, I've thrown things.
None of it has ever had any effect, never accomplished anything other than the occasional shiver as I ran my fingers along Nikki's bare arm or pressed a kiss against the back of her neck.
I thought I'd never feel anything physical again; I'd have kissed her the moment she appeared before me if I had realized I'd be able to feel her.
I'd cry if I didn't want her to stop and pull away from me.
If she does, I'm not sure how I'll survive it.
Going so long without being able to feel, to touch, to taste.
.. it's been hell. I thought that maybe that's where I was at first, stuck in a hell designed just for me as I stood in that fucking church I hated so much, watching people mopping my brains up off the floor.
When I realized that I could move, that I could go anywhere I wanted, I realized there was no way this was hell. Not if I still got to see her.
Even without the ability to touch her, to feel her soft skin or her warmth beneath me, to appreciate the feeling of her lashes fluttering against my chest as she fought not to fall asleep.
.. even without all of that, I knew this place couldn't be hell.
I knew I was waiting for her, just the way I knew the first time I saw her that she was the pinnacle of my life.
Now, it's like she's loving me back to life. I feel her, just the way I always did... no, deeper than I always did. I feel her soul more obviously, bared to mine with nothing left to separate us.
"Noah..." She sighs my name, kisses me with it, and everything in me melts.
I don't know how long this tenuous magic will last; we've already lost so much time.
I deepen our kiss, breathing her in, absorbing her.
When she doesn't object, I plant one hand on the back of her head, holding her against me, and the other against her cheek, needing to feel her in the space that's been void too long.
Somehow, despite no longer being alive, we're real.
.. flesh and blood. And as I kiss her deeper and she tips her head back to grant me access to explore more of her, I take it.
I take everything she lets me, and with each quickened breath, each moan that crests from either of us, we become more real.
.. blood rushing, skin heating, hearts pounding.
I used to wish I could love people back to life... my grandma, my dog, Nikki's dad. Hell, as much as I am enjoying having her with me, I'd love her back to life if I could. She's too young to die, had too much to do. I know I can't undo what death has done, but why does it feel like we are?
The smallest moan slipping out of her throat is the nail in the coffin of my restraint; I lift her beneath her bottom, and she eases into the contact, letting me hold her as I walk her up the steps.
I wish we had a proper bed for what we're about to do.
.. she deserves that. But I won't take her on the floor like fucking animals. .. like they did.
Watching what they did to her made me fucking rage. Seeing Brant and Cole drug the eggnog before Alice and Peanut even got there, before Nikki did.
I tried harder than I've ever tried to knock that bowl over, to throw it, to grab it, to tip it over.
I summoned every ounce of willpower, I summoned rage, I cleared my head and focused on nothing other than spilling it to try and keep them from poisoning them, but it was all fruitless.
I've never been able to touch anything since the night I died.
But now as I move with her to the altar, I sweep my free arm against the candles that are unlit in their sconces, and the motion sends them crashing to the floor with a tinny clatter.
I lay her out before me without ever taking my lips from hers, afraid that we'll lose this connection if we break apart too long, cradling her head as we settle with her on her back, a glorious offering for me. A feast for my starving soul.
"I need you." She whimpers, pulling her lips from mine just enough that I can see the desperation in her eyes, the need.
"You have me." I promise. She always did. She always will.
"No. I need all of you. I need this... more."
The fire in her eyes is unashamed, unafraid... certain. But still I have to ask.
"Are you sure?"
None of us in this town are perfect, despite what certain people would have you think.
We tried to obey the church and live to a set of principles, and we may not have gotten them all right.
But one of the things that had been important to us was waiting until marriage.
It had made sense at the time, when we were alive.
We didn't save everything for marriage, and we had plenty of fun together doing other things, exploring boundaries and testing them without ever crossing that particular one.
And then I watched our friend fucking steal that from us, first when he killed me, and again when he violated her.
"I've always been sure."
It's all the consent I need to slip the thin straps of her silky dress down her shoulders, exposing her to me bit by bit.
The sharp bones of her clavicle, her smooth skin, unblemished by death, her soft breasts and dusky nipples which tighten beneath my fingers, the most extraordinary thing I've ever felt.
I slip the dress down to her hips and let the fabric pool there while I take my time exploring the canvas of her body, touching, tasting, licking, absorbing her every reaction.
She's fucking art... the most exquisite thing I've ever seen.
And she doesn't take her eyes off me the entire time, watching me even as her eyes flutter when the pleasure ripples deep or the intensity of my touch overcomes her.
It's like she, too, is afraid that if we stop, or look away from one another, that it will all be over, that she will wake and this will all have been some crazy, eggnog-fueled fever dream she'll never be able to recapture.
Her stomach dips with the intensity of her breaths as I skim my hand lower, grazing along her thigh and wrapping around it to find her center.
Again, I scan her face for any sign of uncertainty, any hint of fear or pain, but she lifts her hips for me, her chest swelling with the impact of a nervous breath.
"Take me." She assures me. "I'm yours."
She's mine.
She always has been. In life, in death, in whatever the fuck this is.
A whimper slips past her quivering lips as I brush the pad of my thumb along her slit and up to the treasure between her thighs.
I have watched her fall apart a hundred times, and I was the cause of all of them until this last one, when Nick forced it on her.
It was one too many, a pleasure I need to unwrite and cover with something better.
Our love is boundless; so is the pleasure. As I stroke between her legs, she whimpers, the neediest sound I've ever heard, and it sinks deeper than my flesh. It brands my fucking soul.
"Noah..."
I know her body better than she does... the exact speed, the right amount of pressure, the cadence to keep her on a slow build to a climax that will be more earth-shattering than anything she's ever felt. My name turns into a prayer, and suddenly, I don't care where we go from here.
We spent a life planning for an eternity of riches... but she is the riches. We were warned not to take another idol, to worship only one God... but right now, there's only one thing on this earth that's worth worshipping, and it isn't the figure on the cross staring down at us.
It's a slow walk to the edge, leisurely, because we have all the time in the world, and I'm enjoying every miniscule reaction, every breath and flutter.
And when we get to the edge, I keep her there, my beautiful hostage, so brave in giving me her body, so vulnerable and raw and so damn willing to accept me making her my playground.
We've made each other real in every sense of the word, the pleasure pulsing through us so acutely that it demands release soon.
I watch her lips form words that never make it off her tongue, and I watch as I bring her to a crescendo that crashes around us in the most exquisite symphony as the bells chime in their tower somewhere in the distance, setting a pace that I work her through.
And as the final bell tolls, I release her from the pleasure, dragging my hand from her body just long enough to free myself of my pants.
Her eyes are locked on mine when I line myself up with her entrance, waiting for another little nod of permission as she licks the sweat from the top of her lip, assuring me that she wants this as much as I do.
I imagined what being sheathed inside of her would feel like.
I've explored her with my fingers so many times and admired the silky warmth, the way it made me feel so encompassed by her.
But I never could have imagined the exquisite pleasure of pushing into her wet heat, feeling her convulse around me as her heavy breaths shake her whole body.
I wonder if it hurts, or if pleasure is all we're capable of now, as she expands to make room for me, letting me sink slowly deeper than I've ever been before.
And when I'm fully seated, when I can go no further, I grab beneath her knee, lifting her to me and sliding further in, testing how deep we can go.
I'd crawl inside of her if I could, and I don't know if that's love or obsession, but it doesn't fucking matter. It's the truth.
"Noah..." She cries for me, pleads for me, in the sweetest fucking voice, her eyes fluttering closed and her lips pressed together, holding onto whatever it is she isn't letting out.
"Open up for me." I tell her, pressing a kiss to the thigh still draped across my forearm. "Give me everything and take all that I give."
"I... can't..."
"You're doing so good," I praise her, soaking in the feeling of her walls clamping around me, desperately urging me to do something... anything.
"I can't... I need you to... Noah!" Her pleas turn to a whine as I retreat, easing back so that I can push in again, deeper this time.
"Relax, sweetheart. I've waited an eternity for this... I'm not going to let it end in a single stroke."
She laughs—actually laughs— and her body welcomes me in again before she grips the back of my neck, her nails digging into the flesh.
"Don't stop."
I didn't plan to.