Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
The Horseman
My nightingale is no virgin, but her cunt flows as if she’s never been touched.
Never been sated, perhaps. She thought the orgasm I gave her with my tongue was some type of muscular or medical ailment.
There is a ring on her left finger. Where is that man tonight?
The better question is, why does my little bird know so little about her own body?
My fingers curl upward as the heel of my palm presses against her clit. The reaction is instantaneous. Her body shudders, not a full climax, but something sinful enough to have her mouth falling open and an unfiltered moan rolling forward.
“Do you want more?” My cock jumps when she nods. “Everything?”
Pulling her lip between her teeth, she considers. It doesn’t take long. Her eyes are hooded, swimming with desire. “Yes.”
Lifting her by the hips, I urge her legs to wrap around my waist. When my cock nudges her entrance, her eyes fly to where mine would be if they were visible.
“No. Watch.”
She shifts her gaze between her thighs to where my thick cock is slowly impaling her.
It’s fucking glorious. Even though my body is invisible to the naked eye, its effects are obvious.
Her pussy parts, slowly stretching wider as I fill her.
I tilt her hips up, allowing me to better see inside.
Every hidden, wet part of her spreads as I plunge deeper.
She’s silent, mouth open.
Her walls grip me with such force, my breath snags in my throat. Her muscles fight, whether to push me out or pull me in tighter, I cannot tell. All I know is she is squeezing every inch of me so intensely that I have to force myself not to come.
Emeline stares down, eyes wide at the sight of herself being spread open. Has she never studied that part of herself? Never pleasured her own body?
She gasps, fingers digging into my shoulders as I push deeper. My thumb runs through her arousal and presses against her clit, grinding against it with steady pressure. It relaxes her. When I feel her walls begin to flutter, I start to move.
I’m satisfied enough with pushing in to the hilt.
That move was all for me. Now that it’s time to focus on my nightingale, I shift to short, firm thrusts, only putting my first few inches inside.
My thumb remains in motion, gliding across her clit as I fuck straight into the spot that I’d bet she didn’t know existed before me.
Emeline’s moans are tinged with a raw desperation that draws me closer to my own climax. Out of my peripherals, I catch sight of the mounted heads from my little killing spree. We have an audience. Dead eyes watch us. Fucking hell, it makes me harder than before.
Do not focus on dead things when you’re fucking the living. A reminder that should not have to be thought. I doubt my nightingale knows just how twisted I am.
“Sing for me, nightingale. Show me how good I make you feel. Thank me for killing all those bad men for you.”
“Thank you, thank you.” Her words match the pace of the rough snap of my hips. “Thank you, thank you, thank…you.” The final syllable scrapes out of her as a guttural sound of pleasure tears out from between her trembling lips.
My gaze shifts to her open core. I can see the muscles tightening.
Arousal coats my shaft, momentarily giving it a visible physical form.
I need a visible body. There’s something erotic about seeing inside my little bird, but when I take her from behind or when I fuck her face and come across those soft, bouncing tits, I want to see it.
Cum races out of me, so hot and fast that a sharp pain tugs at my balls as they empty. Emeline’s heavy-lidded eyes snap open, clarity overtaking them as she feels me filling her up.
“Did the man who gave you that ring never flood your pussy until it spilled back down his cock?” The words crunch out of me like gravel as my climax finishes.
“Leed always finished on the sheets,” she pants out, her voice deeper than usual.
Leed, is it? The perfect name for an idiot husband who would rather spill himself on the sheets than into a soaked, screaming woman. No wonder Emeline knows nothing of sex.
My hips slow, but before I withdraw, I tilt her face down to watch. I don’t know when our bodies got so close. I was so caught up in the rapture and awe of it all that I forgot to make her look the whole time.
“Your husband sounds like a boy. You’ve been needing a good fucking by a man.” I pull out slowly, letting her watch as my spend drips from her swollen pussy. My cum is not invisible. A fact I find wildly amusing.
Emeline gasps when I empty her fully. Those plump lips are parted, her breaths still heavy as she looks again to the place where my face should be.
I’ve already had her, but in this moment, I’m overcome with the need to kiss her. She isn’t expecting it. Of course not, she can’t see me as I lean toward her. The only warning she gets is my thumb and forefinger against her jaw as I tilt her face up to meet mine.
Our mouths connect and the world goes very quiet. All thoughts of the hell I’ve been trapped in before now. Every worry of what the future holds when I’m banished once again. All of it disappears, silenced by the featherlight lips tentatively pressed against mine.
Emeline sighs, draping her arms over my neck and melting into the kiss. I could stay in this moment with my golden-haired star, lip-locked, blood-stained, bathed beneath the light of the moon, for eternity.
When our kiss ends, she’s smiling. “It’s hard to believe The Headless Horseman not only has a head, but a beautifully soft pair of lips, too.”
My fingers bury in her thick hair as I steal one last taste.
“Tomorrow night, you will give me a visible body. Then I’ll show you everything you’ve been missing and all the things that are possible between two people.
Things you’ve never even thought to consider.
I’ll spend an agonizing amount of time on each part and position. ”
She flushes. “Tomorrow night.”
I nod. Tomorrow night. I’ll finally have my body back. The curse will be broken. And with any luck, I won’t have to be banished back to the demon realm. A detail I haven’t mentioned to Emeline yet.
If all goes as planned, we’ll have plenty of time for questions and answers at the start of a new forever.
I shake my head. Look at you, gone soft for a gold-haired creature with a magical voice and even more magical cunt. Just thinking of what lies between her thighs has me hard again. She gasps as I lay her down, settling between her thighs and taking her again without a moment’s hesitation.
I’ve not gone soft. Not where it counts, at least.
I’ve hidden the heads before sunrise. It won’t do to have the villagers alerting Itrimort and hunting me down. I’m still not to full strength, though I’ve regained my powers faster than ever before.
In addition to blood and carnage, my magic seems to feed off of Emeline. Her body, moans, the invisible but fully felt marks from her nails down my back. All of it fuels me.
Horace and I are hidden deep in the western woods.
Emeline claims no one comes here. She says this part of the forest is haunted.
She’s right. There’s a small but deeply haunted acre amongst the trees.
A trapped soul turned shrieking ghoul. I can feel the exact spot where its cursed patch of forest ends. That is where we linger.
Horace sleeps, peaceful even in the presence of the ghoul’s tainted energy and sudden screams. He’s unbothered by most things.
The skeletal horse doesn’t even seem to notice that his ribcage is filling up with foliage.
The trees are doing a mass shedding today.
There’s a steady flow of leaves raining down.
The gentle pattering of their crisp edges hits the soft earth and fills the silent moments between the ghoul’s cries.
Enough leaves accumulate in his pale skeleton that he ends up colored orange and red.
Tonight, I’ll finally be gifted a body. Once I’m visible in flesh and blood I’ll send Itrimort back to his prison below.
A familiar wallowing feeling creeps in. What will become of me when I’m done?
Will I be banished to the demon realm the moment I’ve completed my task?
Will Emeline lock me away as all others have done before her?
Will my new body save me from the curse I’ve suffered for so long?
Even amongst haunted places, I’m more relaxed here than in the demon realm. The air is so clear up above. The sun is blinding, shining from its hiding spot behind the soft autumn clouds. I don’t want to go back to darkness and torment. I can’t bear to leave everything behind again.
A scream reaches my ears from somewhere closer to town. This one does not belong to the ghoul. Horace’s head pops up. His ear bones twitch forward. The sound has caught his attention too. I give him a gentle pat.
“I’ll check it out.”
I know the hanging tree even before I see it. Death permeates the air. Its branches have darkened and twisted, changed by the energy from the horrors its had to bear witness to. Maybe I’ll burn the tree down before I leave Sleepy Hollow, release all that darkness trapped within.
Male voices and female cries grow louder as I creep closer.
Three men stand in front of a barrel. The sobbing woman shakes atop it, noose slung around her thin neck. A sweaty, balding man looks side to side. “Reverend Statton isn’t here.”
“He doesn’t have to be. I’m certain she’s a witch.” That confident voice belongs to the tallest of the trio.
“Listen, I’ve been on board with all of the trials so far. But this one feels like it could be personal for you.”
The tallest man shoots a glare his way. “The extermination of witches from our town is personal. Itrimort himself—”