Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
EWAN
This week has lasted for eternity, and it’s only Thursday. Our busiest days are still ahead.
I sink onto the couch and rest my head against the back, closing my eyes just for one second.
I promised to flip through some of the books that arrived today.
Kieran must have ordered everything had on the subject of demons and spirits.
He and Josh already went through everything the library had on offer, and aside from the usual talk of demons being bad, there was nothing there.
“Want a beer?” Daniel offers from the doorway to the kitchen.
“No, thanks.” A beer would likely put me to sleep right now.
I haven’t been getting enough rest this week.
Aside from the extra work we’ve been doing to set up the cabin, and the mind fuck of having a soul-eating demon and a gate to the underworld or wherever on the property, I’ve been worried about Josh.
He seems to be taking it personally that there’s no easy way to resolve this.
Prying my eyes open, I nab the top book from the pile. It has a very homemade-looking cover, but we’re hoping the less-mainstream books will have some tidbits we can actually use.
I’m flipping pages slowly, scanning my gaze down each one, when I sense a presence beside me on the couch and look up to see Carter.
“Didn’t we talk about you announcing yourself somehow?” I grumble, returning my gaze to the page. It’s only halfhearted, though. Now that I know how hard he and the other ghosts have been working to keep us all safe, I’m inclined to cut them some slack.
“Hattie thinks you should come to the house and talk to Josh,” he informs me, and my head snaps up.
“Why? Is he okay?”
Carter shrugs. “I think he’s fine, but Hattie says he’s depressed. Maisie thinks he needs a good seeing to, so I said I’d come and get you.”
I blink even as Daniel bursts out in loud laughter.
“Carter,” I protest, “you promised to keep it a secret.”
“I did! I didn’t say you’d seen to him before—”
“Okay, wait. You’ve gotta stop saying it like that,” Daniel interrupts.
Carter huffs. “—I just suggested that if he needed a s— er, company, you would be a good person to do it. Give him… company. And they all agreed.”
“Even Josh?” I ask pointedly, and he pulls a face.
“We didn’t ask him.”
I sigh, close the book, and stand.
“You’re going to proposition Josh because the ghosts suggested it?” Daniel asks incredulously.
I glare at him. “No. But if Josh is feeling down, he might like some company. And some bourbon. Or maybe just the bourbon. Either way, I can take it over and check on him.”
Daniel loses interest once he’s sure the possibility of salacious gossip is past. He’s a simple man.
I put shoes on and grab a nearly full liquor bottle from the cabinet over the fridge. We don’t drink much of the hard stuff here on the estate, but my sister gave me this for my birthday.
The walk up to the house is lovely—quiet, since Carter has either stayed behind or done his zippy ghost thing to beat me there—and I’m humming with good feelings when I let myself in through the staff door.
I’m not sure how many guests we have tonight, but it’s still early enough that I can hear people in the kitchen, probably cleaning up after dinner.
I slip past, not wanting to answer questions, and head up to the attic.
Josh answers the door on the first knock. He’s changed into sweatpants and a faded old tee that’s clearly shrunk in the wash, and he looks delectable.
“Ewan.” The note of surprise is clear. “Is there a problem?”
I shake my head. “Nope. It’s been a bitch of a week, and I thought you might like to forget it for a while.” I hold up the bottle, and a smile breaks over his face.
“You have the best ideas. Come in.” He takes a step back and gestures, but I hesitate.
“Are you sure? If you want quiet, I don’t mind leaving the bottle and going.”
He bites his lip. “If that’s what you prefer…”
Something slams into my back, shoving me hard, and I stumble forward into the apartment.
“Johnny!” Josh scolds. I turn to look just as Johnny disappears from my sight.
“Is he gone or just not visible to me?”
“Gone.” He scowls at the empty hallway, then reaches out and takes the bottle from me, the sparkly blue of his fingernails looking great against the amber liquid. “C’mon, let’s drink.”
I close the door behind me and obediently follow him to the kitchen island.
The last time I was in here was when I helped Adele move, and even though the furniture is mostly the same, it feels different now.
Maybe because Adele loved floral cushions and throws and tchotchkes, and from the looks of it, Josh would be fine living in a cave with a single military surplus blanket.
But he brings out two plain glass tumblers, the kind they sell in a four-pack at the grocery store, and grabs the ice-cube tray from the freezer.
What more can a man ask for?
We move to the couch, and he pours with a heavy hand. I have a strong feeling I’m not going to be at my best tomorrow. Luckily, it’s Daniel’s morning to get up for the animals, so I can have an extra hour in bed.
“Cheers,” he says, holding up his glass. “To a totally fucked-up week. May it end soon.”
“Hell, yeah.” I clink my glass to his and then take a bigger gulp than I probably should. The liquor burns pleasantly all the way down my esophagus.
For a long moment, we sit in silence. Josh is staring into the distance, a contemplative look on his face. Maybe he’d rather be alone after all? Did Johnny force his hand?
Should I offer to leave?
“What’s on your mind?” I venture. That gives him an opening to tell me he’s tired, right?
Dragging his attention back, he looks over at me and smiles wryly. “I was just thinking that if I drink enough of this, I’ll be able to suck your dick and then tell myself I did it because of the alcohol.”
Um.
“Really?” I ask weakly. What the heck else can I say? Not that I’d let him if he was drunk—not when sober Josh made it clear he didn’t want anything more to happen between us.
He nods. “Yup. But then I realized that would be a crappy thing to do. And that if I want it enough sober to get drunk to do it, then I should just get over myself and do it sober. Right?”
I’m not even sure if that sentence made sense, but if he’s asking me if I think he should blow me, there’s only one possible answer. “Yes. Definitely.”
He sets his barely touched glass on the coffee table and slides off the couch to kneel in front of me. Oh my god, this is really going to happen. Coming here tonight was the best decision I’ve ever made.
Except…
I catch his hands in my free one as he reaches for my pants. “Wait… is this going to make you uncomfortable with me again? Because even though you give the best blowjobs I’ve ever had, I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”
He heaves a big sigh. “Why’d you have to say that? Now I have feelings.”
Say what?
“I won’t hate you,” he promises. “We’ll be friends.”
Who am I to say no to that? I let go of his hand, toss back the remainder of my bourbon, and set the empty glass on the arm of the couch while Josh opens my pants and pulls out my cock.
“Mm, hello,” he murmurs. “Remember me?”
I snort. “Are you seriously talking to my dick?”
He licks the head, making me break out in a sweat, then smiles wickedly up at me. “Shh. We’re having a moment.”
I don’t have the chance to answer before he swallows me whole and I lose every ounce of brainpower I’ve ever possessed.
I’d almost forgotten this from our night together—if Josh has a gag reflex, it’s so miniscule it might as well not exist. Which is how he takes me halfway down his throat in that first moment.
“Fuck!” It bursts from me in a harsh exhalation as my hand finds its way to Josh’s hair. The cool, silky strands slide through my fingers as he draws back, working the head with his tongue, tracing along the vein that runs along the underside, then plunging back down.
I force myself to keep my eyes open, wanting so desperately to watch. Josh holds my gaze, his mouth stretched wide around me, and I emblazon this image in my memory. It’s what I want to envision in future while I jerk myself raw.
He pulls back so only the head is in his mouth, cool air whispering over my spit-damp flesh, and sucks lightly. A deep moan is torn from my chest. Distantly, I notice Josh’s arm moving and realize he has his hand in his sweatpants. Good. Although I really want to take a turn getting him off later.
His mouth slides back down the length of me, and for a second, my eyes fall closed.
I pry them open, not wanting to miss anything, and slip my hand from his hair to lightly clasp around his throat, feeling the way he’s working my cock from yet another angle.
Each breath is being torn from my lungs, desperate, needy. I can’t hold on much longer.
But then, judging by the glazed passion in his gaze, neither can he. His arm is moving faster now, almost frantically, as he slowly draws back up my dick, the clasp of his lips so tight around me.
Then he places his other hand low on the sensitive skin of my abdomen, right above my cock, and a tremor runs through me. Almost involuntarily, I look at his hand. The sparkly blue of his nails is bright against my skin… and pushes me over the edge. I come so hard, I think I black out.
I open my eyes in time to see Josh wiping his mouth with one hand and his other hand down the leg of his sweatpants. He’s breathing even harder than I am.
“Come here,” I gasp, patting my lap. “Let me—”
“No need,” he declares, scrambling to his feet. “Gimme a sec. Help yourself to another drink.”
I twist my head around to watch him go into the bathroom, then lever myself forward and grab for the bottle, refilling my glass and topping off his. By the time he comes out, wearing a different pair of sweats, my breathing is almost back to normal.