Dominated by the Ghost: An Alpha Ghost BBW Romance Read online

  “Where's he from?” asked Jenny.

  “Romania, maybe. Or somewhere similar. If you're interested in steampunk, there's a party in town tonight.”

  “I'd love to go,” said Ana.

  “Over twenty-ones only, I'm afraid,” said Bruce. “But your mum could go.”

  When they arrived back at the guest house they found Razvan lounging in the front room, with his long nose in a classic work of literature.

  “Jenny is interested in the steampunk party this evening,” said Bruce.

  “I'm not really,” said Jenny. “I was just wondering, really.”

  “Excellent,” said Razvan, slamming shut his book. “Starts at eight. I've given myself the evening off, so Bruce will have to stay in.”

  “What?” said Bruce.

  “Of course, you will need a costume,” Razvan continued.

  “Well, I don't have any costumes, so it’s not really possible,” Jenny said.

  “I have something for you,” said Razvan. “One moment.” He disappeared, then came back with a garment bag. The covering was dark, so Jenny couldn’t see the costume inside. “This will do,” Razvan said.

  “What is it?” asked Jenny.

  “It will be fine for you,” said Razvan dismissively. “Just put it on.”

  Jenny looked at Bruce in question. He just smiled and nodded. “Nothing else for it,” he said. “Razvan always gets his way.”

  As they climbed the stairs, Ana said, “He's weird, isn't he?”

  “A bit odd,” Jenny agreed.

  “He looks like Johnny Depp.”

  Jenny was shocked. “No way. He looks nothing like him.”

  “Yes,” insisted Ana. “A bit old and a bit strange. But still a bit good-looking.”

  Jenny suddenly realized that maybe even Johnny Depp had finally become old.

  “He looks like something from a Tim Burton film,” Jenny said. “That is probably true.”

  She put on the costume and then knocked on Ana's door. Her daughter's eyes became as wide as saucers.

  “A nun,” she exclaimed.

  “This can't be right, can it?”

  Ana shrugged. “Maybe. I don't know. You look good in it, anyway.”

  “I look good as a nun,” said Jenny. “I'm not sure what to make of that.”

  She went downstairs to find Razvan back in his chair with his book.

  “Fabulous,” he said when he saw her. “Jenny, you look fabulous.”

  “Are you going to change?” she asked him.

  “But I have,” he said, even though the only thing that seemed to be different was that he had put on a red smoking jacket.

  “What are you?” she asked.

  “A vampire, of course,” he replied, looking a little disgruntled that she’d had to ask.

  “But you look the same as normal,” Jenny said.

  “Indeed,” said Razvan, taking her arm and escorting her to the door.

  Well, this was not how she had expected her holiday to go, Jenny reflected as she walked down the street. She had expected her first night to be spent in bed with a book, not going to a party, dressed as a nun and escorted by a man who claimed to be a vampire.

  She needed a drink, she decided, and when she got to the party she helped herself to a large one and from then on surprised herself by having a great deal of fun.

  Razvan seemed to disappear and then mysteriously pop up again through the night, while she drank, chatted, and even danced a little with people she did not know. In the back of her mind she knew that this was the pent up frustrations of the previous months all coming out in one night's drinking. But there it was, she thought, she was on holiday.

  Towards the end of the night the party spilled out onto the street and noisily made its way around the town towards the Abbey. Just as the full moon was rising above the hillside, she felt Razvan take her hand.

  “Time for home,” he told her in his strange accent.

  They seemed to glide through the city streets together and when they reached the guest house, the front door appeared to open before them.

  “How you do that?” she asked drunkenly.

  “Special talent,” he whispered.

  “Do you have many special talents?” she asked.

  “We shall see,” he said and they rose up the flights of steps and she knew that she was well and truly under his spell and he could have her now and there was no reason on God's earth why she shouldn't let him. “And I’m saying this,” she told him, “as a committed nun.”

  He’d chuckled and kissed her neck.

  In her room, Razvan pulled her into an embrace. Jenny could feel the cloth of her habit catching against the lush velvet of his long overcoat. Jenny let her head fall back so her white neck curved like a swan's and was exposed to him.

  Razvan undressed her, slowly and gently. The moonlight played on her skin painting it white, and Razvan covered it with kisses. All the while he fingers caressed her back. To her complete amazement, Jenny felt herself slowly becoming more and more aroused.

  “Shhh, shhh …,” Razvan whispered, caressing her breasts with his fingertips. All along he spoke to her in his strange and deep Eastern accent. He whispered and stroked her as if she were a nervous colt and that needed to be reassured before being broken in.

  She felt a swelling of emotion inside her that escaped in a long a sigh. The emotions produced hot prickles of tears that welled in her eyes. She turned her face away from him as if ashamed, and with a long shudder she submitted and gave herself up to him.

  He laid her down on the bed and bent over her. “You’re mine,” he said. “I’m going to savor you like a man before his favorite meal.”

  Jenny felt herself placed on the platter, which was at once thrilling and downright repulsive. Involuntarily, she arched her back, supine before him, and she saw him lick his lips. In the cruel, cold moonlight Jenny could make out the moisture glistening on his brow and above his thin lips. His vermilion tongue appeared snake-like and flickered like a flame over his sharp, white teeth.

  He laid a strong hand on her shoulder, and with surprising delicacy, the fingers worked her flesh. The hand traveled down the arch of her spine. The other hand lifted her off the bed towards him, while the first continued its inevitable voyage, tenderly tracing her curves, back, down, and around to the eventual roundness of her buttocks.

  He raised his hand so that it touched her neck and the soft caresses of his fingertips on her throat raised the hairs all over her body. An electric charge spread throughout her. She felt she was in danger, but it was danger so delicious she hurried towards it. She knew now there was nothing she could do to prevent it and so she went on like a barrel bobbling towards the edge of the falls.

  He ran his forefinger and thumb along her throat, sending a hard arrow of pleasure straight into her center.

  “What is this mad spell have you put on me?” Jenny found herself asking in a husky and low whisper. The sound reverberated beneath his hand.

  Razvan gazed deeply into her eyes. “The very same spell that you have cast on me.” His fingers moved up to her chin then her cheeks. Then he gently massaged her eyelids, ever so delicately so that he came in and out of focus.

  With the other hand he reached down over her neck and let it play on her chest. He cupped her breasts, sighing in delight.

  “Your breasts are absolutely divine,” he whispered. His joy was so real and unconfined, Jenny almost laughed. Not once in her life had she ever considered her breasts divine. Tom had never said as much and in that very moment Razvan had done what no man had done before and let a lifetime of concern about her body slip away as easily as he had taken her out of her clothes. She raised her head to watch as he licked her nipples hungrily.

  His tongue flicked desperately over her nipples and she could feel herself warming under his touch. Razvan lavished himself upon her body. She breathed him in and the bittersweet scent of him flooded through her.

  And now his fingers had r
eached between her legs.

  “Take me how you wish,” she heard herself whisper. His face was down near hers now and his breath was hot in her ear.

  “Be in me now,” she told him.

  He stood back from her so that he was in front of the window. The moon shone behind him, and in its shadow he freed himself from his clothes. Jenny gasped. He was beautiful and terrible, a god of a man with finely sculpted muscles, pale and hard as if he’d been sculpted from alabaster. The expression on his face was one of raw need as he stood over Jenny and gazed upon her nakedness.

  And then he fell upon her like a wolf from the mountains of his homeland. It seemed to Jenny as if she were being devoured by lust, coarse and primeval. He licked and bit and sucked and scratched, and she went with it, desperately clinging onto the bed sheets as he rode her through the moonlit night.

  And they were on the pathway that was made for only them. They were out in the wildness of the forests, far from the present, a place where no time existed, where all of Jenny's memories and references were lost in the swirling pool in which she found herself. She had no past behind her, and no future ahead. There was nothing but him and he filled her completely. Sensation was everything. Wild and thrilling sensation that made her claw the sheets and twist her neck. Sensation destroyed everything else until it was all she was. The feeling swelled in her as if she were a ship tossed around on an ocean of pleasure. Their limbs slid against each other, slick with sweat as they performed their mad, involuntary dance.

  His thrusts came cautiously at first as he seemed to gauge the sensation, the effect upon her body. Then, as she responded, he thrust again, harder and with a devilish urgency. And then he was gone, careening off into the dark wild lands of eternity. Beneath him in that moment, Jenny realized that all her essence and all life everywhere could be distilled down to these heart-pounding minutes in which her body responded to its deepest mechanisms. These moment where their lives, their whole existences, bodies, minds, imaginations, DNA, crashed into each other, he like an enormous wave upon her beach.

  Jenny gasped, and forced her hands from the sheets so she could touch his perfect skin. His muscles rippled beneath her touch, and he felt smooth, hard, powerful. He dipped into her faster and faster, and she bit her lips to keep from crying out, and then it happened—she exploded in all-encompassing pleasure.

  Each part of her body felt fragmented. Feeling like a collection of doll parts, she lay there, panting. He had made her whole then pulled her apart again. And without thinking she chased after him, not willing to fall back into normality, not willing to go back to the sane, rational existence. The beast in her was free and it would not now be contained.

  As Razvan slid down on top of her, letting out a deep and satisfied sigh, she twisted from under him. He was still excited and she sucked and licked him like a ravenous wolf desperate for the blood.

  Razvan moaned at her attentions and when he was ready for her again, Jenny swung a leg over his waist and tangled her fingers in his hair. She pumped herself up and down, delighting in the sensations once again building within her body. Razvan responded and again they were set loose across the wild land that neither of them wanted to return from.

  They danced in this way until the moon had left the night's sky and gray dawn filtered through the window, and then Razvan was gone.

  The days after the night with Razvan were like the days after getting very drunk. Jenny was on edge and frankly amazed at herself. She was not entirely sure how it had happened or even what exactly had happened. She was sure she had never experienced the like of it before, and quite sure she would never do it again. But that didn't necessarily mean she regretted it.

  She spent those days floating around the tourist shops with Ana, who appeared increasingly bored.

  One evening she was lying in bed reading when Tom phoned, demanding to speak to Ana.

  “You've got her number,” she said, “if you want to speak to her, phone her not me.”

  “She's not answering,” said Tom. “What have you said to her?”

  “I've said nothing,” she replied. “And if I did say something, what could possibly be worse than the truth?” In the background she could hear his girlfriend pestering him. “She's still with you then?”

  “Of course she is,” he said, but he sounded weary.

  “What happens when the money runs out?” she asked.

  “Never mind that,” he said testily. “Just ask Ana to call me, will you? And by the way, I think it's totally wrong of you to go away like this. This will count against you.”

  “You think it’s wrong of us to go away,” Jenny said, genuinely amazed. “That's rather ironic, don't you think? Considering.”

  The line went dead. He’d hung up on her, but really, she wasn’t surprised.

  She considered ignoring his request, but instead, sighed and got up. She knocked gently on Ana's door.

  “Come in,” Ana said. She was reading with the light on.

  “Your dad asked you to call him.”

  “Yeah,” said Ana, “I'll maybe give him a ring tomorrow.”

  Jenny went back to her room, thinking how nice it would be if she had Bruce's strong arms to fall into, and how lovely it would be to lie with her head resting on his chest.

  From her pillow she gazed at the black outline of the Abbey against the blue-black sky. She thought of Razvan. She thought of how wrong it had all been but how it was all deliciously right.

  Jenny closed her eyes and thought of Bruce again. For a moment she thought she might be tempted to combine the two thoughts, and then she fell asleep.

  The next morning, Bruce presented them with two tickets for the steam train across the moors.

  “It was the one they used to film Harry Potter,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

  “That's really kind of you,” said Jenny. “Thank you ever so much. I think we will have a lot of fun.”

  Ana regarded the tickets suspiciously as she crunched her cereal. When they were waiting on the platform she turned to Jenny and said, “Does he think I'm an eight-year-old boy?”

  “Come on, he's being friendly. It was a lovely thing to do. Anyway,” she said, “I'm excited, and I’m not an eight-year-old boy.”

  Ana dug her hands into her pockets. They heard the steam engine a long time before they saw it. Then it came into view, the steam billowing out from the tracks until it covered them both. Jenny laughed, loving the magical experience.

  The train took them out over the moors. Jenny sat by the window, happily watching the countryside go by, while Ana sat determinedly looking at her phone. But, decided Jenny, no one, not even a moody adolescent, could resist the charms of a steam train for long. On the way back, she spotted Ana breaking into a smile as a group of young children waved enthusiastically from a passing roadside.

  Back at the guest house in the evening, Jenny decided to find Bruce and thank him once again. He was cleaning a recently vacated room.

  “Give me twenty minutes,” he said, “and then if you really want to thank me, you can buy me a pint in the pub.”

  She went up to see Ana. She was watching a TV series and barely seemed to register Jenny’s presence. “I won't be back late,” she told her.

  But in the end she was. Jenny had no idea how the time went so quickly. Bruce was an easy person to talk to and she spoke a lot and at the same time learned a lot about him.

  “How do you think the separation will end?” he asked.

  “Divorce,” she said, without a pause. “There's no way back now. It's the way it is, even though it's horrible, and maybe I should try harder, but I just can’t.”

  “You can't blame yourself,” he said. “It's clear that you were the victim in all this.”

  “Not me,” she said, “but Ana. I can't help feeling that she's been let down. Two weeks ago she comes home with a tattoo of a cross, here,” she said, pointing to the base of her neck. “Can you believe that?”

  “It's not the same,
these days.” he said. “Kids today get tattoos as often as we buy clothes.”

  He went to the bar and got two more drinks. It was after closing time before they finally left and walked slowly back to the guest house.

  Bruce took two bottles from the kitchen, red for him, and white for her. “Will you sit with me?” he asked.

  She grinned. “Of course.”

  He led her to the bottom steps of the stairway, where they sat whispering loudly and hushing each other, in case they woke the guests.

  Jenny nudged her shoulder against him in a drunken friendly way, and Bruce put his arm around her. She looked at him. He was very handsome, she thought, and then they kissed. Bruce’s lips were warm, and he tasted sweet like wine. Jenny sighed into the kiss, feeling immense comfort.

  When they broke away, they continued to look at each other, calmly, knowing that some difficult and important question and been resolved.

  “I can walk on my hands across the hall,” said Bruce.

  Jenny laughed at the way he had broken the seriousness of the moment. “Don't be ridiculous, at this hour you can barely walk across there on your feet.”

  “Sure, I can do that.”

  “And why would you be able to do that?”

  “Army training,” said Bruce.

  “Army training,” repeated Jenny. “What's the good of being able to walk on your hands in a war?”

  “Confuse the enemy,” said Bruce. “Make them think you've got no head.”

  Jenny laughed, causing a little wine to go up her nose. “Don't be stupid,” she said, holding her hand over her face. “Ouch, it burns.”

  “Also,” said Bruce, “it’s good training for conflict in Australia.”

  “Whatever,” said Jenny, “I don't believe you.”

  “If I can't do it,” said Bruce, “I'll bring you breakfast in bed, every day of your stay.”

  “Done,” said Jenny laughing.

  “However,” said Bruce, “if I can do it, you have to do something for me.”

  “What's that?” she asked.

  “Striptease,” he said.

  Jenny nearly spat out her wine. “No way. You have to be kidding.”