Tuesday, April 16, 2013
SERAFINA AND THE VIRTUAL MAN by Marie Treanor
SERAFINA AND THE VIRTUAL MAN by Marie Treanor
Serafina's, Book 2
Real man versus dead man - no contest!
Dale Ewan, the wealthy owner of Genesis Gaming, has a serious poltergeist problem. In desperation, he calls on Edinburgh's unique psychic investigation agency, Serafina's.
But Sera and her hacker friend, the beautiful and aggressive Jilly, find more than one spirit haunting the ugly country house. While Sera fights the poltergeist, Jilly encounters what appears to be the ghost of Dale's brilliant ex-partner, Genesis Adam, trapped in his own new virtual reality system.
Jilly delves headlong into Adam's mystery. How did he get there? Why is he more exciting and attractive than any of the real men in her life? How are Jilly's own criminal brothers involved in his death? And what are Dale and his wife Petra hiding? Apart from the body buried in their garden...
While Jilly falls in love with the sexy, virtual ghost, Sera has problems of her own, not least the shadowy presence of the undead Founder that seems to threaten Sera, her vampire lover Blair, and all her friends.
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He groaned into her mouth and lifted his head. His breathing was ragged, his voice unsteady. “Would you allow a dead man to make love to you?”
Jilly, who’d had such difficulty encountering a live one she could even tolerate, just said, “Please, please…” in a mindless sort of way she suspected she’d despise in the morning. Right now, it didn’t matter, since she was pulling him with her toward the large, ornate bed.
He muttered something beneath his breath, and suddenly he lifted her off her feet and strode across the room with her. Now here was the Rhett Butler that Dave Jenner had so signally failed to emulate the other night—masterful, urgent, strong. And yet he laid her on the bed with gentleness and straightened to drop the braces from his shoulders and tear off his tie and shirt.
She reached for him, and he came into her arms as if it was the most natural place in the world to be. He lay over her, his body deliciously heavy on her hips, her pubic bone. His still-covered erection pushed between her parted thighs. His skin felt warm and smooth under her hands as she ran them over his shoulders and arms and back. He was beautiful, she realised; a naked man could be astoundingly beautiful, and suddenly she wanted to see all of him.
She wriggled under him, which had the additional advantage of pleasing her body, so avid now for new and greater thrills, pushing at him until his face changed and he yanked himself off her as if afraid he’d been hurting her. Suddenly terrified he’d go too far away, she seized his naked shoulder, pushing him onto his back on the pillows so she could stroke his lean, broad chest.
Breathing deeply, he let her, watching with obvious pleasure. She smiled and kissed his chest just above the nipple, then the nipple itself, letting her lips linger there to enjoy the novel sensation.
Muttering something that was at least half groan, he reached up to the unseen fastenings of her dress and tugged once. It slipped down her shoulders to her elbows, revealing some weird corsetry that he began to unfasten at her back, hook by hook. His gaze never left hers, and suddenly it was unspeakably exciting to feel his fingers working at her back, knowing that any moment, she’d be naked. Greatly daring, she traced one finger down the central line of his chest to the waistband of his trousers. She unfastened the buttons there and kept going, revealing the fine line of hair that ran from his belly button into his shorts.
She paused. The full length of his erection lay thick and hard over his flat stomach. She laid her hand over it, and he exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath for ages. She liked the feel of it, hot, ridged, enticing; she yearned to see it.
But she hesitated, suddenly unsure. A thread of panic brushed through her, threatening her with memory. But he seemed to read her mind and obligingly shoved his trousers and underwear down over his hips.
Her breath caught. He took her hand, and, under her widening eyes, he kissed her fingers and palm and then placed them over his naked cock. She swallowed. The skin felt so soft over all that steely hardness, so amazingly hot under her hand. She closed her fingers around the shaft, and he smiled at her.
“Oh yes,” he approved softly, and then, swiftly, he sat up and rolled her under him, and there was no dress, no corset between them. A quick scuffle of his feet, and the last of his own troublesome clothes vanished too. His hand closed over one breast, softly, tenderly caressing.
Slowly, oh so arousingly, he lowered his gaze from her eyes to her uncovered breast.
“Fuck,” he said huskily. “I knew you’d be beautiful all over. But your breast is like…” As if he ran out of words, he lowered his head and took her nipple reverently between his lips. The pleasure was exquisite, especially when his lips moved in the sweetest caress she’d ever imagined, gently rolling and tugging.
She closed her eyes, never wanting it to stop. And it seemed he was in no hurry, for he kissed her nipple for a long, long time while his hand kneaded the other, doubling her pleasure. His leg, long and muscled, stretched over both of hers, and he moved it caressingly until he shifted position and lay instead between her thighs.
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