Bethany didn’t remember walking to the front of the fireplace, picking up the dirty lace, and sitting down in the chair, but there she was, looking at the lace as if it could give her the answers she wanted. She would of cried if she could, but she didn’t have any tears left. She sat there for hours, her mind completely blank, not sure of what to make of what Mark just told her.
He was dead! But how could that be? Weren’t dead people supposed to have cold and clammy skin and dragging chains around? He must of been a man who was playing a cruel trick on her. For all she knew, he could be in the next state by now, looking for a new girl to take advantage of. She should call the police... no, she can’t do that. What was she supposed to tell them? A ‘dead man’ laid with her? They would think that she had lost her mind!
She was snapped out of her thoughts as she heard something break in her bedroom. She quickly jumped out of the chair and ran to her bedroom. She quickly turned on the night and gasped at what she saw. Three wilted and browning roses, two rotten peaches, and a cracked vase sat on her nightstand. She stared at them in disbelief. How could the roses wilt and the peaches become rotten so fast, and how could the vase crack if nothing had touched it? It was impossible, unless...
The answer slammed into her so fast that she momentarily lost her breath. Had he told the truth? Was it possible that he really was dead, yet he came to her? Yes! Of course it was! He had returned every night, which meant that it was possible that the curse that he explained to her really could be true. She looked down at the lace that still remained in her hand and knew what she wanted. He told her that he would return to her, but only if she wished it, but he failed to fell her how she could talk to him. She suddenly got an idea and ran to her front door, pausing only to grab her coat, then left her house, slamming the door behind her.
The grove of peach trees were beautiful in the early moonlight’s rays, but she didn’t come outside to admire her trees. She wasn’t exactly sure what to say, she had never tried to convince a dead men to come back to her before, so she talked out loud to the surrounding night.
"Mark... it’s me... Bethany." she began in a slightly shaky voice. "I want to apologize for the way I acted to you earlier this evening. You told me the truth and I refused to believe you, or even listen to your side of the story. It’s just that... well... I didn’t exactly know how to respond to what you told me." She held her hands out in front of her to demonstrate her confusion. "I don’t know anything about the dead, but I would really like it if you came back."
Nothing happened. Nothing changed. She tried again.
"Mark, I don’t know if this was the way to talk to you, but I hope you can hear me. Please come back."
Again there was nothing. She began to panic, fearing that she would never see him again.
"Mark! Please come back! I’m sorry! I do believe you!"
Nothing. It was a hopeless attempt. She stood there a minute, waiting for something to happen, but the only thing that happened was an owl flew over her head. She turned and started walking back to her house. She didn’t start crying until she had turned off all the lights in her house, slipped out of her clothes, and climbing nude into her bed. She didn’t bother trying to find her nightgown, since it was buried in a box somewhere in her house. She pulled the covers up to her chin and looked out her bedroom window that was illuminated by the moon. It was hard to see because of her tears. It was funny though. She swore that she didn’t have any tears left, but she quickly found that she was wrong. She cried so much that she ended up throwing her pillows off her bed because they were too wet to be of any use. Little did she know that although her plea to him in her garden had failed, her tears now were being heard.
Mark lay in his death slumber as his mind wandered his land. He had never felt more guilty about anything before. He had disrupted her life, and the only thing that he could possibly do was erase her memories of him, but he knew that he couldn’t do that because the police will soon come to her house and question her about the death of the man who tried to take advantage of her. His mind was snapped out of his thoughts when he suddenly heard Bethany cry. The sound came from her bedroom, so he peeked into her bedroom window to see her sitting up in her bed with her back resting against her headboard. Her hands were holding up her blanket, telling him that she didn’t have anything on underneath. She was indeed crying, but she was crying his name mixed with sadness. She was calling out to him, hoping that he would hear her.
‘I am coming Bethany.’ he whispered as he broke out of his death sleep and quickly joined her in her bedroom.
She was crying so hard that the bed shook slightly. Tears streamed down her face, wetting the blanket she was holding. She had never cried so hard in her life. She continued to cry, but suddenly stopped when she felt something slide in between her thighs and part them. The moonlight didn’t shine on her bed so she didn’t know what had parted her legs, but she had a very good idea who it could be. She sat very still, afraid that he might leave if she did anything. Her grip on her blanket tightened as she felt lips softly kiss the inside of her thigh, dangerously close to her most private place. His lips left her skin only for a second before Bethany felt the heavenly sensation of his lips against her womanhood.
"Mark!" was the only thing she could get out of her throat as her back arched against the wooden headboard. Her hands threw the blanket off of her bed then reached down to his head, burying her fingers in his soft hair. Her lungs strained for air as familiar waves of pleasure washed over her. His tongue, dipped into her curls, playing with them for a moment before dipping into her sensitive tissues. Her legs would of jumped up off the bed if he had not been holding them apart and she yelped in surprise. She squeezed her eyes shut and her hands clenched into fists in his hair. She had forgotten how good this felt. His lips were light, but intense. He seemed to be taking his time, wiggling the tip of his tongue over her swollen lips, then lower, then back up to brush over her bud, then repeated the process all over again as his hands slid up her thighs, hips, and quivering belly to cup her aching breasts. Bethany again screamed and arched into his gentle palms as his thumbs repeatedly brushed over her hardened nipples. At the same time, his lips covered her bud and slowly tasted her sweetness, coaxing her pleasure to its peak. She could do nothing except scream his name over and over as he led her to her climax. It came fast and hard, demanding her to give all that she had, and she did. He continued to lick at her bud as she came down from her high. She slumped against her headboard, a smile of satisfaction on her face. He moved his hands up to her shoulders and pulled her down under him. She raised up onto her elbows for a kiss, but it was just too dark to see anything. She was about to reach up for him, but was stopped as a warm mouth enveloped a nipple as a hand caressed the other. She fell back down to the bed and again cupped his head in her hands. He rolled her hardened tip with his tongue, causing a quick gasp to excape from her throat. He moved to the other, performing the same to it, then went back to the first, as if he couldn’t decide which tasted better.
"Mark... please hurry... I can’t take much more of this..." Bethany said in a breathless voice. He left her breasts to finally capture her lips with his. Her arms flew around his neck as she kissed his with almost a violent passion. Her body arched against his, telling him that she wouldn’t last much longer. He slid his hands down to her hips, lifting her up as he came down, sliding easily into her. Her cry of relief was lost in their kiss. He lowered her back to her bed and braced him above her as he started his slow strokes. She quickly wrapped her legs around his waist and eagerly absorbed every thrust, begging for more. Her nerves were crying out for more of the wonderful sensation that he was creating in her. His lips left hers only to drift over the features of her face. His hips moved steadily and continuing to increase in speed and force as they both felt the delicious tingles run thought them She felt something startling soar through her body as her climax came quickly. She cried his name out in sheer joy and love as her climax claimed her and he answered with growls of his own as he spilled his seed within her trembling body. They were slick with sweat, exhausted, and out of breath, but that didn’t stop her from pulling his head down for a kiss. He came down, but instead of kissing her, he gently rubbed his cheek against hers. Out of all the intimate and passionate things that he did to her, that small action was the most beautiful thing he had ever done.
Mark did not leave Bethany that night. He stayed with her, allowing her to sleep a bit before waking her up with his kisses and making love to her all over again. In the morning he was forced to leave, but returned to her again at night, not leaving her side until the sun forced him to leave. The town’s police never questioned her about the death of Stephen Daley, for the autopsy showed that he might of committed suicide. Bethany continued to work at her job and had no desire to leave. Her life seemed to get better every day, as long as her midnight lover came to her every night.
Copyright 1999 by Lady Serria