Donovan's Forever Love (2 page)

Chapter
Two

The next evening just after sundown, I
circled before the cheval mirror that at one time belonged to Charlotte. With a
grin, I decided that, like Charlotte had in her day, I looked like sex walking.
The bugle beads and fringe of the gold-colored silk flapper dress sparkled and
reflected light around the room. The silk caressed the skin I had spent the
last two hours washing and buffing and slathering with decadent scented lotions.
Because of the spaghetti straps holding up the bodice, I could not wear a bra. Since
my tits were at least a cup bigger than Charlotte’s, the silk clung tight to my
full breasts. The dress skimmed over my toned body to the hem that hit me at
mid-thigh. Whenever the material brushed against the skin of my hips, lightning
bolts of want and need shot straight to my cunt.

The feeling was in alignment with Charlotte’s
memories. Every time she had worn this dress, she had felt the same way—hot and
horny for the man who had presented her with the dress on their fourth date—Richard
Donovan, Donovan Richards, or whatever name he wanted to call himself. It was
the only gift he had given Charlotte that she had kept after they parted ways.
She had carefully packed it away in her treasure trunk along with her wedding
dress and the baby booties she’d made for each of her children.

The thong I’d bought that morning to wear
with it was already damp with my leaking juices and I had not even left my
bedroom yet. Feeling the need to be prepared for anything, I picked up the
small gold purse that had been wrapped up in tissue paper with the dress. In
addition to my driver’s license and the ticket to the party, I tucked one of
Charlotte’s neatly folded handkerchief’s into the purse.
 

The gold dress set my auburn tresses on fire
and added an additional sparkle to the grass green eyes that stared back at me
from Charlotte’s mirror. Thanks to my trusty curling iron and a variety of modern
day styling products, my barely shoulder length bob was appropriately waved and
curled, completing my transformation into an authentic 1920s flapper. Getting
into the spirit of my sassy costume, I shimmied at myself with a grin. A gasp
of surprise caught me off guard as the silk brushed against my skin and my hard
nipples tightened even further. I wasn’t sure I could stand the pain and the
erotic hunger brought on by the dress, the memories and the evening to come. But
I had no time to masturbate in order to ease the tight ache that knotted low in
my pelvis. Before I changed my mind about what I was about to do, I picked up
my purse and hurried from the room. I couldn’t wait to see Donovan again and
get to know him in this day and time. I also wanted him to know me for me, and
not just as Charlotte’s clone.

****

The Eden Street entrance to the historic site
of Tryon Palace stood wide open, but a pair of pre-Revolutionary uniformed
soldiers guarded the entrance.

“Good evening, Mistress,” one greeted me as
the other took my ticket.

“Good evening,” I returned, fighting the urge
to curtsey.

I expected a lewd comment on their standards
of dress and my skimpy attire, but instead, the man simply nodded and said,
“Have a pleasant evening.”

I returned the nod and then passed through
the gate. I followed the dusty, lamp lit path around the side of North
Carolina’s first Governor’s mansion to the patio that looked out onto the South
Lawn and the Trent River beyond.

The party was in full swing as I came around
the corner of the brick palace. At least a hundred people were clustered in
small groups across the patio. The entire area was lit with torches, oil lamps
and hundreds of candles. A buffet was set up along the far side of the patio
and there was a dance floor laid out on the grass of the South Lawn, though at
this moment, no one was using it.

My eyes found Donovan on the first pass over
the crowd. He stood in the center of the patio, though he did not seem to be
participating in the conversation going on around him. Instead, he was staring
across the lawn out toward the river, looking a little sad. Or was it
disappointed? He was not in costume, but instead wore a black tuxedo with white
tie and blood red cummerbund.

He must have felt my gaze because he slowly
turned to face me. Our eyes locked and held as he ignored the woman I
recognized as being the local candidate for governor, and walked away. I began
forward as well, drawn by the hunger of just seeing this man, both in person
and in Charlotte’s memories, that continued to run through my mind.

My thong dampened even further as my body
prepared for what I wanted, hoped, needed to come. It would be hours before the
party ended and we could be alone to satiate the hunger that had been growing
in me since seeing him the night before, but I was just adventurous enough to
want to see where this would go.

“You look amazing,” he said, bending and
brushing a kiss on my cheek as he took my hand. “I remember that dress. It was
one of my favorites. I think there was something about it that made Charlotte
even sexier than she usually was.”

“I thought it would be appropriate for the
evening,” I said, hearing a deeper, husky tone in my voice that I didn’t
recognize.

Though we were virtually strangers in this
place and time being here, with him, felt right. It felt as if we were picking
up where he and Charlotte had ended exactly eight decades before.

When he didn’t say anything further, I looked
into his eyes and read hunger there. I was sure, as he had always done with
Charlotte, that he had fed well before coming to this gathering of potential
meals, but hunger was there in his blue eyes just the same. It took a second
before I realized food wasn’t what he hungered after. It was me. Since I felt
the same way, I wondered how soon I could drag him away from this crowd of
wealthy, influential people.

As if reading my mind, he leaned forward
until his lips brushed against my ear. “Meet me in an hour in Maude’s Garden. By
then I shall be finished with my duties as host.”

I nodded even as I shivered with
anticipation. The energy between us was pure sex and we both knew it. He
brushed another kiss across my cheek, squeezed my hand and then walked away as
if I was just another guest at his party and not the woman he would be having
sex with before dawn broke over the eastern horizon.

“Mmmm, that is one good looking man,” a lady
dressed as a sunflower said as she passed by.

I smiled and nodded in agreement before
checking my watch and then staring across the lawn toward the river. My mind went
to one of Charlotte’s favorite memories of being held in strong arms as a long,
thick cock pistoned in and out until she screamed with her release. My pussy
clenched as I wondered how I was ever going to get through the next hour.

****

During the next forty-eight minutes, I tried
to relax and observe how the rich partied on Halloween. The party was a
fundraiser for a number of local charities with tickets costing several hundred
dollars each. I circled through the crowds, watching and listening in on gossip
about people I had only read about in the newspaper. I filed through the buffet
between a black George and Martha Washington, and Sonny and Cher. I then
retreated to an open place by the palace wall, but only picked at what I had
put on my plate, hunger for Donovan overruling my hunger for food.

Without realizing it, I continued tracking
Donovan the entire time. He traveled through the crowd easily, talking, smiling
and sipping from the glass of deep red wine he held easily in one hand. I
thought he was unaffected by my presence, until I noticed the front of his
tuxedo pants was not laying exactly as his tailor had designed and at that
moment, he was staring at me with an expression of hungry anticipation.

Finally, I could take it no longer. I had to
be by myself for a few minutes to regain control over these erotic images that clouded
my better judgement. If I didn’t escape this crowd soon, I would cross the
patio, attack him, and show the upper crust of eastern North Carolina society
just how steamy hot sex could be.

I slipped through the crowds and made my way
toward the Maude Moore Latham Memorial Garden that Donovan had chosen as our
meeting place. I did not have to look to know that Donovan’s blue eyes tracked
my progress across the patio. His gaze was a hot caress on my bare shoulders.

At the edge of the patio, I looked over my
shoulder and met his intense gaze with a wink and a shrug of one shoulder.

His eyes widened as if he recognized the
signal. This had been Charlotte’s way of telling him that she was horny and
ready to go home and spend the rest of the night in an erotic rendezvous with
him.

Turning away, I smiled as I slipped through
the last of the party crowd. A few more yards and I entered the walled English
style garden. I did not stop walking until I reached the center. Taking several
deep breaths, I allowed the quiet to wash over me while I tried to temper the
intense erotic ache that seemed to grow more intense with every minute that
passed.

I did not hear his approach, but I did not
have to. I could feel his approach. In my mind’s eye I saw his naked body. His
broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped body that rippled with muscles as he stalked
closer, a human lion in his prime. Goosebumps covered my skin and that special
tingling began anew as my cunt began drooling again. No other man, in
Charlotte’s lifetime or my own, had ever made either of us feel this way
before. Only Donovan.

"It's a wonderful party. I'm sure the
ladies are lining up to dance and more with their host." Though I tried to
sound cool and detached, my words rang with a tinge of jealous disapproval.

Donovan moved into my line of sight from the
left. I shifted to face him as he came to a stop several yards away. My breath
caught again at his masculine beauty. He still looked about thirty though I
knew he was closer to five hundred, tall, well built and handsome beyond
description. The picture in the newspaper that morning had not done him
justice. No picture ever had. He was just too beautiful.

“Who are you, exactly, with such a likeness
to my Charlotte?” he asked, his resonant baritone soft and sexy as I
remembered. The time had come to explain how I knew so much about him.

“My name is Jayne Peters, and yes, you knew
me in another lifetime. My name then was Charlotte Bowen, then later Charlotte
Harper,” I said, knowing he had made the connection when we’d spoken the other
day in the diner and had done it in less time than most people could recall a
name or face or situation, even though it had been eighty years since his last
encounter with my great-grandmother.

“Charlotte Harper died a lifetime ago.” He
took a step toward me.

“Yes, she did. Twenty-five years ago last
week at the height of a late season hurricane. Charlotte died, while at the
same time, in the next room, her great granddaughter, Jayne Peters, was born
several weeks early and stillborn,” I said. I glanced at Donovan, but his
expression was blank, unreadable so I continued. “I am Jayne, but I am also
Charlotte. I am the woman who wore this dress to a Halloween party you hosted
in Philadelphia eighty years ago tonight. The woman who, after the party ended
and you told her you were a vampire, refused to stay with you because she was
afraid of the dark.”

Looking into his eyes, I took a step in his
direction.

“Soul transference?” he asked a few long seconds
later, taking a step forward so we were now within touching distance, if either
of us would only lift our arms. I could see the hunger growing in him and a
quick glance at his crotch told me that he was erect and ready for wherever the
next few minutes took us.

I shrugged. “Could be. No one has ever really
been able to explain it to me. All I really know is that I am Jayne Peters, but
I carry with me all the memories and experiences of my great grandmother,
Charlotte Bowen Harper.”

“
All
her memories?” Donovan took another step forward until his tuxedo jacket
brushed against the front of my dress.

“Uh-huh,” I breathed, lifting my hands to cup
his cheeks. He allowed me to guide his face toward my own. “All of them,” I
whispered just before our lips touched.

His were cold against mine, but the feeling
was one I recognized from Charlotte’s memories. In seconds, our lips parted,
our tongues touched and then dueled from one mouth to the other. This wasn’t a
kiss of strangers, this was the hungry, welcome home reclaiming kiss of lost
loves reunited.

I wasn’t sure if the hungry moan came from
him or me, but at that moment, his arms wrapped around my body, his hands
cupped under my butt to pull me even closer. My breasts crushed into his chest
causing me to shudder with sensation. He shifted his pelvis against me and I
felt his impressively engorged cock against my belly. My hunger for this man
overwhelmed me, a woman who in this life had never had sex outside of her
marriage bed.

Jerking my head back I gazed into his beautifully
masculine face, his bright blue eyes. “I need you, now…” I said in a breathless
whisper. There was no way I could walk away and return to the party. Not until
I felt him where he belonged, planted deep inside me with nothing between his skin
and my own, but my juices.