Paranormal Erotic Romance Box Set (22 page)

But Patrice thought that she still had some life left to
live and now that her son was gone, she hoped it was only a matter of time
before the Brahmins opened their arms and let the Battles back into the fold.
One week after her once-revered son’s body was chucked into an unmarked
pauper’s grave, Patrice Battle decided to reenter society.

She dressed in her best clothes and went to the Parker House
Hotel, hoping to mingle with some old friends. She was prepared to tell anyone
who asked that the abhorrent things her son did were not her doing.

When she tried to enter the restaurant at the Parker
House, the maître d’ recognized Patrice and refused to grant her access.

“On what grounds do you have the audacity to refuse me?”
Patrice said.

“On the grounds that you, Patrice Battle, are a blight on
the good people of Boston,” the maître d’ said.

Dejected, Patrice then wandered up Newbury Street hoping
to see her old friend Magda Richter. As she walked up the sidewalk, a servant
spotted and recognized Patrice as the murderer’s mother. The servant caught up
with Patrice, grabbed her arm, spun her around and spit in Patrice’s face.
Patrice stopped at a local chemist’s shop for a package, before walking the
rest of the way home.

That evening she made a gorgeous cake, just like the cakes
she used to make for Alexander. She dressed in her most formal dress and
brought the cake to the bed she shared with her husband for forty-six years.
Patrice woke her husband from his uneasy sleep and presented the cake. His eyes
wet with tears, her husband sat up in his bed and stared at his wife who had
never looked more beautiful to him.

Patrice and Alexander Battle feasted on the cake until it
was nearly gone and fell into a painful sleep. The couple’s bodies were found
the next afternoon by their maid. The cook later found a glass jar containing
the arsenic that Patrice mixed into the cake batter that killed her and her husband.

The Battle name finally died.

PART
III

“Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, like
diamonds. we are cut with our own dust.”

John Webster

I awoke in the rafters with my head resting on the book James
brought me as the sun rose. I looked down and a copy of the
Boston Globe
sat on the edge of the box-spring below me. On the cover of the newspaper,
Heiress Brutally Murdered At Troubled Hotel was written across the front page.

I was tired of being alone, despite my self-imposed exile
and I missed James terribly. I came down from the rafters and glanced at the
newspaper.

“Well, I suppose that’s it,” I said.

I knew I wasn’t alone in the suite and when I walked into
the living room, I found James sleeping on the chaise sofa. I knelt on the
floor beside him and watched him sleep. He opened his eyes after a bit and
smiled.

“Hi,” I said and rubbed his forehead.

“Hey, you came down,” he said. “I’m glad.”

“Yes. Thank you for bringing me the paper and the book.”

“You’re welcome,” he said and stretched. “Did you read
them?”

“I read the entire book last night, but I haven’t read the
paper. I felt you in the room and I wanted to find you first. Thank you for
taking care of me,” I said and kissed his cheek.

“I will always take care of you, Sophia. Even when you
don’t like me very much and even when I don’t like you very much.”

“Forever?” I said and smiled.

“And ever.”

“I love you,” I said and took a deep breath. “Don’t say it
back. I know you’re not like that, but I am. I’m impulsive, obviously, and
sensitive. I feel things differently, but I mean them. It’s who I am.”

“Sophia, I am different than you,” he said.

“I know,” I said and smiled, “and that’s okay too.”

I stood up and took off my dress and James shifted to his
back as he watched me. I knelt on the sofa between his legs and unbuckled his
belt.

“What are you doing?” James said and arched his back.

“Has it been that long? I mean, I know you’re old and all,
but you sure don’t fuck like I imagine an old man would,” I said. “I am
removing your pants. I want to feel you inside me.”

James didn’t argue with me, he didn’t even speak. He did
just as I said and helped me remove his pants.

His cock stood straight up in front of me and I bowed
toward it, as if a blasphemous Muslim engaged in a profane Salah. I sucked the
tip of his wide cock into my mouth and relaxed my throat and took him all the
way down. I ran my tongue back and forth over each ridge and vein and as I came
up from my prostrate position, I sucked hard until I reached the head of his
cock again. James dug his fingernails into my shoulders and raked them down my
arms. I smiled as I watched his legs tremor.

“Fuck, Sophia,” James said, “ease off a bit.”

I took my mouth off his cock and looked at him.

“Why?”

“Because, if you keep sucking on my cock like that, I’m
not going to last very long,” he said and closed his eyes.

I crawled up his body and planted my knees on either side
of him and positioned myself over his cock. The head of his cock was wet with
his pre-cum and I reached back and swirled my finger around it and popped it
into my mouth. I eased down on his cock slowly and gasped as the head of his
cock burrowed into my wet pussy.

Inch by inch, I impaled myself on James as I completely
relaxed my muscles mid-way down his shaft and my pussy accepted him with ease.
Finally, when he was completely inside of me, I contracted my stomach muscles
and began a slow ascent back up his hard rod.

He stared into my eyes and bit his bottom lip. His hands
reached out and grabbed my breasts and he pinched my nipples between his
fingertips. I reached behind my body and raked my fingernails lightly against
his balls and his legs shook like a dog’s when you find his sweet spot. He took
a sharp breath in and stared at the ceiling.

The power I felt as I gazed at him, witnessing the
dominance I had over him at that moment, was immense and that strength alone
turned me on almost as much as his cock did.

“Sophia, I’m having a hard time,” James said.

“Relax, this is just for you.”

The more control he tried to exercise, the harder I
attempted to fuck away his restraint. I pulsed the muscles of my pussy rapidly
over his cock as I slowly came up and down along his shaft and he clawed at my
stomach and closed his eyes.

“Look at me,” I said. “I want you to look into my eyes
when I’m fucking you.”

James did as he was told and I decided it was time to
reward him.

Without warning, I slammed my pussy down on his cock and
fucked him vigorously. I fucked him not as if we had infinite time together, but
as if it was the very last time we would. Over and over again, I bounced up and
down on his cock and I reached behind and felt his balls retract as he moaned.

“Fuck, I’m cumming.”

I lifted my pussy all the way up to the head of James’s
cock and slammed back down onto him, digging my knees into the chaise and
clamping my legs around his torso.

“Fuck!” James said and thrust his hips up, almost lifting
me off the couch.

I felt him deep inside and my muscles convulsed around his
pumping cock as I came.

“Go deeper,” I said.

James bent his knees and planted his feet into the sofa
and lifted me up as he bent his back. I fell forward onto his chest and buried
my face into his neck. He wrapped his arms around me and we slept.

When we woke, James and I studied both the morning and
afternoon editions of the
Boston Globe
. The tone of the articles
indicated that there was no question that Bobby Allen was my murderer. My
parents released a statement through their lawyer Michael Tavish which stated
that while they were deeply shocked by the news of my secret marriage to Brandt
Therrault, they would work with their new son-in-law to see that justice was
served.

“When will you be buried?” James said as he poured
steaming coffee from a carafe he stole off a room service cart into big, white
Battleroy Hotel mugs.

“Well, I’m not sure,” I said and took one of the mugs from
him. “My parents haven’t been in contact with me to see when I’m available.”

“Cute,” James said and took a sip of his coffee as he sat
down on the couch. “Man, that’s good. They finally switched from Columbian to
Arabica beans. It makes a huge difference, really.”

“So, you’re a connoisseur of coffee?”

“I’m a connoisseur of a lot of things,” James said and
spanked my ass. “No, I asked about your burial because different religions bury
their dead at different times. Some are strict and some are loosey-goosey about
it.”

“Well, I’m Catholic, if that makes a difference.”

“Was Catholic,” James said. “I suppose it will be within
the week sometime, depending when your body is released from the Medical
Examiner. From what we’ve been reading, it seems they think they have their man
so I don’t think they’ll be keeping your body on ice for very much longer.”

“Except, they most certainly do not have their man,” I
said. “Why are you so interested in my funeral? It’s not like we’ll be
attending.”

“The Law states on the day the physical form gets
committed to the ground or the crematorium, the Spirit goes through the Passage
Ceremony.”

“Passage Ceremony?” I said as I set James’ mug on the
coffee table and crawled into his lap.

“Yeah, I know, kind of a hokey name, but, that’s what it
has always been called.”

“And what, pray tell, is a Passage Ceremony?”

“Well,” James said as he stroked a piece of hair off my
forehead, “we all come together and the one who is being committed renounces
the earthly Father and the Earthly God. They then accept the Father of the
Underworld and the God of Death as their supreme deities. It’s actually a lot
of fun.”

“Yeah, sounds like a real hoot,” I said. “Do we sacrifice
virgins and goats too?”

“No, smart ass, your body was the sacrifice. After the
ritual, you are officially able walk among the others and we all then become
your brothers and sisters.”

“Even you?” I said and wiggled my ass against James’ hardening
bulge.

“Even me,” he said and laughed. “Kinky, huh, fucking your
brother? But, it’s a part of our religion.”

“What religion, though?” I said. “I didn’t pay a lot of
attention in Catechism class, but it sounds as if you referred to the Devil.”

“No, he’s not one of ours,” James said and licked the side
of my neck. “Those figures were simply invented by man to control and frighten.
Our Gods are all about free-will and love.”

“Loving? The Father of the Underworld and the God of Death
don’t sound very loving.”

“They are loving to us as long as we follow the Laws. Our
religion, our Universe, is governed by the supreme Laws of our Father Hades and
our God Thanatos.”

“Greek mythology?” I asked.

“Well, they are Greek, but drop the myth part. It is very
real.”

“But why Greek-based worship?”

“It’s not just Greek-based worship. This land existed long
before the Nauset and Adelaide. We believe in the ancient Gods, the Gods of the
elements.”

“And this Ceremony’s purpose is to invoke those Gods?”

“Yes, to invoke the Gods and also, to meet the others,”
James said as he pulled my breasts out from the top of my dress.

“So, the Ceremony is sort of like a supernatural
cotillion?” I said and giggled. “I’m coming out to the Battleroy society?”

“Exactly!” James said and kissed the top of my breasts.
“Plus, you get to stay in the Alchemist Suite in the tower the night before and
after the ritual. John F. Kennedy, Jr. stayed in that suite as well as a ton of
celebrities and luminaries.”

“Wow, so if JFK died here, he’d be considered my brother
too?”

“Yep, if he died here,” James said and popped one of my
nipples into his mouth and sucked on it for a moment. “No one leaves here when
they die here.”

“But, why is that? Why in this place and not the ice cream
parlor down the street?”

“Who knows what goes on at that place or any other after
death? I only know about this place because I’ve not been to any other.”

“So, are there famous people who died here?”

“Besides me?” James said and winked.

“Nice to see that modesty made it to the party. Yes,
besides you.”

“Yes, no Hollywood-types, but some musicians, a few
academics, writers...you’ll see,” James said and pushed my hair aside and
nibbled on my earlobe. “Take your clothes off. These intellectual conversations
make my cock hard.”

“Yes,” I said and rubbed my ass back and forth against
James’ hard cock, “I can feel that.”

“I didn’t attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter
saying that I approved of it.”

Mark Twain

On June 30, 1967, seven days after my death and the same
day that my body was committed to Star of The Sea Cemetery in Marblehead,
Massachusetts, my soul was committed to the Battleroy Hotel. The ritualistic
service the others refer to as a Passage Ceremony was officiated by Adelaide
and her lover Jonas Dashiell in the rose garden.

As James said was customary, I was taken to the hotel’s
elaborate Alchemist Suite the night before the Ceremony. James stayed with me
as my guest and we dressed in the opulent velvet robes the hotel provides to
their most revered guests. We had a ball pretending we were dignitaries and
jumped up and down on the huge, down canopied bed while we guzzled expensive
champagne right out of their vintage bottles.

“What do you think?” James said as he pushed me down on
top of the bed and crawled on top of my body.

“Hmmm, what do I think?” I said and looked around the
room. “I think that I wish this was my honeymoon and that you were my husband.”

“Then it shall be,” James said and lifted up on his elbows
and pulled my robe open.

“No,” I said as he nuzzled my neck, “I’m serious.”

“And so am I,” James said and parted my legs with his
knees. “Feel how serious I am.”

James thrust his hard cock into me to the root and stared
into my eyes as I arched my back and met him.

“Do you feel that?” James said.

“Yes, I feel that.”

“And you understand I’m serious?”

“Yes,” I said and gasped as he rocked his hips back and
forth.

“I don’t believe you, Sophia,” James said into my ear.
“So, I will stay as still as possible and you will not receive your reward
until you know I’m telling the truth.”

“You are so mean,” I said. “I’ve been pretty open about my
feelings for you, James. How do I know that when the next jealous, pretty young
girl comes along and dies at the hotel, you won’t be along to sweep her off her
feet?”

“Do you think I’m the Battleroy’s initiator of jealous,
virginal-types?” James said as he nibbled on my earlobe.

“I suppose not, but I still wonder. I mean, if I’m to be
here for an eternity and I feel as I do about you, what happens to me if you
decide to cast me aside? I’m stuck and fucked.”

“As in life, there are no guarantees.”

“That’s not very reassuring.”

“But, the same could be said for me. You say you love me
and you want to be with me for an eternity, but what happens to me if in two
years, Sean Connery is staying here and ends up taking a tumble down the stairs
and breaks his neck? What if he sees you and decides he must have you?”

“Sean Connery?” I said and smiled. “No question...you’re
out.”

James looked at me and frowned.

“I’m kidding. I promise, if Sean Connery should happen to
live here, I will not even look in his direction,” I said and clenched my legs
around his waist.

“I think you’re missing my larger point.”

“No, I get it. There are no guarantees and that whole one
day at a time shit, I get it. You just need to remember that a big reason that
I am in my situation is because of jealousy and the need for me to possess.”

“I understand and I am sensitive to that. And I too, have
a need to possess.”

“Well, finally,” I said as James resumed his thrusts.

I dug my fingernails into his back as he slammed his wide
cock in and out of my pussy. He grabbed the sides of my head and forced me to
look into his eyes.

“I want you to remember something, Sophia,” James said
through clenched teeth as he fucked me, “you belong to me. Do you understand
that?”

“Yes,” I said.

“No matter what happens...your mind, your soul, your pussy
belongs to me. You are mine.”

James arched into me and gripped my shoulders as he came,
pressing me deep into the bed. We fell together, he and I.

The next morning I opened my eyes as James walked toward
the bed holding a huge silver tray filled with all sorts of culinary goodies.

“Where did you get that?” I said as he set the tray on the
bed.

“One of the others, a usually grumpy fellow named Heinrich
Trimmel. He was a chef and usually cooks for all of us after the kitchen
closes. He put this together just for your special day.”

“Wow,” I said as I plucked a delicate blueberry petit four
off the tray and shoved it into my mouth. “Yummy.”

“I’m glad you like it. Coffee?”

“Yes,” I said as the lemon and vanilla-perfumed pastry
cream filled my mouth. “Oh, that was fantastic. How did Heinrich come to be
here?”

“That is a most ironic case,” James said as he fed me a chocolate
covered strawberry. “Scombroid.”

“Huh?”

“Food poison,” James said and sat down on the bed next to
me. “In 1902, Heinrich was here with a group of chefs from around the world
checking out the Battleroy’s gourmet kitchen. At the time, the kitchen was
known to be the most advanced and elaborate of any professional kitchen in the
world. Heinrich noticed a tin of sardines half-opened on one of the prep tables
and asked the sous chef how they were going to be used.

“The sous chef explained that a Battleroy employee caught
one of the guests opening the tinned sardines in the lobby. Horrified that any
Battleroy guest would eat canned fish, the employee snatched the tin out the
guest’s hand and ordered the kitchen to make him an appetizer with fresh fish.”

“And Heinrich ate the canned sardines?” I said as I
nibbled on a wedge of spinach quiche.

“Yep, Heinrich ate the sardines. It was a trick among the
chefs, actually. They mixed the poisoned sardines into a dip and wanted to test
Heinrich to see if he could tell the fish was canned as he was rumored to have
one of the most discerning palates in the world. Of course, it was not their
intention to kill him and they had no idea the sardines were infected with
scombroid but their trick was definitely our gain.”

“Man, a chef dying from food poisoning,” I said and
foraged through my delicious treats.

“Well, it’s getting late and it’s time for me to leave,”
James said and stood from the bed.

“Leave? But, why?”

“Because, I have to be gone before your lady-in-waiting arrives
to prepare you for your Ceremony and I have my own list of things to do,” James
said and threw a grape in the air and caught it in his mouth.

“I get a lady-in-waiting?”

“You sure do...Céline, a beautiful and sexy French vamp
who used to be a famous Courtesan in Paris,” James said and kissed the top of
my head. “Fantastic girl.”

“Fantastic? And I assume you’ve had this girl?”

“And I suppose you want me to be honest?” James said and
swirled his finger in a giant silver bowl of whipped cream.

“Is there any other way to be?”

“Yes, I have had Céline,” James said and sighed. “But that
was a long time ago and she is with Patrick now.”

“I understand,” I said. “Seriously, I do. I’ve been with
other people, person, and of course, you’ve been with other people. It’s not a
big deal.”

“Sophia?” James said as he cocked his head.

“I’m being honest,” I said.

“You belong to me, remember? I’m going now,” James said
and kissed the top of my head. “See you tonight.”

When James left, I inhaled the rest of the food on the tray:
lobster tails, wedges of warm brie baked inside a thick bread with apple
slices, fresh peach cobbler with vanilla bean ice cream and thick slices of
chocolate cheesecake.

When there was nothing left but crumbs, I fell back into
the down pillows and slept.

“Good evening, Sophia,” a woman said in a French accent.

I opened my eyes and twisted my head up. A beautiful girl
with long, wavy platinum hair stood beside the bed.

“Evening?” I said and rubbed my eyes. “I didn’t think I
slept that long.”

“That’s okay, it’s not as if you had to be at a job now,
is it? I am Céline,” she said. “I’m here to prepare you for your Ceremony.”

“Yes,” I said and pulled the sheet over my breasts as I
sat up in the bed, “James told me that you would be here.”

“James says that you and he have been spending much time
together. We all love James.”

“Yes, I’ve gathered. I’ve heard only a little about you,”
I said.

“Oh, yeah?” Céline said and smiled. “What have you heard?”

“That you were a very famous--”

“Whore?” Céline said.

“No,” I said and shook my head. “Courtesan.”

“Same difference,” she said and giggled. “May I open the
shades?”

“Of course,” I said and tried to fix my hair.

I watched Céline saunter across the room and understood
why James fucked her. She wore a tight, pin-striped pencil skirt and a white
cotton blouse that was unbuttoned to the middle of her chest. On her feet she
wore glossy black patent leather pumps. Her body was insane: big tits, small
waist that curved in and back out to her hips and an amazing ass.

Céline opened the drapes and turned and held up her arms.

“That’s better, no? You get an amazing view of all the
twinkling lights from the tower.”

“Yes,” I said and craned my neck as I looked out the
window.

Céline walked to the cafe table in the corner of the bedroom
that was set with a silver coffee set and held up a coffee cup.

“I brought a coffee service. How do you take it?”

“Just cream please,” I said.

“No sugar? You’re sweet enough, I’m sure,” she said and
smiled as she held the silver creamer high and poured it into the cup. “Are you
hungry?”

“Um, no,” I said as I pushed the silver food tray to the
edge of the bed with my foot. “I ate a little.”

“I love cream,” she said as she stirred my coffee with an
elegant teaspoon. “You know I had a lover once, Italian, who made me crawl
along his bedroom floor for cream, can you imagine?”

“Sounds interesting,” I said.

“Oh, believe me, it was,” she said and smiled as she
walked toward the bed. “May I sit?”

“Of course, please,” I said and took the coffee cup from
Céline’s delicate hand.

“His name, my lover, was Luca,” she said and sat down next
to me on the side of the bed. “He was very handsome and extremely rich, of
course, and wildly kinky.”

Céline took a sip of her coffee and licked her full,
red-stained lips and giggled as she looked across the room. I could tell she
was thinking of Luca and his cream fetish. Céline seemed the type of person who
gave you one hell of a story whenever she opened her mouth to say something.

“What did he do?” I said.

“Well,” she said and moved close to me, “Luca was most
obsessed with all things tactile. He loved, more than anything, the feel of
things. So, every night before we made love, he set a large, red bowl filled
with cream at the far corner of his bedroom in front of his stone fireplace. He
undressed me completely and pushed me to my knees on his stone floor. Crawl,
little kitten, he commanded.”

“And he watched you crawl naked across the floor to the
cream? Weren’t you embarrassed?”

“Embarrassed? Oh no, Sophia. It was a real turn-on. The
power this man possessed to make me do this was something to feel. I was no
shrinking violet, obviously, but as soon as Luca said crawl, crawl I did. And I
crawled not because I had to because he was my lover, but because I wanted to,
because he was my lover. Do you understand the difference?”

“Yes,” I said after a moment. “So what happened once you
got to the bowl?”

“When I got to the bowl, Luca stood beside me and gripped
the back of my neck and pushed my face toward the cream. He ordered me to lap
at it as a kitten would. Then, he pulled me up by my hair and poured the cream
down my naked body. He rubbed my skin, really feeling it. His cock got so hard
by the sensation of his hands gliding across my skin, wet with the cream,”
Céline said and smiled.

“And that was it? He just wanted to feel your
cream-covered skin?”

“Oh, that was never it,” Céline smiled and bit her bottom
lip. “Then came my prize.”

“Did you love him?”

“Love? Well, I supposed I loved him as much as I could. I
had a great many lovers, you see. Tell me, have you loved many men?”