A sexy ghost.
A wicked movie star.
A forbidden love.
USA Today Bestselling Author Liz Gavin takes you on wild ride in this steamy tale.
New Orleans is famous for awesome jazz, fun Mardi Gras, and haunted mansions. Few people know the city’s best kept secret: Club Desire – a place for the rich and powerful role play their kinkiest fantasies.
What club goers don’t know is that it is haunted. Marcel Revault, bound to the house for over a century, has learned some naughty tricks, he doesn’t shy away from using on unsuspected visitors. But when the club member senses his presence and interacts with him, things get hot.
Clara Hervaux, mega movie star, indulges her darkest fantasies with the help of an expert Master. As an empath, she bonds with Marcel like no other club member has done before.
Their attraction is immediate, undeniable. Yet it is doomed from the beginning.
There is no future for Marcel and Clara, even if they are soulmates.
Or is there?
Download Haunted & Wicked now to find out if a ghost and a movie star can find their happily ever after.
Chapter One
New Orleans – 1860
As the only heir to the Revaults, one of the founding families of New Orleans, I was born to privilege and raised in abundance. Wealth and good looks assured me an endless supply of willing bed partners. Women threw themselves at my feet – single, widowed, and even married ladies. Since I was not one to turn down temptation, I indulged in the pleasures they offered me. I returned their generosity in kind with satisfaction guaranteed, albeit not everlasting.
After a while, the novelty cooled down. The ladies would find other young studs to pursue. New women would catch my fancy. In any case, the former partner and I would go on with our lives without fuss or resentment.
With two exceptions of note – a woman I never forgot and a witch who never forgot me.
On occasion, a cuckold would return home unannounced and catch me in bed with his wife. Close friends would help me skip town for a while, avoiding a challenge of a duel. I was a pacifist who refused to learn to shoot. I didn’t have the ability to survive a showdown.
Except once.
Blanche O’Hara haunted my nights after the day we met. A native of Boston, she moved to the French Quarter right after wedding a local businessman, Stanley O’Hara. A mutual friend held a small dinner party for the newly wed. I fell under Blanche’s spell that evening.
Restless nights due to unfulfilled desires had never happened to me. They took their toll on my otherwise sharp mind and I plotted ways to seduce the young beauty. Learning her elderly husband traveled on business, I used false pretenses to visit Blanche.
“Thank you.” I accepted the cup of tea she poured; but shook my head at her silent offer to taste a slice of lemon cake. I had something much sweeter in mind. “Have you missed Boston much since you moved down here?”
“I miss my family, not the city.” She scooted over to the far side of the couch when I settled the porcelain cup and saucer on the coffee table in front of us. Her voice faltered when I moved closer until our thighs touched. “My mom died when I was a baby, but I grew up in a large family. My dad, three sisters, two brothers, and a multitude of aunts, uncles, and cousins. I miss them very much, sir.”
A quiver in her raspy voice when she addressed me like that stirred dark desires. My cock twitched at the thought of exploring her submissive streak.
“Marrying a seventy-year-old man with adult kids certainly didn’t make up for the family you left behind. I bet your wedding night was disappointing too.” Trapping her chin between my fingers, I leaned down until our noses touched. I didn’t cover her trembling lips. “Beauty such as yours must be worshipped every day, not hidden away in an empty old house such as this.”
The silken touch of the skin of her lips on mine when I spoke fueled my desire. I kept it in check, but I infused my stare with all the fire that raged inside me. A gasp followed by the tip of her tongue riding her lower lip confirmed Blanche was not immune to my presence. Yet, she didn’t eliminate the distance between our mouths.
The dominant in me rejoiced. I released her gaze to take in the long column of her neck and the white expanse of skin under the thin lace of her dress. The dark blue damask of the bodice covered her tiny waist, but not much of her breasts. Their bouncing movement, caused by ragged breathing, enticed me. Red hair done in perfect curls fell on her shoulders and rested on top of her big breasts.
“My husband will come home at any minute, sir.” Heavy lids fell halfway over her green eyes. “We shouldn’t do this.”
I smiled at her choice of words. She lied about her husband’s impending return. My sources had confirmed he wouldn’t be in town before the weekend. At the same time, she included herself in the party of wrongdoers instead of blaming the advances on me.
Promising.
I tilted her face and covered her mouth in a searing kiss as my hand cupped her breast. Finding her teeth gritted, I slid my tongue over her pouty lip, then rolled a hard nipple between my fingers.
She moaned and welcomed me inside her mouth. Our tongues twisted, teeth clashed, as she drew her knees up and draped a leg around my hip. She stretched her neck, dropping her head over the armrest, when I kissed a trail from her lips to her nipple. She dug her fingernails in my shoulders as I pulled the hard nub inside my mouth, not bothering to free it from the confinement of her proper dress.
Wicked thoughts flooded my mind turning my erection painful. I rubbed it against her soft thigh for reprieve. I snapped my head up, searching for signs she shared the same unbridled passion as I, ready to make her scream my name like I had done with countless women before. The light in her green gaze caught me off guard. I didn’t expect the wonder and abandonment she offered me.
For the first time in my life, I wanted to please a woman more than I wanted to be pleased. A dormant side of me wished to live up to the expectation in Blanche’s expression. I yearned to be the man I spied in her eyes.
Her innocence and trust undid me.
As I shifted gears, reigning in my rampant desire to focus on her satisfaction, I realized I was doomed. I braced an arm on the back of the couch, reaching between us, under her skirts to find her core. I held her eyes when my fingers found her wet folds. I probed her until my fingertips learned her soft spots. With each gasp for air, as I played her body, she captured my heart. I became her willing servant. My pleasure stemmed from her trembling flesh. When her mouth formed a perfect circle, her eyes got unfocused, and her sex gripped my fingers, I leaned forward and drank her sighs. Her fingers untied my hair at my nape, her nails scraped my scalp.
“I never imagined it could be like this.” Her trembling whisper traveled from my eardrum to my dick.
I groaned.
I rested my forehead against hers to catch my breath. We sat upright, Blanche rearranged her clothes, pulling her mask of propriety back on. I knew I had put the lovely rose hue on her cheeks though.
And that was all I needed.
For now.
“That was a taster sample, ma chere. I can’t wait to show you more.” I laced my fingers through hers.
“That’s not going to be possible, sir.” She shook her head and withdrew her hand from mine. “I will not betray my wedding vows.”
I knitted my eyebrows, but she squared her shoulders.
One minute, I was in paradise. The next, her words cast me from heaven like a cursed angel.
Before I protested, a booming voice sounding in the room. “Get away from my wife.”
Stanley O’Hara stood by the entrance to his living room, fists on his hips, a murderous expression on his wrinkled face, eyes trained on me. There was no mistaking who he blamed for the scene he walked into.
For the first time, I did’t want to talk a husband out of a confrontation. I wanted to fight for Blanche.
I unfolded from the couch and came to stand toe to toe with the man. “Or what, sir?”
A fleeting emotion shadowed his baby blue eyes. Maybe he had heard about my brushes with betrayed husbands in the past. I suspected he didn’t expect my reaction. I certainly did not expect it. As surprised as I was at my willingness to risk my life for a woman, I was not about to back down. Blanche was not any woman. She was the only one for me.
“Choose your weapon. We’ll meet at the crack of dawn on Thursday,” Stanley promised, without naming a place.
I knew exactly where to go. I made my choice. “Pistols.” I ignored Blanche’s whimper as it connected with my gut feeling.
* * *
Thursday’s sun came up shining its glorious light on a gruesome scene. Blanche sobbed, clenching the mud-stained labels of her barrel-chested husband, kneeling by his lifeless body. His second tried to lift her up, but she shoved him.
“Leave me be,” she growled.
Jonah Weisman, my second, gripped my forearm and pulled me away when I motioned to kneel beside her. “Not a good time.”
I hesitated. He wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t want to leave her in that remote place. Although authorities turned a blind eye when the wealthy dueled nobody did so in crowed areas.
“Get away from me.” Blanche’s hissed command froze my movements, when I stalked to her side.
I retreated my steps and followed Jonah to the waiting hackney. Once sitting inside, I snapped my neck around and followed Blanche’s movements through the narrow window in the back. She stood up when her husband’s second hurled his body onto his wide shoulders and carried it to their carriage. The road took a hard turn to the left and I faced forward again. The intricate pattern of the upholstery lining the door held my attention until we arrived at my townhouse.
Following society’s norms and rules had never been my strong suit, but I managed to wait a few days after the Stanley’s funeral before visiting the widow.
“There’s nobody home, sir,” Blanche’s staff kept telling me every afternoon I knocked on her front door, before slamming it on my face.
I didn’t expect a different treatment under the circumstances. Despite the fact he died during a duel, where I could have easily succumbed, I was responsible for her husband’s death, even though I wasn’t to blame for him tripping and breaking his neck.
I insisted on banging on her door every day. After two weeks, I ran out of patience. Sneaking in through a side door, I got to her bedroom without bumping into anyone.
“Get out of here or I’ll scream.” Her low voice was as chilling as her eyes piercing at me in the mirror.
She sat at her vanity getting ready to sleep.
I held her stare and took a step toward her. “I needed to see you.” It wasn’t an excuse, nor an apology.
I stated a fact. I needed her.
Her raised palm stopped me. “Haven’t you caused damage enough? I’ve been told you go through women as fast as lightning in a thunder storm. I’m just another one, except I’m the one who got away. You don’t need me. You need to appease your ego. I was naive to expect a gentleman of your stature would keep away from a widow he made. Get out. Now. Never come back.”
Something in the way her voice faltered broke my heart. If she had yelled or thrown the silver hairbrush at me, I would have probably gotten riled up. Her cold demeanor hit my stomach like a ton of bricks. Her bloodshot eyes denounced her pain.
Breathing scalded my lungs.
The notion of never being in her presence again spurred me on. “You have to believe I didn’t intend to kill your husband. I certainly didn’t. It was an unfortunate accident.”
“Yet the result is the same. I’d say your initial intentions are of little concern to me now, sir.” She rose from the stool, stalked to the headboard of the bed, and wrapped her long fingers around a cord hanging from a metal ring pinned to the wall. “You have five seconds.”
A flick of her wrist would set off the bells in the servants’ quarters. I didn’t want a scandal either, but for the first time, my concern was for someone else’s reputation.
I raised my hands above my head and took a step back. “As you wish, ma’am. I’ll leave, but I can’t promise I won’t return. You’ve captured my heart like no woman has ever done. I don’t know that I can stay away.”
A flitting shadow darkened her eyes. She shook her head and blinked before lifting her chin. “Whatever transpired between us died and was buried with my husband. I cannot look at you and not remember that afternoon Stanley came home. The only time I saw disappointment in my late husband’s eyes. I will not disrespect him further.”
Guilt made for an awful counselor. I knew I shouldn’t insist, so I nodded. “I understand. Goodbye.”
I left her house as stealthily as I had gotten to her room, knowing I would return.
I kept away from Blanche O’Hara’s house until mourning period was over. Her front door was slammed at me once again daily, when I resumed my routine of early afternoon visits. Each time that happened, hope wilted. After a month, I conceded she would not reconsider her position.
That realization triggered a dark response in me. Instead of drinking myself to stupor, I turned to my worst vice to achieve the same goal.
I had sex.
I engaged in as many sexual encounters with faceless women as humanly possible. I couldn’t get any satisfaction though. I was numb, but I kept trying. Sometimes, I invited multiple partners to my bed hoping at least one would get me the release I craved. I didn’t care if I caught a disease. I didn’t care if I lived or died.
I ended up being caught up in a witch’s twisted web.
Continue Reading – HERE.
COOL FREE TRIALS
