Intimate Stranger Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Intimate Stranger

  ISBN 9781419921735

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Intimate Stranger Copyright © 2009 Jan Springer

  Edited by Mary Moran

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book Publication May 2009

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Intimate Stranger

  Jan Springer

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Coca-Cola: The Coca-Cola Company

  Cyclosporin: G&S Pharmaceutical

  Mack Truck: subsidiary of AB Volvo, Volvo Group

  Prednisone: Central Pharmaceuticals Inc

  The New York Times: New York Times Company

  The Twilight Zone: CBS

  Wizard of Oz: Turner Entertainment Co.

  Prologue

  “So? Exactly how many kids do you want?” Steve asked.

  Burning desire blazed across his face as he studied her for a reaction. Twenty-year-old Emily McCullen wasn’t prepared to show him her reaction. Not too long ago her new husband said he wanted them to wait for at least a year or two before starting a family. Now a couple of weeks after that conversation, here he was bringing up the subject.

  In the bathroom. While he stood there watching her in the shower, his green eyes studying her every move with a hungry desire she found quite arousing.

  “As many kids as you can give me, hunky hubby,” she answered.

  She kept her answer brief and her voice free of the desperation she felt in an effort to ensure the subject didn’t go away before it even got started. Damned if she was going to get her hopes up in case he was just curious. He said nothing as she reached for the showerhead and rinsed off the soap suds from her breasts.

  Lately, it was happening more and more often. Him coming in while she was in the shower. Not that she minded him being so interested in her. In fact, she enjoyed the lusty way his gaze traveled over her body, his eyes hot with desire as he shed his t-shirt revealing nicely toned muscles that laced his chest and biceps. She swallowed as he lowered the zipper of his jeans and drew his pants and underwear over his lean hips.

  Heat billowed through her and her knees weakened as Steve’s thick length of his cock erupted.

  Oh boy, he certainly was in the mood this morning, wasn’t he? Her pussy clenched as she watched his cock swell and lengthen right before her eyes. She liked the power she had in turning him on so easily. Enjoyed the helpless pleasure sparking along her nerve endings, making her excited with need.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said as he slipped out of his jeans and stepped into the shower. He smelled heavenly, she thought as she moved over to make room for him. Captivating. The scent of sexy man. Her man.

  “Is that why I smell burning rubber?” she teased. They were always kidding each other when one said they were thinking. Sometimes they pretended they smelled smoke and other times burning rubber as in the spinning of one’s wheels.

  Amusement flashed in his eyes then quickly disappeared as his hands slipped over the curve of her hips, his fingers burning her flesh as he held her.

  “There won’t be any more rubbers burning in the midnight oil when I make love to you from here on out, Emily.”

  At his comment, surprise washed over her. She wasn’t on any kind of birth control because the pills didn’t agree with her. Instead, they used condoms. Whenever they had sex, he had one or two nearby, but she didn’t see any within sight tonight. At that realization, she found herself trembling as understanding zipped through her.

  “Are you sure?” she found herself whispering, surprised that her voice sounded so loud amidst the shower spray. God, he had to be sure or he wouldn’t be saying it. He knew a baby was a lifelong commitment. He knew she wanted a family. He would never tease her about something this serious.

  He nodded as he took the showerhead from her hand and let it drop to the ceramic floor. The look in his eyes was a look that seared right to her very soul. It left her literally breathless. A look like that couldn’t be faked. A look like that told her he was doing this for both of them, not just for her.

  Yes, he was ready. Oh my God, he was ready. So was she. There was no question in her mind about wanting babies with the man she loved. And what a beautiful way to create them—by making love in the shower.

  She moaned as his palms slid off her waist, over her tummy and up to cup her breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipples. Fire lanced through her at his tender touches and her pussy creamed, readying for him. He held her breasts firmly, lifting them as he lowered his head. Excitement rocked her as his teeth raked her right nipple before taking her into his hot mouth.

  “Why did you change your mind?” she breathed as her hands curled over his strong shoulders, the muscles beneath her fingertips flexing with restrained power as she watched the sexy way he sucked her breast, his pink mouth, moving erotically.

  She almost moaned out loud when he stopped and looked up at her. Seriousness shone in his eyes as he spoke.

  “Life is too short, baby. You don’t know from one day to the next when you’re going to drop dead of a heart attack or a stroke or all those other diseases that are floating around out there. Shit happens no matter how old you are. We may as well get started. We’ve got this nice little lighthouse from your uncle and it’s a great place to raise kids. You said so yourself. No babysitters, no day school. We’ll bring them up the old-fashioned way with fresh air and sunshine and a huge vegetable garden out back were we can grow organic food and—”

  Emily cut him off by clasping the back of his corded neck and pushing his mouth against her nipple again.

  “Open,” she demanded.

  He grinned and did her bidding. His mouth once again a brand of heat on her nipple. More warm wetness moistened her pussy as his lips tugged on her.

  “That feels good, Steve. Just keep doing what you’re doing and I’ll keep talking for you. My pussy is creaming up a storm and we’re going to need all the lube we can get from here on out.”

  She giggled, not believing he was actually talking about putting a garden out back of the lighthouse. He’d made no bones about not truly liking this place, but she’d assured him the island would grow on him.

  She hadn’t thought it would grow on him so fast!

  “I thought you said you wanted to wait until you decided whether or not you could handle your chapped lips problem?” she teased.

  He made a mov
e to remove his mouth from her nipple, but she kept a firm hand against the back of his neck.

  “Keep sucking, big boy. Obviously you’ve come to the conclusion you can handle chapped lips for the next fifty or so years.”

  At her remark, his lips twitched in humor. Gently he bit into her flesh, the sharp pain making her gasp and making her loosen her grip on his head. He used the opportunity to switch breasts, taking her left nipple into his hot mouth.

  Sweet sensations lashed through her. Her left nipple had always been more sensitive and easily aroused than her right. She didn’t know why but that’s the way it was. Steve knew it too and didn’t give the firm sucking pressure as he’d done to the other one.

  Reaching down with her free hand, she wrapped her fingers around the base of his shaft. He was having fun with her, so she would have fun with him too. Beneath her palm, his cock jerked as she squeezed. Quickly she followed up by trailing her fingers up and down his shaft. She knew he liked it this way and he groaned his approval.

  “After digging up that garden you’ll be nice and sweaty. You’ll be wanting more showers and I’ll be here waiting for you every time.”

  He groaned again as she slid his cock into her, his thickness invading her. Some of her control shattered. Letting go of his neck, she grabbed him once again by his shoulders and allowed her fingers to explore the smoothness of his back. Releasing her nipple, he raised his head and swiftly kissed her. His mouth felt hot and fierce against hers and his tongue prodded between her lips like a miniature cock, shattering more of her control.

  When his finger slid over her moist clit and he began to massage her with such possession, she hissed her appreciation as the thick waves of pleasure began its wicked ascent. He had her perched on the edge within seconds.

  Letting her go, he cupped her ass, lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his hips, allowing him to sink deeper into her.

  Oh yes, very nice fit, she thought as wonder cascaded through her. Wonder that maybe on their first try she would get pregnant. And she felt dazed too by the intensity of how much pleasure she felt beneath his touches.

  “Nice and tight,” he moaned against her mouth. Easing her away, he moved her against him again, plunging his cock back into her. She cried out at the exquisite pressure as he pumped and moaned at the pleasure threatening to drag her under.

  She could hear the slurping sounds every time he entered her and the scent of their sex mingled in the hot shower steam.

  Gosh, she loved the ferocious way he fucked her. Confident and bold. Fierce and passionate.

  He knew the perfect angle to hit her sensitive G-spot every time he entered. His swollen cock always stretched her so beautifully. Always with the right pressure. He did everything perfect and his rhythm drove her quickly toward climax. The stirring of an orgasm built fast as he continued his thrusts. Her fingers dug into solid muscle and she tensed, her thighs tightening with anticipation.

  Heat seared through her and she couldn’t stop the frantic gasps into his mouth as the fierce explosion hit, tearing her apart, mind, body and soul. The exquisite release made her moan over and over again, and a moment later she heard his answering moans as he quickly joined her.

  Chapter One

  Eight years later

  Emily Montgomery McCullen peered through the darkness to the illuminated bedroom clock and smiled nervously.

  Midnight. Halloween. The witching hour.

  Time to put the romance ritual to the test.

  Since she was a young teenager, she’d heard the locals speak of the romance ritual. If a girl or woman of marrying age was bold enough, all she had to do was wait for the Halloween witching hour, sit in front of a mirror, brush her hair and at the same time eat an apple. If the image of a coffin appeared over her shoulder, she would not live another year. If the image of a man appeared, he would be her future husband.

  An involuntary shiver of apprehension scrambled up her spine and she turned her attention to the mirror. The pathetic sparkle of hope flashing in her dark brown eyes brought a harsh chuckle from her lips.

  She was twenty-eight years old and she still believed in tales of romance. She should have her head examined. Her one true knight in shining armor was dead and no amount of wishful thinking or superstitious nonsense could change the fact she was destined not to have another wild romance in this lifetime.

  Besides, who needed romance? She was getting married in a few weeks to a kind fellow, a man who used to be good friends with her late husband Steve. Skip wanted to get started on a family as soon as possible, just like she wanted. She cared for him and he liked her and they would learn to love each other as their marriage progressed. Besides, she wasn’t getting any marriage offers by living alone out here on an island in the ocean, so she’d decided to accept the first proposal she’d gotten. Soon she would have the family she’d always craved and her own children to love. At least that part of her dream could come true.

  Okay, so the ritual was just folklore and she was being silly tonight. Despite her future finally being mapped out, she still couldn’t resist acting out the ancient romance ritual. Besides, whom would it hurt? No one knew what she was doing tonight. No one knew she was sitting in her lighthouse bedroom unable to sleep, bored stiff, or that she’d totally flipped out in doing this silly ritual.

  Picking up the cool apple with one hand and her late mother’s smooth ivory-handled brush in the other hand, she drew the brush through her shoulder-length blonde hair. At the same time she took a giant bite out of her apple and kept her eyes glued to the mirror. To her disappointment nothing happened.

  Oh well, at least the apple tasted good and her hair would get a nice brushing. She closed her eyes, sank back against the chair and continued to nibble on the sweet treat.

  Everything was unusually quiet tonight outside her Shipwreck Island home. No waves pounded the nearby cliffs and the wind didn’t so much as whisper against her windowpanes. The only sounds she heard were the brush skimming through her hair, the crush of her teeth against her delicious victim and the faint tick of the clock.

  Under the slow ministrations of her brush strokes she found herself thinking of her future with the man she would marry. Skip Cole was a journalist like her husband. Steve had liked him. Skip was also good father material from what she’d seen in the times he’d taken her to visit his brother and sister’s homes. He played easily with his nieces and nephews and they worshipped him. There was a big problem though, lately he’d been asking her to leave her snug Canadian island and move back to New York City to live with him in his penthouse.

  She hated the big city lights, noise and crowded streets, and he hated being away from the city. In order to marry Skip, she had to give up her dream of living in this cozy lighthouse for her other dream of having children to come true.

  She frowned. Yes, she was settling for a man she didn’t love. But lots of people settled and they had successful marriages. They would be a good match. Their marriage would work. She would make sure it would.

  Finishing her apple, she ran a final sweep through her hair and tried to ignore the lonely ache clutching her heart. When she opened her eyes, she gasped in disbelief. In the mirror, over her shoulder, hovered an image of her dead husband, smiling that wonderful crooked grin of his. Her heart crashed against her chest and a cold knot of uneasiness scrambled into her belly. Whirling around, she sighed in relief when she realized it was just a fluke.

  A moonbeam zipped through the window and lit up Steve’s side of their wedding portrait that hung on the wall.

  Emily rolled her eyes, chuckled and placed the brush on the vanity. Oh for crying out loud! It was midnight and officially October thirty-first. Spooky things were supposed to happen, right? Besides, everyone deserved a good scare on Halloween. It wouldn’t be the same if it were treated as just another normal day.

  Standing she headed to her open bedroom window. Outside, trails of white mist swirled amongst the rocky cliffs below and hovered ov
er the glasslike ocean. The only indication of an approaching storm was the wrinkled gray clouds stalking ever closer to the full moon.

  When a cool breeze suddenly drifted in and whispered against her bare arms, making her shiver, she reached up to close the window. At the same time an odd noise erupted from somewhere inside her keeper house, sending the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle a warning.

  Okay. Don’t freak out, she told herself. From all the years of living alone she’d learned one very important thing. She had to meet her fears head-on and right away. Hiding in her bedroom and scaring the shit out of herself with every little noise only heightened the fear of whatever it might be out there.

  She would investigate and then she would get to sleep. Slowly she reached for the can of mace her fiancé had brought from the States and insisted she keep beside her bed. Trembling, she tiptoed to her open bedroom doorway and peered out. Delicate moonbeams dusted her furniture with an eerie blue glaze and for what seemed an eternity she stood there, her ears pricked for any sign of that odd noise she’d heard. Despite not hearing it again she had a sense something was wrong. A feeling that something or someone was around.

  And that’s when she saw it.

  Down the short hall, she saw a pale yellow glow splash from beneath her closed kitchen door. Her tummy hollowed in a sick feeling. Had she left the light on in the kitchen? No, the light would be brighter than that. Maybe it was the moonlight?

  Um no. Wrong color.

  Oh shit.

  Resisting the urge to retreat like a scaredy-cat and escape out the back door, Emily shakily pointed the mace in front of her and on wobbly legs inched toward the kitchen. She reached the doorway, and with her hand resting on the doorknob, she listened. She couldn’t hear anything so she turned the doorknob ever-so quietly and pushed the door inward enough to peek inside the room.