The Phantom by Jocelyn Leveret Page A

wet to be anything else. My husband certainly didn’t do that to me on our wedding night. I cannot explain it, but my original fear began to vanish. Pleasure began to replace it as this... phantom licked me more and more.
    My body began to warm to the point of fever. I felt myself grow moist down there, and my private parts relaxed and opened. That certainly did not happen the night my maidenhead was taken.
    I whined when the tongue stopped. My drawers were left wet and sticky when the kisses began again. My dressing gown was lifted further, first to my stomach and then high enough that lips could be pressed to the underside of each of my breasts. The only thing that helped tame my shame was the dark and knowing that whoever my lover was, he could not see the flesh he exposed.
    But the dark could not protect me from his hands or his lips. The ghost squeezed my left breast while his mouth locked onto the tip of my right. First, my nipples seemed to harden and stretch. Then, my back arched up into his touch for even more. No one ever told me a woman’s breasts could feel pleasure like that. All this time, I believed they were just for feeding children.
    It became hard to breathe when the kisses began yet again up my throat, over my chin and to my lips at last. His tongue pushed into my mouth and I actually moaned.
    I took a deep breath when our kiss finally broke. I had to ask my phantom, “Why do you taste like fresh pear?”
    He laughed and said, “I don’t taste like pear. I taste like you.”
    I was so shocked that my eyes went wide. My ghostly lover returned his lips to mine and took away my ability to say anything else. He thrust his tongue into my mouth again and filled it with the flavor of my secret place.
    Then, I felt something hard touch me between my legs. Right away I knew what it was. A man was about to penetrate me, and there was that fear again. Edward drove himself inside me, but my phantom was slow and gentle. My place was still sore, so he took his time easing into my body. My walls parted around him, and though my body still ached, I still needed him there. He finally crushed my lower curls, and then waited until I was ready for more.
    It was I that moved first. I rolled my hips back and then forward. It was only then that he began to rock into me, and every time he pushed in to his hilt, my body trembled.
    An explosion is the only word I know to describe it. Pleasure that could only be promised in heaven exploded between my legs, and rippled through the rest of being. My back arched so forcefully that his hands were thrown from my breasts and my nipples scratched the shadow’s chest. Even my head was thrown back. I tried to fight my scream, but it was impossible.
    It continued until the sun came through my curtains and he simply disappeared. My phantom made me scream with pleasure all through the night until dawn came and stole him from me.
    My legs were left almost too weak to walk this morning even to this desk. Just writing this is bringing back that damp stirring between my thighs. I long for his touch, but I fear I will succumb to this strange new need before his return, and have to resort to my own sinful touch for relief.
    I will hold onto this memory as long as health and age allow, but in these pages, the events of last night will go on forever.
    I read it all in the elevator up to the apartment, twice.
    The bride’s handwriting said it all. At first, it was smooth and neat when she was calm. Then, The Phantom came to her and her pen got shakier by the word. I could actually see her sitting there over a century ago writing with a trembling hand while her legs squeezed open and closed. Her drawers had even probably still been wet with the evidence of the encounter as she wrote.
    Oh, I was so jealous! When would it be my turn?
    Even as I slipped my keys in the lock, I was reading it for a third time. I never even looked up as I started to close the door behind me. Then, I heard the