Come Back to Me by Meghan Alexis Moore

Author:Meghan Alexis Moore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary Romance, New Adult Romance, Adult Romance, Fiction, Contemporary Fiction, Women’s Fiction, Contemporary Romance, Erotic Short Stories, Explicit Erotica, Contemporary Erotic Romance, World Literature
Publisher: SpreadEagle Publications
Published: 2016-10-18T00:00:00+00:00

Eight

The next four months pass in a whirlwind of waking, being fucked, showering, eating exquisite meals, being fucked and then sleeping.

My elderly neighbours complain that they never see me, but knowing that Christopher has generously provided for their needs, I spend my time providing for his and mine.

Fucking an insatiable ghost isn’t easy, but I do my very best by making myself available to him in every and any way I can. All holes on my body belong to him and I open willingly to his demands.

I’ve broken all ties with my agent Margaret and am painting for pleasure once again. I still send my completed canvases to the art gallery, but have no obligation to do so.

Christopher spends his days writing. He’s able to use the keyboard once I power up the computer. We still can’t work out why he’s unable to do that part of it himself. It’s odd, but it doesn’t matter. I would have willingly followed his dictation, but he’d previously tried writing books using speech-to-text software and hadn’t found the process as efficient as him typing the words.

And his books are better than ever. I think it’s because he now writes with more passion. The last one published a week ago topped the Amazon UK chart and broke the Amazon US Top 20. He was thrilled because tastes varied considerably over the two sites and few authors are able to do well on both. His books all have high average rating, but the last one has a 4.95 over nearly five hundred reviews.

He had desperately wanted a traditional publishing contract while he was alive. It’s ironic that the offers have come flooding in now that it’s too late.

I still feel chilled to the bone when I think of him telling me that he’d been haunted by the premonition that he would somehow die like Steig Larsson before having a chance to enjoy the fruits of his labours. Christopher hadn’t been as unlucky—he had been modestly successful before his death, but he had painstakingly drawn a detailed will that left nothing to chance. He hadn’t wanted a penny of his legacy to fall into the hands of his father, who as his only living relative would have inherited everything—convicted murderer or not.

***

Usually after dinner, we retire and Christopher spends his nights pleasuring me. Tonight he’s pensive as he absentmindedly pushes his steak around his plate.

Technically he doesn’t need to eat, but he likes to. And since he no longer has to worry about blocking his arteries and heart diseases, he has a large, rare steak whenever he wants.

“Is something wrong with it?” I ask when he slices off a piece, carries it to his mouth but doesn’t eat it.

“It’s lovely.” He snaps out of the trance, takes it into his mouth and chews on it, still looking thoughtful.

“You’re quiet tonight.”

“I’m thinking of Belinda.”

My heart lurches at the sound of his dead girlfriend’s name.

“Do you still love her?”

“It isn’t that,” he says evasively. “I just don’t understand why she didn’t come back to me.

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