A blush heated her cheeks at the thought of her earlier complaints. Alex laughed and settled in behind her, his chest a solid wall of support, until their guide called them to gather around for the beginning of the tour.
“Good evening. I’m Mary,” she said. “Welcome to the Music City Downtown Ghost Tour. We’ve got lots of spooky stuff for you to see tonight, so get your walking shoes on and let’s get going. Follow me.”
Their first stop was across from the elegant cream-and-black facade of the Hermitage Hotel, where Mary sent shivers down Cailin’s spine as she shared stories about the ghosts seen and ghostly noises heard throughout the hotel. As darkness settled around them, they continued their slow walk down the street, past the Tennessee Performing Arts Center, where crowds milled to see the latest offering by the theater, and various empty office buildings while Mary filled them in on the history of Nashville and its early years as an important river port for the South. By the time they reached the end of Sixth Avenue, it was full dark and the State Capitol Building loomed directly ahead.
Staring at the up-lit structure built atop a bow-backed hill, she could see why people would expect to find ghosts here. There was something eerie about the heavily columned building, at least at night, especially with the surrounding grounds, heavily planted with gardens and trees, dark. Mary’s story about rival architects buried together inside the capitol building didn’t help.
“Spooky,” Alex whispered in her ear. His warm breath sent a shiver along her spine that had nothing to do with ghosts. As they crossed the street, she wished for a moment that they’d stayed in the hotel room, where she could have followed up on that shiver. When they took the first set of stairs toward the top of the hill, the darkness drove her closer to Alex, clinging to his broad, strong hand, and the resulting tingle gave her a totally different—and totally naughty—idea.
The group spread out to explore the area around the building, many heading toward the lighted side near President James K. Polk’s tomb. Alex stepped in that direction, but Cailin inhaled a deep breath, took a chance, and tugged him in the other. Barely visible, a hedge of evergreens lined the front area, providing a small alley of privacy she hoped to take advantage of.
“Where are we—”
Cailin used a fingertip to stop Alex’s question. Instead she drew him behind the evergreens, standing at least ten feet tall, backed him into the fragrant wall, and sank hastily to her knees.
“Cailin?”
Fingers trembling at the audacity of what she was about to do—and at the overwhelming desire to do it—Cailin reached up and placed both hands on Alex’s crotch. He choked even as his length hardened beneath her touch. The power she seemed to hold over his body awed her. Right now she’d use it to her advantage, for his pleasure.
Knowing seconds counted, she opened the button of his jeans by shoving her hands under his untucked button-down and giving a single flick to the top button. She didn’t even bother to lower the zipper all the way, just lowered it enough to maneuver the head of his shaft through the gap. His breathing bellowed in her ears, his pulse jumped between her fingers, and her mouth watered as she opened enough to take him in.
Fast. Frantic. She poured everything she had into pleasuring him, needing only the taste of his release on her tongue to satisfy her. She couldn’t tell if the sounds Alex was emitting were laughter or sobs. Either way, minutes later he was exploding in her mouth, his hands clutching her hair as he strained to empty every last drop into the moist cavern surrounding him. His salty release hit her tongue, and molten pleasure blinded her for long moments. Only Alex’s pulling back and the slide of his cock from her mouth returned her to the present.
“God, Cailin,” Alex said, strangled laughter making his words choppy, “what was that about?”
Standing, she helped him straighten his clothes until he was as presentable as they could make him in the almost nonexistent light. “It’s about surprising you,” she replied.
“I’d surprise you too, but I don’t think we have time for me to reciprocate.”
“Don’t have to. This tour was gift enough. Thank you,” she whispered as the sound of the others approaching filtered through the trees.
“You’re welcome, and yes, I do. And I will.” A hard, thorough kiss, then, “Just you wait.”
Cailin had a feeling the rest of the tour would be a blur with that promise ahead of her. She was right. Though a crowd of people surrounded them, somehow the sensations Alex conjured overwhelmed her senses. He led her down the street in their guide’s wake, his knowing fingers trailing along the valley that bisected her back and sending shivers—the good kind—down her spine. Goose bumps pebbled her skin as Alex stood behind her in Painter’s Alley, her bare neck sensitive to the lingering of his breath against it. St. Mary’s and the story of the priest found inside its walls made nothing more than a vague impression as Alex’s hands molded her hips, kneading, rubbing, sometimes dipping low—and behind—to distract her from every word. And boldest of all, the press of his fingers against the sides of her aching breasts, already tender and throbbing from the attention he’d lavished on them all weekend, as they lingered in the darkened parking lot outside the famous Ryman Auditorium.