Mr. Grey and the Hotel Ghosts Page 10

"What can we do next? Those buyers will be looking around the place tomorrow. We don't have that much time."

  "We'll check the police records. Find any trace of James in this city between the hotel fire and his death. And we'd better try to get a line on the Cloverdale family descendants, particularly Anna-Grace. Her heirs would inherit the jewels—if the family line still exists."

  "Chuck said he would trace their family tree."

  "True, he did. He's in a good position to do it. I hope he finds something. At this stage of the game, we could be running out of time to search the hotel before it's sold."

  "But there's nothing we can do to further the search tonight?"

  "Nothing I can think of," he said after a pause, shaking his head.

  "Good!" She chuckled and let her hands wander. "Because I can think of something else to do!"

  * * * *

  Martin still seemed shy; he trembled against her, and she felt a warm glow of affection for this solid, upright Englishman. Her heart began to beat strongly in her breast as they kissed, and she drew him closer. In the back of her mind a small voice was emphasizing the need to take things slowly, not to scare him with an untimely surge of passion. She took the advice; Martin Grey had become very special to her in the few days they had known each other. There was no way she was going to let him leave without satisfying his need or hers.

  His hands slipped beneath the hem of her sweatshirt, and she could feel the warm, tender touch of them as he stroked her bare flesh. Claudia put her hands around his neck and kissed him deeply, sliding her tongue between his lips to flick it against his teeth. His hands moved up and down her back now, reaching a little higher each time, until they encountered her bra strap.

  "Undo it, Martin," she whispered. "Go ahead; I won't bite—much!"

  His laugh came as a gust of warm air, and she felt his strong, supple fingers feeling their way over the hooks. A brief tightening, then a wonderful release as the pressure of the cups on her breasts ceased.

  Drawing back, she slipped the sweatshirt over her head. The bra cups came away and dangled on the straps. Martin's eyes were fixed with wondering delight on her breasts as she emerged from the sweatshirt. She tossed it aside, gave a coquettish shake of her body to make her breasts sway, and smiled at his pop-eyed reaction.

  "You like?"

  "Damn straight!" he said with a laugh in his voice.

  The bra followed the sweatshirt onto the floor, and she cuddled close, kissing him. "Mr. Grey, you're wearing far too many clothes compared to me. I call that unfair!"

  He leaned back and let her unbutton the plaid shirt he wore. She pulled it open and ran her hands over his strong, manly chest. "I couldn't help but admire this the other day, when you were shaving." She leaned against him and pecked him on the lips. "I have very good self-control, but you sure tested it then!"

  Martin's fingers came up and stroked the outside of her breasts where they squashed against his chest. "I think I'd have let you do what you like, Claudia," he said softly.

  "I just reckon you would have." She kissed him again, and got up from the sofa. Taking hold of his hand, she drew him onto his feet. "And I've got just enough self-control left to make it to the bedroom, where you and I will be much more comfortable."

  Claudia had expected to lead him by the hand to her bed. To her mild surprise he laughed, slipped his arm around her waist, and walked with her to her bedroom.

  He closed the door with his foot, and clasped her about the waist. Drawing her close, he kissed her deeply, their tongues entwining, and she felt his fingers slide under the waistband of her pants. Claudia felt her self-control begin to slip as he knelt and pulled her pants down, his breath gusting hot on her thighs. She stepped out of them, holding onto his shoulder for balance, and shivered as he stroked her thighs, up, and down, gazing up at her with lust clear in his eyes.

  "Want to taste me?" she asked, a catch in her voice.

  "Oh yes!" he replied.

  She couldn't speak, just gestured for him to pull her panties down.

  He did so.

  Claudia blinked and shivered with delight, her hands pressed firmly to her flanks as he cupped her butt and leaned close. The first touch of his tongue on the smooth skin of her belly made her jerk. He buried his nose in her pubic hair, kissing and licking until she felt his hot breath playing over her sex.

  "You smell wonderful!" he said.

  "Yeah? Good," she managed to say.

  "The taste of a woman is like a fine wine," he said, and laid his tongue along her lips from front to rear, making her shiver and cry out.

  "Bed, Martin! I don't think I can stand much longer… Ooooh!" She gasped again as his tongue flicked over the bud of her clitoris.

  He stood up as she felt her way back to sit on to the bed. Martin gazed down at her as he unbuckled his pants, dropped them and kicked them away. He wore briefs underneath; these followed, releasing his tumescent cock to her eager gaze.

  "Whoa! You're hard already!"

  He spread his hands and smiled. "How could I not be, in your presence?"

  "Oh! You say the sweetest things!"

  He grinned, knelt at the foot of the bed, and, with his hands on her knees, pushed them apart. Claudia flopped back, and closed her eyes.

  The soft tip of his tongue began to trace a line from her left knee upwards. She could feel the moistness of it, as she could feel the moistness of her pussy as it flooded in earnest. His mouth drew closer and closer to her pussy, licking, kissing, sucking at the soft flesh on her inner thigh. She drew a deep breath and braced herself for the touch of his tongue on her pussy lips—then the brute withdrew and began on her other leg!

  "Ohhh, dammit, Martin!" she moaned, and her hips flexed of their own accord.

  His laugh in response was muffled by her flesh, as he kissed and licked her thigh, working upwards as before, closer, and closer…

  "If you go back to my other knee, I'll kill you!"

  In response his tongue slipped between her outer pussy lips and deep inside her, his lips meeting hers in a slick wet kiss. Her butt buried itself in the softness of her bedspread as she jackknifed. "Oh, God!"

  As she relaxed, his hands wandered up and down her sides, then over her ribs to clasp and squeeze her breasts. All the time his lips and tongue worked magic inside her pussy, until Claudia could feel her juices flowing like a river.

  When he touched the button of her clit this time she cried out loud, grasped his head and pulled him against her. "Suck me! Bite me!" she gasped.

  Martin obliged, teasing her clit with his teeth, nibbling, pulling on it, suckling as if it was a nipple.

  Claudia felt the tingling in her sex flood up and out, until her ears began to sing with the oncoming orgasm. She gave herself up to it, losing all control, and screamed as one final pull of his lips on her clit detonated her orgasm.

  Blood pounded in her head, her mind was full of flashes of fire and light; her body twisted and writhed, all conscious control gone.

  When she came to, Martin was lying beside her, his hands lightly stroking her belly and thighs. She looked up into his smiling face, and reached up with trembling fingers to trace a line along his jaw.

  "Thank you for that, lover," she said with a shaky voice. "Damn, but that was sooo fucking good!"

  "It's not over until the fat lady sings!"

  "Who are you calling fat?"

  He grinned, and slipped his fingers between her thighs. "It's a figure of speech!"

  She slapped his chest. "I know!"

  He lay close beside her as he slid his finger deep into her pussy. Lowering his head he sucked her nipple into his mouth. She could feel his tongue playing over it, hot and moist and so damn sexy, as his finger continued to stroke, stroke, stroke.

  Then another finger joined it, stretching her a bit more. Claudia lay back and let him play with her, closing her eyes and concentrating on the shivery feeling building up in her pussy once more. A third finger pushed in, stretching, spreadi
ng her vagina walls until she bit her lip and gasped with the sheer sensual touch. His thumb rubbed over her clit bud, his pinky fingernail scratched her anus. Somehow he must have sensed her thought, for he paused long enough to moisten his little finger in her pussy juices before sliding it around and around her butt hole. His eyebrow cocked in enquiry and she nodded quickly.

  "Oooh yesss!" she murmured, as she felt his pinky slide into her hole. And his fingers got back to work in her pussy, his thumb returned to her clit, and Martin Grey, her tame and not-so-tame Englishman, began to bring her to pleasure once more.

  His chest rose and fell against her side as he breathed. She gave him a long, sultry look as he nuzzled her breast, pushing her flesh around with lips and tongue, teasing her nipple until it throbbed. Inside her his fingers began to move quicker, and quicker, as he set to finger-fucking her with a will.

  "Yes! Yes! Oh, yes!" she said urgently, her breath quickening.

  Faster, and faster, his arm rubbing on her thigh and fingers probing as deep as his knuckles with each thrust. Claudia pushed her head back and clamped her pussy onto his fingers, bringing the maximum amount of flesh into contact with her lover's hand.

  Once more the sudden surge of orgasm rolled through her, bearing her up and rolling her body through the mill race of lust and passion. Her own cry seemed faint to her ears as she came, her pussy clamped like a vice around Martin's fingers.

  Slowly, she came to, and found him smiling gently down at her. Claudia reached up and ran her fingers along his jaw line, feeling a great warm wash of contentment flowing through her body and soul.

  "Damn, but you're good with your hands!" she said softly.

  He took her hand and kissed her palm. "I aim to please, my love."

  "Mmm, love!" She stretched and yawned. "I like the sound of that." His cock lay hard against her thigh. She reached down, and clasped it. "Now, let's find somewhere for this big boy to play, shall we?"

  He laughed and kissed her, his solidity and warmth so comforting against her. Claudia savored his presence in her arms, stroked his hair, and whispered, "You'll find a small red packet in the top drawer of my cabinet."

  Martin leaned across her to explore the contents of the drawer. A hair-lined nipple hung above her face and she reached up with her lips and sucked it hard.

  He gasped, so she did it again. "Oooh! Blimey!" Sliding back beside her he held up the red foil packet. "Will you do the honors, or shall I?"

  Claudia twitched the packet from his fingers. "Lie back."

  He rolled onto his back as she tore open the foil. The mixed smell of latex and lubricant wafted into the air as she slid the coiled rubber out of the pocket and teased it open.

  "The first time I used these, I never could figure which side was which," she said.

  Pinching the teat, she placed the rubber like a crown on the head of his cock, liking the way he stood tall and proud. A fresh gush of warmth flooded her pussy at the thought that it would soon be deep inside her, and she rolled the rubber over his shaft with more haste than she intended. He winced, and she gave him a lingering kiss by way of apology, even as she stroked his balls with her fingertips.

  Bracing a hand on his chest, she straddled him, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. She reached beneath her and guided his cock to her pussy, moving her hips until she felt the tip of the rubber touching her labia. Martin's face took on a look of mixed urgency and pain as she began to lower herself onto him, and she chuckled as his eyes fixed on the sight of his cock as it disappeared into her hole.

  Claudia felt her cervix being pushed upwards and she grunted with delight as she sank onto him. She drew her knees up so she could let her weight settle on him until he filled her to the last hair.

  "Ooh, my God!" Martin groaned, and his hands played with her breasts, making them swing and tremble. He began to rise against her, his fingers pinching her nipples. Claudia ran her fingernails over his chest, leaving faint red wheals, as she began to match his rhythm, sinking down onto her lover as his hips rose up, rising when they fell back, riding him.

  Letting the rhythm build for a few minutes, she gave a sudden twitch of her hips, rocking quickly from side to side even as she mashed her pussy down onto him. The feel of his cock moving hard inside her made her grit her teeth and cry out.

  "Oh, God! Yes, oh yes!" Martin groaned, his eyes half-shut, and his fingers closed convulsively about her breasts.

  Claudia leaned forward and gripped his shoulders, bracing herself, and she began to ride him like a jockey in a gallop over a rough field, pounding down onto Martin's cock with every stroke.

  His hands closed about her hips, holding onto her, striving to rise against her weight, his eyes fixed on her breasts as they bounced and bobbed in front of his face.

  "Oh God! Oh God!" It felt like someone else was crying out, it wasn't her. The heat in her pussy was rising to boiling point. "Oh please, yess, yesss, yessss!"

  Martin gave a great groan and surged up against her, impaling her on his cock like a harpoon. His head pressed into the pillow, his back arched, and she could feel his cock pumping inside her as he spent.

  The feeling tipped her over the edge. Shaking and shuddering she came in screaming orgasm, her heels locking under his butt as she clamped herself to him in a paroxysm of lust.

  Somehow, at last, they sank back onto the bed, and lay together in each other's arms in warm, drowsy, post-coital bliss, heedless of the damp sheets beneath them. Claudia found the energy to lean over and kiss him.

  "Welcome to New York!" she said with a laugh.

  * * * *

  Martin whistled cheerfully as he knocked on the front door of the hotel the next morning. As he waited for Mike to appear he looked up at the old building with mild affection and felt a warm glow as he remembered the night just passed. Claudia was at her office preparing the viewing for Kyle Marshall, and he missed her deeply already.

  A strange watchman came to the door and peered out at him. "Can I help you, sir?" he asked.

  Martin blinked at him in surprise. "I'm Mr. Grey," he said, holding up the pass Claudia had given him. "I need to clear my equipment away before the viewing this morning."

  "Okay, wait one minute," the man replied, sorting through the bundle of keys at his belt until he found the one for the revolving doors.

  "Is it Mike's day off?" Martin asked pleasantly as he walked in.

  "Mike isn't working for the company anymore," the man said with a thin smile. "My name's Tom," he added, holding out his hand.

  Martin shook it and introduced himself. "That was a sudden departure." He frowned. "I hope nothing's wrong?"

  "I can't say, sir." Tom gave him a knowing look. "Someone's been stirring the pot back at base. You'd have to ask them."

  "Well, it's none of my business, I'm sure," Martin replied. "I'll go and collect my things. I shouldn't be more than an hour."

  "Okay, sir." Tom jerked a thumb at the office. "I'll be in the hooch when you want out."

  It took Martin less time than he expected to collect all his sensors. Again, he was puzzled to find that some showed discrepancies of five or ten minutes in their running time. As he was thinking over the possibilities, his cell phone rang.

  "Hi, honey!" Claudia's voice sounded bright and cheery in his ear. "How's the lover this morning?"

  "Just great!" Martin smiled at the sound of her voice and leaned against the wall. "How are you?"

  "Oh, just wonderful! Especially since a nice bouquet from a certain English gentleman was delivered to me at the office this morning!"

  He grinned. "You're very welcome, love."

  "Thanks again, Martin. It was a lovely thought." He heard her inhalation of breath. "Martin, I hate to spoil the moment, but a lot's going down at the office this morning, not all of it good for you or me. Where are you now?"

  "I'm at the Chestnut Mansion, sorting out my sensors. There's something funny going on. I think they've been tampered with."

  "Really?" Her voic
e quickened with interest. "Who or what would do that?"

  "I don't know but I'll work it out. Are you okay?" he asked. "You said you're fine but you sound harassed."

  "More than somewhat, Martin. First up, Kyle's been on my back about the viewing; he wants you out of there ASAP."

  "Not a problem, I've just finished."

  "Great. Second, I had a call from the security company manager. It seems Mike told a few whoppers to get his job, so he got the sack. Company policy."

  "Good grief!" Martin gave a silent whistle. "There's a new watchman here this morning; he hinted that things weren't right where Mike was concerned. Now I think of it, one of the night watchmen also danced around the subject when I asked him. Is it anything we should know about?"

  "Not sure; if I find time, I'll chase the manager on it, but I can't promise a result. Martin, I'm not going to make it to see you this morning. Shall we meet up for lunch?"

  "At the deli?"

  She laughed and he could picture her face at the other end of the connection. "You're getting a taste for deli dining, aren't you?" She sounded better. "It's a date! Leave your equipment in the office there and we'll collect it later, it'll be safer than toting it around the streets. Oh damn, Carla's here. Gotta go. Love ya!"

  "Love you too!" He closed the call and smiled.

  * * * *

  Early afternoon saw Martin and Claudia at the archives. Thanks to the Freedom of Information Act there was no difficulty in gaining access to the police files covering the deaths of one James Cloverdale, a.k.a. James Covington, and Giuseppe Loretto. Long ago each folder had been marked "112th Precinct" with a smudged stamp, the once-blue ink turning mauve with age. A more modern touch was a white label with a bar-code, stuck in the top-right corner.

  Claudia opened the bulky manila folder on James and began to leaf through the musty documents inside.

  "Seems our James was a busy boy," she muttered, scanning the crabbed writing of a past generation of police officials. "Look at this. 'Deceased victim identified as James Cloverdale, suspected agent provocateur in the anti-draft riots in New York during 1863.'"

  "That would suit his Southern sympathies," Martin observed, picking up the next sheet. "From this it looks like he tried disrupting the recruitment of the Northern forces all through the Eastern states of the Union."