Riley shivered as she ran her fingers over her ribcage and her belly, then slipped them into her panties. She knew she was wet, but she hadn’t expected the pool of desire she found when she lowered them farther. It was astounding how much fantasizing about Quinn aroused her; she felt a need for release she hadn’t experienced in years.
Quinn’s face appeared in her mind’s eye, and she stroked herself as she held on to the image. She was so sensitive that she buckled under the touch and moaned through the eerie silence. Her voice filled the room, and even though there was no one around, she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the sound. In this house, she always felt like someone or something was watching her; she felt lonely, but never alone. While her rational mind told her ghosts didn’t exist, she still imagined Quinn’s ancestors watching her, knowing she was fantasizing about Quinn. Because the dead, in the unlikely event that they were still around in some form, surely knew everything.
Riley squeezed her eyes tight shut, banning those thoughts from her mind, and moved her fingers faster, circling her clit until a surge of warmth started building, teasing her with the promise of something explosive. She entered herself while she imagined Quinn’s fingers inside her and threw her head back as her walls started squeezing around them. A groan came from deep down, strangled, almost alarming as she came with a force that left her limp and breathless.
She breathed fast, withdrew, and covered her damp face with her hands. The night was cool, but the room felt broody, and heat radiated from her as she turned on her side and sighed. At the age of forty, she’d just masturbated while thinking of a woman for the first time, and she felt more satisfied than ever. That was something to think about. Did this happen to others? Did people suddenly develop a lesbian crush out of nowhere after being straight their whole lives? Riley had always been convinced stuff like that only happened in movies, but she wasn’t so sure anymore.
She needed distraction and she needed it bad because it was looking like it would be another long, sleepless night full of questions she had no answers to and feelings she didn’t know what to do with. With that thought, she got up, put on her robe, headed downstairs, and turned on the TV and all the lights. She put another coat of paint on the living room walls, then sat on the couch for a while, watching it dry before she wandered through the big house, aimlessly, restlessly, contemplating what to do with the kitchen, the laundry room, the downstairs restroom, and the hallway. Her eyes fell on the office adjacent to the hallway. She’d only entered it twice; the space confused her, and with no need for an office anymore, she wondered if it could serve as an extra bedroom if she ever decided to go ahead with the idea of a guesthouse.
There was little light in the office; some of the bulbs were broken, and it felt eerie. It was damper than the other spaces too, and she’d noticed the edges of the wallpaper were curling in the corners. There were deep marks in the thick carpet where a heavy desk had once been, and the only piece of furniture still standing was a large, built-in bookcase against the back wall.
Riley pulled at the wallpaper, and it came off much easier in here. Tearing off a significant piece without much effort made her smile and gave her immense satisfaction. She suspected the dampness had caused it to loosen over the years, and at the lack of something better to do, she brought in the ladder and started stripping the walls. It was addictive; she’d been fighting the house since she arrived, and finally she was winning.
“I’m going to beat you, you fucker,” she mumbled to herself. “And when I’ve beaten you, I’m going to sell you and you’ll be someone else’s problem.”
She imagined Quinn’s great-grandfather sitting there behind a mahogany desk, cursing and pointing at her with his fancy pen. She looked at the spot where the desk had been and grinned at her imaginary ghost.
“All of this is coming off, do you hear me? All of it. Because it’s my house now, and I’m going to do with it as I please, no matter how much you try to scare me.”
As she said it, she wondered if she might be going crazy, talking to herself while she violently tore at the floral wallpaper in the middle of the night.
“Quinn is okay with it. She told me herself, and you’ll just have to live with my changes. Well, you’re not alive, so I suppose that’s not a correct statement,” she continued, unsure if she was actually saying it out loud. She’d read about insomnia and how it could affect one’s mind, and that was the point she decided it was time to finally get some sleep, one way or another.
With a sigh, she dropped her scraper and headed for the kitchen where she poured herself a generous glass of Scotch and downed it in one go. She didn’t even like Scotch; she’d only bought it with this specific goal in mind, and as she climbed the stairs with a refill in hand, she was hopeful her strategy would work.
24
QUINN
Quinn was on her way to work when she’d turned off the main road and found herself in front of the gates of Aster House. It wasn’t the house that drew her in this time, but rather the attractive new owner she hadn’t stopped thinking about since their dinner last week. Apart from a message from Riley thanking her for dinner and a polite reply from her side, they hadn’t been in contact, and she felt an urge to see her.
“Sorry about the wait. I was looking for my robe when you buzzed the gate.” Riley came out with a beaming smile, holding two mugs. “I’m glad you decided to take me up on my coffee offer. I just made some,” she said, handing Quinn a mug. “Shall we sit outside? I bought a new bench. It’s in the backyard, facing the river.”
“Perfect. I hope it’s not too early?” Quinn followed Riley, who looked incredible in the cream-colored satin robe that draped around her curves and showed off an enticing hint of cleavage. Her hair fell in wild waves around her shoulders, and without makeup, she was even more beautiful.
“No, not at all. But I was up later than usual, which is why I’m not dressed yet. I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Quinn tore her eyes away from Riley’s behind and focused on the view. The river looked still this morning, as if it had just woken up along with Riley. “Anything bothering you? Or is it the house?”
“The house, mainly.” Riley led them to a white, cast-iron bench positioned under one of the big willows and touched one of the light-blue cushions to check if it was dry, then sat down and crossed her legs. “There are so many strange noises, it freaks me out.”
“Are you afraid?” Quinn sat next to her.
“Honestly, yes. I don’t believe in the paranormal and I’m not easily spooked, but there’s something about Aster House that frightens me at night.” Riley paused and sipped her coffee. “Were you never afraid when you lived there?”
“Never. But there were always people around.” Quinn shot her a reassuring smile. “I know the noises you’re referring to, though. I always imagined the house was sleeping at night—the steady creaking a deep inhalation, causing it to expand like a chest, then exhaling when the soft whistling of the wind followed.”
“That’s poetic,” Riley said, meeting her eyes with a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m lying awake.”
“I hope it helps.” Quinn realized she was staring, so she focused on the bench and changed the subject. “This is great. Very Victorian. And you found the perfect spot for it.”
“Yes, I like this tree, and it shelters it from rain.” Riley closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “It smells wonderful when it’s been raining overnight. There’s no pure freshness like this in New York.” She draped her arm over the backrest and turned to Quinn. “So, what are you up to today?”
“Nothing much, just work. The start of a new job is always a bit hectic, so it might be a late one. You?”
“I’m ripping out the carpet in the living room and the office, and Lindsey’s nephew Gareth is coming today. He’s starting on the yard.”
“Gareth? I’ve met him, he’s a nice guy.” Quinn inspected the backyard as she sipped her coffee. It was just as overgrown as the front, if not more. “It might take him a week. It’s been neglected for quite a while. Are you planning to change anything?”
