Soul Keeper

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Totally Bound Publication

  Soul Keeper

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-620-5

  ©Copyright Natalie Dae 2015

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright June 2015

  Edited by Nicki Richards and Sarah Smeaton

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 3.

  SOUL KEEPER

  Natalie Dae

  Meeting your man online can be the best thing you’ve ever done…

  Carrie Marsh and Rob Edwards have been speaking to one another over the Internet for two years. The time has come to cement their love and meet. Carrie waits for Rob’s train, excitement spiraling through her, for she has planned a night to remember. Rob is shy, and Carrie intends to show him how to unleash his sexy side during a series of sexual encounters—the first one up against a tree where anyone could spot their antics…

  Chapter One

  The Oak Tree

  Carrie Marsh sat on one of the many metal benches on the train platform in the small village of Branston, England, her cunt wet, her clit pulsing. With her finger, she toyed with a strand of her sand-colored hair that she’d left loose and flowing about her shoulders. She’d arrived early, eager to meet the man who filled her with passion just by reading his words. Near naked beneath her calf-length red coat, Carrie imagined his surprise when she took it off. Her black silk bra and thong set, bought especially for this occasion, were sensuously divine against her skin, and another rush of desire swept through her.

  Fuck, I want him. Where is he?

  She glanced at the tower on the opposite platform, at the large round clock face telling her she was still early. Only seven forty-five p.m. Time had seemed to slow since she’d arrived, anticipation for the coming evening raging through her with alarming force. How could she feel like this about someone she had never met? How could she have fallen in love with a man just from what he’d typed? From the picture he had sent? From his voice on the phone?

  His face came to mind—those chiseled cheekbones, that strong, square jaw, and eyes such a dark brown they bordered on black. And his black hair, God, how she wanted to run her fingers through it, grip it in her fists and pull his head down so he could suck her breasts. Her nipples tingled, tautened, and she folded her arms across her chest and jiggled as though warming herself from the cold. The abrasion sent a spear of desire down to her cunt. She crossed her legs and squeezed her thighs together.

  The icy air nipped at her nose and numbed her cheeks. A ghostly breeze soughed across her stocking-clad calves, snaking up to chill the back of her knees. Carrie shivered and goosebumps sprouted on her skin.

  A low rumble sounded in the distance, and she sat more upright, gripping the seat edge. Glancing to her right, she was wide-eyed, hoping to spot the train that would bring him to her. Nothing to see but the track, tree silhouettes and a moonlit sky. Her attention back on her immediate surroundings, she eyed those around her, intent on seeking him out in case he, too, had shown up early and studied her from seclusion.

  A woman and her child occupied the third bench from hers, their faces showing boredom and fatigue. An elderly gentleman stood leaning against the ticket office, reading a newspaper beneath a wall-mounted light. The only other stranger occupying the platform was a brunette, who paced with a cell phone clamped to her ear, her side of the conversation too low to hear.

  Impatient, Carrie sighed and cocked her head. The rumble grew louder and her stomach contracted, butterflies batting, her heart thrumming too fast. She inhaled, excitement building in her chest. God, how she wanted to palm her breasts, cup herself and apply pressure to stave off the insistent throb of her clit.

  Once again, she stared down the track.

  Two swathes of white light cut into the darkness, and her stomach rolled so violently she thought she might be sick.

  He’s coming. Oh, God.

  The train approached swiftly, and a rush of air blasted her as the express pulled into the station. The full carriages offered no sign of him as yet, and she stood, clutched her coat lapels and scanned the inhabitants. Women and men on their way home from work rose to collect their bags, and the carriage doors swooshed open, travelers spilling out onto the platform as though starving for freedom.

  I can’t see him!

  She turned to look farther down the platform. The same types of commuters alighted from other carriages, swarming off into the darkness to their destinations. Frantic, she flicked her gaze from one person to another, her body trembling, her mind infused with the thought of him not keeping their appointment. Her clit ached, tormenting her, and she shoved her hands into her pockets, balling them into fists.

  What if he doesn’t come?

  Their two years of talking via email sped through her mind. The warm friendship he’d given as her five-year marriage deteriorated, the advice, the hope that there were men out there who didn’t treat women badly. Their chats had blossomed when she’d filed for divorce, moved on to light flirting and, two years later, he’d admitted to falling for her. Wanting her in his life permanently, promising to cherish her forever.

  A lump expanded in her throat and she swallowed, fighting the urge to sob.

  Please don’t let him be another of those men who promises the world and fails.

  Tears stung her eyes and she blinked in an effort to see the passengers. What if she missed him? What if he’d looked at the crowd and thought she hadn’t turned up? Carrie brought a hand out of her pocket and dabbed the tears away with her fingers, took in a deep breath and spun in the opposite direction. Air whooshed out of her and she clapped her hand over her mouth, her smile so wide it hurt.

  There he stood, leaning against a lamppost, hands in black trouser pockets, suit jacket covering a white shirt. The dark blue tie he’d said he’d wear rested over his chest, and a lazy grin tweaked his mouth. Her knees buckled and she lowered her hand, suddenly unsure of what to do next. He held out his arm and she ran toward him, pushing through the thinning crowd, her whole body needing his touch, his arms about her.

  She stopped inches in front of him and looked at his beautiful face, itching to cup his cheeks and press her mouth to his. His smile widened, and he took his hand from his pocket and brought his arm up to match the other. Carrie stepped into them, molding her chest to his, and
ran her hands up and down his back. Lifting her face, she lost herself in his gaze, and a sense of belonging stole over her. Of rightness. Of undeniable love.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” he said.

  Carrie almost choked on the emotion swelling in her throat, but he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers, a light, wonderful brush that upped her heart rate. Hungry for him, desperate to show him how much she loved him, she clutched him closer and slipped her tongue between his lips. A kiss that started so sweetly changed into one of breathless lust. Nothing mattered—not the passengers, the impropriety, nor the whole damn world.

  Rob Edwards was here, in her arms, and anything else paled to insignificance.

  His strangled groan filled her mouth, and her emotional whimper joined it. She cupped his shoulder blades, kneaded them, then pulled her mouth away to look at him, making sure he was really there. Rob trailed his fingertips down her cheek, thumbed away her tears, his other hand on the small of her back, the pressure of it possessive.

  “It’s like I’ve always known you,” he said, his eyes moist.

  Carrie nodded, unable to speak, unable to believe their union was so perfect, how she’d dreamed it would be. She laughed, the sound more like a sob, and touched her forehead to his. He rubbed his nose against hers, and she wished they were away from this place, somewhere more private.

  “Did you book the room?” he asked, his mint-scented breath warm as it fanned her mouth.

  She nodded, smiled, and a surge of love swirled from her toes, snatching her breath and stopping her heart for two beats.

  “I could stare at you forever,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

  Carrie blushed, unused to such words being spoken out loud. Oh, he’d said them many times in emails and on IM, rendering her to mush, but to actually hear them? She wanted to cry so much it hurt her throat. Instinct guided her to rest her cheek against his chest, hug him to her in case this was another one of her dreams. How could she be this lucky? This…secure?

  His heartbeat pounded in her ear, the steady, rapid thud indicating he felt the same as her. He embraced her, his hold so precious, so wonderful she scrunched her eyes closed to stop the tears falling. The scent of him assailed her, a woodsy, sharp tang laced with natural masculinity. She’d never tire of that smell. Never tire of his arms around her. Never tire of him.

  Rob caressed her hair, the heat of his palm soothing, and she wanted to run with him, take refuge in their hotel room so he could drag his fingers through it at leisure. She lifted her head from his chest and ghosted her thumb across his lips. Her nipples perked and her cunt clenched. She needed him inside her, his hands all over her, their sweat-soaked skin sliding, breaths stuttered. With her other hand on his chest, she continued stroking his lips. He dashed his tongue out and licked her thumb pad, and a jolt of lust lanced her. He sucked her thumb tip, swirled his tongue around it, and her knees jolted. Gazes locked, weakness racing to her extremities, Carrie let out a soft moan and pressed herself to him. His hard cock nestled against her pelvic bone, and she smiled.

  “Shall we go?” she whispered.

  Rob kissed her thumb and nodded. Carrie moved her hand to cup the back of his neck, the hair there so soft, and kissed his lower lip. He opened his mouth, inviting her tongue inside, and she glided hers around his, tasting him, loving him. Breathless, she broke contact and blew out a jagged breath.

  “I love you,” he said. “Did right from the start.”

  Tears filled her eyes again.

  My God, he’s so perfect. Precious.

  With a wobbly smile, she crooked her arm in his and pulled him with her toward the exit beside the ticket office. Passengers milled around, awaiting the next train, and she inwardly giggled at the show they’d just given them. She didn’t care what they thought, liberated as she was by Rob’s declaration, by the certainty that he meant what he’d said. Happiness burgeoned, and she wanted to laugh out loud, to tell everyone that Rob was here. That he’d come to meet her, he loved her, and her life was now complete.

  She looked up at him as they rounded the corner, and he smiled, his eyes bright. The feel of his erection still lingered on her pelvis, and a stout gust of wind wrapped his scent around her. The urge to stop and push him against the side of the ticket office gripped her, so she walked faster to stop herself. He’d confessed in an email that, although he could write his desires, in real life, he was self-conscious. Not wanting to risk getting caught and putting him to the test yet, she tugged his arm as they approached the path running behind the station.

  “Shall we walk or get a taxi?” she asked, snaking her other hand under his biceps and holding his arm close to her chest. On tiptoes, she quickly kissed his cheek, the light stubble pricking her lips.

  “It’s up to you, sweetheart. Is it far, though? I wouldn’t want you walking for too long in those shoes.”

  Carrie scrunched her toes in her red stilettos. “It’s okay. It isn’t far. Come on, we’ll walk.”

  She guided him down the path beside the main road that led to town, the streetlights casting an orange line that stretched far into the distance, reminding her of a runway at night. Their emails came to mind, the ones where they’d discussed taking a holiday, walking along the beach hand in hand by day and sex-filled nights upon cool, crisp sheets.

  “So where will we go on holiday?” she asked, looking up at him.

  He pried his arm free and rested it across her shoulders, squeezing her to him so hard she nearly stumbled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… It’s just…I love you so much I needed to…” He sighed. “I forget sometimes I can be heavy-handed.”

  His smile and apology brought on a fresh wave of love for him.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Really. So where will we go, d’you think?”

  Rob sighed contentedly. “Oh, I don’t know. Anywhere you like.”

  The South of France, Spain, Italy, he’d visited them all, had told her about the art galleries and how Paris wasn’t as romantic as people made out. Venice, he said, that was the place to go, with its quaint side streets and the Grand Canal. They could take a gondola trip, pack a basket lunch, and he’d keep her safe beside him, owing to her fear of water.

  “I’ll show you Ca’ d’Oro,” he said. “You’ll love it. I visited there while at university studying for my art degree. We can stand on the balconies overlooking the Grand Canal. You’ll love their amazing stone archways. Must have taken so long to carve.”

  I could listen to him all day and never get bored. He knows so much, is so clever.

  How easily they got along. He was right—it was like they’d always known one another. She didn’t feel in the least self-conscious and supposed their phone calls of the past six months had helped ease them closer together so that their first meeting was a natural progression in their relationship.

  While Rob chatted, his breath puffed out in gray clouds, and he kept his gaze on her, looking up every so often to the path ahead. Carrie took in every word, but her mind also whirled with his other words, those typed to ensure she grew hot and wet. Those she’d slowly coaxed him into penning, drawing him out of his shyness until he’d surprised her with the depth of his need.

  She imagined him licking her juices then kissing her, sharing her essence. Heat rose to her cheeks, and she steered him down a short, narrow path to their right. A wide metal gate and fencing stood at the end, a sturdy chain and large gold padlock keeping the gate closed. Trees lined the rest of the way into town, their trunks broad, and an idea came to her.

  “We have to walk across this field?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

  Carrie nodded. “It’s quicker.”

  Rob frowned and looked at her feet. “But your shoes…” He glanced into the field. “And there are cows in there!” He huffed out an uncertain laugh. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

  She nodded again and cupped his face, fitting herself against him. “I told you I was.”

  Pressing her lips to his, she se
arched for his tongue. Rob’s arms encircled her waist, and he massaged her ass through her coat. The fabric an annoying barrier, she brought her hands between them and undid the top two buttons. He lifted his hands to grip her wrists and broke the kiss.

  “You’re taking your coat off?” he asked.

  His widened eyes and the surprise in his voice pushed laughter from her, and she moved her hands down to the third button. He loosened his grip then glanced back up the path before returning his attention to her face. With shaking hands, he undid the fourth button then opened her coat. Rob sucked in some air.

  “You only have underwear on? Jesus Christ, woman!”

  She laughed again, throwing her head back, and his lips met her exposed neck. Shivers of delight wound their way up her spine, the heat of his breath and the cold winter air inciting a rash of goosebumps to pepper her skin again. He snaked his hands inside her coat, trailing his palms up and down her waist, smoothing his thumbs over her ribcage. Carrie lowered her head, watching him taking in the sight of her body, and fuck, she wanted him inside her now.

  After shirking off her coat, she handed it to him. He draped it over one arm and, mouth wide open, stared at her as she walked backward to the gate.

  “Come on,” she said, the thrill of being so wanton, so daring, spiking her need.

  Carrie turned her back to him and raised one foot, placing it on a gate rung. His sharp inhalation made her want to laugh with the power she had over this shy, beautiful man. She hoisted her leg over then sat on the top rail, gripping it so she didn’t fall. She moved her head so she faced him, the cold metal heaven on her hot cunt.

  “Are you game?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

  “Aren’t you cold?” He stepped toward her, the coat held out so she could put it back on.