Eternal Craving

Eternal Craving

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Sebastian's job is to spy on Megan, learn her family secret but keep his distance. Maybe having sex at their first meeting was a bad idea he realises when the compulsion he used on her to forget the erotic interlude starts to wear off. Seb finds it increasingly difficult to stay away until covetous desire and duty merge, when new and old enemies surface which threaten her. Book 5


Sebastian's job is to spy on Megan, learn her family secret but keep his distance. Maybe having sex at their first meeting was a bad idea he realises when the compulsion he used on her to forget the erotic interlude starts to wear off. Seb finds it increasingly difficult to stay away until covetous desire and duty merge, when new and old enemies surface which threaten her. Book 5

Chapter1 (v.1) - Eternal Craving

Author Chapter Note

Sebastian's job is to spy on Megan, learn her family secret but keep his distance. Maybe having sex at their first meeting was a bad idea he realises when the compulsion he used on her to forget the erotic interlude starts to wear off. seb finds he's no longer the stalker, but the stalked until covetous desire and duty merge when an old enemy resurfaces. Book 5

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: September 12, 2015

Reads: 33181

Comments: 5

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: September 12, 2015



Chapter 1

Megan’s shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh as she folded the letter and slid it back into its envelope.  Placing it on the table in front of her she stared at it for what seemed like hours.

What was she going to do now?  For the first time in her twenty seven years she felt lost.  Like an insignificant leaf blowing in the wind, she floundered for a direction to follow that might give her life some much needed purpose.  She’d had a purpose up until a few weeks ago but that ended when her mother passed away. 

Megan didn’t have a college degree or even a high school diploma, having dropped out of school at sixteen to become her mother’s full time carer when she was diagnosed with motor neurone disease.  Her dad had been gone for years and with no brothers or sisters to share the burden, it fell to her to carry the full weight of responsibility.  Not that she really minded, she hated school and despite her mum’s illness she’d always kept her good humour.  In truth, she’d enjoyed taking care of her.

She’d often wondered though, where would she be now if her mum hadn’t become sick?  She used to tease herself with all kinds of wild fantasies, perhaps she’d be a famous movie star or maybe a handsome prince would sweep her off her feet and whisk her away to live in a lavish castle somewhere far from here.  Here being a small village situated on the Scottish Isle of Lewis on the western rim of the Outer Hebrides.  Population one hundred, famous for its fishing and…..nope, that’s it. Fishing.  The Island did have a castle though, but there was no prince.

In the end, her crazy dreams weren’t worth thinking about.  Whether she liked it or not she was stuck with her crappy life. ‘It is what it is’, as they say.

‘Put ye big girl panties on Megan, and do what ye have to do to get through another day.’  Her mother used to say that to her more often than she cared to remember, although funny enough, as much as she hated hearing it at the time she wished her mother was there now to tell her just that.

Megan’s gaze lifted from the envelope to the unopened box which stood innocently beside it.  It had stood on her table in the same spot for a week, ever since it was delivered.  It wasn’t a large box, nor was it heavy.  In fact it felt far too light.  But in spite of its innocuous features, it cast a dark shadow over her heart.  It was like Pandora’s box, once opened you could never put back what was lost.  For Megan, this box heralded the closing of one chapter in her life and the beginning of another.  The problem was she had no idea what was coming next and that scared her.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t put this off any longer.  Megan stood from her chair wearily and opened the box, lifting out the urn it contained.

“Well mum, I hate to say it but ye seem to have lost weight.”

Megan turned over the opaque grey container in her hands.  It’s contents were all that was left of her mother.  The sum of her life was in this urn.  That wasn’t true, she realised.  Her mother had left so much of herself behind.  She was in the artwork on the walls which she’d painted, in the possessions she’d owned.  Her beliefs and traditions lived on through the lessons she’d taught Megan over the years and the sound of her voice and her laughter was forever etched into memory.  Her scent still lingered in the air inside their home, and very soon she would forever be part of the land and ocean she adored so much. 

Imelda Heughan had left her footprint on this world, but if she passed away tomorrow, what would people remember of her?  Megan thought.

Leaving her morbid thoughts behind, Megan tucked the urn under her arm and headed out the front door.

The rain had cleared briefly leaving the sky clouded and a gentle, nippy Spring breeze blowing. The wet grass glistened and the sprinkling of wild flowers on the hillside perfumed the air as she walked the familiar path.  She’d walked this path almost daily over the past few years with her mother in her wheelchair.  Rain, hail or shine.

All-in-all, it was the perfect day to scatter her mother’s ashes on the bluff overlooking the ocean which she’d loved so dearly.

Megan stared at the urn, one hand on its base and the other on the lid, the moment stretched into minutes as she built up the courage to twist lid and say her final goodbye.  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and held her breath as she twisted and dropped the lid to the ground. 

A gust of wind caressed the urn’s contents, swirling the ashes inside the vessel as though her mother was impatient to be free. 

Megan lifted it higher into the air and tilted it into the breeze and watched as Imelda Heughan’s ashes began to scatter on the wind in a fine grey cloud.

“Goodbye mum, I’ll think of you often.  Rest in peace,” Megan uttered as she sniffed back a tear.

Megan sat for awhile on the bluff and soaked in the expansive quiet solitude of the sea crashing on the shore far below.

It was done, but what did she do now?

A stiff drink was first on her list of things to do.  She’d think about everything else tomorrow.  With that decision made she picked herself up and headed for the one and only café in the village.

“Hi Jodie, hit me with a double caff decaf.” Megan ordered.  Heaving a heavy sigh she slumped onto the stool by the counter.

“That’s a strong coffee for ye, love.  So, today was the day ha?  Ye want a wee dash of whisky in that?  Ye look like ye need it.”  Jodie said in a thick Scottish brogue, her brow furrowed with concern and sympathy.

“Thanks, but no.  Still don’t drink.”  Megan waved absently then thought over Jodie’s offer for second.  “Hang on a minute, ye don’t have a liquor licence.”

“Aye, but I always keep a bottle of whisky handy fur medicinal purposes,” she grinned, pulling a bottle of aged malt whisky from under the counter.  Megan eyed the golden liquid as it sloshed around the walls of the half empty bottle and almost considered trying some.  Almost.  It wasn’t that she had anything against alcohol, she’d just never had any inclination to try it.

Instead she started re-arranging the salt and pepper shakers on the bench, then the napkin dispensers and when she got to the straws Jodie grabbed her hand.

“Put that down.  I just finished arranging all that.  Megan love, ye single an beautiful an ye need a life.  A boyfriend, a puppy, something.”

“I have a boyfriend,” she huffed indignantly.

“Edward Cullen doesn’t count, no even as an imaginary boyfriend.  Ye need someone that’s flesh an blood an no some fictional guy who sucks blood.  At the very least I think ye need an adventure, a change of scenery.”

“I’d settle fur a bucket of choc chip mint ice cream and a big screen TV to watch Chris Hemsworth movies on.”

“Chris Hemsworth?”

“Ye know, the guy who plays Thor.”

“Ohhh, he’s got a cute arse,” she grinned cheekily.  “Okay, I guess ye have to start somewhere.  At least he doesn’t suck blood.” Jodie shrugged. 

“What do ye have against Vampires, who by the way, aren’t even real?” Megan shook her head in exasperation.  They’d had this conversation countless times and it always ended the same way.

“I dinnae like anything that sucks blood.  Mosquitoes…”

“Are on the top of ye list of blood suckers to exterminate.  Aye, I know but…”

Interrupting Megan’s argument, Jodie leaned across the counter to point out the blonde outside the café talking on his phone. 

“There’s ye adventure right there.  He’s cute.  I’d have him myself if I wannae married.”

“What?  No way, you’re off ye head.  Besides, he’s probably already spoken fur.”  All the good ones were.

“He’s not.  Come on.  Live a little, love.  Ye young an free an he’s passing through town.  What’s the harm, ye’d never see him again so there’s no guilt required afterwards.”

“How do ye know he’s not married?  You’ve talked to him haven’t ye.  What’s his name?”  Megan’s questions came out way too fast for someone not interested in the idea.  Well, it had been some time since she’d had sex, with her mother being so sick and all.  How long had it been?  Megan thought for a moment and started counting on her fingers.  At first she counted months which depressingly turned into years.  It had been two and a half years since she’d last had sex.  No wonder Jodie’s crazy idea sounded appealing. 

Had it really been so long?  She thought again.  Yep, it really had.  She hadn’t had sex since Fergus, the little prick, and that didn’t just describe his personality.  He had the smallest dick she’d ever seen, not that she’d seen many.  At least now she knew why he was such an arsehole all the time, he was suffering a major case of penis envy.

“His name is Sebastian Von-something, I think.  He’s from Austria an here looking fur investment properties along the Scottish Isles. An aye, I talked to him.  He came in here yesterday.”


Megan took another look back over her shoulder sizing him up a little more thoroughly.  He was movie star material, which instantly deflated her hopes.  Who was she kidding, she was short, a little on the skinny side with drab, yellowy blonde, shoulder length hair and a light splattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks.  In comparison he looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of a GQ magazine, suave, sophisticated, and his fluid movements gave him an even more seductive appeal.  He could have his pick of women just by smiling at them.  He’d never be interested in her.

“Have ye thought about moving to the mainland?  You’ll have better prospects there than ye would here.  I don’t think there’s been a new job created here on the island for a hundred years, let alone an eligible bachelor.”

“Are ye daft?” Megan laughed, but her humour couldn’t quite replace the worry in her eyes.  She really did need to make a decision about her future, and soon.

“Is gas flammable?  Ye cannae stay here all ye life missy, no unless ye want to end up like me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with ye,” Megan argued.

“Ye can say that because ye donnae have to live my life.  What I wonnae give to still be in my twenty’s, be single and have no commitments to hold me here.  I’d be out of here faster than ye could poke a pig.  Just like ye should.”  Jodie’s robust personality bubbled over in animated excitement at the unrealised possibilities of her unfulfilled life before tapering off to become a little more subdued.  “Although I, an I’m speaking fur the whole village when I say, I, would miss ye cooking.  Nobody bakes like ye do.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Jodie continued talking as if Megan hadn’t spoken.  “You’ll have to leave me with a couple of recipes though.  I’ve never actually told Grant that I dinnae cook any of those wonderful meals I take home.  I’ll forever be labelled the worst wife in the world if I have to own up an tell him it was ye whose been cooking for us fur the past seven years.  He’s never even tasted my cooking,” she confessed.

“Ye know I don’t give out family secrets. Besides ye talking as though I’ve already left.  I’m not going anywhere.” Megan informed her with a wagging finger.

“Ye say that now but ye’d be a fool to stay.  There’s nothing fur ye here.”

“I’ve got ye and Grant.”

“Neither one of us is gonnae keep ye warm at night an neither are we gonnae pay ye bills.  Although…if ye lived with us, I wooldnae have to tell Grant I cannae cook.” Jodie tapped her chin with a finger as she contemplated the idea.

“Of course ye can cook.  Ye own a café for gods sake.” Megan scoffed.

“I inherited this place.  And have ye forgotten who makes most of the pastries I sell here.  Ye do.  An, Hetty does the short order cooking.  Seriously, have ye ever seen me do anything except run the counter an make coffee?”  Jodie had a point,  Megan couldn’t remember seeing her cook anything. 

“Well, it’s not worth thinking about.  I can’t see myself being anywhere else but here fur the foreseeable future.”

At that moment the cute blonde guy, Sebastian Von-something, looked up and their eyes met.  For the briefest second she was sure she saw his blue eyes glow as though they were flecked with iridescent glitter.  Of course she had to be mistaken, eyes don’t glow like that.  It must have been the sun reflecting off them…on an overcast day? Before she could think about it too deeply that thought was replaced by something else much harder to ignore.  His smile. He had the most magnificent, panty melting smile.

And he was smiling at her.

And he was coming toward the café.

“Here’s ye chance love, don’t blow it,” Jodie encouraged with another of her shameless smiles.

“No pressure or anything.” In her sudden panic, Megan’s snippy reprimand sounded more like a hysterical squeak.  “What are ye now, my pimp?”

Jodie howled with laughter.  “Of course no, just trying to get ye laid.  Ye know, blow off a bit a steam ye been needing to shed.  Have some fun fur once in ye life.”

“Maybe ye right.  What have I got to lose except my pride and maybe some self esteem.”

“Ye might just gain some too.”  Jodie encouraged again.

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