I know he’s not just a figment my desperate mind conjured out of acute loneliness because Gabbi saw him too, so maybe… maybe he came back for round two? A warm fuzzy feeling settles low in my stomach and I grin. If I just scored a mini mansion with a magic couch and a ghost who dishes out mind-blowing orgasms with only some heavy petting I amneverleaving this house. I squirm trying to picture what the full experience would be like if the sampler is this good. A built-in sexual partner who won’t make me feel guilty for being home-bound, because theyare too… what more could a girl with raging amaxophobia and by-product agoraphobia ask for?
I sit up and look around for the first time with a clear head.Ho-lee shit balls. This house is gorgeous. It’s all moody colors with fancy molding and paneling. The vintage vibes are absolutely everywhere. My jaw drops and I feel a wild giddiness stir in my chest. I push aside the crocheted blanket I had been snuggling with but then pause. I have no idea where this came from. I study the beautiful wavy shell pattern with lacy scallops and run my hands over the plush yarn in awe. I wish I could crochet like this! I’ve been teaching myself for a while now, but my interest comes in waves. I obsess over something for a while, and then move on to the next thing. In my defense, I do usually come back to my discarded interests intermittently, but it means I’m half-good at a bunch of things, instead ofreallygood at anything in particular. I place it back against the couch and grin. I definitely did not have this when Gabbi left, or when I finally passed out soon after that.It wasn’t a dream!
My eyes travel around the room in a rush, looking for any sign of my mystery man. I walk over to the corner where Gabbi said she watched him vanish and run a hand along the wall, appreciating the fine gold leafing details in the wallpaper pattern.
Her warning from last night about encouraging him flits through my mind, and I roll my shoulders and pout. Maybe it is a dumb idea, but I’m so sick of mediocre. I want extraordinary…I want… I laugh out loud and spin in a circle like a lunatic. I want the hot ghost who lives in my house to rail me hard on every disgustingly expensive looking surface in here. I want to know what kind of paranormal fuckery we can get up to with his ghost abilities. That’s a thing, right? Hot damn! I really hope that’s a thing!
I take a shaky breath and pull my t-shirt away from my skin to fan myself. A whiff of tangy B.O. smacks me in the face and I groan. Okay, time to find a shower and wash my ass so my new boo doesn’t tuck up his metaphorical sheet and run. I chuckle as I head back over to the couch and look around for the duffel bag of essentials I had Kyle cart over with me. Ugh. I roll my eyes as I try to piece together how many lines he crossed yesterday.
Spying the bag near the door in the kitchen I pad over to grab it while thinking about what I’m going to do about the Kyle situation. The way he acted is really not okay, and I need to stop making excuses for it. Maybe moving into this house is the kick in the butt I needed to do some long overdue spring cleaning—a fresh start. I grab my bag and hoist the strap over my shoulder, turning to the island where my purse is sitting to look for my phone. I want to check my messages and e-mails after my shower. I groan inwardly as I dig around in my purse for it. I have to call the estate and start acting like the adult I’m actually supposed to be. Gabbi will be so proud.Aha, there it is.I grab hold of my phone but pause, squinting at my open wallet.
That dirty little fucking weasel! In my wallet, where there should be at least a hundred dollars—money I had set aside to tip the movers who will be here later today, is only a handful of small, crumpled bills. A wave of rage surges through me and I let out a stream of expletives as I unlock my phone. I have a message from Gabbi letting me know that she got home safe, a confirmation time for the movers this afternoon, and three messages from the thieving slime-ball himself.
Kyle: Heyyy babe, Josh’s was a bust. U DTF?
Kyle: Nm bae I had sumthin cum up
Kyle: O btw u got snot n stuff on me seat so I grabbed a lil extra $$ 2 get it cleaned
By the time I finish reading my hand is shaking with barely contained fury over the audacity of this man. I send off a bitchy text telling him exactly where he can shove it and pocket my phone before I throw the damn thing across the room.
Gabbi is right. I need to take control of what I can and stop hiding behind what’s comfortable. I take off down the hall and admire the intricate raised panel wainscoting lining the walls. I pass paintings of vibrant landscapes and occasionally stop to admire them as I start mentally mapping out my new home. Downstairs I’ve found the kitchen, the sitting room, a formal dining room I know I’ll literally never use, except maybe as a hobby space, a small powder room, a library (fuck yes!), and a sunroom.
At the foot of the stairs I pause as a familiar chill runs down my spine and leaves me feeling tingly and breathless. Immediately I look around for my ghost, lamenting over the fact that I’ll meet him, officially, for the first time while smelling like a giant sweaty foot. Lovely. Despite that less than appealing thought, my nipples tighten with anticipation and I bite my lip as I wait… and wait… but nothing happens.
Disappointment rocks through me and I huff out a breath. “If you’re going to tease me you should know I enjoy a bit of delayed gratification, but usually only after learning someone’s name.” Still nothing. I scowl at the air and start making my way up the stairs. I don’t have the patience to stand around and wait on a suddenly shy ghost. I need to unwind under some hot water and wash away the foul mood Kyle put me in with his bullshit.
If I had more time before the movers got here I would run a bath and veg out with a book until my whole body turned intoone big wrinkly prune, but alas, I have… I pull out my phone quickly to check the time and purse my lips. One hour. Damn, I guess my exploring took up more time than I thought. As I reach the top of the stairs I feel a feather light breeze at my back. I glance over my shoulder, hopeful I’ll catch a glimpse of shaggy hair and dimples, but once again see nothing. I walk forward, tongue in cheek, and glance into rooms as I pass them.
The breeze picks up again, more insistent this time, and I purse my lips as I follow the direction it’s blowing. When it stops I’m in front of a beautifully gilded door that’s slightly ajar. Pushing it open, I walk into the most perfect bedroom I’ve ever seen. The floors are a wide-wood herringbone pattern, with area rugs and plush decorative throws strewn throughout that scream comfort. The walls are a dark blue color that reminds me of the starry night sky, with paneling outlined in gold accents. There’s a ginormous bed in the center with rich fabric in the same blue color draping behind the headboard, and a gold and crystal chandelier with light bulbs that look like candles. The furniture in the room matches what I’ve seen so far… more antiques. I briefly wonder how all this stuff has remained in such good condition, especially since I know this place has been rented out over the years.
I walk farther into the room, running my hand along the ultra-soft blue velvet topped duvet on the bed and smile. He led me here on purpose. “Is this room mine, then?”
The breeze gently ruffles my hair and I turn again, and gasp. Through an open pocket door to the side that I hadn’t noticed before is a flash of ornate cream tile and two-toned sage paneled walls with the biggest, most awe-inspiring copper antique looking claw-foot tub I’ve ever seen. I walk forward in a trance and drop my duffel at the entrance to the en-suite. A shriek of excitement escapes my mouth as I climb into the tub and sprawl out, fully clothed.
“Okay, you get points for this.” I rest my head back against the lip of the bath and close my eyes, sighing with contentment. “Major points.” I feel a phantom touch on my neck and moan at the contact, but all too soon it’s gone. I open my eyes and notice some copper-toned piping with a very inviting looking shower head in the far corner of the bathroom. I lean up and peer at the floor to find a drain built into the tile. Well, that’s neat. I sit up and climb out of the tub, walking over to grab my bag.
“Okay, fine. If you’re not willing to earn your participation trophy, I’ll just ignore you. For now. Mostly because I’m in a hurry, but just know…” I trail off and wait for a sign that my new boo is still listening, slowly pulling my shirt over my head to taunt him. It dawns on me as I unhook my bra and let it drop to the floor with my shirt that I’dmost definitelybe the first to die in a paranormal horror flick.
Goosebumps break out across my chest and a cool line of air traces over the mounds of my breasts stopping just shy of my dusky pink areolas. I shiver and lick my lips before continuing with a sugary sweet voice, “the next time I’m in that bath… dripping and wet… I’ll be expecting you to make me scream your name.” A puff of air hits my neck, just below my ear lobe and I laugh as the lights flicker. Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun. I grin and my pussy clenches in agreement.
Chapter six
Haunted Halls
Cian
If I wasn’t already dead, the past twenty-four hours would have convinced me that Trissa Wilde would be the death of me. If nothing else, she must have been sent by the universe to tempt and test me. I hate to report that if that is the case, I’m going to fail miserably. After the ‘incident’ last night, I spent the rest of my night pacing the attic, trying to convince myself that I should stay away from her. That I didn’t deserve to watch her or be around her after what I did… but in the end as soon as I sensed she was awake I was already phasing through the floor.
I never took liberties like that when I was alive, and I hate myself for not being absolutely certain my advances were wanted. So what does it say about me that I still can’t give this woman the space I think she deserves? The thought of hurting her makes me sick, but I’m becoming less and less convinced that I wouldn’t exploit any opportunity that presents itself, no matter how wicked. I groan with indecision as I reach the sitting room and see her smiling and stroking the blanket I gave her.
Jealousy flares in my gut and I chew on the inside of my cheek, annoyed. Great, now I’m jealous of a blanket. My body is urging me to her, like a magnet being pulled to her against my will, but I fight it. The tension from doing so feels like a rubber band stretched a little too far, but it’s manageable. I breathe a sigh of relief and watch her go about her morning, admiring how gorgeous she looks walking around my house. The thought of her living her life within these walls fills me with a sick sort of satisfaction that I choose not to examine too closely.
I watch her from the corner of the room, smiling when she twirls around, her joy lighting my own soul on fire in a way that I’d long lost hope of ever feeling. I rub my chest as she prances into the kitchen rounding up her things, but when she pulls out her phone her face pinches into an expression that makes me frown. I float over as she starts swearing—using words that have a flush staining the tips of my ears and my eyebrows raising to my hairline in admiration. What a wonderfully filthy mouth. I groan as that innuendo conjures images of her pretty pink lips around my cock. I need to get a grip.
She fiddles around on her phone as I float just behind her, careful not to get too close. Guilt at further invading her privacy makes me pause, but I decide quickly that keeping my hands to myself is enough retribution. I grimace as I read through her messages. I can hardly understand the texts from Kyle, but between what I read and her reaction to it I can take a guess as to what happened. Rage simmers through my form like ripples on a lake and I glare at the phone, silently urging her to use some of that stronger, more colorful vocabulary as she lays into him.
I’m secretly a little grateful that this Kyle idiot is doing the work of getting rid of himself for me. I may still be conflicted about how to proceed with Trissa, but now that I’ve claimed her, no one will touch her but me. Trissa takes off down the hall and I follow behind her as she goes, watching her admire thingsthat lost their shine for me long ago. The rubber-band tension doesn’t lessen as time passes, but I don’t care. I’ll take that small bit of discomfort if it means I can allow myself to be around her. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to touch her. Every time she reaches out to run her fingers along something in appreciation I picture them on my bare flesh instead.
