Page 3 of The Ghost of Christmas Present

But she’d never stood up before and let her skirt fall to the floor, revealing thin, lacy fabric stretched taut over her plump cheeks. If he were to move to the front—

He’d best not move to the front. She’d be repulsed by such an invasion of privacy.

As if you aren’t already doing that?

She invaded mine first! I’ve lived in this attic for years. Well, not lived, perhaps. Dwelt.

“Wish you were here right now. Well. Maybe notyou, Eros,” Louisa chuckled to the screen of her retrieved tablet, nestling back into the cushion, this time with her legs spread. “You’re all bloodlust and sex. Gimme a man who’s got a brain and is willing to learn.”

“Me! I’m willing to learn! I’m an excellent student!” Mortimer burst out—then clapped his hands over his mouth.

Louisa didn’t hear him over the sounds of her own heavy breathing, now coming short and hard as her hand slid under her panties.

I’ll leave.

No. I’ll... turn my back.

Mortimer staunchly obeyed his own orders, turning—and closing his eyes so he could hear every sound she made.

Soft sighs. Loud moans.

Slick sounds that came with the heavy, cloying aroma of wet sex and heat. His body was translucent, but far from insubstantial. He was in his semi-corporeal state, pulsing plasma that was hot and pliable.

Like her sweet womanhood must be.

I want to make her come. I want to help her.

I could rub her shoulders.

Her breasts. Her nipples get so hard, they make luscious little tents under the fabric of her shirt.

“Ah! Ahhh, ahhh, God...” There was a keening cry, then a crash.

Mortimer turned in alarm just in time to see the small table beside the poof falling to its side.

Oh, no.

The table had always been carefully arranged over a loose floorboard, and that floorboard held a few special items.

Newspapers clippings. Photographs. Letters.

One of Louisa’s slender gold hoop earrings that he promised he would give back one day. The red silk scarf she wore to keep her hair off her neck in the summer that bore the same promise.

Louisa didn’t move at first, her orgasm winning out over the crashing table and the scattering books.

In a few moments, she rose, adjusting her underwear and sinking her fingers into her mouth.

My God.

To be those fingers. Or that mouth...

“Well, the book may read like an Austen cosplayer got drunk and watchedDracula, but it got the job done. I—ow!” Louisa stopped mumbling to herself as she knelt on the wooden floor and the edge of the board flapped up, pinching the skin of her palm as she balanced, reaching for a book.

“What’s this?” Louisa whispered to herself, digging her fingertip along the loose edge.

Mortimer held the breath he no longer used, long, slender fingers knitted anxiously under his chin as the woman of his dreams found his secret hiding place.

LOUISA’S BRAIN WAShungry for distraction. That was probably why she switched from erotica to mystery without a second thought.

---