Page 407 of Evil Hearts

The fact that I have three super hot men, ghosts or not, watching me, ticks almost every voyeurism fantasy I’ve had locked away in the deepest part of my mind. Ghosts don’t have diseases and they can’t get you pregnant. I’ve fantasised about getting pleasured by a ghost, sometimes two at the same time, but I knew it was never possible.

My intimacy issues stem from abusive relationships, and the fact that death is all around me. I couldn’t bear to fall in love with someone, only to have them ripped away from me. Losing both my parents in a car accident did that to me. I’m not afraid of the things that go bump in the night. I’m afraid oflove.

Wanting to drive home the false fact that I can’t see them, I turn and lean against the wall, closing my eyes. Feeling brazen, I let my hands glide over my slick body before my left hand stops to tease at my breasts, while my dominant hand travels to my core. My fingers slip through my folds to circle, probe, and tease my sensitive button, making a soft moan escape my lips. I can feel their gazes burning into me, and it only ignites my desires further. Another moan leaves my parted mouth when the air changes with an energy that makes my skin tingle. Like there’s a bite of ice in the air.

An icy-hot palm lands on my shoulder, cutting my train of thought abruptly. It makes me jump and forces my eyes to snap open. I’m met with all three ghosts, once again crowding myspace. The third ghost is looking down at his hand like he’s in shock too. It takes me a second to realise that the water is actually bouncing off of them. And that there’s hunger in each of their eyes.

It’s just not possible…

“What is this feeling?” the third ghost says.

I slide away along the wall, logic not making sense is making me spiral. His voice is crystal clear, no distortion at all. His gaze snaps back to mine and there’s no denying that I can see them now. He knows it. They all know it. The fact that they can touch me, has my core clenching, and yet embarrassment and mortification floods my system, heating my face.They are not ordinary ghosts…

“Could she be?” asks the Perv.

“Mate?” The first ghost whispers, but it’s loud enough to resonate with me. The word alone feels like a claim. Like a stake on my soul.And maybe I initiated the invitation—wait, mate?

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