Page 11 of Ghostly Touches

Or at least I thought I was.

Maybe I’m not. I question my morals as I peer into her room. There, sitting at her vanity, wearing not a lick of clothing, Willow proceeds to dry her hair with a towel. She’s watching herself as she gently blots at her curls. My eyes trail down her bare back down to her bottom where they linger. When my eyes move back up, I catch her gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

Oh fuck.

Willow freezes, her hair still in the towel. My own limbs lock up as we stare at one another. My heart races. I should jump down and run. Shame should be making me feel ill.

But I don’t run, and I don’t feel ashamed.

The smile that stretches across my face would terrify Willow if she could see through the dark shadows of my hood. The twisted excitement that loosens my limbs and has me abandoning all caution is dangerous. In the back of my head, I scream at myself to stop as my hand goes to the windowsill. But that scream grows softer and softer as I lift it up, and I take a step into Willow’s bedroom.

A small part of me wonders why Willow isn’t shouting. Or why, when she stands and turns around to face me, she doesn’t cover up her body.

A much larger part of me doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the why.

The hard length of me stretches longer, growing harder and wider. I can feel the blood pulsing between my legs. There’s just so much to take in, I don’t know where to look first. Her curves are amazing. That figure, hourglass in nature, is mouthwatering. I want to grab ahold of that soft flesh and mark it with my teeth and claws. Her breasts jut outwards, her dark brown nipples budding under my attention. I lick my lips as my eyes drift downwards where I catch sight of the neatly trimmed hair between her legs.

Willow places her hands on her hips and smiles at me.

“Well? Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to do something, Mystery Man?”

Do something? As in one singular action? No. I don’t want to do justsomething.I want to doeverythingto this woman. My hands twitch, wanting to reach out and touch her. I’m so hard that I’m afraid that I’ll embarrass myself right here in front of her. But what’s more important than my embarrassment is Willow’s safety.

“Tell me to leave.”

I don’t know how I manage to get the words out. All of my basic instincts are telling me to pounce, to lay claim to and possess this woman thoroughly.

“I’m not holding you here,” Willow says with a shrug and moves towards her bed. “You’re free to go. I won’t tell the others you were here.”

She doesn’t understand what she’s saying. If she knew what was under this hood, and what I am capable of doing to her simply by accident, she wouldn’t be saying this. But even this doesn’t cause me to turn and leave her room. My eyes stay glued to Willow’s figure as she moves.

“You don’t understand, Willow. Order me to lea—”

“Nope. I’m not ordering you to do anything,” she says as she flops down onto her queen bed. She stretches out on her side and props her elbow up to hold her head in her hand. “It’s always been a fantasy of mine that a hooded stranger would creep into my room and take me however they please. So here I am consenting to this situation, Kwil. Do with that as you wish.”

Her top leg lifts and bends. Willow’s lips curve up into a seductive smile. Her hand slides over her soft stomach, down between her legs, and her fingers begin to stroke through her folds.

I suck in a sharp breath as Willow lets out a soft sigh. Her green eyes drift over me while the tip of her tongue slides across her bottom lip. One of my feet takes a step towards her.

No! That small voice yells at me.

Yes. I grin as I shove that small fragment of conscience away into the deep recesses of my mind. My other foot follows the first, and before I know it, I’m standing at the side of Willow’s bed, watching as she pleasures herself.

Does mystery and the unknown excite her? As the willpower to stop myself crumbles away, all I can think is,I’ll give her a real mystery she’ll never be able to solve.

I’m on her in the next second, pouncing as the Tangleling I’ve half-become would do to its prey. Her soft “oof” is followed by a deep chuckle of excitement. I take Willow, roll her onto her stomach, and pin her arms onto the mattress on either side of her head.

“You had your chance, Willow,” I warn her as my mouth waters.

I want to take her in every single position I know. And I know quite a lot. But as much as I wish to do them all, I know I can’t. Even in this state of mind, I have the good sense to realize that once she gets a taste of what’s hidden under this cloak, she may push me off and run screaming from the room. And I would let her go.

I itch to remove my gloves to feel her soft flesh beneath my palms. But I don’t. She’ll see too much. My right hand has all human digits but my left hand, not so much. So instead, my hands go to her hips after sliding my palms slowly down her spine. When my hands scoop both of her butt cheeks up, I fight the urge to bite down. There’s just so much. And it’s so beautiful. How can I not want my mouth all over her?

“Pretty Willow...” Can she hear the hunger and desperation in just those two words? “Were you waiting for me long?”

I let go of her ass only to slap it hard. The jiggle puts me in a trance. I do it again. This time, Willow gasps.

“Long enough,” she whispers.

---