Page 65 of Love at First Fright

Another touch. Fingertips traced down my ribs. Circled my navel.

Real. That was definitely real.

My eyes flew open. Bathroom empty. Steam curling. Nothing there.

But the touches continued. A palm pressed flat against my chest. Something—someone—caressed my hip beneath the water.

“Fuck.”

Ghost. Had to be a ghost. Watching me. Touching me.

What are you doing? Stop this, Charlie. Stop this right now!

The phantom hand slid lower. Curious. Tentative.

My hips bucked involuntarily.

Ahhhh, that felt good.

Wrong. This was so incredibly wrong. Perverted on multiple levels. A violation of… something. Everything.

But I didn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop.

My hand resumed its rhythm. Slow at first, then faster as the ghostly touches grew bolder. I bit my lip. The sensations multiplied. Intense, overwhelming. Everywhere at once. Lips that weren’t there brushed my throat. Hands that didn’t exist explored my body with increasing confidence.

This was insane. I was wanking with a ghost. Letting a ghost touch my body.

Heat coiled tighter, tighter, rational thought dissolving into pure sensation.

My rhythm stuttered, then increased. Faster. Harder.

My breathing came ragged. Close. So close, until—

A moan escaped me, low and desperate, as I spilled into the water, pulse hammering in my throat, body liquid, boneless.

Another sound answered mine.

Right in my fucking ear.

Not a scary moan.

No.

A sex moan. Rough, breathy, satisfied.

My eyes snapped open.

Empty bathroom. Steam curling. Water settling.

My breath caught sharp and held, heartbeat stuttering.

Holy shit.

I just… A ghost just…

We just…