Page 35 of The House on Haven Way

I was sure I’d scream when I came, but instead, I’m shaking, silent, gasping. Johnny’s so beautiful above me, head thrown back, all his muscles tight.

His warmth is suddenly a wet burst inside of me, and he’s not solid anymore. He’s a shimmering, silvery outline.

“That takes a lot of energy. Takes a lot of energy to stay solid,” he pants.

I almost tease him about stamina, but I don’t. It was his first time making love as a ghost. And my first time with a ghost. And I still haven’t made any intelligible words since I started to hit the peak.

“But don’t worry. I have other things I can do. Things I’ve been wanting to try but never got a chance to,” his voice is a whisper.

He’s a whisper, and a shimmer, and he’s left me a breathless, deliciously shattered mess.

And now he’s slipping like silk around my legs, pushing against me like a current of soft but strong air, parting my thighs and dipping his head between them. “They didn’t do this as much when I was alive. The girls you wouldn’t take home to your mother might do it. The good guys didn’t want it done. But I’ve been reading some of those books of yours. Seems like this little pussy likes kisses.”

“Absolutely. And there were lots of rules back then that didn’t make sense. We...” I pause for a minute, ugly truth in my mouth, “we would have been a scandal. Black woman. White man. 1950s?”

“I wouldn’t have cared. Broke all the rules, anyway, so what’s a little scandal? I would have wrecked any rule in the books that would have kept me from being with you, Amber. We’re breaking a rule now, I’m sure. Pretty sure the dead aren’t supposed to date the living.” Johnny looks up at me, dark eyes in a wispy face that’s slowly solidifying again. “But I don’t care.”

My hands find his head. His hair. Mussing it up, gripping it as tight as I can. He lets his mouth slowly travel across my pussy, his eyes never leaving my face.

“Mm. Pure, undiluted Amber,” he sighs after the first taste. His jaw moves, lips open and close, soft touches on my soaking center that make a slurping sound, a sound I’m not sure that comes from his mouth or my pussy, or a combination of both. “See, I like this,” he sighs, and stretches out, an arm draping lazily over my torso. “All of you is beautiful. And sexy. But this part, no one else gets to see. And this part makes you feel so good. I don’t even know all the names for these parts. Like a sexy flower. A delicious flower.”

“Well, I could find a video that—” I never get to finish. Johnny swirls his tongue over my clit and my eyes go to static. A human’s tongue applied to that zone will make your toes curl.

A ghostly tongue that’s made of ethereal vibrations and warm, gel-like sensations?

It’ll try to knock your soul out of your chest.

“Don’t want videos. Want Amber. I want this. God, you taste so good. You know, I can’t eat food? But this? This I can taste.” Johnny looks up at me again, this time with a devilish smirk that just makes him even handsomer. “I hope you don’t mind being dessert, baby. Because I’ve finally found what ghosts live on.”

“I don’t mind,” I whimper as he dives back in, viciously sucking my clit, lapping at my center, making my eyes roll back in a chaotic burst of Johnny-the-Rule-Breaker energy.

“I’m hard again,” he confesses between licks. “Can we...?”

“I don’t mind at all,” I sigh, hands back in his hair and legs over his shoulders. “I’m all yours.”

Chapter Nine: If You Go Away

September 30th, 2026

Amber’s doctor gave her exercises to do. On a mat. On her hands and knees. One leg kicked back, out straight. Back to the knee. Back up again. Leg extensions. They help all kinds of things that were hurt. Even her wrist, as it does weight-bearing.

I’m supposed to be cooking. I cook most nights. She’s a foodie, and I come from a family where when you cook, you’re showing love, even if you were in a fight five minutes before. Tonight? Veal shanks, broccoli rabe, and white wine. Osso Buco. The meat is braised and in the oven for two hours.

So I’m not so busy right now. I got time to slide between walls and watch that sweet, heart-shaped ass do all kinds of things.

Oh, Amber thinks she’s just tightening and strengthening, but she’s also hardening. Me.

And creating.

Ideas.

In seconds, I can’t resist. I kneel behind her, hard cock pressed to the curve of her ass.

“Johnny! The veal,” she gasps.

“It’s in the oven, beautifully braised. The broccoli rabe is ready to go when it’s time. I got some potatoes I’m gonna roast with garlic.”

“You know I’m dessert,” Amber moans as I run a covetous hand between her thighs, cupping the mound that her tight plum-colored workout leggings don’t do much to hide.