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Coming back to the house, my emotions are split in two.
On the one hand, I’m terrified, rushing into an abandoned, supposedly haunted house all by myself in the middle of a storm.
On the other hand?
I can’t wait to feel his eyes on me again.
I can’t wait to feel his presence.
I’ll say it again, ghost or not, I’ve already given myself to him in my mind.
As much as it frightens me, it thrills me more.
Leaning against the door, blocking out some of the noise from the storm, I can see in the dimly lit house that things are different.
My eyes try to adjust, but I have to use the flashlight, using it to scan the front hall and the huge sitting room in the hope I will see him straight away.
Some candles are laid out, a fire has been set but not lit in the fireplace… there’s even some tinned food and water.
I have a moment of panic, thinking I might not be the only ghost hunter tonight, but a sound from the top of the stairs, then a faint hint of his cologne or just his manliness reaches my nose, and I relax.
I hear myself purring like a cat, wanting suddenly to touch myself, to be touched by him.
To feel his wet mouth on my…
I gasp aloud, rubbing my thighs together as if I’m in a trance.
I’m sure I hear something from the top of the stairs, but I need to control myself.
I need to focus. If there’s a real ghost or even a man here, I still need to get my facts for a story.
First and foremost, I need to see better.
I light some candles, and still sensing the presence, stronger than ever, I set about getting the fire going.
I need to dry out, and in more ways than one.
But the sudden groan from beyond… I’m sure it says the word mine, right before the front door bursts open, making me squeal with fear and letting in enough wind and rain to gut the candles I’ve just lit makes me rush for the door again.
Do I run? Is this the part where visitors to the haunted house run out in fear, never to return? Or do they stay and seal their fates… maybe never able to leave?
As I hold the door open with one hand, I turn as a white flash of lightning illuminates the whole interior of the house for a second.
And I see the form of a huge man on the stairs, his hand outstretched… his pants undone.
It’s so outrageous a scene I can’t be frightened, the only fleeting thought I have is it must be my imagination. Must be my mind showing me what I want to see.
Until I hear him call out as I move to leave the house.
I’m pulled towards my car, the headlights still glowing a dim yellow in the darkness, the rain beating down as the wind howls that it’s just pointless to stay.
But his voice cuts through everything.
Not a ghostly voice.
A strong, manly command glues me to the spot.
“Wait!” he says firmly. “Just wait. Let me explain.”
His voice, stronger than the wind and rain, cuts through everything. It rides up inside me, searching for the feeling that lays in wait for him. The feeling I’ve carried for him since coming to this place.
I feel myself being pulled back inside. Not by anything less than my own desire. I close the door and lean against it again, not caring about the car outside, the headlights. The world beyond them.
My own breath is rapid, and hearing his heavy step on the stairs tells me he’s no ghost, making me shiver a breath out and then in again.
He’s all man. And once I see him at the foot of the stairs I wonder how such a beautiful creature ever hid among those thin shadows.
“I’ll explain everything, I promise,” he says, a matter of fact. “Just don’t go. I’m not going to hurt you… you’re mine… my guest, at least…”
I feel my hand clutch at my chest, feeling the pounding of my heart against trembling fingers.
One glance at this shadowy figure and I can tell he’s not going to hurt me.
Quite the opposite.
“I’ll light the fire,” he continues. “Let you dry off. We can just...talk.”
Talk?
Talking is the last thing I want but he’s turned to the living room, tucking himself back into his pants in the darkness.
A moment of silence, then the striking of a match is met with another low growl of thunder from outside, and one more from somewhere inside the house, I’m sure.
Before the fireplace springs to life, his dark eyes are on mine and I see his features dancing in the shadows.
Something more familiar than my own fantasy.
Something about him I…
Blake Barnes?
I practically mouth the words as I take in his giant frame.
