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“Mama doesn’t think I’m really dead,” she whispers against my chest. “She says I’m probably out there somewhere, clinging to life.”
This is news to me, but it makes sense. I can touch her because she isn’t dead. She isn’t a ghost at all. She’s a wandering spirit, separated from her body. It happens often with coma patients. But they usually don’t wander so far from their bodies.
“Do you remember anything after the accident?” I ask, hoping to help her figure out where her body could be.
She shakes her head and pulls back, wiping her eyes.
“I saw my parents die, and then someone pulled me from the car. I don’t remember anything else until that night in the club. I remember seeing you there and being drawn to you, but I was too sad to do anything about it. I grabbed a drink and left.”
“How did you get the drink?” I wonder, remembering that very night and seeing the pink drink in her hand.
She giggles at this, and I can’t help but join her in her laughter.
“I’m not sure,” she says shrugging. “I think if I concentrate I can move things. I can touch and I can feel. I can feel you, Hex. Can you feel me?”
I look in her eyes and see the spark of hope there. Despite everything, she still wants me. She wants to try.
“When I touch you, it feels like I’m trying to hold water,” I explain. “Or like I’m pressing against a gust of air. You’re there, but you aren’t there. It’s why I thought you were…” I realize I can’t explain to her about the poltergeist. It’s too much information given everything else.
“Mama told me there’s a dark spirit trying to hurt you,” she whispers. “You thought it was me.”
I nod, and she looks down, tears trickling down her face.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she tells me. “When I’m with you, I want to drown in you. I couldn’t wait to kiss you, but that went so well,” she mutters sarcastically and rolls her eyes.
“What did it feel like for you? The kiss, I mean.”
She shrugs and looks at me miserably. “It was a good kiss. Too short, of course, and it ended horribly, but it was a really good kiss.”
I lean into her, feeling that odd pressure again. She’s there, but she isn’t. But I wonder.
“You feel this?” I ask her, running my hand through her hair. She closes her eyes in pleasure and nods.
I lean in closer, gently placing my lips against hers. Hers are cold, but I sense them faintly. It isn’t entirely unpleasant. Her hand moves into my hair, and it feels like a strong breeze washing over me.
“I feel that,” I tell her, pulling away slightly. “It isn’t strong, but it’s there.”
She nods and moves over me, straddling my lap. It’s like wearing a weighted blanket, but not what I would expect from a grown woman. I can’t help the groan that escapes from my mouth. I’ll take whatever I can get with her. I move my hands to her waist and hold her there.
“I want you,” she says against my mouth. “You may not feel this, but I do. I feel all of you, and you’re so warm, Hex. Your touch electrifies me. Please,” she whispers desperately.
“Take off your clothes,” I tell her, because I’m truly not sure how this will work.
She strips off her top, throwing it to the ground. Then she stands, discarding her pants and underwear. She reaches back to release her breasts from her bra, and I stare at her in awe. She’s more stunning naked.
“We should probably shut the door,” I manage in a quick grunt, taking my clothes off. “Because this is going to look really fucking weird if someone comes down.”
She giggles and walks seductively to the door, shutting it. A ghost definitely couldn’t do that. She walks back, lowering herself over my naked frame. Against her cold touch, I can’t help the way my body reacts to her.
“You have to take control, baby. Touching you is like a whisper. You’re in the driver’s seat here.”
She smiles at me wickedly and takes me in her hands. “You’re bigger than I thought,” she says into my ear, causing me to shudder. It’s the strangest experience, but I’m so hard.
She positions me at her entrance and slides down over me, causing me to moan. It makes no sense to my brain, but we’re doing it. She’s moving up and down, crying out my name as she holds onto my shoulder. I’m not much good, bracing myself against the wall as she rides me.
“Fuck,” she cries. “I’m so sorry you can’t feel this because it’s fucking fantastic.”
I suppose the advantage to this situation is she’ll get off first. She’s enjoying herself and that’s what counts, and the sight of her coming undone is enough for me. She throws her head back in pleasure, and her tits bounce at the movement. It’s fucking hot to watch.
