Phantom Lust (Paranormal Erotica)

PHANTOM LUST

By Folia Deux

Phantom Lust

by Folia Deux

Copyright © 2013 by Folia Deux

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this
publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any
form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other
electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written
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embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses
permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the
publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the
e-mail address below.

All characters appearing in this work are
fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is
purely coincidental.

Folia Deux
Books:
 
[email protected]

Website:
http://foliadeuxerotica.blogspot.com

Please check out Folia’s other
books on Smashwords.

Taken by a Mummy

One
Night with an Incubus

Ravaged in the House of Horrors

Sienna shakily unlocked her decrepit Mazda,
ignoring the rust stain that smudged her white skirt. She hurled
her suitcase into the trunk, slammed it shut, and tried to calm
down before starting the engine.

Goddamn it. It was over with Alan,
absolutely over. They’d just had their umpteenth argument over
everything stupid and Sienna had finally seen the truth. Alan was a
shitty boyfriend and an egotistical, selfish bastard. She was tired
of being the good, patient girlfriend and having nothing to show
for it—no loving words, no thoughtful gestures, no thank-you’s, and
never, ever any good sex.

She’d just left his apartment after a
post-fight-kiss-and-make-up-fuck, her panties wet with desire, her
nipples hard, and no orgasm to show for it. That was pure Alan.
Fastest cummer in New England. He never licked her pussy after the
very first time they’d fucked. It was only and always about him,
him, him. This last time was proof of the end. She could barely
call it fucking, to be honest. Three, maybe four thrusts, and it
was over. He’d hardly touched her. And he had too many other faults
to count.

Lesson learned—a hot body and cute face
alone did not make for a good sex life.

Anyway, she had to get Alan out of her mind.
It was time for her job interview, and this one promised a good
salary and a place to live—something she needed desperately right
now. She glanced at the classified section in the newspaper on the
passenger seat, where she’d circled this particular job three
times.

Housesitter needed, end
date indefinite.
Must be young, female, in
good physical shape, and open to new experiences.

Weird ad. Maybe they wanted her to do some
cleaning too? Maybe the owner had a closet full of nipple clamps
and handcuffs she’d have to dust. Her own nipples tightened at the
thought. Damn Alan. If he’d done his part, she wouldn’t be so
hypersexual right now. She laughed softly. Maybe she’d even borrow
the BDSM stuff, if the right guy came along to use it on her.

A single phone number was listed. Before
dialing, she clutched a silver Tiffany heart pendant hanging from
her neck. She’d bought it with her first Visa card years ago, and
it was her lucky charm. It always reminded her to take care of
herself, and to keep her own heart safe. Funny how she’d forgotten
to wear it in the last few months she’d been with Alan.

Sienna dialed the number on her cellphone
and it went straight to voicemail. In the recording, a raspy, deep
male voice invited callers to come to for an interview at ten in
the morning on Tuesday. Before she could leave a message, the
connection was lost. The same thing had happened when she called
yesterday.

Again, weird. Maybe it was like, an
open-house, group interview? All Sienna knew was that it was
Tuesday, and it was nearly ten. Time to go. As she drove there, the
gold and red leaves of autumn flew by. Every house she’d passed was
garishly decorated with too many paper skeletons and
Jack-o-Lanterns on porch stoops, so Sienna was surprised when she
pulled up to the perfectly restored Victorian. There wasn’t a
single holiday decoration anywhere. 1300 Sommerset Drive. It must
be the place.

It was a gloriously grand house, painted
crimson, complete with little turrets at the corners and
intricately carved molding beneath the eaves. The smoky scent of
burning leaves infused the chill air. As Sienna climbed the porch
steps, a memory popped into her head.

She’d mentioned the housesitting job when
she’d gone clubbing with her girlfriends last night. A girl with a
killer body and glossy raven hair named Myra had overheard Sienna
and tapped her hard on the shoulder, interrupting their
conversation.

“
That house? It’s
haunted,” she’d said, licking her red lips. “In the best way
ever.”

“
What do you mean, ‘best
way ever’?” Sienna asked, suspicious.

“
I’ve never come so
hard--or so many times--in a single week,” Myra said, winking,
before she slipped out of Sienna’s grasp and disappeared into a
tangle of dancers.

But Sienna dismissed it. Myra was a busy
girl. No doubt she’d brought a string of fuck-buddies to the house
and got kicked out when discovered. Sienna didn’t believe in ghost
stories, not where dicks were concerned. She hadn’t had a lot of
lovers in her past, but she knew enough. Only a real, hot, hard
cock was worth believing in.

So now Sienna was showing up for her
housesitting interview, starving for a damn good ramming, her
panties nearly soaked through from unquenched desire. She wished
she had more time so she could pleasure herself in the car and get
a clear head.

She rang the doorbell, clutching her heart
pendant for luck. And waited. Nothing happened. She looked down and
did a last adjustment of her clothes. The tight pink sweater was
tented over her stiff nipples. God, she’d forgotten to put her bra
back on in her rush to get out of Alan’s apartment! She ran her
hands over her breasts, hoping her rose-colored nipples wouldn’t
show through the knit fabric. As soon as her hands skimmed over the
tight buds, her pussy throbbed in response.

God, what a time to be
horny,
she thought.

Just then, the door creaked open. Sienna
paused. There was no one in the entryway.

“
Hello? Anyone
here?”

Beyond the open door, she could see a grand
sitting room, complete with huge fireplace lit within by a
crackling fire, huge velvet armchairs, and a mahogany desk. Mmm,
wouldn’t it be fun to get draped over that desk and fucked from
behind?

Sienna cleared her throat, willing herself
to concentrate. “Um, I’m here for the housesitting job?” she called
out. “Anyone here?”

A brisk wind gusted from behind, lifting her
skirt and slapping her thonged ass cheeks. It was so forceful she
actually tripped forward and pushed her way inside. Sienna stepped
onto the burnished wood floors, her black high heels looking
deceptively shiny under the Sharpie marker swipes she’d used to
cover up the scuffs. Behind her, the door slammed.

“
Oh!” She squeaked and
stepped closer to the fire. Where was the owner of the house? As
the thought entered her mind, she spied an envelope jutting out
from the mantelpiece, waving at her, as if a wind had risen inside
the room. She clicked her heels over to the mantel, pausing to
stare at a photograph of a handsome, blonde man in his twenties,
wearing a crisp linen suit. He stood under a tree, croquet mallet
in hand. He seemed to be laughing at her.

She shrugged, then plucked the fat envelope
from under a glass paperweight shaped like a smooth, six-inch
obelisk. She snorted. She didn’t know who these people were, but
they sure liked decorations that resembled dildos.

Her lush lips dropped open as she opened the
envelope. It was full of cash, in fifty-dollar bills. She read the
letter.

Lovely Sienna,

Thank you for accepting the job of house
sitter. Your first week’s pay is enclosed. Your only job is to
enjoy yourself during your stay. You may not bring any other people
to the house. This house is much like a lonely soul. It needs
companionship. Open yourself up, and you’ll find that both parties
shall mutually benefit.

You may leave the position whenever you
choose.

XXX

She read and reread the letter. She got the
job? Already? After only calling and leaving a message—

Wait. She never left a message. How did they
know her name already? She studied the crisp new bills and the
expensive, antique furniture.

Well, what the hell. She got the job, and it
was going to be easy! This place sure made Alan’s apartment seem
twenty times dumpier in comparison. She went back to the car and
lugged her suitcase into the house. Beyond the front room, she
found a winding oak staircase that spiraled up to a third floor.
She picked out a bedroom with a twisted four-poster bed hung with
gauzy privacy panels, a million silky pillows, and a bay window.
Another door inside the bedroom led to a bathroom complete with a
claw-foot bathtub.

She squealed. She was dying for a bath. She
wanted to get all the traces of Alan off her and start fresh. Oh,
and a good faucet orgasm was always a splendid thing. She turned
the porcelain spigots and found bath oil on the windowsill,
dripping the fragrant liquid into the hot water.

She slowly peeled off her sweater, lifting
it over her head and arching her back. She knew that her breasts
jutted out when she did this. Alan often attacked her when she was
undressing, but this wasn’t for Alan. It was for her.

And for me.

“
What?” Sienna spun
around. Was that real, that husky whispered voice?

She covered her chest as her eyes searched
the room carefully, listening for any footfall or breath. But it
was quiet, all except for the sound of rushing bathwater. She
shrugged. Must be her imagination. She tossed her sweater aside,
wriggled out of her white skirt and peeled off her damp thong. She
left her necklace on, fingering it idly as she walked back to the
bathroom.

The tub was half full when she turned off
the water and carefully lowered herself into it. The steaming water
relaxed her utterly, and before long she’d taken the scented oil
and was rubbing it all over her breasts, kneading them, circling
her slippery, tight nipples with both hands. She groaned, hearing
her own voice echo off the pristine tiles of the bathroom, when a
deeper groan seemed to echo back.

Suddenly, something smooth and warm slid
along her inner thigh. It felt like a very masculine, very real,
very strong hand. She stiffened, releasing her nipples to grab the
edge of the bathtub.

What was that? She peered
into the clear water. There was nothing there. She saw her smooth,
shapely thighs coming together where her freshly shaved pussy
soaked luxuriously beneath the water. But something,
someone
—was touching
her. The invisible hand pressed higher and higher up her inner
thigh, a slithery sensation that drove an electric rush of desire
straight to her clit.

Sienna tilted her head
back and shut her eyes.
This can’t be
real. It just can’t.
But even as she was
convincing herself it was all her imagination, a second unseen hand
grasped her other inner thigh, and together they splayed open her
legs, as wide as they could go within the confines of the
tub.

The strong hands crept ever higher, until
they slithered over her pulsing and throbbing pussy. Deft,
invisible fingers found her swollen nub and circled it with a
slippery, delicious pressure that made her moan and cry out.

Sienna didn’t know what to think. Her thighs
were parted widely, and even if she could move, she didn’t want to.
She couldn’t remember the last time someone took her like this,
rubbing her cunt in the most perfect way.

The hands were masculine, there was no doubt
about it, and they knew exactly what she wanted. One ghostly finger
slid into her cleft, thrusting in and out, finger fucking her until
her eyes rolled back and she panted louder, faster. It pushed and
pulled, playing at her G-spot all the while the other fingers
swirled and rubbed relentlessly at her clit.