Chapter 6 Hazel
Hazel
When the candles go out, the back room at the library is pitch dark. Fear wraps itself around me at first. The darkness is unsettling. But Finley’s here. Holding me and for some reason, I’m wrapped in more curiosity and excitement.
Usually, the lights would be on in the main room, so we’d have some leaking in around the old door in its frame.
Now, without any power in town, much less the library, it’s like trying to see through ink. The only reason I know Finley is still in the room is that I can hear him breathing, and his hands are on me, both gripping my shoulder and my hand.
“Finley…” I whisper, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dark.
I’m warm, maybe even hot. My heart flutters and a nervousness comes over me. I’m so turned on I can hardly catch my breath. Something’s happened.
My heart skips a beat.
“Hazel,” Finley says. His voice is low and holds something to it. Something on edge and yet in a way that’s desirable.
And then there are voices. So odd. So shockingly close I grip onto Finley’s hand a bit harder.
The voices aren’t very clear. Am I really hearing someone hold a conversation outside the library somehow?
That would be possible in my apartment, where the walls aren’t very thick, but the library’s walls are made of thick stone from its earlier lives as the town hall and the courthouse.
We shouldn’t be able to hear chatter from a floor up and outside.
Confusion slips in but only for a moment.
They’re too muffled, cutting in and out like bad cell service, and there’s something about them…
A light comes on.
It’s been so dark that I put my hand up to shield my eyes, but as I blink, letting them adjust, reality sinks in: it’s not the candles.
Finley hasn’t lit the candles, and the power hasn’t come back on. It’s the spell. Not mine. It’s Finley’s. Holy fuck. Shock freezes my entire body.
This is a glow like I’ve never seen before, and it’s coming from three ghostly spirits. Apparitions that form right before our eyes. “Finley,” I whisper to him as he pulls me in close.
“It’s alright, my little witch,” he whispers in such a way that it soothes any terror that joined the shock.
I did not think of ghosts like this. I thought of figures under sheets at Halloween or old people walking the same hall night after night.
I did not think of… hot men. Their abs etched. Their shoulders are broad and their eyes… beautiful. Their eyes are the most detailed and striking. Almost ethereal.
I swallow thickly, wondering if I’m having visions.
“You see them?” Finley asks.
“Yes,” I can only answer in a single word. My breath seems to fail me.
Their clothes don’t make sense. One minute, they look like they’re in uniform. The next, trousers and shirts. Either the ghosts can’t decide how they want to dress from moment to moment or that’s my own mind trying to make them into a form I can understand.
One of the ghosts has short, light hair. The middle ghost has longer dark hair pulled back from his face. The third has hair that might have been red falling into his eyes.
They’re all looking at me.
“Hello,” I say, because nobody’s said anything and it seems like the right thing to do. “Who are you?”
The sound of the voices comes back. But they aren’t clear enough.
“I’m sorry, I—I couldn’t hear.”
The middle one—with the longer dark hair—tips his head back and laughs. It’s a rich, deep sound, and sexy. My God, his tone and the smirk he wears. I hold Finley closer, wondering what he makes of all this. Is this what he intended?
Then the ghost gestures at the other two on either side of him, and they come closer. Close enough that I press against Finley, unsure and he soothes me. Petting my hair and telling me it’s alright before kissing my temple.
The oddest thing is that I believe him. Truly and deeply.
The redheaded ghost’s foot brushes against the container of chocolate, and it rocks on the mug warmer.
Finley leaves my side only to grab the stack of books in one arm and the candle, which has somehow lit once again, in his other hand, then reaches to put them out of the way and off the blanket.
He leans back in for the mug warmer and the remains of the picnic.
One of the ghosts glances down at him, then closes his eyes.
The tables and book stands slide back from the blanket, leaving enough room for all of us.
There’s no noise as they move, apart from the creaking of the old desk.
Chills flow down my spine and then lower.
Somehow the fear of the ghost’s power is directly linked to my clit.
Perhaps it’s the shock. Or the way Finley seems to greet the ghosts like old friends.
Finley gets to his feet at the same moment the dark-haired ghosts offers me his hand.
“You’re a ghost,” I tell him and feel foolish.
He simply smiles at me, leaning his head to the side as if to mock me. My stomach swoops. I believe in ghosts. I believe in energy and power and intention. If he wants to be able to help me up, he’ll be able to do it, right?
And if I want him to be able to help me up…
I put my hand in the ghost’s hand.
To my surprise, it feels as solid as Finley’s hand, but much, much cooler and the icey touch has me pulling back before fully grasping his hand.
The chills come back and wrap around me.
My nipples pebble and judging by the looks on the ghosts’ faces, they can tell I’m…
aroused. My cheeks go ablaze with a blush as I glance at Finley.
He has nothing but approval and desire written in his expression.
I reach out once again, the ghost ever patient, and take his hand. The ghost doesn’t give me an icy shock. It’s more like stepping into an unheated pool. A stronger shiver goes through me, but I could get used to it.
The ghost is even hotter now that we’re only a few inches away.
Despite the chill of his hand, I’m heating up, too.
I press my thighs together just for the sensation.
“Finley,” I practically moan and then watch him grip his cock from outside of his pants.
“Fucking hell Hazel,” he groans under his breath.
“I don’t want to share you but for tonight I’ll make an exception. ”
My bottom lip drops as I stare back at Finley.
“They can hear your thoughts and I can hear what they’re thinking,” he says as a way of an explanation. “Don’t be embarrassed, if this is what you want, I’m willing to give it to you tonight,” Finley says and with wide eyes I stare back at him.
Thump, thump, thump, my heart races.
Finley chuckles deep and low at my hesitation before kissing me once on the lips. It’s short and sweet and everything I’ve ever wanted. “Do what you want. Tonight is a gift for you.”
I give in to that feeling and close my eyes before looking back at the ghosts.
“I want—” I start, my mouth dry.
The ghost kisses me. Getting closer.
He puts one hand on my waist and the other in my hair, tugs me to his body, and kisses me.
The dark-haired ghost is a confident kisser, and even while I’m kind of freaking out—because a ghost is kissing me, and he’s good at it, and this has to be a dream—I’m also falling into it. Falling into this moment that can’t be real.
That’s the thought I hold onto. That and the offer from Finley.
It’s not real and I can do what I want. I reach for Finley as the ghost kisses me deeper, exploring me with his tongue.
Even in my dreams, I crave him. I need him with me.
I need to know he’s alright with this. I lean my head back to break the kiss and peek at Finley to find him in awe, his eyes dark with lust. The ghost’s lips drop to my neck and as a moan slips between my lips, Finley kisses me.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he groans against my lips and his warmth at odds with the chill the ghost left behind is electrifying. I’ve never been so horny in my life.
Finley leaves my side and I’m barely able to watch him grab a lighter to light another candle and catch sight of the other two ghosts enjoying the show before the ghost is on me again. Kissing me.
It’s the same cool feeling as his hands, and it only makes me more aware of how warm I am, and how much I’ve been craving being kissed like this, and touched…
And more.
As if he can hear my thoughts—because he can according to Finley—the dark-haired ghost lowers us down to the blanket.
His grip is strong yet gentle and as he lays above me it’s far more obvious how much taller he is.
I grip his arm and feel nothing but hard muscle.
In a blink his shirt is gone, nothing but the carving of muscle beneath my finger tips.
My God, he is gorgeous. As if I’ve imagined him myself.
The other two ghosts come with us. Finley steps in and nudges the dark-hair ghost out of his way, and then it’s his hands in my hair and his mouth on mine. Possessively and I fucking love it. The way he commands my body. His tongue massages mine and he steals my breath with his demanding kiss.
I let out a moan at the heat of him. He tastes a little like the chocolate he fed me and lets out a harsh breath when I arch up into him.
“Did you want me still?” I whisper, a hint of doubt creeping in although I tell myself again, it is only a dream.
“More than ever,” he whispers back, and then both of us are stripping each others’ clothes off as fast as we can. His hands on my body and all the while the ghosts watch.
The ghosts surround us, cool hands reaching past Finley to touch me. One grips my breast and then toys with my nipple. Another runs his fingers through my hair and the last kisses on the nape of my neck. The sensations are all consuming. So much at once and yet far too little.
I need more. As Finley leans me back to kiss me, the two ghosts that haven’t kissed me play with my nipples. Their groans of want fill my senses.
“Oh my god,” I say into Finley’s mouth. “Oh my god.”
“You like that?” he asks. “You want more of that?”