Chapter 9
9
A squeak of surprise bursts out of me when my fingers make contact with Noah’s hand, but I can barely hear myself over his shocked gasp that echoes through the bedroom.
Shit! I didn’t mean to actually grab his dick. I’ve been practicing phasing through things when I’m not texting Noah as Jessie. The past few times I got close to him, I dared to try poking him and my finger passed right through him. I thought I’d figured it out.
So when he dared me to give him a hand, I couldn’t resist going over and messing with him a bit. I’d wanted to breathe on him and weird him out a little, not actually help him jerk off. But now here I am, my ghostly hand more solid than ever, gripping Noah’s hard cock.
My fingers instinctively tighten as panic surges through me, and Noah gasps again.
Dammit, what the hell am I doing?
It’s one thing to feel phantom breaths and the hint of a chill touch you can’t explain. It’s entirely another to have your dick grabbed by a ghost. There’s no going back from this.
“Holy shit, oh god, please don’t h-hurt me!” Noah says, wild-eyed, his voice shaking with terror.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Chill the fuck out,” I reply, even though he can’t hear me. I huff out a sigh and his muscles tense, his cock jerking against our combined grip.
How is he still hard right now? Is he getting off on being scared?
Heat pools between my thighs. Wait, am I getting off on him being scared?
There’s something seriously wrong with me.
I shouldn’t have even stayed in here when he started jerking off. I came in to see how smitten he was with “Jessie” and silently gloat about how well my catfishing was going. But when Noah tugged his pants down and I saw his hard, deliciously thick cock, something short-circuited in my brain and all I wanted was to see what his face looks like when he comes.
I can’t be blamed for that, can I? As much as I hate Noah, he’s sexy as hell with his beautiful eyes, dark hair, and big body that looks like he could pin me down with ease—or at least he could have when I was alive.
I thrum with energy whenever I look at him. Most of the time, it’s angry, vengeful energy, but still. I feel when I’m around him.
So maybe I’m a voyeur now. Big deal. Can I really be expected not to get my thrills where I can? I’m dead! Morality doesn’t apply to me. I can do whatever I want!
Noah trembles, apparently unable to move from his frozen position, still gripping his dick. “I was j-joking. I-I didn’t know you were real. I’m s-sorry!”
Oh god, he’s terrified.
Shame floods in barely a second after my feeble justifications for my actions. I crossed a line. Several of them.
How do I fix this?
I was just starting to have some fun in my afterlife. Noah is a grumpy asshole, but I don’t want him to leave. At least not yet. How do I stop him from running out and finding an exorcist or one of those ghost hunters I always assumed were full of shit?
Think, Dot, think!
Noah’s hand is shaking so much that it slides mine further up his cock. Pearlescent pre-cum beads at the tip and his breath hitches. I watch his face, rapt, as his mouth falls open, and he stares down at his dick.
A way to get him to stick around becomes clear. I can’t believe I’m going to do this…
I readjust my grip on top of Noah’s hand and coax him to glide his fist up to the tip of his cock.
“F-fuck. This can’t be real,” Noah whispers. “I’ve lost my mind.”
“Welcome to the club,” I mutter, swirling my thumb across the tip of his cock, then guiding his hand back down to the base of his dick.
Another bead of pre-cum forms and my mouth waters, eager to know what it tastes like. Before I can think better of it, I bring my free hand down to swipe the bead of liquid with my finger, then bring it to my lips.
The taste explodes on my tongue, shocking a moan out of me. Why the hell does his jizz taste so good? I can’t place the flavor, but it’s definitely not like regular cum. It evokes a strange, visceral memory of decadent pleasure, and arousal thrums through me.
I need more.
I pump Noah’s cock again, gathering more pre-cum on my fingers and licking it off greedily. It’s so weird, but I can’t stop. If I didn’t think it would give him a heart attack, I’d suck it straight from the source.
Noah’s head thumps back against the headboard, his eyes falling shut as he lets me guide his hand in slow, steady pumps. “Shit,” he groans, his hips rising slightly on my next downstroke.
I frown. That won’t do. If I’m giving him a ghost handjob, then he’s sure as hell going to watch.
I let go of his dick so I can reposition myself on the bed next to him. I thread a hand through his hair and yank his head back up to look as my invisible hand grabs his cock again.
Noah’s eyes pop open in a mix of fear and arousal. I’m starting to love that expression.
I lean in even more, my breasts pressed against his chest and my face so close to his that I know he’ll be able to feel my breath when I speak.
“Be a good boy and watch me stroke your cock,” I say, savoring the goosebumps that prickle across his exposed skin. More heat pools between my thighs as I gently pry his fingers from his dick so that I can have free rein without him getting in my way.
“Shit, okay, I guess you want me to watch,” he says, swallowing heavily and dropping his hand to fist the sheets beside him.
I trail two fingers up his length and circle around the head to gather up some moisture, then rub up and down against his frenulum in a light tease. His stomach rises with a shuddering breath, and I repeat the motion, barely touching his cock with only the tips of my fingers this time, and he lets out an almost pained groan.
The heady sense of power I experience from his reaction is almost overwhelming. He’s letting me do whatever I want. I could mess with him for an hour and I bet he’d just sit there with that scaroused look on his face and take it.
My nipples harden and my clit throbs at the thought. Guess I’m into edging now, too. He’s lucky I’m not a sadist, or it’d be time for some cock and ball torture instead of teasing.
I map each vein and inch of his cock with slow precision, testing to find what spots make his breathing speed up and what kinds of touches make his annoyingly pretty eyelashes flutter as he fights to hold himself still. By the time I’m done with my exploration, pre-cum is oozing out of him in a steady stream and my thighs are slick with my own arousal.
This is madness, but I’m too into it to stop now.
When I finally wrap my fingers around Noah’s cock again and give it a firm stroke, he makes a strangled grunt of pleasure and his stomach tightens. I release him and watch his cock bob as he groans in frustration.
“Please, I need… ah!” Noah cries out as I grab his cock again and pump it until he’s panting. When I see him bite his lower lip and begin to tense, I pull off again.
This time, Noah cries out at the loss of my touch. God, I don’t know if I’ve ever heard anything hotter.
“F-fuck, please don’t stop. I can’t believe I’m begging whatever is haunting my dick for more, but I need it. Please .”
“Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe I should leave you like this,” I murmur to myself, reaching down to knead his balls gently with one hand as I go back to trailing my fingers along his length with the other.
“Please, it’s been so long,” he murmurs. “I don’t care if you’re a ghost grandma or a figment of my imagination. Please, just let me come.”
I laugh at his desperate words. I’m not sure why he thinks I’m the spirit of an old lady, but the fact that he’s too turned on to be bothered by the thought of a geriatric ghost giving him a handjob is what makes me decide to take pity on him. Poor guy must really be desperate. He’s even more pathetic than I am.
“Alright,” I sigh. “You’ve been surprisingly good for me, so I’ll be nice. It’s better than you deserve, but I want to watch you come.”
I circle his cock in an almost punishing grip, and focus my movement on the head in short, rough strokes.
“Oh f-fuck, I’m going to come,” Noah gasps.
I don’t let up, and a moment later, he lets out a long, low groan and ropes of cum shoot out of his cock like a fountain. My eyes dart between the ruined expression of pleasure on his face and the cum splattering all over his stomach and chest in forceful spurts.
Like a woman possessed, I lean over and run my tongue through one of the lines of cum painting his thick stomach while my hand pushes up under my skirt to rub my clit. I’m coming a few seconds later with the sinful taste of Noah’s cum on my tongue and the image of his face twisted in pleasure burned behind my eyes.
He’s panting, eyes wide, and when my horny madness fades, I scramble off of him in horror.
I can’t believe I did that.
Neither can he, judging by the dazed look on his face.
I don’t stick around to see what he does in the aftermath. We’ve both had enough excitement for one night.
A hysterical laugh bubbles out of me as I race back to hide in my closet. What happens now that he has undeniable proof that I’m real? Will he keep living in denial or will he try to communicate with the ghost that jerked him off?
I can’t help hoping it’s the latter, because as fucked up as that was, I feel more alive than I’ve have since I died.