Read Online Phantom Lust (Paranormal Erotica) by Folia Deux - Free Book Online
Authors: Folia Deux
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Chapter One
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
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
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