Page 3 of Paranormal Love From an Immortal Thug

E l e v e n - t h i r t y c a m e, and I heard loud-ass knocks at my door followed by Kadie yelling, “Open up, bitch!”

I treaded across the hardwood in my slippers and muumuu, wine glass still in hand.

The moment I cracked the door, all three of them burst in like they owned the place.

Kadie held a Trader Joe’s bag full of snacks and mini liquor bottles while Lenora had a black candle and a thick-ass book she probably found at the library on Malcolm X Boulevard, and Chia trailed behind in her silk bonnet with her phone flashlight on like she was ghost hunting.

“You hoes are ridiculous,” I said, closing the door behind them.

“And yet you love us,” Kadie replied, kissing my cheek. “Now, where’s your incense?”

“My what?”

Lenora brushed past me, heading straight for my bookshelf like she lived here. “You ain’t got no sage? No palo santo? No frankincense?”

I blinked at her. “Frankincense, Lenora? This ain’t the nativity.”

She smirked. “Then go light a damn candle, sis. We gotta set the vibe.”

I gave up arguing. This was what they did—showed up, took over, made my night better. Even when it was some chaotic group project like conjuring up a man.

Kadie opened the wine, Chia turned on a spooky playlist full of ambient moans and wind chimes, and Lenora laid everything out on the coffee table like we were really about to summon a sex demon from the underworld.

I couldn’t even lie, I loved these moments. Us, unfiltered. Grown-ass women who knew struggle, had our own trauma, our own wins and losses, and still showed up for each other like clockwork.

“So,” Lenora said, taking the center seat and pulling her knees up, “the TokTick girl said to write down what you want in a man. Physically, emotionally, sexually, all of it. Be specific as hell.”

Kadie handed me a notepad and a gel pen. “Go ‘head. Be delusional.”

I sucked my teeth but started writing.

By the time I looked up, they were all watching me with raised eyebrows. “What?” I said.

Chia whistled. “You sure you don’t want to just call an escort?”

Kadie leaned over to peek at the list. “You forgot emotional availability, but this is giving demon dick energy. We approve.”

Lenora passed me the candle. “Read your list out loud while we light this.”

I laughed. “This is giving Love & Hip Hop séance, but okay.”

We lit the candle. I read my list aloud, even the nasty parts.

We passed the wine around like it was a sacrament.

Kadie poured a salt circle around the table using pink Himalayan salt because she claimed it was more aesthetic.

And then Lenora had us chant some Latin phrase she swore was from the Book of Shadows, but I was 99% sure she’d pulled it from a Pinterest post.

“Da mihi virum qui me sustinere potest…”

“Translation?” I asked.

“Bring me the man who can handle me,” she said with a wink.

We repeated it three times. I felt stupid, a little drunk, and surprisingly warm. The candle flickered hard after the last chant, and we all paused.

“I felt that,” Chia whispered.

Kadie squinted. “Y’all got the windows open or something?”

I shook my head slowly. “No.”

For a second, the room felt tight, like the air got thicker and almost humid. The flickering candle turned solid. The light didn’t dance anymore. It stood still like it was listening. We all stared.

Lenora was the first to stand up, stretching like an old lady and grabbing her coat. “Alright, witches. I’m out before we start summoning more than good dick and end up with a poltergeist.”

“Girl, stay for one movie,” Chia said through a yawn. “We bouta order food anyway.”

I glanced up from the Uber Eats app. “Y’all want Chinese or halal?”

Kadie raised a brow. “What time is it?”

“Almost twelve-thirty.”

“Then Chinese. Ain’t no good halal food after midnight in your area.”

“Facts,” Chia agreed.

Forty minutes later, we were gathered on the sectional again, passing around styrofoam containers full of fried rice, chicken teriyaki, salt and pepper shrimp, and lobster sauce.

We started grubbing, and of course, I got sauce on my tank top with zero regrets.

The Sixth Sense was playing in the background, but none of us were really watching.

We were mid-story about Chia’s situationship with the TSA agent who swore he wasn’t toxic but checked her location every time she posted a thirst trap.

“So let me get this straight,” I said, mouth full. “He got a key to your place, but y’all not together?”

Chia rolled her eyes. “He said he’s emotionally monogamous but physically curious.”

“Girl,” Kadie groaned. “If you don’t change the locks and change your life.”

“I know, I know,” Chia mumbled. “That’s why I’m in therapy.”

We cracked up, the room thick with laughter, wine breath, and sisterhood.

Eventually, one by one, they started to leave. Hugs at the door, promises to text when they got home, last-minute giggles about our “sex demon séance” and how maybe I’d wake up to somebody six-foot-something with demon dick and a devilish smirk.

I closed the door behind Kadie, who was the last to leave around four in the morning, the lock clicking into place with a soft thud. My apartment felt too quiet after all that noise, like the air hadn’t caught up yet. Still warm from laughter.

I shuffled into the kitchen, grabbed the last glass of wine, and made my way back to the couch. The candle was still half-burned on the table. Wax melted like it had exhaled. I sat there for a second in the silence, swirling my wine, laughing softly to myself.

“Conjure me a man,” I said out loud, mocking my own damn self.

“Some fine ass, grown ass, demon dick-having man who can break me in half and then hold me tight. Shit, maybe talk about our dreams and goals and…” I shook my head and stood up, taking the last sip of wine before setting the glass in the sink.

“Let me stop before I manifest something for real,” I muttered.

I headed toward the bathroom, peeling off my tank top and underwear as I went. The shower was already steaming by the time I stepped in. Hot water hit my back, sliding over my skin like silk. I let out a soft moan, head tilted back.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the list. Everything I’d written down. Not just the physical stuff—though let’s be honest, I had needs—but the way I craved someone to see me. To consume me in a way that wasn’t just about sex, but still left me trembling and soaked and completely undone.

“A fine ass thug ass nigga who knows what to do with it,” I whispered to the steam, half-laughing to myself.

I bit my lip as my hand slid lower, between my thighs, fingers tracing soft circles over my clit that hadn’t been touched right in far too long. My breath hitched. I leaned against the wall, eyes closed. I started picturing him.

Tatted arms.

Gold chain.

Voice like sin.

Stroke game disrespectful.

That look that says he knows you’re about to cry before you do. The kind of man who talks you through every orgasm, makes you say “thank you” after, and means it.

My fingers moved faster, and then the lights flickered. I quickly froze as the steam swirled.

Flicker-flicker.

Then, everything went pitch black.

I stepped back, confused, water still running down my body. “Hello?” I called out into the dark, heart starting to thump.

The bathroom light buzzed, then blinked back on, but it was dimmer like something was draining the power.

Then came the cold. It swept in like a gust, slicing through the heat, wrapping around me like fingers.

I shivered as my nipples hardened, but it wasn’t arousal anymore.

My instincts kicked in. Something felt off.

A low, ghostly sound echoed from the hallway, and my blood ran cold.

And then, I heard a loud noise as the front door slammed shut so hard, I felt it in my chest. I screamed, stumbling out of the shower, slipping on the tile.

I yanked a towel around me and ran, wet feet slapping against the hardwood as I darted into my bedroom.

I didn’t stop to think. I didn’t stop to pray. My ass went straight to the top shelf of my closet and pulled down the matte black .380 I kept stashed in a shoe box. My hands were shaking, the towel barely hanging on as water dripped down my legs. My breath came in fast, panicked bursts.

“Who’s there?” I yelled, gun in hand. Silence. I backed toward the hallway, heart racing, mouth dry. “I’m not playing. I’ll shoot! I will! I ain’t never shot nobody before but try me tonight, muthafucka!”

The air changed again. And then, from the darkness, I smelled weed smoke and something woodsy. A voice wrapped around me like silk and steel all at once.

“Put the gun down, ma.”

The air shifted again, like the oxygen around me was surrendering. And then, a figure stepped into the light. And God, he was fine.

Tall. Broad. The kind of build that made you feel small just standing in front of him.

His skin was deep and smooth, that rich, mahogany tone that made your throat dry.

Hair cut low and waved up so tight it looked carved, not brushed.

His beard was full and lined to perfection, connecting to thick sideburns and shadowing his sharp jawline like it had been painted on.

His lips were full and soft-looking. Lips that could talk you out of your panties or have you saying prayers in tongues when they traveled south. Tattoos crept up the thick column of his neck, curling around his throat and disappearing beneath the crisp collar of the jet-black suit he wore.

He wasn’t church-boy pressed either. He was gangsta fine.

Tailored like sin. His jacket was open just enough to show his black button-up, chest straining underneath, gold Cuban link resting dead center like a signature.

Matching gold watch. Rings on his thick, tatted fingers.

And in his right hand was a rose. Fiery red and orange, petals glowing faintly like they were kissed by flame.

Like he’d pulled it from Hell just for me.

He wasn’t real. He couldn’t be. But I couldn’t move. My towel was slipping. My gun hand was trembling. I couldn’t even blink.

He stared straight at me, lips curving into the kind of smirk that should come with a warning label. His voice was a slow drag of smoke and velvet when he finally spoke. “Damn,” he said, deep and smooth. “You pretty as fuck, ma.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My knees buckled, and just like that, a bitch fainted.