Page 3 of Satisfied By the Specter (Halloween Temptation #8)

Eli

I'd done plenty of late-night house calls. Usually they involved sage, crystals, and homeowners convinced their dead grandmother was rearranging furniture.

This was supposed to be different. Just a hookup with the cute barista who had an ass I'd been fantasizing about for months.

Hunter. Even his name made my dick twitch.

Then I walked through his door and nearly fell on my ass.

The energy hit like walking into someone else's wet dream. Not negative, not malicious—just overwhelmingly horny. My teeth ached. My skin prickled. My cock went from interested to rock hard in seconds.

“You okay?” Hunter asked, steadying me with a hand on my arm. Even through my jacket, his touch sparked. “You look—”

“Your ghost.” I had to catch my breath, center myself. Ground and shield, like my mentor taught me. Except grounding did nothing against this tsunami of dead guy desperation. “He's been here a while. And he's... fuck, he really needs to get laid.”

I'd felt hauntings before, hundreds of them over my nine years as a working medium. The angry ones felt like static electricity and tasted like copper. The sad ones were heavy, pressing down on your chest until breathing felt like work. The confused ones created cold spots and made you dizzy.

This? This was like being tea-bagged by Casper's horny older brother.

Hunter's ghost was basically paranormal Viagra. Every breath I took tasted like sex. My usual psychic senses, which normally gave me impressions like distant radio signals, were being blasted with phantom porn. I could feel the entity's thirst like invisible hands groping my consciousness.

“Three years, give or take.” Hunter's laugh had an edge. “You can sense him?”

Sense him? The ghost was practically dry-humping my psychic energy.

I'd dealt with attachment hauntings before, spirits who fixated on the living, refused to move on.

But those felt parasitic, draining. This felt.

.. devoted. Obsessive as fuck, but with genuine care underneath that made my professional brain curious even as my cock strained against my jeans.

“He's...” I paused, trying to find words that wouldn't send Hunter running. “Intense. Very focused on you specifically. This isn't a residual haunting or random spirit. He chose this place because of you.”

I moved deeper into the apartment, tracking the energy. It was strongest near Hunter, no surprise. But I could feel traces everywhere. The kitchen, where everything was organized with OCD precision. The bathroom, where the air was thick enough to choke on. The bedroom...

“Jesus,” I breathed, stopping at the bedroom doorway. “He watches you in here. A lot.”

Hunter's face went red. “Yeah. I, uh. I've been aware of something for a while. Didn't want to admit I was being haunted by a pervy ghost.”

“Not just a perv,” I said, stepping into the bedroom. The energy here was layered, with longing, protectiveness, and sexual need so intense it made my hands shake. “He's been taking care of you. I can feel it. Little things, right? Lucky breaks?”

“The latte art.” Hunter nodded. “Ever since I moved down here, things have been, I don’t know. Yeah, I catch lucky breaks all the time. Parking spots, twenty-dollar bills on the ground. That sort of thing.”

“You've got yourself a guardian angel with a hard-on,” I said, turning to face him. “That's rare. Most attachment hauntings turn toxic. This one's possessive as hell, but he genuinely cares about you. That takes serious control.”

I'd seen the other kind. Spirits who isolated their targets, who drained them slowly. This was different. Codependent? Definitely. Jealous? Absolutely. But there was something almost sweet about it, devotion that had lasted years without going dark.

“And incredibly thirsty,” I added, because that needed to be said. My cock was aching, responding to the ghost horniness in the air.

The lights dimmed and brightened in a pattern that felt distinctly smug.

“Yeah, he's a drama queen.” Hunter ran a hand through his dark hair, still damp from his shower, sticking up in ways that made me want to grab it while he sucked me off. “So can you, like, exorcise him or—”

“I don't do exorcisms.” I shrugged off my jacket, trying to look professional while my dick tried to escape my jeans. “I help ghosts talk. Think couples therapy, except one of you is dead and gagging for it. I'm just going to look around, if that's okay."

The apartment showed evidence of the haunting everywhere. Books organized by color; no living person did that naturally. Kitchen spices alphabetized. The bathroom towels folded with hotel precision. And the sexual tension was so thick I could practically swim through it.

“Your ghost is a neat freak.”

“He gets bored,” Hunter said. “And apparently horny. Very, very horny if tonight's any indication.”

“Let me try something.” I closed my eyes, extending my awareness. Most spirits could barely move a curtain. This one was strong.

Years of focused intention had made him powerful.

I could feel him now, really feel him. Young when he died—early twenties. Violent death, sudden, didn't see it coming. But no anger about it, just... regret. So much regret. And then decades of watching people come and go until he found Hunter, learning him, wanting him from behind the veil.

“He died young,” I said, opening my eyes. “Accident, probably. Been dead about twenty years.” The energy shifted, hope mixing with the lust, creating something so intense my knees went weak.

“Can you…” Hunter waved his hand around the apartment. “Can you ask him why?”

“First, I need to establish contact.” I pulled out my phone. “Let's use your laptop.”

Hunter's laptop was already open on his coffee table. I sat on his couch, and Hunter immediately sat close enough that our thighs touched, heat bleeding through denim.

I opened a blank document.

The moment I placed my fingers on the keyboard, I felt the entity surge forward, eager to finally communicate.

“Okay, I know you're here,” I said to the room. “Type something.”

Nothing. Then, slowly, letters appearing:

MINE

“Subtle,” I muttered. “Hunter is not property.”

The response came faster:

HUNTER MINE THREE YEARS WATCHING PROTECTING WANTING

“Protecting from what?”

BAD FOR HIM MANNY CHEATER DRAKE JUST WANTED ASS RYAN HAD BOYFRIEND WATCHED HIM LONG ENOUGH KNEW WHAT HE NEEDED COULDNT STAND THEM TOUCHING HIM ANYMORE

Hunter made a strangled sound. “You've been screening my dates?”

THEY DIDNT DESERVE YOU NONE OF THEM WOULD HAVE MADE YOU CUM LIKE YOU NEED

“Jesus,” Hunter breathed. “How would you even know that?”

I WATCH YOU I KNOW WHAT YOU NEED WHAT YOU WANT SAW YOU FINGERING YOURSELF IN SHOWER TONIGHT WISHING FOR MORE

Hunter's face flushed, and my cock twitched.

ALWAYS WATCH WHEN YOU JERK OFF YOURE BEAUTIFUL WHEN YOU CUM THE WAY YOUR BACK ARCHES THE SOUNDS YOU MAKE

The air felt charged now. I could sense the ghost's energy shifting from defensive to pure need.

My professional detachment was completely fucked. This was the hottest haunting I'd ever encountered.

“What's your name?” I asked, trying to regain some control.

KRIS WITH A K

“Hi Kris. I'm Eli. I'm not here to hurt Hunter.” I paused, then decided on honesty. “Actually, I came here hoping to fuck him senseless. But I'm a medium, so I can help you two communicate first.”

I KNOW I WATCHED YOU AT COFFEE SHOP YOU TIP WELL YOU STARE AT HIS ASS

Guilty as charged. “Kris, you've been cockblocking Hunter for three years. That stops tonight.”

NO PLS DONT MAKE ME LEAVE HES ALL I HAVE

“Nobody's making you leave,” Hunter said quickly, his hand finding mine on the couch. “Right, Eli?”

“Right. But you need to let Hunter get laid. I've dealt with attachment hauntings before, Kris. The ones who try to keep their person isolated? They always go bad. The spirit gets bitter, the living person gets depressed. It's a shitshow.”

The energy rippled, fear and understanding mixing.

“But the ones that work?” I continued. “Where the spirit and the living find balance? Those are beautiful. The ghost stays connected through their person's happiness, not their misery. That could be you and Hunter, if you're willing to share.”

WITH YOU?

“That was the plan,” I admitted, my cock twitching at the thought. “But maybe with all three of us.”

The lights went out. In the darkness, the laptop screen glowed:

I WANT TO WATCH

Hunter choked. “What?”

ALWAYS WATCH WHEN HUNTER JERKS OFF WHEN HE FUCKS HIS FINGERS WHEN HE MOANS EVERY TIME YOURE PERFECT THE WAY YOU BEG THE WAY YOUR HOLE CLENCHES WISHING IT WAS COCK

I'd facilitated communication with hundreds of spirits. Helped them find peace, move on. But I'd never helped a ghost negotiate a threesome.

This was definitely not in the manual.

“Kris,” I said carefully, my arousal spiking, “are you saying you want to watch Hunter and me together?”

YES PLS YES WANT TO SEE HIM GET WHAT HE NEEDS WANT TO SEE HIM FUCKED RIGHT BEEN WAITING SO LONG

Hunter's hand tightened on mine. “Is that weird? That I'm kind of into this?”

“On the weird scale?” I squeezed his fingers. “This barely registers. I once helped a spirit communicate through interpretive dance. A ghost who wants to watch his crush get railed? That's actually pretty straightforward. And hot as fuck.”

The lights came back on, dimmed to mood lighting that was definitely intentional, and the air warmed, anticipation palpable. Not just Kris's anymore, but all three of us, feeding off each other.

Hunter looked at me then, pupils blown wide, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “So what do we do?”

“We give him a show.” I moved closer, close enough to feel Hunter's breath hitch. “If that's what you want.”

“God yes,” Hunter said, and crashed his mouth against mine.

The kiss started tentative, then Hunter whimpered against my lips and I lost it. I pushed him back against the couch, settling between his legs. He was already hard, cock straining against his jeans, hips rolling up seeking friction.