Dearly Departed

by Katie May

  Shaking that arousing image from my head, I glide into the next room and startle at the sight I find. This room was made for the very kinky, as leather straps and whips hang from the walls. However, in the far corner is one very naked lady, with her tits sagging, and her gap-toothed smile aimed in my direction. She’s strewn herself up in some kind of device, with her wrists bound above her head and her legs splayed. I can feel my eyes twitch as I try not to look at old lady pussy.

  “Come here, big boy, and claim your prize,” she taunts, lowering her voice to try and sound sexy. All it does is make me suppress a gag. “Dust off my spider webs. Oil my engine. Jump start my—”

  I don’t stick around to listen. Instead, I practically run through the wall and find I’ve run right outside the brothel. Floating in midair is something I’m still not entirely used to. It takes a lot of concentration to keep yourself afloat. One misfire in thinking, and you’ll fall right to the ground. I will myself back inside and head down to the other side of rooms.

  I come across two more hiding DDs. A man in his forties named Garett, who was making small talk on an old canopy bed with a young Ghost named Brandon, who’s no older than thirteen. I caught snippets of their conversations revolving around the newest wrestler on prime time TV and their favorite monster trucks.

  Another held Layla, who I’ve learned is a good friend of my Hadley. A swarm of male Ghosts surrounded her, each vying for her attention. She looked at me with imploring eyes, but all I could do was laugh and float through the wall.

  My heart races when I finish up looking through the brothel, but find no Hadley in sight. I might already be too late. The thought of Frederick with his slimy fingers touching my girl fuels my desire to find her first. And when I do find her, I’ll make damn well sure she knows I am choosing her.

  I burst through the front door with a sense of urgency. Hoping that even if Freddy did find her first, she wouldn’t choose him. But Freddy is slick, and has made his way through the DDs every year we’ve been here so far. He can fool them into thinking he’s quite charming and sweet.

  But I know better.

  I’ve seen the trail of broken hearts he’s left in his wake, the girls kicked to the side for the next, newest trophy to claim. He is a complete asshole, the kind of guy I hated in real life. He reminds me of my step father, Jeremy. He was a womanizer, a narcissist. Jeremy treated my mom like garbage, and she let him. Every time she got brave enough to kick him out, he’d end up crawling back. Time and time again. And each time, she’d take him back, hoping he’d learned his lesson.

  But Jeremy never did. People like him never do. They are too blinded by their own self-righteousness to see the wrong in their actions.

  My eyes dart around, trying to decide on the next place to search. Then it dawns on me. The one place that most DDs would avoid is probably the one that calls to Hadley most of all.

  I turn right and make my way quickly down the road to the forgotten church. But I don’t go inside it. Instead, I hurry around the back to the stone graveyard. A rickety iron fence rises from the sandy ground, encircling the tombstones of the living who once walked this town. I see Hadley, staring at a name on one of the headstones.

  A smile graces my face. I’ve found her first. Schooling my features as to not look too anxious, I materialize and walk in her direction. But in my desire to keep my affection for her a secret, I lingered a second too long, allowing Frederick to scoot in.

  “What’s a gorgeous young girl like you doing all alone in a dark graveyard?” he coos, circling her like a predator would his prey. “Would you like a big, strong Ghost to protect you from the evil spirits? A man to give you everything you ever wanted? To make your dreams come true?”

  This time, I can’t hold in the gag that chokes me.

  Not this time, fucker.

  Hadley is mine.

  Swallowing my apprehension for falling for this girl, I stride up behind her. Before she can answer Freddy’s pompous question, I spin her around and crush my lips into hers.

  And she lets me.

  Her tiny fingers thread into my hair, pulling at the strands tightly. She opens her mouth to my searching tongue, letting me taste her. We groan in tandem as our kiss deepens. I open my eyes for a moment to wink at one shocked Freddy and flip him the bird before focusing completely on my Hadley.

  My hands slide down her back and cup her full ass in my palms, and my cock jumps in response. Hadley slips her free hand under my shirt and trails her fingers along my abs, causing my whole body to shudder in pleasure.

  I can’t handle another second of this, or I might take her here in the graveyard.

  I pull away from her mouth with difficulty and cup her face in my hands, running my thumbs across her flushed cheeks. Her pouty lips are still swollen from our kiss.

  So sexy.

  “Hadley?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she answers breathlessly.

  “Will you allow me to be your Ghost mentor?”

  A smile grows on her face, showing off her high cheekbones and white teeth.

  “Took you long enough to find me. Maybe I should give that other guy a chance,” she teases.

  “You wouldn’t…”

  She tosses her head back and laughs then, and it fills my heart with joy. Peace. Being with Hadley just feels so right, like our souls were meant to be together.

  “Yes, Karston. I’ll be your Dearly Departed.” She pulls that lower lip into her mouth and looks up at me through her thick black lashes.

  My heart skips a beat.

  “Fuck, yes!” I shout, before picking her up by the waist. She threads her legs around me as I take her mouth once more. I take notice of every little detail, because this moment will go down as the best moment of my life. Our tongues duel in an erotic dance, and I think about how much longer I’ll be able to conceal my true feelings for her, the feelings I developed from my time spent watching her on Earth. The months I spent as her shadow, her Ghost.

  But I push that down.

  For now, I’ll just enjoy this moment.

  Our moment.

  Chapter 20

  Hadley

  “...and then he kissed me.” I finish the story with a dramatic sigh, lying on the bed with my head dangling off the edge. My blonde hair scrapes across the floor, but I can’t find it within me to care.

  “Only kissed?” Aggie asks, and I turn my head towards the old bat. She’s sitting on the bed opposite me, appearing upside down with the way my head’s angled. A single white brow is quirked. “I would’ve taken that Ghost for a ride through pound town. As in, my vagina overtop of his face as he sucks—”

  “For fuck’s sake, Aggie!” Layla interjects. From this position, I can’t see her, but I know she’s perched daintily on the edge of my bed.

  I hadn’t meant to spill all of my secrets to Aggie and Layla, but I had arrived at my dorm confused and flustered. My lips still tingle from Karston’s kiss, the heat almost palpable.

  I can’t deny the fact that I wanted him to kiss me...but I also want Auston and Preston to kiss me. Hell, I even want to taste Braxton’s lips, though I don’t know him as well.

  “You know what you need?” Aggie says seriously.

  “Don’t you dare say I need to spread my pussy lips open and wave them at the world like a damn American flag,” I warn, finally sitting up and inching backwards until my back’s against the wall. I cross my arms over my chest and level her with a look.

  Aggie stares at me dryly.

  “No, I was going to say you need to follow your heart—”

  I underestimated her.

  “—so you know which cock you want to joyride on.”

  Maybe not.

  “Joyride on? Is that a thing? That doesn’t sound right,” Layla muses, placing a finger to her chin and tapping.

  Aggie opens her mouth, but whatever she was going to say is blessedly interrupted by multiple knocks on the door in rapid succession.

  The three of us exchang
e bemused looks before Aggie practically runs towards the door, mumbling, “Man meat, man meat, man meat,” repeatedly beneath her breath.

  I sit up straighter, smooth down my skirt, and bring a hand to my hair. Wait. What the hell am I doing?

  Seriously.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  Good grief. Soon, I’ll be huddled in a broom closet masturbating to pictures of four guys while cackling maliciously beneath my breath. Why that thought came to me, I have no idea. Just go with it.

  I know it’s one of them even before Aggie completely opens the door.

  Immediately, Saggy Aggie drapes herself over the door frame, purposefully bending down to give the poor man a view of her wrinkled cleavage.

  Preston looks positively aghast, and I can’t keep in my chuckle. His eyes flash to my face and the horror contorts into happiness, twin orbs of mossy green eyes speckled with darker emerald.

  A brilliant smile cleaves his face in two, as delectable dimples appear in each cheek.

  My heart stutters to a stop before kick starting with a vengeance.

  “Hi,” I blurt stupidly.

  Real smooth, Hadley. Real fucking smooth.

  “Hi,” he replies just as awkwardly. Layla catches my eye and smirks.

  “Joyride,” she mouths, licking her lips exaggeratedly. I roll my eyes and toss a pillow in her direction. Preston glances between the two of us, lost, but I shake my head with another eye roll.

  For a moment, we silently stare at each other. Splotches of red appear on his cheeks, and he shoves his hands into his pockets. Rocking back and forth on his feet, he removes one hand and forks it through his hair. When the strands become disheveled, sticking up in all directions, he pushes at them again with an annoyed grunt.

  “So…” Layla’s voice breaks the silence. “Is there something you need, Preston?” She glances in my direction pointedly, and this time it’s my cheeks that burn. Am I on fire? Yup. That’s how I’m going to die. Spontaneous combustion from embarrassment.

  Well, die again.

  I sometimes forget I’m already dead.

  “Yes...um...yes. I said that already, didn’t I? Yessss.” He drags the final “s” out with a pucker to his lips, brow furrowed, and head canted adorably to the side. He seems genuinely confused by that one word, as if it holds the secret to life. Apparently coming out of his daze, he clears his throat and rocks back again.

  Back and forth.

  Back and forth.

  “Preston,” I prompt softly, once more capturing his attention.

  “Sorry, um, I was actually coming to talk to you, Hadley.”

  “Me? Do we have more walking lessons?” I inquire, and Layla covers her mouth with her hand to stifle the laughter threatening to break free.

  “No, um...I was actually hoping I could, um...take you out?” His voice wavers towards the end, turning the statement into a question. My breathing stops; my heart stills.

  Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

  As my mind races, so does my heart—hope, fear, and elation vying for attention. I sit up straighter, my hands fisting in the threaded quilt.

  With bated breath, I whisper, “Take me out?”

  “Like on a date?” Layla pipes in giddily. I’m pretty sure she’s solidly on Team Preston. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had t-shirts printed with his name and mine in a heart, and a fan club that met every Wednesday to discuss every touch the two of us shared.

  “Why her?” Aggie asks disdainfully. She throws me a look over her shoulder, the wrinkles around her eyes more pronounced. After a moment of silent consideration, she decisively bobs her head. “It’s the perky boobs, isn’t it? Honestly, her nipples aren’t that great. I highly doubt they could be milked for sustenance.”

  Preston’s face is the shade of tomatoes. Literally. I have never seen a man turn so red before.

  “Um...I’m sure Hadley has nice nipples, and...um...they’re not overly perky.”

  Kill. Me. Now.

  Preston’s eyes widen with horror when he realizes what he’s said, and his face loses all its color. He looks as if he’s seconds away from passing out.

  “Not that I think about your boobs!” Preston backtracks quickly. When I frown, he hurriedly explains, “I mean, not often. If anything, I think about the panties you wear. I mean, it’s a game my brothers and I used to play, and I...um…fuck!”

  Layla has her face smothered against the pillow I threw at her, her body shaking with laughter. Aggie is fondling her own saggy tits with a displeased frown marring her face.

  A bunch of winners here.

  “Dinner. Tonight. Seven.”

  His authoritative tone, though unintentional, does something to me. Something that makes my...fuck, I’m turning into Aggie...lady bits quiver.

  “It’s a date,” I whisper, trying to contain the smile that wants to erupt on my face. Preston’s answering smile is glorious, all previous embarrassment forgotten. Or, at the very least, placed in a black box and locked tight.

  When he leaves and a reluctant Aggie shuts the door, I allow my mind to wander.

  Fuck, what am I doing?

  Kissing Karston, going on dates with Preston, and thinking about Auston’s strong, muscular arms around my waist. Hell, I’m even thinking of Braxton and the way his dark eyes seem to stare into the deepest parts of me.

  One thing is painfully clear: I’m in way over my head, fucking drowning in deep water, but it might be the most beautiful death imaginable.

  I stare at myself in the mirror and wiggle self-consciously.

  “Is it too short?” I ask Layla, tugging at the hem of the dress.

  “It’s perfect,” she gushes instantly.

  “What about my breasts—”

  “You look great, babe.” Layla gives my bare shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

  Releasing a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, I consider my reflection once more.

  The dress Layla insisted I wear, a gem from her personal collection, is significantly shorter than anything I’ve ever worn before, the hem just covering my ass. The red material moves like silk, caressing my skin. A low neckline accentuates my ample breasts, made even larger by the push-up bra Layla allowed me to borrow. A silver necklace rests in the crevice of my cleavage, ending in a gold-encrusted heart. My blonde hair has been painstakingly curled by Layla, each ringlet luscious and voluminous. Makeup has been expertly applied to my eyes and lips. I feel...beautiful. Sexy. Desirable.

  I smooth my hands up and down the dress, puckering my lips.

  My kissable lips.

  Fuck, I want Preston to kiss me.

  “You ready for this?” Layla queries, stepping back with a conspiratorial smile. For the first time since I’ve known her, she’s wearing a ratty shirt and sweatpants, her dark hair thrown into a messy bun. Still, she looks like sex personified, and a ripple of self-consciousness travels through me.

  Why would Preston look at me when he could be looking at her? She’s gorgeous, smart, funny, and kind. And what am I?

  An awkward girl whose life ended too quickly.

  Schooling my features before Layla can pick up on my unease, I answer, “Nervous. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been on an actual date. I’ve hooked up with enough guys when the pain medication for my cancer gave me confidence drinkers would call ‘liquid courage,’ but a real date?” I search my memories, then it comes to me. “Ninth grade. Charlie Hoper. He tried to touch my boob, and I slapped him in the face.”

  Layla throws back her head in laughter.

  “My first date was actually with Sam,” she says, her voice turning wistful as it always does when she talks about her dead boyfriend. “My first...and last. He took me to an Italian restaurant, even though he had a horrible gluten allergy. Apparently, he wanted to impress me.” She releases another lilting laugh. “Oh, he impressed me alright. I learned that hospitals have very uncomfortable chairs.”

  I chuckle. “You staye
d with him?”

  “Of course!” She snorts. “I wasn’t about to leave him to die!”

  “Where’s Aggie?” I ask, changing the subject. I know how difficult it can be for Layla to talk about him. Sadness has begun to seep into her vibrant eyes. The wound is still fresh, still deep, and I know nothing I say will eradicate the ache.

  “You didn’t hear this from me…” Layla leans forward, a wide grin on her face. “But apparently, Aggie has been doing the...um…horizontal tango with Professor Buttox.”

  “What?” I exclaim, my voice rising. Aggie and our Reaper teacher?

  Cue: full body shivers of revulsion. That is not a mental image I need.

  “Oh yeah. She told me all about it.” Layla’s lips twist. “Too much. I didn’t need to know that Buttox can put his foot behind his head. And I didn’t need to know that he had one of his balls ripped off by a prostitute before he died.”

  Both of us grimace and then simultaneously shudder in disgust.

  “Ew. I don’t think I can show up to Reaper class ever again.”

  “Right? There’s only so much a girl can take before she’s mentally scarred for life,” she agrees. Preston’s signature knock—bum, bum, bumbumbumbum—sounds on the door. The tension that had just abated returns, and I stand ramrod straight. Anxiety snakes down my back and into my veins until I’m choking on it.

  Layla, oblivious, saunters to the door and opens it with a wide grin.

  “Hey, Preston,” she chirps cheerfully.

  “Hi,” he mutters awkwardly, but his attention is firmly on me. His eyes widen, bugging out of his head, and he noticeably swallows. I swear he says “fuck” beneath his breath as his eyes roam my body.

  Any and all self-consciousness dissipates as quickly as it comes. He looks at me as if I’m the only girl in the world, the only girl in his world. To some, his attention might be unnerving, but I flourish beneath his heady gaze like a blossoming flower reaching for the sun. I feel so fucking beautiful with his heated eyes caressing every curve, every bare expanse of skin, every scar that others have deemed hideous.