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The Haunted Touch cover
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The Haunted Touch

by @velvetginger
3 chapters
~8 min read

College junior Cassie knows the ghost in her apartment is real—every night, Marcus Blackwood’s hands find her breasts before she can even moan. She should be terrified, but the cold pressure of his phantom grip only makes her ache for more. When his touch turns deliberate, she stops pretending to sleep.

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MEET THE CHARACTERS

C'

Cassandra 'Cassie' Reeves

A 20-year-old college junior with chestnut hair that falls in messy waves past her shoulders, usually tangled from restless sleep. She has wide hazel eyes that hold a secret hunger she's only recently admitted to herself, and a slender frame that curls into the mattress each night waiting. There's a permanent flush to her skin when she wakes, and she's started wearing thinner tops to bed—hoping, aching, for the weight she can't explain. She also had big fat titties

MB

Marcus Blackwood

A ghost from another era—appears as a man in his late 20s, frozen at the moment of his death, with dark hair swept back from a sharp brow and a jaw that looks like it was carved for command. His body is solid enough to feel, cold enough to remember he's dead, with broad shoulders and hands that span her entire ribcage. He moves through walls but chooses to stay pressed against her, a specter who learned long ago that wanting doesn't end with the grave. No one can see him he is invisible but she can feel him. He his obsessed with big breasts and nipples

EXPLORE CHAPTERS

1

Waking Weight

The apartment is silent except for her own breathing. She's on her back, legs slightly parted, the ghost's palms firm over her nipples, thumbs pressing slow circles. She doesn't flinch—she pushes her chest up into the pressure, a soft sound caught in her throat. His fingers tighten, and she feels the chill seep through the cotton as she gasps, letting him hold her there.

2

Rack Captivity

Cassie ducks behind a rack of winter coats, her guy friends laughing at a joke ten feet away. Cold hands yank her jeans and panties to her knees, and she feels him press against her ass—impossibly huge, stretched and cold, sliding in with a single relentless thrust. His palm claps over her mouth, his other hand finds her nipple and pinches hard enough to make her eyes water, while his cock fills her deeper than anything has a right to. She braces her palms on the steel rack, biting her own lip to stay quiet as the other shoppers shuffle past, oblivious.

3

Homecoming

Cassie fumbles the key into the lock, his cold palms still cupping her tits through her shirt, thumbs working her nipples into hard peaks. As she pushes the door open, he spins her, pins her back against the frame, and grinds his invisible cock against her ass, still slick from the parking lot. The key drops. She doesn't pick it up. His hand slides down, fingers dipping into the wetness on her thigh, and she feels herself already opening for him again.