Contents
Haunted by Her Curves
NEWSLETTER
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
NEWSLETTER
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS
BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS
LAIRDS & LADIES
RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD
IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS
About the Author
Haunted by Her Curves
AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE
_______________________
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 206
FLORA FERRARI
Copyright © 2020 by Flora Ferrari
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
Haunted by Her Curves
LOIS
It’s Halloween.
My big break in journalism… My only break since college. A real-life, low to no pay internship with a small town newspaper.
And I have my first story.
Spending the night at a haunted house?
It must be some kind of wind up, a test.
I decide to check it out before chucking the job. What have I got to lose?
At a crossroads in my life, I feel a change coming.
I feel him.
I feel drawn to the house on the hill and I don’t even know why.
It’s like I’ve led my whole life, waiting to go there.
Waiting for him.
Ghost or not.
Once I feel his eyes on me.
I know I’m his…
Forever.
BLAKE
A car crash. Covering for my team’s captain. My baseball career, over.
Everything crashes after that, and I find the one refuge I can remember… the house on the hill.
Maybe I did die?
Maybe my life’s over and I’m left to wander the earth, alone.
Like a ghost.
I watch through fading, cracked glass. Chasing snooping kids away.
Until one day. She’s here.
It’s really her.
Maybe I died and went to heaven, after all, I just had to wait for my angel at the gates.
My Lois.
*Haunted by Her Curves is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
NEWSLETTER
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Chapter One
Lois
A part of me wants to keep driving.
Drive back to the city, but I just got here and I’m not gonna let her ruin my first day on the job.
People like her have tried to ruin most days for me. Plus, I can’t not have a job.
It’s a crummy internship that pays next to nothing but it is journalism. It’s what I went to college for.
It’s all I want to be. A reporter.
Her voice echoes in my mind as I drive from the newspaper office. Her thick eyeliner fresh in my mind, narrowing as she spoke, making her eyes look dull. Hollow.
Like a skeleton’s.
“I think you’re lucky to have any assignment at all, getting here a day late and now turning your nose up at the first real assignment I give you,” she’d snapped.
My new boss. Barbara.
More like angry Malibu Barbie.
She looked me up and down, clicking her tongue behind her Botox lips, shaking her head as she brought her thin hands to her temples, careful not to disturb her perfect hair.
Of course, I apologized. I told her I’d do whatever she wanted. What on earth Malibu Barbie was doing running a small town newspaper, I’ll never know.
But seriously, spending the night in a haunted house?
I almost laughed at first, but when I was alone it scared me, so I’m checking it out in the daytime. On my own time.
Or am I driving back to the city?
Back to what? Unemployment and nowhere to stay?
“Just get me a story for the Saturday edition,” she spat. “Kids have been sent for therapy after going out to the old Barnes place. Halloween’s coming up, people want answers,” she exclaimed.
“And I for one am not gonna get my hands dirty, that’s your job, now get out and don’t come back until you have a story!”
I study my own hair in the rearview mirror as I slow down, approaching the crossroads near the town’s limits. It looks like my life right now, dry and scattered.
Messy.
Left, the road leads to the haunted house, where I’m supposed to go. Straight ahead? The freeway in another hour, and back to the city I couldn’t wait to leave just a few days ago.
There’s a hot wind blowing, even though storm clouds are coming and there’s something in it as it hits my face from the direction of the haunted house.
It makes me shiver.
I’ll check out the house in daylight.
I tell myself I might do the story. If nothing amazing happens before Monday, I’ll head back to the city, beg Becky for my place on her couch back in the city, and start over.
But something in this wind… this feeling…
The hatchback grunts and grinds into gear and then chugs as I swing a hard left towards the haunted house on the hill.
The closer I get, and especially once I see the old place, the more intense the feeling becomes.
The spooky huge windows of the faded, timber-clad mansion are like piercing eyes, watching me as I drive closer.
I feel a shiver again, but it’s not fear.
Shaking my head, I tell myself to get a grip. Now is hardly the time to feel…tingly, but I can’t help feeling I’m going to do more than just spend the night in this place.
This town.
Something seems to bore right into me as my little car starts to chug, splutter, and finally hiss as the radiator overheats.
Again.
I try to sigh but feel nothing but rage as my little car dies yet again, the dark clouds swirling above having opened up; drenching the car and me with large, heavy drops of warm rain as I feel myself torn between feeling mad at the car and wanting to go inside this house.
Well. I’ll be here for an hour at least until I can safely open the hood and give the old girl another drink anyway.
I lost count of the amount of me
chanics I passed on the way into town. I didn’t want to be any later than I already was.
But the closer I got to the house, the more it registered that something else has been pulling me here all along.
Not the newspaper job. Not a haunted house or even a headline story.
I shudder a breath inward as I feel it again, shivering at the front door.
Something familiar from my fantasies but never anything like this.
A man…?
I’m not sure which is more likely. A ghost or a real live hunk of a man in a place like this.
It’s like a dream all of a sudden, feeling compelled to go inside, with what feels like a pair of dark eyes on me… wanting something I barely have a concept of, but if the feeling between my legs is anything to go by…
The huge wooden door is unlocked, practically falling open as my steps on the porch creak it open a half an inch as I work the rusted knocker.
I can see why young lovers might come up here, spooky scary, easy to get into… and makes you horny as fuck.
Hearing what I think must be the wind howling, I strain to hear it again.
It sounds like a low moan.
I stand rooted to the spot, half inside the door and halfway outside, still able to run back to my car if need be, when I hear it again.
That’s no wind and it’s no teenagers groaning either.
It sounds like a wild beast, a huge animal.
My voice cracks as I call out. Against all my better judgment I want to know exactly who, or what is in this house.
Not sure if I’ve just moaned myself or actually called out something, I clear my throat and try again.
“Hello…?”
More than that, I need to meet whatever is having this effect on me.
My knees are shaking, and not from fear.
If someone or something doesn’t touch me down there soon.
Holy fuck.
I stumble forward, my whole body gripped by the heat from my center. I feel my own hand going up my own skirt, the cold rain on my blouse making my chest so stiff I could almost moan myself.
And I do.
Ghost or no ghost, something is here and it’s watching me.
It wants me.
I can feel it.
Chapter Two
Blake
Rain.
Finally.
It breaks the monotony of the unusually unseasonal heat of the past few days but only makes me wish I could go outside and enjoy it without being seen.
It’s like every time I try and go out or move around the house there is some damned kid and his girlfriend from town creeping about the place.
I scare them off quickly enough, but it’s made me edgy lately.
Pings and then heavy drops finally give way to a proper downpour, the heaviest rain since I’ve been stuck in this house ‘haunting’ it.
Fuck it, I’m going outside.
Before I even get to the door, I hear the chug, then spluttering of a dying motor as a hatchback approaches the house, trying to get up the tiny hill.
Before I even think about hiding or looking out the window, I know that something in my life is about to change.
I feel my heart beating hard against my ribs, not from the fear of discovery, but from a different kind of knowing.
Knowing that she’s here.
My nose presses against the dusty glass at the end of the second story hallway, my hands are on the frayed curtains as I hold my own breath, watching the capsule of a car grind to a halt on the weedy gravel driveway.
Muddy drops stream past my eyes.
I know I’m mostly hidden from view but I can see enough of her to know that all this has been for a reason.
Everything leading up to this.
I make a low groaning sound, feeling my length shift in my pants before she even gets out of the car.
A dark haired, perfectly set girl is behind the wheel, gripping it before she throws her hands up in a rage and then tilting her head back.
I watch the creaminess of her pale throat flex between the rivulets of water against the ancient glass.
My eyes move down to all I can make of her chest.
Thick and heaving.
Like the thickness in my pants springing to life at the sight of her.
She takes a moment, fingers to her temples, and then looking out at the sky, she gets out. Despite the rain, she leaves the car, hesitates for a moment as she considers the steam billowing from under the car’s hood.
Her white blouse is instantly saturated, giving me a clear view of her proud nipples and ample chest before she scuttles for the porch. I hear myself groan again as I feel the glass creak under my weight.
There’s a muted pounding on the front door, but my heart blooms when I hear it creak open from the busted lock.
She’s coming inside.
“Hello…? Is anybody home? I’ve broken down and need some…”
I hear her voice, but it’s silenced by another low sound escaping from me, I can’t help it.
I’m rubbing at the swollen mound in my pants, eager to free my member and scratch the itch she’s created, but I can’t.
I have to be patient. If she’s truly going to be mine.
I usually scare off intruders, kids mostly, make a few noises, throw a little trash and they run like frightened mice.
But this one… her…
I want her to stay. I don’t want to scare her off.
But damn, if she hasn’t made me so hard in a second.
Making me want to reveal myself in more ways than one.
I have to be careful though. I can’t blow my cover.
But if I don’t do something, I’m about to blow something else.
“Hello?”
Her call is more insistent, and I feel like going to her above everything else.
You can’t.
I know I can’t. It would ruin everything.
Somehow, the wind slams the heavy front door, and I feel we both jump before I even set eyes on her.
Mine.
The house wants her here… I want her, here and it only takes a second for me to decide that above all else. She will be mine.
I groan the thought aloud, hearing it echo through the whole house. Mixing with the wind and the sound of a banging shutter from somewhere.
But she doesn’t scream or cry out in fright, not like those meddling kids or other intruders might.
I think… I think I even hear her moaning back before she calls hello again.
I want to call back to her, to tell her to get up here so I can hold her close, so I can claim her as my own. But it all comes flooding back.
The reason I’m stuck here in the first place.
Clenching my jaw, I move to the edge of the stairs, hiding so I can see her without exposing myself.
Without showing I’m here or how fucking hard I am for her right now.
I can’t let her leave, but I know I can’t keep her here either. The weather though… the house… her car…
She calls out again after a while, did she have a hand up her skirt just now?
The sight of her, what she’s doing to herself.
What she’s doing to me.
I can’t help it and let out another low moan, gripping the stair’s banister as I watch her eyes dart to my own shadow cast down into the hallway, making her gasp again.
Her hand snatches from up her dress, to her throat as she stifles another cry, staggering back.
I want to reveal myself to her. I need to show her I’m real, that my own arousal for her is real… pure.
But I can’t.
I’m here for a reason, and it’s not to make myself public, again.
But seeing her, knowing what she’s doing to me!
Ah, fuck! She’s turning to go. No!
I can’t let her go.
I will have her.
She will be mine, no matter what.
“Wait!” I hear myself call out, but she’s
gone.
The banging of a shutter, the door against the wind…
As quickly as she came she’s gone again.
Back out into the building storm.
Chapter Three
Lois
If he is a ghost, he can have me anytime.
But it’s not what I think is another of his low moans or even the wind that scares me.
It’s the sound of another car on the gravel drive.
A police car.
The front door slams shut and I jump, startled by how quickly I could feel so attracted to a...presence so suddenly.
The rain is really coming down now, and I can tell at a glance the elderly sheriff doesn’t want to get out of his car. Instead, he winds his window down a little, calling out through the gap.
“You okay, Lois? Barbara from the paper asked me to check on you, figured you’d be here. I was in the area and just thought…”
I can’t hear the last part of what he says, a loud crack of thunder drowns him out, but I signal with my hands that I’m okay.
I point over to my car, noting the sheriff’s own frown as he notices the thick cloud of gray steam still pouring from underneath the hood.
He grimaces further, and pulling his hat over his ears, gets out of his car, motioning for me to stay put.
To serve and protect…
Spying an old piece of canvas tarp on the porch, I pitch it over my head and trot out to meet the Sheriff by my car.
I swear I can hear another low growl from inside the house and think for a moment that maybe there is a wild animal there after all.
Haunted By Her Curves: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 206) Page 1