As the faint warmth lingering in the air seeped into Erin's bones, she lingered a moment longer in the now-quiet room, her fingers tracing the edge of the hearth where the flames had consumed Matthew's last remnants. The mansion seemed to hold its breath with her, the shadows retreating to gentle corners, and she finally turned away, ascending the stairs with a lightness she hadn't known in months. Days blurred into weeks, the house transforming into a sanctuary rather than a prison, its creaks and whispers now familiar lullabies that lulled her into a routine of solitude and self-discovery. Three weeks later, Erin found herself curled on the plush couch in the drawing room, the late afternoon sun casting golden shafts across the faded Oriental rug. She held a glossy magazine in her lap, the article's headline—"Erin: The UK's Youngest Billionaire"—staring back at her with a mix of pride and disbelief. The piece detailed her invention, a groundbreaking sight aid that beamed GPS-guided images directly to the brain's visual centers, restoring vision to those long shrouded in darkness, yet as she read, her thoughts drifted, the words blurring like distant memories.

Yet as she read, her thoughts drifted, the words blurring like distant memories of Matthew's touch, his essence now a lingering warmth that stirred something deep within her chest. The magazine slipped from her fingers, forgotten on the couch as she stretched languidly, her muscles aching from hours of stillness, and rose to her feet with a sigh. The drawing room's golden light had faded to a soft dusk, casting long shadows that danced across the walls like playful spirits, and she felt an inexplicable pull toward the mundane comforts of the kitchen, her bare feet padding silently over the worn wooden floors. Pausing in the hallway, she caught sight of the newly hung portrait of Matthew, its oils still fresh and vibrant, capturing his enigmatic smile and broad shoulders in a way that made her heart skip. A fond smile curved her lips as she traced the frame with a fingertip, the cool metal grounding her in the present, before she continued on, the scent of aged oak and faint roses trailing her like a whisper from the past.

In the kitchen, the air was cooler, carrying the earthy aroma of herbs from the windowsill garden, and she poured herself a glass of deep red wine from a bottle she'd left uncorked, its rich bouquet promising a momentary escape. She settled at the counter, the smooth granite beneath her elbows a stark contrast to the plush couch, and took a slow sip, savoring the velvety warmth that spread through her. "A fine choice," a voice murmured from the doorway, its timbre familiar and resonant, sending a shiver down her spine. She turned, her pulse quickening, to find Matthew standing there, no longer a fleeting shadow but fully corporeal, his tall form framed by the archway, his broad shoulders and shadowy features illuminated by the fading light. His eyes, deep and possessive, locked onto hers, and she felt an invisible current drawing her closer, his presence igniting a spark of long-buried desire that made the room seem smaller, more intimate.

"How?" Erin breathed, her voice barely a whisper as she set her wineglass down, the rich liquid trembling slightly within.

Matthew’s gaze softened, though the possessive intensity never left his eyes. "A jealous suitor," he murmured, stepping fully into the kitchen, the fading evening light catching the edges of his form as if he were both there and not. "He bound my remains—my heart, my… essence—to this place. For two centuries, I have lingered, unable to move on, tethered by his bitterness." His voice held a sorrow so profound it seemed to chill the air between them, yet Erin felt a pull, a warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with the wine.

Without thinking, she reached for the bottle, her fingers brushing the cool glass as she poured a second measure into a heavy crystal goblet she kept for special occasions. She offered it to him, her hand steady despite the tremor in her heart. "Here," she said softly, the word an offering of comfort, of connection. Matthew’s fingers closed around the stem, his touch cool yet solid, and as their hands brushed, a shiver ran up her arm—not of fear, but of awakening. He brought the glass to his lips, though it did not wet them, and the gesture felt intimate, a shared moment across the chasm of time. The silence between them grew thick with unspoken understanding, and Erin knew, with a certainty that settled deep in her bones, that her nights would never again be solitary.

He took another slow, deliberate sip from the goblet, his eyes never leaving hers, and she felt the weight of his gratitude settle between them like a shared secret. The wine’s warmth spread through her, but it was nothing compared to the heat blooming in her chest as she watched him—this man who was both ghost and memory, now solid and real before her. "Tonight," he repeated softly, the word hanging in the air like a promise, "is all I have left. But it is enough, if I can spend it with you."

Erin’s heart ached with a bittersweet tenderness as she reached out, her fingers brushing the cool fabric of his sleeve. She could feel the faint tremor of his form beneath the touch, a reminder that he was still caught between worlds, yet here, now, he felt more present than any memory. "Then let’s not waste a moment," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. He set the goblet aside, the crystal ringing softly against the granite, and drew her into his arms. His kiss was gentle but urgent, tasting of wine and starlight and centuries of longing, and she melted against him, her hands sliding up to cradle the strong line of his jaw.

The kiss deepened, a slow, searching exploration that tasted of centuries and starlight and the faint, lingering sweetness of red wine. His hands, solid and cool, slid from her jaw down the column of her neck, his thumbs stroking the delicate hollow of her throat. Erin whimpered into his mouth, her own hands fisting in the fine wool of his coat, pulling him closer until not a whisper of air separated them. The granite counter pressed against her back, a cold, unyielding contrast to the heat flooding her veins.

He broke the kiss, his breath a cool ghost against her flushed skin. "I have dreamed of this," he murmured, his lips tracing the shell of her ear, sending shivers cascading down her spine. "Of feeling your warmth, your life, against me." His mouth found the pulse beating wildly at the base of her neck, and she arched into the touch, a soft cry escaping her as his hands moved to her waist, lifting her effortlessly onto the cool granite counter. The world tilted, narrowing to the feel of his strong thighs bracketing hers, the possessive gleam in his shadowy eyes. He loomed over her, a magnificent specter made flesh, and all she could do was gaze up at him, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

His head dipped, his lips blazing a trail down the exposed skin of her throat to the lace-edged neckline of her dress. One hand cupped the weight of her breast through the fabric, his thumb circling a nipple that hardened instantly into a pebble of aching need. A low groan rumbled in his chest, a sound of pure, primal male satisfaction that vibrated through her very bones. Her head fell back, her fingers tangling in his dark hair as he nuzzled the soft swell of her breast, his breath hot through the lace. "Matthew," she begged, the name a prayer and a surrender. He answered by pulling the fabric down, baring her to the cool kitchen air and the heat of his mouth.

His mouth descended further, his tongue tracing a hot, wet path down the soft plane of her stomach until he reached the damp lace of her panties. With a possessive growl, he hooked his fingers into the delicate fabric and pulled them down her thighs, letting them fall to the kitchen floor forgotten. The cool air kissed her exposed flesh for only a moment before his warm breath replaced it, his broad shoulders pressing her knees apart as he buried his face between her legs. His tongue found her clit again—this time with deliberate, swirling pressure that made her cry out and arch off the counter, her fingers twisting in his hair as waves of pleasure radiated through her trembling limbs.

She could feel the hard edge of the granite digging into her backside, grounding her even as he lifted her higher with each skillful stroke of his tongue—flicking, sucking, circling until she was mindless with need. Her hips moved against his mouth of their own accord, seeking more pressure, more friction, more of this exquisite torment that felt both ghostly and overwhelmingly real. He groaned against her sensitive flesh, the vibration sending another shockwave through her core, and she knew she was teetering on the edge, her entire body coiled tight like a spring about to release.

His tongue worked her pussy with relentless, intimate precision until she cried out in ecstasy, her orgasm crashing over her in waves that left her trembling and slick against his mouth. He kissed his way back up her body, his lips tracing a wet, possessive path over the quivering skin of her stomach, the curve of her ribs, the soft undersides of her breasts. Each kiss was a brand, a claim, and when he finally reached her lips, he swallowed her ragged breaths, his own cool and tasting of her essence.

He drew back slowly, his eyes dark with wonder as he whispered against a sacred vow before his lips curved into a smile that held centuries of longing finally fulfilled. "You taste like roses and heaven," he murmured, his voice rough with reverence, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

His touch grew bolder, dipping inside her slick heat as he captured her mouth again in a deep, claiming kiss. She moaned into him, her hips arching off the counter as his fingers worked her with intimate knowledge, curling and stroking until she shattered around him with a cry that echoed through the quiet kitchen. "We have all night," she gasped, her hands sliding from his shoulders down his chest, fumbling with the fastenings of his trousers until her fingers brushed against the hard length of him.

He groaned as her hand closed around his cock, his forehead dropping to hers as she explored his rigid heat, her thumb sweeping over the velvety head already slick with his arousal. His breath hitched when she began to stroke him slowly, matching the rhythm of his own lingering touches between her thighs.

Her thumb swept over the velvety head again, smearing the bead of moisture that pearled there, and she marveled at the sheer, solid heat of him, a living brand in her palm. He groaned, a low, guttural sound that seemed to vibrate from his chest into hers, his hips pushing instinctively into her fist. "Erin," he breathed, his voice ragged with need, his own fingers still tracing lazy, maddening circles just inside her entrance, keeping her wet and wanting.

She slid from the counter top and knelt before him, her eyes wide at the sight of his impressive cock standing thick and proud from the dark thatch of hair at his groin. The lamplight played over its rigid length, highlighting the thick vein pulsing along the underside. Awe mingled with a sharp spike of desire as she leaned forward, her warm breath ghosting over the sensitive tip. She took him into her mouth, struggling to accommodate the girth of his impressive member. Her lips stretched wide as she enveloped the swollen head, her tongue flattening against the silken skin, tasting the unique, musky salt of him. A shudder wracked his frame, his hand tangling gently in her hair as she began to move, taking him deeper with each slow, deliberate bob of her head.

The world narrowed to this single point of connection—the feel of him sliding against her tongue, the sounds of his ragged breathing above her, the scent of their combined arousal thick in the air. She worked him with a growing confidence, one hand wrapping around the base he couldn't yet take, stroking in time with the rhythm of her mouth. He murmured encouragement, words lost to pleasure, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he guided her pace. She felt powerful and submissive all at once, lost in the act of giving him pleasure, her own core clenching with each groan she pulled from him.

She felt powerful and submissive all at once, lost in the act of giving him pleasure, her own core clenching with each groan she pulled from him as she took him deeper, her lips stretching wider around his thick, throbbing cock. The musky taste of him filled her mouth, his girth pressing against the back of her throat, and with a determined breath, she relaxed her jaw, swallowing him inch by inch until his swollen head breached the tight ring of her throat, deepthroating him fully. Her eyes watered, tears streaking down her cheeks as she gagged and choked around his pulsing dick, the wet, obscene sounds of her throat constricting echoing in the kitchen—gurgles and slurps that made her pussy throb with need. Her free hand snaked down between her thighs, fingers plunging into her dripping cunt, two digits sinking deep into the slick, hot folds, working her clit in frantic circles as she fucked herself in rhythm with the way she bobbed her head, her body trembling with the dual assault of pleasure and strain.

Matthew's hands tightened in her hair, guiding her movements with possessive urgency, his hips bucking forward to drive his cock even deeper into her willing throat, stretching her limits as she choked around him, saliva dripping down her chin and coating his balls in a messy sheen as she fingered her pussy harder, feeling the wet squelch of her juices coating her hand, her inner walls clenching tightly around her thrusting fingers. The sensation of his massive dick pounding the back of her throat, the way it made her gag and gasp for air, only heightened her arousal, her cunt pulsing with every vulgar sound she made, every drop of precum leaking from his tip sliding down her throat like liquid fire. He didn't last long under her relentless assault, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, his balls drawing up tight against his body as she deepthroated him one final time, her fingers buried knuckle-deep in her soaking pussy.

With a guttural roar, Matthew exploded, his cock twitching violently in her mouth as he unloaded thick ropes of hot cum down her throat, the salty, bitter flood overwhelming her senses as she swallowed greedily, choking slightly on the sheer volume. Her own orgasm crashed over her in the same moment, her pussy spasming around her fingers, juices gushing out in a warm rush that soaked her hand and dripped onto the kitchen floor, her body shaking with the intensity of it all. She pulled back slowly, his softening dick slipping from her lips with a wet pop, strands of saliva and cum connecting them as she looked up at him, her chest heaving, a mix of satisfaction and raw emotion swirling in her eyes—the growing bond between them feeling as tangible as the warmth still lingering on her tongue. As the afterglow settled over them, Erin rose unsteadily to her feet, her body buzzing with the echoes of pleasure, and she knew this was just the beginning;

Ghostly Love.