Page 616 of Flirting with Darkness

He’d never done anything with so little thought, so little care as to what it meant, or the person it affected. He’d never wanted anything so badly that he’d willingly blacken his soul to get it. Even with all the degrading and foul things he’d done on the street, trying to survive as an orphan and a thief after his mother died, he could never remember doing anything like this.

He’d let her think he was her husband.

He’d fucked her, letting her think he was her husband.

He’d lied to her. He’d pretended to be the man she loved.

The thought brought a self-loathing so intense he could scarcely think past it.

He wanted to confess to her then, to tell her who he was.

He didn’t, though.

He didn’t say a word.

Instead he hung there, fighting to slow his heart rate, looking at her glowing, sweaty face, the glazed, loving look in those gorgeous eyes.

His shame only worsened when he realized he’d do it again… and again. He would fuck her until she asked him to stop, or until that other Ghost returned, and likely beat him bloody and unconscious with his bare hands for molesting his wife.

Not just likely.

Would.

Hewoulddo that.

Of that much, Ghost was certain.

He was certain because it was what he, this Ghost, would do, if their positions were reversed.

Hell, if their positions were reversed, Ghost would kill him.

19

THE AUCTION

“Damn, you are seriously horny.” She murmured the words teasingly, massaging his cock through the new clothes he wore.

He let out a quiet groan in her ear, just before he wrapped his own hand around her sex, pressing with his palm and fingers until she squirmed up against him.

His resolution to leave her alone, to not kiss her again, had lasted less than ten minutes.

His resolution to not touch her cunt or ass lasted less than twenty.

She let out a low gasp when his hand wrapped around her breast.

They stood in a low balcony behind a curtain, looking directly down over a dozen rows of seats, all of them taken. The seats fanned around a low stage at the far end of the room, where a long table and a podium stood. An older gentleman with thinning gray hair positioned himself behind the podium, holding a gavel.

A projector shone a list of items, rather than the chalk and blackboard Ghost had seen at the few auctions he’d attended prior to this.

Everyone in the seats appeared well-dressed, wealthy, at least from what Ghost could tell.

He might simply be extrapolating that, based on what Nat had said.

He had seen too little of this world to recognize wealth here with any confidence, but some of the signs and symbols struck him as the same.

Jewelry. Here it was devices, and cleanliness, and clothes.

More than anything, though, it was arrogance.

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