Page 25 of The House on Haven Way

I would give you a blowjob if you gave me cheese and carbs right now.

That’s what unfiltered Amber almost said.

Thank God, Amber with a brain is also here. “I would love that. Want to watch a movie with dinner? A lot of the oldies are streaming for free these days.”

“Sure... But I want to see something new. I feel like I’ve been in the past forever, with just little glimpses of the world when I hear the radio, and when my relatives would bring paperbacks to leave here.”

“Paperbacks. Books.” I spring up—okay, spring is a stretch, but I get up, passing completely through Johnny as he stood behind me.

The sensation is enough to make my entire body throb like I just had a legit orgasm, the kind I have to deliver by myself after a glass of wine and with a favorite toy in hand.

“I have a ton of books. Help yourself. They’re all in the boxes in the bedroom closet here.”

John beams at me. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he says.

Shit, he’s cute.

And dead, Amber. What kind of life would you have with an undead boyfriend?

There’s a question you shouldn’t have to ask.

But I’m in Pine Ridge, and Johnny says there are plenty of supernatural creatures around, so maybe it’s one that others have already asked and answered.

“I’ll go get that shower,” I practically stammer, and escape into the bathroom.

Baked ziti. The dish I would have made for Nancy. I don’t have the time and ingredients to make it from my Ma’s recipe, like I did back in ‘54, but Amber has jars of sauce, boxes of hard pasta, and bags of shredded cheese.

It’s ten minutes until a poor man’s version of Ma’s heavenly dish is in her oven, and I go back to Amber’s room, to the closet.

Not my fault I hear a sudden grunt and groan from the shower. Not my fault I hear a gasp of “Johnny!”

On instinct, I push my head through the door, torso following in a panic. What if she’s hurt? What if her legs spasmed instead of her back, and she’s hit her head on the faucet, and she’s bleeding out in my bathtub?

Instead of coming upon a grisly accident, I end up behind Amber, who is standing, glistening and naked, in the shower with the curtain folded back just a few inches. Her back is towards me, and her hand holds the handheld shower between her thighs. She bends forward slightly, and I go invisible, because my cock is winning.

I know I should leave.

But she’s calling my name as she leans forward, the spray of the shower right between her thighs, playing pointedly over her pussy. I float up, angle myself down so I can see better, get a glimpse of the pouty brown and pink treasure her fingers are buried in.

“Johnny, God, you feel so good,” she whimpers, soft, hardly a whisper.

My cock is so hard it hurts.

Amber. You look so good. Bet you feel even better. Let me make you feel so much better—that’s what I want to say.

Instead, I jerk myself away from the bathroom, and fling myself through the nearest wall, making for the shelter of the nearest tree. In seconds, my hand is wrapped around my cock, and I’m beating my palm against my hardness, the image of her body in my mind, her voice in my head.

I know I’m going to cross over soon, but maybe I could enjoy the time I’m here—if Amber likes that idea.

“Amber. You feel so good,” I hiss into the September night, and come hard, a cloudy, warm burst that fades into nothing.

Chapter Seven: All The Small Things

September 28th, 2026

I watch tons of old comedies with him. Action movies. We sit and read together in the mornings.

After PT, he massages me until I’m whimpering out loud and bucking my hips. He doesn’t say anything, even though I know he’s hard.