Ghosts Of My Girlfriends Past Novels & Stories

"Shane found me in a bar. Said I looked dead. That was until some fucker was messing with me. He wanted to show off in front of his new little girlfriend, I hadn't gotten too far in fuckin' him up when Shane pulled me back. Told me about the Warriors. Thought it sounded like something that could save my life from either getting killed or being arrested. Austin made the same comment about how I looked dead because of my eyes, Ghost was created." "I'm glad you got patched in Ghost." I know more haunts Ghost than he lets on. I've seen the names of the men he has killed tattooed on him. I've also overheard my father mention some kind of mafia when it comes to him. I don't know the details, but I

We already tasted Marirose’s virgin pussy—' “I don’t let anyone step on me. You know that.” 'Still... I can’t get the new girl out of my head,' Ghost said, his voice husky in the back of my mind. “It’s not happening,” I growled. 'Your heart was racing when you had her pinned against the wall. Your cock was aching—desperate to slide into her tight, wet heat—' “That was you, Ghost. Not me,” I snapped. I stared out the windshield in silence, lost in thoughts of the past. 'You’re thinking again…'

Tasha was devastated about the reality of her being a ghost. She thought she was dead, she had dreams. Even if she acted like a slut whose only interests were parties and getting boys hard for fun. She wanted to be a doctor, just to save lives. But everything was never gonna happen for her, and she thought everything had ended for her.

They even went from fighting over who'd be my groomsmen to who'd be the godfather of my future child. Wendy couldn't take it anymore. She cried out that pivotal question while opening the door. Then, her gaze fell on Cecily's and my clasped hands. The cozy familiarity we obviously shared made her breath hitch. However, I didn't care what Wendy thought when she saw this. As far as I was concerned, we'd broken up two years ago. At most, Wendy was nothing more than a stranger with whom I was once acquainted. The party was supposed to be a festive one filled with cheer, but her arrival ruined the atmosphere. She even asked me a question that seemed completely nonsensical to me.

"I remember nothing from my previous life but I happen to know that this was my home at a certain point in my life, you are my soul mate and to recover both my memories and my body, intimacy with you is needed so, marry me." Geneva recoiled instantly with all her might. Someone give her a bucket, toilet, anything. She wanted to vomit blood. She made a wailing sound from her throat. It sounded like a laugh and at the same time, a cry. This sound could scare even a ghost but luckily, this ghost seemed to be more rigid than a wall. She thinks: Am I supposed to be happy that I at least got a modest ghost who wants marriage before intimacy. One who thinks marriage before intimacy with it makes it

She clasped her hands and looked at me with her puppy eyes. I awkwardly cleared my throat. "Uhm," I bit my lower lip. "It's not literally a ghost. More like uhm..." Her mouth formed an O then nodded. She scanned the area then looked at me again with teasing eyes. "A ghost of what? Of past? G! Why does it feels like that that ghost you were talking about is your ex?" She started tickling me on the waist.

I searched around if anyone or anything was looking or lurking nearby to pounce on me, and when I saw that the coast was clear, I got to the pool at the bottom. "Stop following me. I need to wash," I said to the ghost. "Tsk…who cares about you? You're not even my type." I couldn't help but laugh. "What's your type, ghostie?" "My girlfriend… Becca, she's the most beautiful woman in the world," he said, his voice wistful. "Your fuck buddy took me away from her, and now, she's getting married next week!" "If you insist on watching me, that's your cup of tea," I said with a lopsided grin. I took off my dress and dipped my body into the pool, rinsing myself.

I reached out and pressed the radio button on the steering wheel. My voice was cold, cutting through the static. "Mason Vale, do you see a ghost in your mirror?" I said coldly into the radio. Those words pierced straight through Mason's last line of composure. His car hesitated for an obvious instant on the straight. Now. I smashed the throttle down. The car tore through the air and pulled alongside him. Ahead was a chain of fast S-curves. Seeing that I was about to pass, a vicious look flashed through Mason's eyes.

In the moonlight, a woman in a white lace dress was kneeling on the stone steps of the chapel, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. She had no feet. Below her dress, there was only a swirling black mist. "I see her." Lorenzo let out a low whistle. "Two years ago, Marco put her in the ground right there. Her ashes are buried under the rose bushes behind the chapel." I didn't stop, walking straight toward the chapel. Giovanni froze behind me but didn't dare to call out. As I reached the bottom of the steps, the female ghost's head snapped up. She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits.

"If you insult my partner again, I'll have security escort you out." My girlfriend, Kaylee Dishman, was gentle by nature. At work, she was approachable and well-liked by everyone. How could she possibly be a killer? The woman in front of me looked deathly pale, as though all the color had been drained from her face. She didn't seem the least bit surprised by my reaction. "You'll believe me eventually," she said. "You're a man of conscience." Her gaze slowly drifted to the plaque on my office wall. "Your girlfriend won't be coming home tomorrow night. She's going to dispose of a body." After saying that, she got up and left.