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As soon as I finished uttering the words of my spell, the shadows in the corners of my basement didn’t just deepen; they coalesced. A figure rose from the center of the pentagram. He was transparent, tall and lean. He wasn’t monstrous, but terrifyingly perfect; his form was defined by the absence of light with eyes like distant, hungry stars. I was instantly mesmerized. “You called,” his voice hissed, a static whisper that vibrated in my teeth. “What payment do you offer, little witch?”
My breath hitched. I felt a cold knot in my stomach, but the heat of reckless desire was raging in my desperate pussy. I had aimed high; summoning not a man but a ghost from the Underworld, a creature whose touch could corrupt or worse. But still, I had to have him.
