I sit back on my heels and frown. Where’s the cum? Do ghosts have dry orgasms? Part of me wanted a mouthful of jism. Jack tucks himself back into his breeches with one hand. The other holds the ax up to the sky. Moonlight glints on its sharp edge, and I swear it’s already coated with blood. Fucking hell. What if he cuts off my head so I can provide him with an eternity of blowjobs?
