He takes a step forward, his movements smooth, graceful, and predatory. I shrink back instinctively. I’m not scared of him, but of what he could do to me emotionally.
Ghost doesn’t stop walking until he’s next to my side of the bed, towering over me, his hair draped over his brow. “Tsk. Tsk. Now, is that any way to talk to a friend?”
“We’re not friends.”
“If me touching your pussy isn’t friendly, then I’d love to know what is.”
I glare up at him. “Why are you here? What do you want?”
His gaze is intense, the raw hunger in his eyes unmistakable. “You.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he whispers, the sound both confident and sensual.
He reaches out, his fingers brushing my cheek, and my breathing quickens. I shake my head, rendered mute at his touch. He leans forward, his lips brushing my ear, his breath hot against my skin.
“You want me, Geneva,” he murmurs. “Admit it.”
“Fuck you.”
“Only if you’re a good girl.”
He trails his fingers down my jaw, featherlight and deceptive. My skin heats beneath his touch, a slow burn that spreads through me like wildfire. I force myself to stay still, to hold my ground, even as my pulse pounds in my throat.
I just need a second. A small window.
My fingers twitch at my side, inching toward my phone resting on the nightstand. I keep my eyes trained on his, not wanting to give away my intentions, while hoping he’s too distracted by the game we’re playing.
But the moment I lunge for my cell phone, he snatches my wrist. I barely have time to react before he yanks me up, forcing me onto my knees, our chests colliding.
“Too slow, Doc.”
I use my free hand and shove at his chest, but it’s useless. He’s unmovable. I hate how easily he overpowers me, how effortlessly he drags me under his control.
How much I want to stay there.
Ghost flexes his fingers around my wrist, his grip now painful. His nose brushes the curve of my jaw as he inhales slowly. “Did you really think I wouldn’t catch you?”
I scowl. “I thought you’d be too busy stroking your own ego.”
“Smart mouth. The same one that screamed my name a few minutes ago.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “That didn’t mean anything.”
“It means everything.”
I shrug with a nonchalance I don’t feel. “If you say so.”
His eyes narrow at my blatant dismissal, all traces of amusement fading. His grip on my wrist tightens before he lets go, only to reach into his back pocket. The glint of his knife catches the light, the sharp blade gleaming between us, making my breath hitch.
“Ghost…” I warn.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he brings the blade to my throat, the flat side pressing against my pulse. A silent reminder of who he really is.
I go still, barely daring to breathe.
Ghost leans in, lips just brushing my ear. “Do not lie to me, Geneva.” The way he says my name is sensual, with just a hint of something unhinged.
Using the knife, he traces a path along my throat, then lower, between my collarbones. The whisper of pressure from the blade has my heart pounding so hard I feel it in every inch of my body.
Then, without warning, he slices.
The cold kiss of steel against fabric. My shirt parts down the middle in a clean, effortless cut. The cool air hits my bare skin, and I suck in a sharp breath, but I don’t move.
Ghost watches me, his expression unreadable as he peels back the fabric, exposing my breasts. My skin is hypersensitive to every movement, every shift of the blade as Ghost drags it down, past my ribs, to my navel. He doesn’t cut. Doesn’t break the skin. But the sheer precision of his control is just as lethal as the edge itself.
“Wow, Doc. You didn’t even flinch.”
I lift my chin. “Are you going to rape me?”
The thought makes my skin prickle and my breathing ragged. He notices. His smirk appears, but his hold on the knife remains steady.
“You can’t rape the willing.”
I glare at him. “I’m not giving my consent.”
“Good. It’ll be more fun that way.”
Ghost rests the knife against my leg, the cool steel a stark contrast to the heat spreading through my skin. Slowly, he drags it upward, the blade’s presence both dangerous and intoxicating. My heart feels like it’s going to explode, but I keep my face impassive, unwilling to give him the reaction he’s looking for.
“Open,” he says, his voice commanding. When I don’t move, he taps my inner thigh with the blade. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Still on my knees, I grip his biceps for support and spread my legs.
“Good girl,” he praises, his voice thick with satisfaction.
I glare at him. “Go to hell.”
“Already there. Because every second I’m not inside you is fucking torture.”
His other hand is rough and warm as he slides it up my ribs, molding to the curves of my breasts. He flicks his thumbs over my nipples, teasing, testing, waiting for me to react. I bite the inside of my cheek, determined not to make a sound.
He chuckles darkly, dipping his head. “Stubborn.”
I inhale sharply as his tongue flicks over my nipple, his teeth grazing just enough to hurt. To punish. Ghost watches me with that lazy, knowing smile, as he pulls my nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. But he’s not in a rush. He’s savoring this.
Savoring me.
I hold his gaze, refusing to break first. Even when he snakes his fingers inside my underwear. He grips the material at the crotch, barely touching me, but somehow making me wet. Then, with a sharp tug, he rips the fabric away like it’s nothing.
I gasp at the burn against my skin and the sudden exposure. Before I can recover, Ghost spreads me. He hums in approval, dragging his fingers along my damp pussy before pressing slow, torturous circles against my clit.
He continues stroking me, the pressure increasing along with his pace. Pleasure builds within me, the intensity almost too much to bear. I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to thrust against his hand, desperate for release.
“You don’t deserve this,” he whispers against my lips. “You ignored me for weeks, after I saved your life and made you come.”
He pulls his fingers away.
I blink at him, lost in a haze of lust. “What…”
Ghost chuckles, roughly gripping my chin, and then using his thumb to smear the effects of my arousal over my lips. He presses his mouth against mine, the kiss hard and bruising. Demanding yet desperate.
I remain still, unresponsive. Even when he flicks his tongue between my lips, coaxing me to taste myself. He wraps his other hand around the back of my neck, pinning me in place as he brings the knife’s handle to my clit.
I wrench back, breaking the kiss. “Don’t,” I gasp, panic flooding me.
“I’m not. You are.” Ghost presses the handle against me. “Use it.”
The feeling is cold and alien, but as I slowly move against it, the foreign texture rubs against my clit in a way that’s erotic. I do it again, faster and harder to add more pressure, and the friction sends sparks of pleasure through me. Ghost groans when I start panting.
“That’s right,” he growls, his voice rough. “Rub that pussy all over it. Show me how you’re going to do the same to my cock.”
I continue gyrating against the handle, the pleasure compounding at Ghost’s ragged breathing. I’m so close. So fucking close.
“Come. Now,” Ghost snaps.
I obey, my body shaking uncontrollably. He’s quick to wrap his arm around my waist, preventing me from impaling myself on the handle as my orgasm wrecks me. Over and over.
When the world settles back into focus, I find him watching me with something dangerous in his eyes.
Possession.
Devotion.
Something too deep to name.
I swallow hard, my pulse still erratic. “Happy now?” I manage, breathless.
Ghost grins. “Not even close.”
