CHAPTER 39

Ghost lifts the knife to his mouth, dragging his tongue slowly along the handle, his eyes locked onto mine the entire time. The act is meant to unravel me. And it does.

He tilts his head, gesturing lazily with the blade toward my hands. “Unbuckle my pants.”

I pause, unsure if I’m still resisting him. Or seducing him.

His smirk deepens as he takes in my hesitation. My stubbornness returns full force to prove that I’m not intimidated by him. I reach for the zipper, my knuckles brushing against the hard lines of his stomach. At the clench of his jaw and the way his muscles twitch, I know I’m affecting him just as much as he affects me.

The moment his pants are undone, I yank his shirt off, along with my own. His sculpted torso comes into view, marked by scars that hint of past fights and possible abuse. But it’s the tribal tattoos that really draw me in, igniting another surge of lust as I trace their bold, intricate patterns with my eyes. They wind aggressively around his arms, up his neck, and spread over much of his upper chest, the dark ink clinging to his skin in a way that’s beyond sexy.

Ghost sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread, the blade resting casually in his palm. His eyes are heavy-lidded, dark with intent. “Ride me,” he orders, his voice deep and rough.

When I don’t move, he leans back, spreading his legs wider. His large cock rests against his abdomen while pre-cum leaks onto his skin. He twirls the knife lazily between his fingers, tapping the flat of the blade against the outside of his thigh. The gesture is casual, but the command in his eyes is anything but.

I take a fortifying breath. Then, slowly, I crawl onto his lap to straddle him.

After putting down the knife, he reaches out to grab my hips, the heat of his body seeping into my skin. My heart hammers against my ribs as I realize I’ve willingly put myself in his hands. Again.

Maybe that’s his point.

With one hand, he kneads the flesh of my thighs as he looks at me, drinking me in. He grabs the knife and drags the tip up my spine, the cool metal leaving goosebumps in its wake. I arch instinctively, pressing myself closer to him.

I hover over his cock, my breathing uneven, my hands braced against his chest. The heat of him is tangible, radiating through every point where our bodies connect. His smile is lazy, but his eyes are watchful, tracking every flicker of emotion on my face.

“Use me,” he says. “Take me. Every. Single. Fucking. Inch.”

I swallow the nerves gathering in my throat as my fingers tremble against his skin. I can feel his cock pressing against me, thick and hard. Although he easily could, he doesn’t force me.

No, Ghost is making me choose him.

I exhale, then move, sinking onto him. He curses under his breath, his fingers biting into my flesh as I take him in. It happens inch by inch, me stretching around him with a whimper despite how wet I am. My nails claw his chest, drawing blood, my thighs shaking as I adjust.

“Fuck.” He tilts his head back slightly, his jaw tight. “You’re going to kill me.”

A shudder runs through me, my body humming at the praise. I brace myself again, lifting my hips just enough before sliding back down farther than before. I still have a couple of inches left to take. Ghost watches me through hooded eyes, seeing me struggle. It hurts, and he knows it, but it’s the pain that has me feeling alive.

“Make it fit, or I will,” he says.

After a couple more tries, I get the last bit of him in. I feel stretched beyond anything I can handle. My breathing is labored, and I’m sweating. He runs his hand up and down my side, the touch soothing.

“You’re such a good girl.”

I’m so full, it’s hard to breathe, but I manage. Then Ghost reaches down to touch the area where our bodies are joined, and my breath leaves my lungs completely. He gently traces my pussy with his fingers, his eyes never leaving that place of intimate connection, his expression one of awe and intense desire.

“Perfect… just perfect,” he whispers.

The reverence in his gaze deepens, the corners of his lips lifting in a satisfied smile. He leans closer, his breath warm against my skin.

“Look at you, taking all of me.” Ghost swivels his hips just a little, but it forces a moan from me. “Now, ride me.”

I don’t move, overwhelmed with the knowledge of what’s coming next. Ghost doesn’t give me a choice. He drops the knife and grips my hips, guiding me. I rise, then sink back down. I repeat the motion, slowly, finding a rhythm that has us both groaning.

“Fuck,” Ghost rasps. “So fucking tight. Don’t stop.”

I keep moving, grinding my hips, chasing release. My muscles tremble from the strain, but I don’t falter, wanting to stay in control.

Eventually, Ghost takes over as his desperation outdoes mine. He thrusts his hips up, burying himself deeper inside me. I gasp, the pleasure and pain blurring together, making it impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

“It’s too much. I can’t…” I whimper.

“You can take it. You already are. Look at you,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Taking me so well. God, I love the way you fuck me.”

He groans, his hands gripping me tighter as he takes complete control, lifting me, meeting each roll of my hips with a dominating thrust. The pleasure builds, sharp and relentless, coiling low in my stomach. He continues slamming into me, fucking me hard and deep, his grip bruising.

“Eyes on me,” he snaps. “Look at me when you come.”

I flick my gaze to his. The raw emotion I find in his eyes sends me over the edge. I scream as the orgasm tears through me, my body spasming around his cock. Milking him, forcing him to come.

“Geneva,” he groans.

His hips jerk as he comes, his cock twitching inside me. Ghost continues fucking me, riding out the last waves of his ecstasy. By the time he stops, I’m shaking, barely able to hold myself up. I collapse against him, and he wraps his arms around me, stroking my hair.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

He holds me close, our bodies slick with sweat, our hearts thrashing in our chests. I press my face against his skin, inhaling his scent. He runs his hands along my back, up and down, tracing the curve of my spine.

Ghost doesn’t speak. He just holds me, weaving his fingers through my hair, his breath warm against my temple. His touch is comforting, but I feel too raw. Too exposed.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fortify myself, but the vulnerability keeps creeping in, sinking into my bones. It’s just sex. It’s a biological need, a primal urge that both of us are fulfilling. Nothing more.

So, how can something purely physical leave such deep imprints on my soul?

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs into my hair.

I remain silent, not trusting my voice. I’m not sure what I’d even say. Then Ghost lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes, normally so unreadable, so filled with sharp edges and danger, hold something else. Something that makes my chest ache.

He drags his thumb along my jaw. “Talk to me.”

I shake my head.

Ghost studies me for a long moment, his gaze searching. His voice is quieter when he speaks again. “You think I don’t feel it too?”

I stiffen. He grabs the back of my neck, keeping me still. His lips brush against my temple, lingering.

“It’s not just sex, Geneva.”

I should say something. I should push him away before this goes any deeper, before it becomes something I can’t survive.

But I don’t.

Because he’s still touching me. Still holding me like he doesn’t want to let go.