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14

GHOST

O h, Delilah. Beautiful Delilah, you fucking ruin everything.

All you had to do was keep your promise. But you’re a whore seeking out any attention you’ll be given.

I resist the temptation of her beautiful body as she shifts in her sleep, causing the sheet to slip down. The red marks on her ass are a warning, a warning to me that she will always be the delusional little thing that causes me misery.

She’s forgotten about me entirely after being fucked hard by her fucking husband. She didn’t tell him to wrap his nasty fucking dick. She let him fuck her raw on the floor like she’s a secret and they weren’t going to crawl into bed together.

That was always our fucking thing.

It was always the two of us who had to sneak around and steal moments. Who got lost in each other and we’d become a mess on the floor, battling each other. She’s moved on too easily. Forgotten me too easily.

Now, it’s time she remembered.

I lift the sheet with the tip of my gloved finger and expose more of her sinful body. This woman… She has everyone in the palm of her hand at any time. One look from Delilah and she steals souls. She keeps them captive in her mind that twists everything, morphs things from fact to fiction.

The low light from the moon streaming through the windows shows her thighs are still slick. The devious thing hasn’t even put her panties back on. I trace her inner thigh, collecting the evidence of her betrayal on the leather glove, hoping she wakes up.

Will she scream?

For me?

I miss those screams. How hard she’d try to keep them back and her face would turn red. Those screams have kept me company for years when she pushed me away and now, now we’re back together again. But I crave a different type of scream. I don’t want her pleasure—I want her pain.

She stretches her arm, reaching for her fucking husband, and my fingers tighten around the knife in my hand. I’ve already removed him from her reach and her fingers brush the back of his gray t-shirt. Always gray. The weird cunt never sleeps in anything other than a gray t-shirt and his boxers.

Their routine is etched into stone, and she forgets I know her husband as much as she does with how often she’d complain about him. I know their secrets, their dreams, and most importantly, koukla mou’s fears.

Slowly bringing the tainted glove to her lips, I wait for her to move and leave my finger in front of her. It doesn’t take long for her to become uncomfortable, and she turns on her side, facing me. The movement pushes her mouth into my finger. She doesn’t startle. She hasn’t since she started taking those drugs.

I pull my hand back before I end up waking her up by pushing it further into her mouth, so she knows I’m the only one who owns every part of her.

I love you. You know I do, but Asher is…

It’s complicated, and I can’t leave him.

Her lies repeat in my head.

Lie.

Lie.

Fucking. Lie.

She forced me to become her ghost, to haunt her, because she haunts me every fucking minute of every fucking day since the moment she walked into my life. Every moment, every conversation, every goddamn fucking look Delilah has given me is there like a movie reel replaying my mistakes. The last mistake was trusting her, the first was wanting her.

I can’t get rid of the life she infused into my veins, so now I’m left with no choice but to remind her of all the broken promises.

Flirting with satiating my contempt, I trace the side of her throat with the tip of the knife. It would be so easy to drive it through her neck, to watch her choke and splutter, to look up at me confused why I’m doing this to her. But she deserves a worse punishment. And I deserve release.

I keep the blade kissing her pulse point as I unzip and take out my dick. A soft moan parts her lips and she fidgets her legs like she knows what I’m doing for her. She always loved watching me lose control because of her.

Delilah isn’t sweet. She is sin, and infuriating. Her need for control surpasses her own life and I press the tip of the knife harder against her skin to force her to wake up.

Having her life in my hands is intoxicating and I remove the leather glove, revealing the latex one underneath. Taking the lube they so carelessly left out, I squeeze three drops on my shaft. Her eyes snap open at the same as I wrap my fingers around my hard dick.

They’re wide and filled with alarm. It soon leaves when she sees the mask. It got her attention while she was waiting for the police to cart me out of the disused building beside her house.

“It’s you,” she whispers. “You’re real.”

She can’t see my face, but I smile and nod. The respirator distorts my voice as I say, “Turn on your back, koukla mou.”

Doing as she’s told for once, she slowly turns. She freezes when she sees the body sleeping beside her and the manipulative cunt opens her mouth to scream. I cut her off with the flat of the knife against her lips. I’ve made sure he won’t disturb us, but her eyes ping from the back of his fucking head to me. Just like when she was being fucked, she couldn’t choose which one of us to remain attached to.

“Try to wake him up, or touch him, and I’ll cut him the fuck open and stuff you inside of him.” I press the cold carbon blade deeper against her plush lips, making sure she knows I would love nothing more than to turn her into my very own nesting doll.

She nods stiffly and I groan as her fear taints the air. Now that she’s awake, I don’t need to fuck my fist. Hers will be better. I pour a generous amount of lube on her palm. The cool liquid makes her squeak, like a little mouse all terrified about the trap in front of it. A rat is a more fitting descriptor for someone like Delilah though.

Her fight is weak and pitiful as I hold her wrist, bringing her hand to my dick. My fingers tighten around the joint as I tilt my head to the side, absorbing that potent fear.

“What’s wrong, koukla mou?” I ask darkly. “Have you forgotten me already?”

Those wide eyes narrow and a small crease forms between her brows.

“Have you forgotten me now that he has fucked you?” I can’t contain the venom from her betrayal.

She tries to curl her fingers in, but they quickly loosen as I drag the knife down and press the tip of the blade between her teeth. Using my knee, I push her leg closest to me off the edge of the bed, so her cunt is on full display for me.

“I told you I’d erase every part of his touch,” I remind her. “This time you’re going to do the work.”

Gone are the days that I’d allow her release before mine. Delilah is going to see what it’s like to have everything taken from her.

She doesn’t even breathe as I push the knife further into her mouth against the flat of her tongue. I can feel her tremble against the blade and my head falls back on a groan. I’m only holding her wrist, but she tightens her hand around my dick. There’s a slight tremor that only adds to my euphoria.

I copy her rhythm as I gently slide the knife in and out of her mouth, careful not to cut the lying tongue in her pretty fucking head. There’s too much temptation in front of me to keep my eyes fixed in one place. The shadowed room highlights how wet she’s getting.

“You love this don’t you, koukla mou?” I ask despite seeing the evidence glistening between her thighs.

For the first time, she attempts to close them, but I increase the pressure against her tongue as her hand pauses on my dick. The filthy lens of the mask turns the image of her grainy like there’s static between us. But it doesn’t mute the way she pales or the lump growing in her throat.

“Be careful, Delilah,” I say lightly, almost playful, as I twist the knife so she can feel the sharp edge. “One wrong move and you’ll end up with a mouth full of blood rather than my cum.”

Her thighs tense when I finish my warning. She wants it. To be bloody and dirtied. She always has. Her stomach constricts and I know what’s leaving her isn’t just because of how turned on she is. That motherfucker’s cum is still inside her.

A gasp leaves her as I abruptly pull the knife out of her lying mouth. My eyes are fixed between her legs. Legs that I have laid between for hours. Legs that I would massage because it helped her sleep.

My anger materializes and I drive the tip of the knife down. Delilah flinches and closes her eyes as it pierces the pillow beside her head. Some of her hair gets trapped in the edges, tangling with the feathers of the fluffy down stuffing. I don’t give a fuck about her.

No.

That’s a lie.

I do.

I give a fuck about hurting her, about making her feel as worthless and discarded as she did to me. As crazy and incensed that the world around her is unfamiliar like she did to me!

Grabbing her thigh, I pull her closer to me. Her hand is still on my dick. As much as she wants to pretend that she has memory loss, she knows it’s me. If she didn’t, she’d run. She’d fight like she used to.

But she doesn’t. She remains attached to me and twists her hand in the way that I love. Stroking me from base to tip, she traces the slit with her thumb, collecting my precum. I don’t allow her to taste it and wrap my hand over hers as my voice deepens.

“We need to clean you first, koukla mou.” Her breathing shallows and her thighs tense. “Do you remember me now?”

I press my thumb on her inner thigh and squeeze as I massage up her leg. Her brows slowly come together, and she continues stroking me. I reward her, and cup her deceitful cunt. The two layers of latex and leather don’t allow me to feel anything, feel her, but I can hear what it does to her.

Her voice is breathless, weak, and fucking perfect. “I know you?”

I nod and press my palm to her already abused clit. They fucked for hours, and she’s swollen. The excuse she gave her husband of being sore and exhausted is nowhere in sight with me.

“You know me,” I repeat in agreement, “and I know you.”

She rolls her hand over the tip of my dick as she asks, “How do I know you?”

Fuck!

The better question is, how is she always the one in control? I’m the one at an advantage. She’s naked with a knife beside her head. But she doesn’t reach for it because that vicious tongue is capable of more damage than sharpened carbon or steel.

“Make me come, and I’ll tell you,” I counter.

She fills with vigor and challenge. I’m sure there’s even a smirk on her face as she lays there watching me and stroking my dick. Her hand twists, alternating the pressure, another fucking thing I love, and it’s like muscle memory. There’s no pause or questions, her determination is solely transfixed on me, on my release.

She works so hard too, not knowing that it’s a struggle since she left me. I thought it would be easier now. It’s not.

My mind is still alert, and it heightens the sound of my breathing in the mask wrapped around my face. The memories of Delilah have kept me company for too long and it’s the same when she’s in front of me.

She’s there, touching me, yet I can’t give myself to her fully. Not again. Because she needs to pay for the shit she’s done.

I roughly push two fingers into her. The leather gloves won’t make it comfortable, but she moans.

She.

Fucking.

Moans.

The sound is quickly trapped as she bites her lip, mumbling bullshit. “This is wrong.”

“So, tell me to stop,” I dare.

We both know she won’t. Delilah is the worst type of person. Not only is she a filthy cheating rat, but she makes herself out to be the innocent party. Even now, she doesn’t tell me to stop, but in her delusional Delilah bubble it’s okay because she voiced that it’s wrong. Her eyes remain on me instead of her fucking husband because she’s a treacherous cunt.

I pull my fingers free from her before she can suck me in further and my hips move automatically as she tightens her hand around me. Pushing the wet leather covered digits into her mouth, I hold her hand firmer around my dick. I fuck her fist while she fights the urge to suck my fingers.

Pressing down on the middle of her tongue, I slide them back to hear her gag. I have the exact point memorized from when I never wanted to hurt her.

But now? Now, I go further, making her choke on her deceit as I fuck her hand and the old memories mix with all the ones we’ll create while she sleeps beside her husband.

Without me forcing her to, she brings her other hand between her legs. Such a fucking selfish bitch. Even this has to be about her, and I speed up, needing to ruin her release. Her pussy is swollen—clit too—but the gagged moans vibrate through my hand as I push my fingers into her throat. Her stomach convulses, eyes rolling back, jaw dropping open.

Every muscle in my body pulls taut as she blinks and tears shine against her lash line like hard-earned jewels. Such a beautiful wreck. It’s the sight of her that undoes me as I push my fingers further and grab her wrist, so she doesn’t obstruct my cum marking her cunt as mine.

It drips from her mound, her inner thighs, clinging to her soaked lips, and she still fucking moans.

Pulling my fingers out of her mouth, I wipe her spit on her cheek as I wait for my knees to strengthen. Anger is the only thing keeping me standing as I peel her hand off me. It drops to the bed with a thud, and I tuck my dick away before I do something stupid like trust her mouth again.

She has spit and cum on her, yet she’s still my beautiful Delilah with bright sparkling eyes staring up at me.

I have to remind myself of her sins as I hold my hand over her mouth. Taking the needle from my back pocket, I watch her eyes widen. Her fight comes back as I push the protective cap off the sharp point with my thumb and she grabs my wrist, attempting to push me away.

“Careful,” I warn. “You don’t want your husband to wake up, do you?”

As though she’d forgotten about the prick, her eyes dart to the side. More tears form and I press the sharp point into her outer thigh. I lean over her, blocking the errant rays of the moon coming through the glass.

I whisper, “10…9…8…”

Her fight is weak, and she only manages to claw at my covered chest.

“7…6…5…”

The material barely bunches from the force.

“4…3…2…”

Her lashes flutter and her fingers slowly trail down my chest.

Lowering further, I turn her head so my lips are by her ear, as I finish, “You’ve always known me, koukla mou. I’m the voice in the back of your head.”

Her arm falls limp over the edge of the bed, and I dig my fingers into her cheeks to test that she’s not lying.