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DELILAH

I don’t have time to examine what’s wrong with me. I’m too busy enjoying it as I watch Ghost’s eyes harden. He’s controlled and doesn’t touch me as I wipe the spit and blood off my face. It’s fucked up and wrong, but I love the sight of my blood on him. It’s the only color against his black outfit, and excitement kisses up my spine as his breathing deepens.

His chest rumbles and I quickly pull the hoodie over my head before he can do something violent. His hand loosens in my hair, and I fall forward, slapping my hands on the clean tile for emphasis. The blood on my palm stains the floor, leaving crimson smudges as I slowly crawl forward.

It’s not a deep cut and I push my hand harder against the floor as I stick my ass in the air and continue crawling while he remains in his seat. His boot lightly presses against my knee before he grabs my hair, forcing my back to arch as I look up at him. Ghost doesn’t turn in his seat to look at me head-on, he tilts his head to the side and looks down at me. Pulling his other arm back, he uses more force than he has previously to slap his bloody hand against my ass. I jolt forward with a gasp and the chair legs scrape against the floor as he stands with my hair wrapped around his fist like a leash.

The beak is nearly touching his chest as he tilts his head to get a better view. I’m helpful enough to widen my thighs as he lets go of my hair so I can crawl forward. The open space keeps me in his view as I remain on my hands and knees, crawling out of the kitchen. There’s something powerful about the fact he’s clearly dangerous but he can’t even stand as he roughly turns the chair and drops down to watch me with his elbows on his knees and his head tilted.

I break the rules when I reach the bottom of the stairs and jump up to my feet to see that he’s still seated, and I take off running, hoping he chases me. There’s no sound of boots thudding after me until I reach the middle of the staircase. Then the slow steps start.

My run is more eager, and I can’t wipe the smile off my face as I grip the handrail for support. I skip steps and keep running until I reach my bedroom. The window is locked, and I go into the closet to get the chair from the vanity to beat him at his own game, but as I’m dragging it through the room, the front door slams with a thud that echoes through the house.

Chair forgotten, I walk to the window to watch him leave and crane my neck in search of the shadowed figure on the driveway, but he’s already left.

No mask.

There’s no mask hiding in the trees.

The dark only shows my lonely reflection back to me and I slowly lower to the floor, bring my knees up, and hug myself, aware of just how exposed I am.

He fucking left. He turned up in my life when everything was already confusing then just fucking left after I stitched him up. My throat burns from how hard he was thrusting into my mouth, but he left me. Fucking prick.

There’s nothing else for me to do, so I ignore the sting on my palm as I lay on the bed, and I’m pathetic as fuck, watching the walkway for him to return. I won’t unlock it for him. He can stand there and watch me like the freak he is.

The thought turns my anger to lust and revenge. He’ll be watching me and he can see how replaceable he is. My fingers slowly trail down my stomach with my eyes unblinking as I search the shadows for him. My thighs drop open as though he’s there and he’s watching me again, but I can’t see his mask hiding against the other building.

But my phone vibrates on the nightstand before I can take the fantasy further. I snatch it up with eagerness of seeing an unknown number, but Asher’s name is there on the screen. All my anger and lust dissolve into shame and guilt. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m married. My husband is currently caring for his sick mother while I’m entertaining a weird freak that refuses to tell me his name or show me his face.

I answer as it reaches the last ring and his low voice filters through the speaker.

“Hey baby, I know it’s late.” I check the time and it must be at least 3 am for him, but his breathing is heavier as he continues. “I was thinking about you.”

More guilt. He was thinking about me, but I’d forgotten him.

“What were you thinking about?” I whisper back and turn my head to take away the temptation of the window.

His voice is deeper as he says, “Being back in this house brings it all back. Especially this room.”

More guilt.

“Fuck, I miss the way you’d wake me up with your mouth.” He groans and the sheets rustle.

I focus on his pleasure as a way to assuage some of my actions. I can’t recall the memory he has and keep my voice low as though there’s anyone who could overhear us.

“When you come home, I’ll wake you up like that again.”

These thoughts are right. I should be thinking about my husband. I should want him to touch me and be fully obsessed with him. But the mask is in the back of my mind, and I imagine Ghost watching me. He’d be pissed and I’d be vindicated because he left me after I did what he said.

“I went so long without you,” he laughs lightly, “and now I can’t go a day without needing to fuck you.”

His breathing turns ragged and creates an image of him sitting in his bed stroking his dick. My previous lust has an outlet, and my guilt intensifies. I don’t feel the same urge with Asher. There’s no craving to go deeper when I’ve known him since I was a child. The memories aren’t all fake like I thought they were because they happened before my parents locked me away in that hellhole of a hospital. He did slap me, pull my hair, and even threw me out of his car while he was driving.

But he isn’t that person anymore, and I know as much about my husband as I do the freak who’s watching me. They’re both strangers, only Asher shows me his face and I knew him—I know who he is now and that’s what’s important.

I lay back and stare at the ceiling as he asks, “Do you remember when you went to Miami for the summer?”

The question is strange, not because I can’t remember it, but we had a huge argument, and I slashed his tires before I left. There are no happy moments on his part unless he wants to recount how he was threatening to kill me in every message until I came home.

“Yeah?”

“I missed you like fucking crazy and that’s when I knew that you were it for me, Delilah. It wasn’t just because you’d blow me every morning. It was not being able to see you, and then trying to sleep but your hair wasn’t in my face, and I was so used to breathing in your shampoo that the air smelled wrong without it.”

I’m an awful person and I don’t remember sleeping in his bed that often. I would sneak out of it and go back in the morning when he was already awake, which he doesn’t know, so he’s reminiscing over false details.

Tears slip out of the corner of my eyes as I whisper, “Asher, I love you.”

I don’t know who I’m trying to convince, but I don’t feel it as deeply as I thought I did. I could love this version of him that I’m ruining before I can even do it, and he’s too caught up in his desire to notice.

“I love your tight pussy and how warm it is when I first slip inside. I can still remember the first time I fucked you.” He lets out a small laugh before his voice lowers. “I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I just wanted it to be good for you and I was scared shitless of hurting you.”

Both of our memories are wrong. I’ve clearly lost the last ten years but he’s misremembering everything from before because he wasn’t a virgin, he was a cocky asshole who had fucked his way through half of my so-called friends.

The door opens and I pick my head up to see Ghost step into my bedroom. He doesn’t have the bird mask on, or his usual hoodie. He’s wearing a ski mask and a t-shirt. I smile like a fucking idiot. The cut on his arm is covered with a dressing and I stretch to the side to reach for the light.

He slowly shakes his head and I pause. I want to see him. The more he hides himself, the deeper the curiosity is. I don’t care what he looks like, I just want to know. He walks towards me without making a sound as Asher’s voice gets further away and my phone slips onto the sheets. Ghost stops at the foot of the bed. He grabs my ankles and pulls them apart before he presses his knee on the bed and leans over me.

The smoke is stronger, clinging to him, and my heart is hammering in my chest. Our chests brush as he slides my phone to lay beside me. His hands are covered in gloves again, the same black latex he always wears, and he puts the call on speaker.

“Are you wet, baby?” Asher asks.

Ghost mutes the call, and I can see his lips tip up at the side into a smirk as he assesses me. It’s too dark to make out his eye color fully with the light from my phone being obstructed by the sheets, but he’s removed one layer for me.

“Answer him,” he says and looks down my body. “Or I will.”

He unmutes the call and my voice comes out breathless without meaning to. “Yeah, I am.”

Ghost kisses below my collarbone and his lips are soft, too soft for someone as harsh as he is.

“Push two fingers into that tight pussy and tell me how you feel,” Asher groans.

I don’t move my hand as Ghost kisses a path to my chest. My back arches, pushing my tits into his face, and he circles my nipple with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh, fuck.”

My moans are louder, and I grip the sheets in my fist as I push my hips down, chasing more. Asher is none the wiser and praises me. “That’s it. Now play with your clit, baby. Do it slow as if it was my tongue.”

I choke as Ghost moves further down my body and kneels between my legs. He presses his hands flat against my inner thighs and slowly circles my clit with the tip of his tongue. I push against his head, trying to get him off while Asher’s groan comes through the phone.

“Fuck, I miss the way you taste, how you always clench when I push my tongue inside you.”

Everything he says is mimicked by the man who is not my husband. Ghost pushes two fingers into me as Asher continues, “You come so hard when I fuck you with two fingers and have your clit between my teeth.”

My legs spasm at the movement and I stop breathing to hide what’s happening.

“Just like that, baby. Keep going slow until there’s a wet spot on the sheets and I can hear how soaked you are.”

Ghost doesn’t increase his pace and I throw my arm out to cover the phone, muffling Asher’s voice under my bicep, as I stretch my head further away and beg him with tears brimming against my lashes.

“Please.”

Ghost lifts his head, his lips glisten in the low light, and his voice is gravelly without the obstruction of his other masks.

“Please, what?” He keeps a low whisper as he nips my inner thigh with his teeth. “Please fuck you and show him what only I can do?”

He continues biting a path up my body and I shuffle further away from the phone as I try to end the call. Slapping the back of my hand, he curls the two fingers inside me as he rasps, “Bad. Girl.”

I shake my head, trying to tell him to stop or Asher will hear. He doesn’t give a fuck and I can’t fight back without bringing attention to the fact there’s someone else here. I don’t want him to be caught. I want him to be my ghost, only for me.

He grabs my hips and turns onto his back, and I leave the phone where it is. Without my hand muffling the speaker, Asher’s voice is free.

“Don’t come yet. Wait for me.”

Ghost mimics the voice as he repeats it in my ear. “Don’t come yet.” His voice raises in pitch. “Wait for me.”

The sound of his zipper being undone is a gavel over Asher’s grunts. It’s sentencing me and condemning my actions as my tears escape. I throw myself forward to reach for the phone, but he grabs my wrists, banding them together in one hand against his abs as he lifts his hips and frees his dick.

My thrashing only pushes me back on him and I try to stop the springs from squeaking, but it’s no use as he bucks his hips and moves me in the position he wants. Asher keeps fucking grunting as I choke on my sob. He’s here, in the room with us, and it’s more sinister. It highlights how fucking wrong I am because I had no complaints downstairs. Even now, my only issue is that I’m reminded of his existence.

But that’s what Ghost wants, judging by the satisfied grin on his face. It pushes the mask tighter against his cheeks and he leans into me. His tongue flicks against my jaw and a deep rumble works through his chest as he runs it up to the corner of my eye. He licks the tears off my face while more fall.

“Fuck, baby, I’m close. I can hear you holding back for me. Such a good fucking wife waiting.” Asher’s words don’t just splinter my chest, they take a wrecking ball to it, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep my sobs back.

“Let me hear my pussy swallow your fingers while you wish it was my cock slamming inside of you,” he demands, voice rough and close to release.

Ghost fits his lips by my ear and his voice is distorted with the sounds of my betrayal shattering inside my skull.

“Whose dick do you want, koukla mou?”

I shake my head to escape him, but he grabs the side of my face. The knit mask scrapes against my cheek as he bites into the side of my neck, forcing a whimper out of the cage of my teeth that both men decide is due to them.

“I’m sitting you on my face as soon as I fucking see you,” Asher groans.

“You love knowing you have us both, don’t you?” Ghost licks a tear off my jawline.

His hands tighten around my wrists as Asher works himself higher. His grunts are faster, and Ghost lays back. He lets go of my face and I sit up on my knees to get away from his dick, but he yanks my arms forward as he positions his tip at my entrance. There’s no time to prepare as he thrusts up and I bite down into his chest to dull my scream.

His dick is huge and the fear of being heard has me tensing, heightening every little movement, every twitch, and every breath he takes as cotton fills my mouth. He threads his fingers through my hair and roughly pulls me to sit up.

The fabric of his t-shirt is pulled with my teeth, but he doesn’t care. He just forces me back and closes his eyes. Despite removing one mask, he won’t let me in. He’s inside of me, and he still shuts me out. My tears continue to drip down my face and onto my bare chest. They burn against my cold skin, and he snaps his eyes open when they reach his gloved hands.

“Don’t hold back, baby, scream my name.” Asher’s command comes at the same time.

My face crumples and I stare down at the freak silently, begging him not to move. But he does something even worse as he smiles to himself and lifts my phone from beside us. He places it on his abs and takes each of my hands in one of his, stretching my arms out beside me, and I try to slap him, but he squeezes so hard that I can hear my bones creak.

“Tell him you love him,” he whispers, and his eyes darken further.

I shake my head, but he pulls on my arms. My shoulders burn and I try to sit up to elevate the pressure inside of me. I clench around his dick, and he pushes his head into the pillow while muting himself. He’s getting off on this game and I’m even sicker for doing the same.

The fear of being heard, of being caught, mixes with my lust and knowing that he has the same emotion makes me vengeful. I want him to fucking squirm, and I want him to hurt. So, I don’t look away from him as anger takes over and I do exactly what he wanted while slowly circling my hips.

“I love you, Asher.” I moan and begin to ride Ghost painstakingly slow. “I love your dick and how you always know exactly what I need.”

“That’s my dirty little wife. Keep going, baby,” he praises.

The mask on Ghost’s face tightens around his jaw and I push my weight down fully. There are going to be finger-shaped bruises on my hands if he doesn’t turn my bones to dust from how tightly he’s holding them, but I have the fucking power now.

“Asher, baby, you know what I really love?” I ask as I stop fighting and grind down. “I love when my husband fucks me with his big hard cock and makes this pussy his. Because that is what I am. Yours. No one else’s.”

Ghost’s rage thickens the air and I moan Asher’s name as I ride him. It fills me with power and builds my release. He lets go of one of my hands before he breaks it and slips his fingers between us. The anger is still on his face as he circles my clit and grabs my throat with the other hand, choking me so hard that I can’t even swallow.

The dressing crinkles as I dig my nails into his arm, directly against his fresh stitches, while Asher says, “Come for me.”

The evil prick below me smirks and mouths the same words as he pulses his hand around my throat and forces me to come. His fingers speed up on my clit and he thrusts up violently. I can only hold on to his forearm as blinding pleasure takes over. My ears ring and lights burst behind my eyes while Asher moans my name.

“Delilah, baby, fuck.”

Their voices mix together, but I’m not coherent enough to distinguish the words and they meld into the other. A beep brings the voices to an end, leaving only one that holds a threat.

“My turn.”