Page 46

FORTY-SIX

AMETHYST

I gape up at Xero’s dark form, my eyes bulging, my mouth opening in a silent scream. An invisible noose tightens around my neck and jerks. My heart tries to break out of its cage and skitter out through the door.

He’s the same impossibly large, hooded figure that haunts my erotic nightmares. This time bringing with him the scent of burning matches.

Is that the smell of Hell or the stench of my impending damnation?

“Why are you here?” I whisper, my voice trembling.

“Answer my question,” he snarls.

I glance up at the screen, where the men continue fucking each other’s throats with wild abandon. Nothing about the way they hold on to each other’s bodies says they’re acting under duress. It’s like a switch has flipped and they’ve forgotten about the ghost threatening their lives.

“You want to know if that makes me horny?” I rasp, my throat tightening with the proverbial noose of nightmares.

He nods.

Swallowing down my rising panic, I say, “No.”

“I can smell your pussy,” he growls.

A shiver runs down my spine and settles between my legs. I shuffle backward, trying to melt into the shadows, but it doesn’t work. Xero remains on the other side of the room, staring at me like my executioner. My mind scrambles for something, anything, to talk myself out of this situation, but it goes blank.

His menacing presence is distracting me from what truly matters. Clearing my throat, I ask, “What happened to Myra?”

“I took her.”

My breath catches. “Where?”

“Show me your pussy.”

“Why?” My voice rises several panicked octaves.

“Myra Mancini read the manuscript containing my secrets. Secrets that will get you killed. Secrets I told you never to share.”

The weight of his words presses down on my chest, suffocating me until my vision swims with black dots. I’m on the verge of passing out, but I force myself to stay conscious for Myra’s sake.

“It’s not her fault,” I say, my words quickening, fueled by burning desperation. “She didn’t know?—”

“She ignored the warning. Now, she must die.”

I swallow back a wail. This can’t be happening. Myra can’t—The thought is too terrible to even contemplate. I’ve got to save her. Even if it means throwing myself under the ghost bus.

“What if I take her punishment? What if I do everything you say?”

Xero tilts his head at an unnatural angle. “You would sacrifice yourself for Myra?”

“Yes,” I whisper, blinking back tears. “What do you want? I’ll do anything.”

“Show. Me. Your. Pussy,” he growls.

Sobbing and shaking, I pull down my leggings and gather the fabric around my ankles, then I slide the cotton of my panties to the side, baring myself to the ghoul. Cool air swirls around my exposed flesh, making my clit throb.

Xero remains in place, those expressionless eyes glowing from within the depths of his hood. “Take it all off.”

With trembling fingers, I slide the panties to my ankles and pull the bunched fabric off my feet. “Is that enough? ”

“All of it,” he says in a voice low enough to chill me to the marrow.

Shivering, I pull off my sweatshirt, my tank top, and my sports bra. The draft blowing across my skin tightens it into gooseflesh. Pulling my knees to my chest, I hug my shins, not wanting this ghost to see me completely naked.

Of all the things I should worry about, this is the most idiotic. Xero has molested me in my sleep countless times, which is why he underlined somnophilia in the sex contract.

“Open your legs,” he says, his voice so menacing and low that its vibrations reach the marrow of my bones.

Every muscle in my body stiffens. I can’t move.

“Now,” he barks.

My heart skips several beats as I part my thighs. A cold draft swirls across my feverish skin, adding to the mounting terror.

“You’re glistening for other men.”

The accusation hits me in the gut with an infusion of icy despair.

“No.”

I shake my head from side to side, not wanting to provoke him into a rage. This is the malevolent monster capable of unspeakable acts of violence. I won’t let him turn that fury onto me. Or on Myra.

“I’m wet because you saved us from those predators, and now they’re getting to see what it feels like to be violated. I’m turned on by your power. Nothing else.”

As he pauses, seeming to consider my claim, the walls echo with the guttural sounds from the sinister sixty-nine.

“Good girl. Now, touch yourself.”

“How do you want it?” I whisper, trying to rekindle a spark from our morning phone calls.

“Do it. Now,” he bellows.

Flinching, I reach down between my legs and rub my clit. It’s already swollen from having watched the spectacle playing above. When one of the men mumbles something around his mouthful, I resist the urge to look in case Xero flies into a jealous rage.

I roll my nipples with the fingers of my free hand and force myself to focus on the sensations and not the sinister spirit. Pleasure gathers in my core, making my breath quicken. This arousal must be some kind of stress response, because I should be sickened.

Xero’s pale eyes remain fixed on mine, burning with an intensity that makes me quiver.

“You used to moan so prettily for me in the mornings,” he says, his voice sharp with accusation. “Why are you silent now? Was it all for show?”

Shit. Nothing I do seems to satisfy this specter. “Back then, I wasn’t scared shitless. I also had toys, and you were telling me what to do.”

He was also miles away, in a high-security prison surrounded by armed guards without a chance in hell of making me enact the fantasies for real. I felt so special to have caught the interest of the most infamous caged man, and powerful because he was the hottest thing on social media, yet he chose me above all others.

I don’t voice that part out loud. Myra’s life still hangs in the balance.

“You want a little help?” he growls.

“Yes, please.”

He tosses the bag on the floor, making my heart jolt. Every drop of blood leaves my face and drains straight to the pulse between my legs.

“What’s inside?” I ask.

“Take a look.”

Someone in the video is coming so loudly that my ears ring with the sound of his pleasure. Without meaning to, I glance up to find the hangman spurting his load over BJ’s face.

BJ turns to the camera, his face a rictus of terror. “Wait. I don’t want to die. Please. Stop.”

The screen freezes.

“What happened next?” I ask.

Xero points a skeletal digit toward the bag.

I shudder. “Am I going to encounter someone’s severed penis?”

He snaps his finger, the sharp sound making me shiver.

“Alright,” I rasp.

Shudders seize my spine and cold sweat breaks out across my skin. Dread drags my belly across the floorboards as I crawl out of my corner and slide my hand into the bag. This will be like the envelopes, only ten times more macabre because I know exactly what to expect.

When my fingers brush against something warm and fleshy, every fine hair springs to life, and I flinch. “Whose body parts are inside?”

“Yours, if you keep wasting my time,” he snarls.

Throat tightening, I fumble around inside, cringing at the suspicious textures. I graze over something covered in coarse hair that could easily be a testicle. Nausea seizes my gut, and I force myself not to gag. It’s still warm from the method Xero uses to preserve body parts like Gavin’s fingers.

Ignoring it, I search around for another object, finding something silicone. I pull it out to discover it’s the dildo Xero commissioned from a mold of his cock.

Relief washes through my system, and I hold it up, trying not to sound too triumphant. “Here.”

He nods. “Stick it in your pussy.”

This time, I don’t argue. Parting my thighs wide, I run the toy over my wet folds, trying to gather enough moisture to ease the slide.

Just as I’m about to penetrate myself with the toy, Xero raises a finger. “Wait.”

“What for?”

He reaches into the depths of his cloak and pulls out a metal pole. It’s about two feet long, with each end sharpening into spikes.

My stomach drops, and I glance at BJ’s frozen face on the screen. Xero can’t want me to impale myself to death.

When he drives the metal stake into the floorboards, I shriek.

“Let’s play a game. Your first choice is to ride the spike or the toy.”

I’d rather ride away to the sunset, but I doubt that’s an option.

“The toy,” I rasp.

“Toss it,” he says.

My breath quickens, and sweat beads across my brow. “Shouldn’t I hold on to it? ”

“Then ride the spike.”

“No!” I shriek and hurl the dildo across the room, hoping he’ll ripple like a reflection in the water. Maybe even splinter into a million pieces and never return.

He catches the silicone toy and places it on top of the spike.

“What are you going to do?” I whisper.

He steps back. “Ride.”

I gulp. “You want me to fuck that thing standing up?”

“Do it for Myra,” he replies with a sneer.

He’s right. All this procrastinating will only get my best friend hurt. I place a damp palm on the wall and ease myself up to standing, but even that requires every ounce of willpower and strength. On trembling legs, I walk to the center of the room, where he’s left the stake through the floorboards.

Xero watches from the shadows, his huge body a sinister outline in the dark. If I keep my head turned, I can almost imagine he doesn’t exist.

Picturing myself making him a sex tape, I walk to the pole, squat over the dildo, and turn my gaze to the phone I left on the floor.

I lower my body and shiver as its blunt tip grazes my folds. There’s a part of me that wonders what the hell I’m doing, trying to fuck a sex toy attached to a metal spike driven into the floorboards, when I’ve never once been on top.

In fact, I’m so dreadfully sexually inexperienced.

Mr. Lawson made me think I was sophisticated and edgy, when I was really young, na?ve, and elated that a man of his caliber had paid me attention. Looking back, I realize sex with him was mediocre.

We fucked over his desk, against walls, in closets, and in the girls’ locker rooms, but I don’t remember ever orgasming from penetration. At least, not until the day he took me to his apartment and laced my food with the abortion pill.

The bastard went down on me, and I was so bedazzled from the orgasm that I ate a poisoned cupcake, thinking I was in the pinnacle of love.

Why the hell am I thinking about him? Because once again, I’ve blundered into an inappropriate predicament .

“Move,” Xero growls.

He’s right. Now isn’t the time to dwell on the past. Mr. Lawson stole my innocence, and in return for killing our baby, I took his life. If I survive the night, then I’ll need to banish Xero back to Hell. Inhaling a deep breath, I place a palm against the wall, push past the fear, and position the dildo’s cool tip at my entrance.

“That’s right,” he says, his voice a low growl that bristles with raw power. “Fuck me like you mean it. Give me a show to remember, my little ghost.”

I lower myself into a squat, letting the dildo’s thick crown push through my entrance. Shivers run up and down my spine, making me gasp.

“Aaah,” I moan. “I’ve never had it from this angle.”

Lashes fluttering, I sink lower, the dildo pushing deeper into my pussy with a delicious stretch. Xero moves into my periphery, those glowing eyes burning into my soul as I roll my hips and focus on making this pleasurable.

“Deeper,” he snarls.

The command fills me with the rush of adrenaline I need to bear down, working the silicone deeper. As the dildo fills me to my limit, I let out a low groan, and my thighs tremble under the stress of performing for a poltergeist.

My head spins. At this rate, I think I’m going to faint.

Closing my eyes, I bob up and down, fucking myself with the impossibly thick toy. Xero assured me multiple times that it was a life-size replica of his cock, but no man can be this big.

Sensations overwhelm my system, and my body sparks with new levels of awareness. I’ve never felt so alive.

Ecstasy dances along my nerves as I move up and down on the pole, building up a beautiful rhythm. I’m not sure what part of this is supposed to be a punishment, but I shove that thought to the basement of my mind.

“Harder,” he growls. “Faster.”

“Y-Yes,” I stammer and quicken my pace until I’m riding so hard and fast that my tits bounce.

Each stroke sets off sparks across my skin that ignite an inferno in my core that burns brighter with every thrust. I roll my hips, making the toy’s textures hit every pleasure spot.

“Dirty girl. No cock will ever satisfy you except my own.”

“Yes,” I cry out.

His deep laughter echoes across the room, making every fine hair on my body stand on end. The part of me that wants to resist this lunatic ’s humiliation only has to glance at the ceiling where BJ’s image is frozen in perpetual terror.

The video restarts. BJ continues begging for mercy, while the hangman rises off the bed and gapes into the camera, his chest rising and falling with post-coital fatigue.

“Congratulations, Mr. Glick,” says Xero’s disembodied voice. “Take your prize.”

The hangman freezes. “What do you want me to do with that?”

“Rid the world of a rapist.”

“Stephen, don’t do this.” BJ rushes out of the shot. Moments later, there’s the sound of a heavy punch, and he spins back into the frame.

“One man must die, Mr. Glick,” Xero says. “You just won the right to decide whether or not that will be you.”

BJ groans. “Stephen, don’t let me die. Not after all the fun we had together.”

Features hardening, the hangman advances toward the camera. He disappears for a moment and returns with an executioner’s ax.

“Are you fucking kidding?” BJ roars. “You’re not even going to fight for me, after my sound bites made you go viral?”

“Sorry, man.” The hangman raises his weapon.

My breath stills, as do my legs. I expect Xero to pause the video, but it continues playing. A sharp sting on my ass makes me flinch. I turn around to find Xero standing close enough to grab my throat.

“Keep fucking that dildo,” he snarls, his voice mingling with BJ’s screams.

Terror skitters down my spine. Gasping, I pump harder, never allowing my gaze to stray from the screen. Pressure builds up around my core. I’m so close to climaxing that it hurts.

BJ scrambles backward on the bed, but the hangman follows after him with the ax raised.

“Stephen, for the love of God, please. I’ll do anything!” The smaller man presses tightly against the wall.

The hangman mounts the mattress, the muscles of his back rippling as he swings his ax and embeds its blade in the side of Johnson’s head. Blood spurts from the wound, and the shock hurtles my body over the edge.

An orgasm tears through my system with its own Richter scale, shaking my legs so much that I lose control and collapse onto the floorboards. The dildo and the pole attached to it fall along with me, making the wood crack and groan under my weight.

I land on my hands and knees, my pussy spasming around the thick silicone toy. I keep coming and coming to the sound of the Hangman’s desperate sobs. What the hell is wrong with my body? What kind of sicko gets off watching a man die?

“What have I done?” he shrieks.

The volume lowers, and I can’t hear the reply because Xero draws close and growls in my ear, “Tell me the truth. Was everything we went through a lie?”

Shuddering through the most intense aftershocks, I force out the words, “But I already told you?—”

“Again,” he snaps.

I bow my head, my brow lying against the warm wood. “Everything I said was true. That day, I went to the prison to get married, but I was late because of that photo and threatening letter.”

“Why didn’t you rush to me for protection?” he asks.

“Xero, you were behind bars and hours away from death,” I sob through panting breaths.

“Didn’t I tell you we would be together forever?”

I laugh, the sound bitter. “Do you know how many men say that every day? It’s just romantic bullshit they think will guarantee cheaper dates, more sacrifices, and better fucks. My pedo music teacher said we’d be together until the end of time, but he’s dead.”

Xero doesn’t reply, probably because he knows I’m right .

“So that’s why I called the police,” I say, my voice hoarse with desperation. “They replayed parts of my podcast and wouldn’t leave the fucking house out of spite because they wanted me to miss the wedding.”

The air fills with the hangman’s sobs, but they may as well be mine. Even thinking about that day crushes my chest until every breath is an effort.

“I fucked up, Xero, but you know how it is whenever I start thinking about my past. That photo… It was worse than anything I could have imagined. I panicked. I called 911. Whoever sent it was watching.”

Xero’s silence hits harder than a punch to the gut, forcing out a wail.

“As soon as they left, I drove to the prison, but the guard at the door said your visiting privileges were revoked.” My words are garbled, thick with tears. I’m spluttering, coughing, reliving the moment that bitch reveled in my broken dreams.

He still doesn’t reply, and my heart shatters.

Nothing will satisfy this man. Guilt snakes through my lungs, squeezing out a pained moan. I may as well rip open my chest and show him my heart.

“I’m sorry, Xero. I understand why you’re so angry.” I breathe hard, trying to fill my lungs with air, but it barely reaches the back of my throat. I clutch at my chest, feeling like it’s being crushed by an invisible weight.

“Because of me, you died alone.” My voice cracks, and rivulets of tears spill down my cheeks and soak the floorboards. “Because of my failure, you spent your last hours of life feeling unloved. Because of my cowardice, you had no one on the other side of the death chamber to ease your suffering.”

I rock back and forth, filling the room with my sobs. “I can’t face the thought of you there, suffering without my support. It tears me apart more than you can ever imagine.”

“I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to consummate our love. I wanted to know what it felt like to connect with the only soul in the world that completes mine.” I bang my fists against my thighs, but the pain doesn’t register compared to the agony ripping through my heart. “I longed for it, longed for you, but I ruined everything.”

“That failure will haunt me until the day I die.” Collapsing forward, I slam my forehead to the floor, my body trembling with the force of my grief. “If you want to punish me, then fine. But please, spare Myra. It’s me who gave her the manuscript, and she didn’t know your backstory was true. It’s me who betrayed you, not her.”

When there’s still no reply, I raise my head and crack open an eye, and brace myself for the force of his vengeance.

But he’s gone.