Page 58

FIFTY-EIGHT

AMETHYST

I sit stunned as Xero finishes drying my body, smooths lotion on my skin, and moves me in front of a rusty mirror so he can work on my hair. His touch is exceptionally gentle for a man with a grudge. If he can treat me so lovingly, then what’s next for me? The hate?

Shivers run up and down my spine as he removes my turban and reaches beneath the bench to extract a hairdryer with a diffuser attachment. He grabs a handful of my curls and crushes them with his fists.

“Xero?” I rasp.

“Hush.” He releases his fingers and blasts my scalp with warm air.

“I’m beginning to feel like a doll,” I mutter.

He doesn’t reply, seeming too entranced by my hair. I fall silent as he brings the curls back to life, trying not to tremble. This isn’t a dream, because I still can’t look at my reflection, and I don’t think this is the afterlife. If it’s real, then I really need to make him see reason before he starts the punishment.

“That thing you said about me using you to make money wasn’t true,” I say above the sound of the hairdryer.

“How so? ”

“What I felt for you was real. You weren’t just a way for me to gain clout.”

“Hmmmm….”

“What does that mean?”

“Do you know how many people I’ve cornered who say anything just for the chance to stay alive?” he mutters, his words mingling with the whirr of the dryer. “Take those two rapists I punished. Stephen Glick denied participating in drugging girls at book festivals until his accomplice listed some of the places they’d struck.”

My breath catches. “You think I’m running my mouth like them?”

“And you should have heard my stepmother. She blamed my father, saying he ordered the family to make my life hell.”

“But he was the ringleader,” I say.

“Correct, and she was his willing accomplice, as were the brothers who took delight in causing me pain. If that woman really was a victim, wouldn’t she have shown a little compassion while my father was away on business?”

I don’t reply. Not because I don’t agree with his question, but because it’s heartbreaking to be lumped with a group of abusers. Not to mention, it’s wrong. All I ever wanted was the heart of the man who wrote me those beautiful letters.

That anger toward me came from a mistaken belief that I was a betrayer, just like them. For Xero’s peace of mind, I need to convince him he’s mistaken.

He leans in close and runs the tip of his nose up the column of my neck. “At least you weren’t lying about your scent.”

“I’m not a liar,” I say through clenched teeth.

“A lie by omission is still a lie.” He kisses my neck, sending sparks of pleasure across my skin. “You should have told me you were using our relationship as a cash cow.”

“I wasn’t?—”

His hand closes around my throat, making my breath catch. Shit. This line of conversation is getting us nowhere.

“Alright, let me say something.”

“Go on.”

“There’s a woman who turns all my content I make into a think piece. After my first video went viral, she calculated how much money it had made and said I was one of the highest paid new creators.”

“And?” he purrs.

“I hadn’t even joined the creator fund.”

“Explain.”

“You can only make money from your videos after you reach a certain number of followers. My account was stagnant for months. I’d get ten, maybe fifteen new followers a week, so it never occurred to me that my content could ever make money.”

“But then you went viral,” he says.

“I did, and I got so many followers it was insane.”

“That’s when you got the bright idea to make money from my letters.”

“No.” I shake my head for emphasis. “Back then, I couldn’t think straight.”

“Because of the medication.”

I nod. “Do you remember when you encouraged me to stop taking the pills, and I started to get better?”

When Xero doesn’t immediately reply, I glance in the mirror to find him nodding.

My tongue darts out to lick my dry lips. “Back then, I only mentioned that you’d replied. I didn’t read anything out until after you gave me permission.”

He sighs. “So, I created this monster?”

“No.” My eyes sting. “Before you wrote back, I was so depressed. No one gave a shit about my manuscripts, and I’d wasted years on a story without a market. My parents held me at arm’s length, my psychiatrist kept piling on the drugs, and I was too lethargic to leave the house.”

“I see.”

“Because of you, I had a friend. A lover. Someone who saw me as special. Someone who chose me from among a crowd of other women. Someone who made me feel needed.”

He runs his fingers through my curls. “Go on.”

“For the first time in about ten years, my mind was sharp. I still needed medical help, and I needed my own doctor. When I heard that woman saying my videos had made a fortune, I logged into my account and applied for the creator fund.”

Xero sighs. “So, reports of how much you’d made were greatly exaggerated?”

“Something like that,” I mumble. “Look, I still made an income, but I got banned a few days ago, which means I won’t get paid for the most viral videos.”

Xero places both hands on my shoulders and squeezes hard enough to make me wince.

“What?” I ask.

“If you expect me to feel sympathy because you didn’t make the fortune they’re reporting on social media, think again.”

My shoulders sag, and I bow my head. “Is this where you cut out my heart?”

“And spoil all my fun?” he asks. “You won’t die until I decide it’s time. And after that, your soul will still be bound to mine.”

I grind my teeth. “What if I paid you back?”

He chuckles. “I might have forgiven you if you hadn’t ghosted me when I needed you the most. Those three hours would have been the sweetest of my life. A prison wedding, followed by my first prison fuck.”

“Yeah, well, you took what you wanted tonight. Isn’t that enough?”

“No, my little ghost?—”

“Stop calling me that!”

He slides a hand down to my breast and grips it in his fist. Shock courses through my system and gathers between my legs.

I gasp. “Xero?—”

“I might have sympathized with you over the creator fund,” he snarls. “After all, a girl’s got to make a living. I might have even understood why you arrived late to the wedding and missed the execution. But how the fuck do you explain the book?”

My breath stills. “I got carried away. Everyone wanted to know our story. You know I’ve always wanted to be published, and when people wanted to read about you and me, I just?—”

“Get on your knees,” he snarls .

“But—”

“Now,” he roars.

With a yelp, I slide off my seat and kneel on the stone floor. Xero looms over me, his thick erection hovering inches away from my mouth.

Up close and in the light, it’s inhuman. Not just the length and the unfeasible girth, but the Prince Albert, which is a thick ring of metal that bisects an even thicker crown. My gaze travels down the twelve barbell piercings running along the underside of his shaft.

Twelve.

I knew he had a Jacob’s Ladder. Knew it had twelve rungs. But seeing it on a dildo is completely different from witnessing it in person.

His balls are shaved, with a mini ladder of rings. My head spins. I didn’t even know scrotum piercings were a thing.

“Like what you see?” he asks.

I lick my lips, my breath quickening. He has to know it’s magnificent. Not wanting to give him any satisfaction, I say, “No.”

He slides his fingers through my hair and jerks my head backward until I’m staring into those cold, blue eyes. Baring his teeth, he snarls, “What did I tell you about lying?”

My nostrils flare. “Fishing for compliments?”

“How about giving me the truth?”

The silent part remains unspoken, but it hovers in the air. How about giving him the truth for once in my life? My chest releases a harsh laugh.

“Why don’t you ask my brain?”

His eyes soften. We both know about my delusions. I wrote to him at length about times I’ve had entire conversations with people who don’t exist. And about the monster that lurks in the mirror.

“Tell me what you see,” he says.

“Only you.” My gaze drops down to his impressive cock.

“Do you want it?”

“Yes.” I reach for his shaft, but he snatches my wrist.

“Bad little ghosts don’t get to play with my cock,” he barks. “Arms behind your back.”

Just as I’m doing as he asks, he tears the cord of the hairdryer out of the wall. Then he walks around me and winds the cord around my left wrist, followed by the right, before tying them both together. When he’s satisfied I can’t break free, he steps away and reaches for something beneath the bench.

With a sharp tug, he releases a thick extension cable.

“Xero?” I whisper.

“Open your mouth. Stick out your fucking tongue.”

The pulse between my thighs pounds so hard that my legs tremble. My breath quickens, and my pussy tenses and squeezes in anticipation of being filled. I try to tell her that we’re sore from being fucked into the dirt, but she doesn’t want to listen.

He holds the cord taut between his hands. “I gave you an order.”

Opening my mouth, I rest my tongue on my bottom lip.

“Wider,” he snarls.

I part my jaws.

“More!”

My breath quickens, and my heart beats in its cage like a trapped hummingbird. I haven’t given anyone fellatio in years. Out of instinct, my gaze darts around the chamber. I’m looking for the usual hallucination that appears whenever I try to get intimate with a man, but the room is empty.

I suppose my brain is too overwhelmed with the threat of this apex predator. That, and the threat of what he plans to do with the extension cable.

Xero grabs my jaw in a punishing grip. “Do you want this cock in your mouth or not?”

“Yes,” I say, the word muffled.

He wraps the thick extension cord around my throat, twisting its ends around my neck. It’s both a collar, a noose, and a leash.

My traitorous pussy clenches and throbs, wanting Xero to pound into me from behind while tugging the cable until I choke.

“Then open wide,” he says.

I practically have to unhinge my jaw to accommodate his girth.

Xero slides his fingers into my mouth first, seeming to test my reflexes. As their tips reach the back of my throat, I gag but force myself to relax. He tilts his head, scrutinizing my reactions with an intensity that makes my heart flutter. The hand wrapped around the extension cord twists, pulling me closer to my prize.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, as if I’ve earned the right to take his cock.

Sliding out his fingers, he replaces them with his bulbous crown. The cold metal of his Prince Albert piercing glides against my tongue, and I moan as he fills my mouth.

His hips jerk forward, pushing more of him into the warm cavity of my throat, and a guttural groan rumbles from his chest.

“Fuck, little ghost, you feel so good.”

Humming around my mouthful, I squeeze my thighs together, wanting to create a little friction.

“That’s right, baby. You like that, don’t you?”

I’m so full that my eyes water, and when I blink, tears roll down my cheeks. My mind dredges up the picture Xero sent me of Kayla, choking to death from deep-throating that humongous dildo.

Is this how I’m going to die? Will he bring out a camera and capture me in the throes of death? Panic grips my chest, and I gag.

He threads his fingers through my hair and murmurs, “Take it easy. Breathe through your nose.”

Nodding, I relax my throat and focus on bringing oxygen into my nostrils, and let Xero guide my head along his length.

He fucks me at a steady pace, and my jaw aches from accommodating his girth. Arousal floods my pussy as I surrender to his control.

I want more.

I want to free my arms and slide my fingers over those shaved balls. I want to swirl my tongue over his crown and make him shiver. I want to reach between my thighs and rub my clit to give myself an explosive climax. But my wrists are bound too tightly, and all I can do is take his cock.

The cable constricts, sending a thrill of excitement straight to my core. My pulse pounds so hard that its vibrations reach my clit. This reminds me of the mornings he called to talk dirty and made me fuck myself with the dildo, only a thousand times better. I don’t need to use my imagination or rely only on his intoxicating voice .

Drool slips from the corners of my mouth, down my chin, and settles on my bare breasts. I close my eyes, not wanting to think of how messy I look with my face covered in tears and saliva.

“Eyes on me,” he growls with a tug of the extension cord.

My gaze snaps up to meet those impossibly pale irises.

His jaw is clenched tight, his eyes burning with lust as he thrusts in and out of my mouth.

I blink away the tears and focus on my breathing. This is so degrading and humiliating, yet I can’t get enough.

“Good little ghost. Your mouth was meant for my cock.”

I preen at the praise, even though I despise that nickname, and bob my head in time with his movements. It’s the tiny bit of control I can get when I’m so completely bound.

He thrusts deeper, past my gag reflex, and further into my throat. I can’t breathe because he’s cutting off my airway. Tears stream down my face as I struggle to take in oxygen, but he moves too hard and fast for me to catch my breath.

“That's it, take it all,” he growls and tightens his grip on the cable.

This is it. I’m going to die. I’m going to choke on his cock.

Euphoria floods my senses, and the edges of my vision turn black. For a moment, I stop being that lonely, rejected recluse and become a vessel for Xero’s pleasure.

With each failed attempt to breathe, I sink deeper into a state of blissful surrender. I lose track of my past, my previous trauma, my sense of propriety, and focus on the intensity of the present.

I don’t want him to stop.

A twisted part of my psyche really wants to be his little ghost.

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” he says with a moan.

Hot cum hits the back of my throat, floods my mouth and pours down my chin. He pulls out and spurts all over my face.

I gasp for air, taking in noisy gulps, coughing, spluttering, struggling to catch my breath. No amount I inhale can extinguish the fire in my lungs. Xero continues spraying my face with cum. It’s in my eyes, up my nostrils, in my fucking ears.

“Look at me, little ghost,” he says.

I shake my head. “Can’t.”

Chuckling, he releases the cable around my neck and wipes my face with a towel. Still panting and gagging, I crack open an eye. Xero smirks down at me, his eyes still glinting with malice.

“Are we even yet?” I rasp.

“Not even close,” he snarls. “This is only the start of my revenge. But first, we need to deal with the men who want you dead.”