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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Ghost

I’m beginning to enjoy rough play before fucking. It gets my blood going, and seeing the fear in Wyn’s eyes, when they catch in the light, makes my cock hard.

But her defiance is a fucking problem. It always has been. And I’ve been kind. Kinder than she deserves. I’ve been watching her for weeks, from afar, secretly seething at the casual way she’s been whoring herself, dancing at clubs, flaunting herself. I mean, damn, she nearly fucked Kai the other night.

The grieving girlfriend.

Fucking cunt.

It’s time I snuff that flicker of defiance in her eyes.

It’s time I force her to submit. That shit is long past due.

Her breathing is labored as she glares at me. She’s waiting for me to make the next move. Either that, or she’s planning her attack. She’s just spicy enough to try something like that. But little does she know, it’s the fight I crave.

“Get on the bed,” I say harshly, careful to disguise my voice.

She just continues to stare at me, not moving, her lips pressed together in a frown. I step forward, and she flinches like she’s expecting me to grab her. I will if I have to, but I’d rather not, because once I touch her, I’m fucking her, and there’s nothing either of us can do to stop that. My self-control around her has been non-fucking-existent lately.

“On the bed,” I command. “Or it’s one blow every time I have to say it.”

There’s a second of silence. “One blow? What does that mean?”

“Fuck around and find out,” I answer, flexing my hands at my sides. I’m desperate to touch her, and holding myself back is like trying to hold back the tide.

Fuuuck.

In the end, she decides not to fuck around. She moves to the bed, crawling onto the mattress, but instead of lying down, she sits up on her knees, facing me. There’s a streetlight right outside her window and the amber glow shines in through a crack in her curtains, illuminating one side of her face.

Goddamn , she’s beautiful.

She looks up at me wide-eyed, her pink lips parted, her thick blond hair cascading in waves around her shoulders, messy and perfect. She’s not wearing any makeup, so I can see the dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She looks better this way. Natural. Like she just stepped off the beach.

I flick my chin at her. “Take the shirt off.”

Her hands are resting on her thighs, and I can see the indecision on her face. She naturally resists being told what to do. She’s been that way as long as I’ve known her. That’s what makes this so fun, though. Forcing the defiant cunt to comply.

I’m still standing in the kitchenette, so I lean against the counter. “Refuse all you want,” I say. “The more I have to ask, the more punishment you receive, and the more fun this will be for me.”

I watch as her jaw clenches, and her hands grip her thighs. That statement pissed her off. Good. A chuckle escapes my throat.

Her eyes flutter closed for a second, and just when I think she’s going to reach up and take the shirt off, she launches off the bed and makes a run for the front door. It’s a tiny studio apartment, so the door is only ten feet away from the bed, and she reaches it quickly, unlocking the door.

Cursing under my breath, I go after her. She actually makes it outside, onto the walkway, before I catch up to her, encircling my arm around her waist and pulling her back inside. I shove her back into the apartment, slamming the door shut with my boot.

“Well, you’ve fucked around,” I say slowly, anger spreading through my bloodstream. “And now you’re going to find out.”

She’s standing by the bed, breath heaving from her lungs, looking at me with fear in her eyes. Yeah, she fucked up, and I’m going to make her pay for it.

I advance on her, but the bed is right behind her, so she can’t retreat. She has no choice but to hold her ground. My hand darts out, and I grab her, my grip tight enough to make her wince.

I lean in, so my masked face is only half an inch from hers. I can feel her breath on my lips, and that simple thing stirs something to life inside me. “You’ve been a very bad girl.”

I’m gripping her throat and under my palm, I can feel her swallow. A single, poetic tear rolls down her cheek, but I’m unmoved. “I–I’m sorry,” she stutters.

“Oh, it's too late for that,” I say, pulling a knife from my pocket. I flip it open, and remove my hand from her chin, replacing it with the tip of the blade. She sucks in a sharp intake of breath, and now I know I have her.

I slide the tip of the blade down to the pulse that’s frantically beating at the base of her throat. “With just a little pressure, I could kill you right now,” I say. “Your life is mine. Every breath you draw into your lungs is because I allow it. Remember that the next time you want to defy me.”

She nods.

Lowering the blade, I use it to cut the neckline of the T-shirt she’s wearing, and then I pull it open, ripping the fabric. Switching the blade closed, I shove the knife back into my pocket, then use both my hands to pull the T-shirt the rest of the way off her body.

God-fucking-damn.

She’s standing in front of me in only her panties, her beautiful tits round and full. I only get a glimpse before her hands fly up to cover her chest.

“Get on the bed.”

This time, she doesn’t hesitate. She climbs onto the bed, again, on her knees, facing me. Glancing around, I notice her phone charger, and I yank the cord out of the wall.

“Turn around,” I say. “Wrists behind your back.”

Again, that hesitation, but in the end she does what I ask, turning on the mattress, placing her hands behind her. Grabbing her wrists, I tie them together with the cord, then shove her forward, so her face is pressed against the mattress, her plump ass jutting up in the air.

She whimpers. “ Please, just let me go, and I won’t say anything to anyone. I swear…”

I ignore her, my gaze fixed on her ass. It would feel so good to nestle my cock between those beautiful round cheeks. I lick my bottom lip, just imagining it.

Not yet.

I pull her pink, lacy panties down, exposing that perfect pussy. Despite her protests, she’s wet, practically dripping. Goddamn. My cock surges inside my pants. I could fuck her right now, bathe her channel in my cum and there isn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

I’m practically drooling when I brush my fingers over one smooth ass cheek, then I slap it with a hard whack that vibrates through my hand. She yelps and jerks forward, not expecting it. A red mark blooms across her ass cheek and I smile. Then I do it again, another whack. A whimper escapes her throat, but the sound is muffled by the mattress.

“That’s for making me ask twice,” I say, glancing around the room for something I can use to make my final point. My eyes settle on a knife block in the kitchen, and I slide the largest knife free, palming the handle.

She’s exactly where I left her, but her head is twisted to the side so she can watch me. When she sees the knife, her eyes go wide and she tries to sit up. I pin her down with one hand, forcing her chest back down onto the mattress.

“What are you going to do with that?” she asks with panic in her voice.

“I’m going to show you that pain and pleasure are one and the same.”

She pulls against her restraints and a whimper bubbles up from her throat. “Are you going to hurt me?”

I chuckle again. “Definitely. But you’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

“You’re sick fuck,” she spits out, which is brave of her, considering I’m holding a knife. But I’m not going to hurt her. Not permanently, anyway. I’m far more interested in watching her come.

With the tip of the knife, I lightly trace a pattern across her ass. The dull blade doesn’t cut her, but with just a little more pressure, it will. What I’m interested in now is the long wood handle. Flipping the knife in my hand, I press the handle against her moist entrance, coating it with her juices. Another whimper escapes from her lips, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything.

Maybe she’s finally resigned to her fate. Smart girl.

Slowly, I push the handle in until the heel of the blade is pressed against her entrance. She groans into the mattress, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was actually enjoying this. I pull the handle out, almost all the way, then shove it back into her greedy channel, which earns me another groan.

“You like that?” I ask, thrusting with the hilt, her pussy drenching the blade and my hand.

She mumbles something I can’t hear, so I grab a handful of hair with my free hand and yank her head back. Her mouth is open, just slightly, and she’s squeezing her eyes shut.

“Say it again,” I command. She doesn’t repeat it, so I tug on her hair, pulling her head back a fraction more. Arching over her, I whisper in her ear. “Tell me, or I’ll spank you again. One strike for every time I have to ask.”

Her throat moves as she swallows. “No,” she says, licking her bottom lip. “I don’t like it.”

I’m still stroking her, burying the hilt in her soft, welcoming pussy while my finger flicks her clit. I can see the agony on her face, the torment of an unspent orgasm. Her body is betraying her, making her a liar.

I smile through the thin fabric of my mask. “You want me to stop?”

“Y-yes,” she says, her back arching as I pause to increase the pressure on her clit.

“New rule,” I whisper. “The more you lie, the harsher your punishment will be.”

She can say whatever she wants, but I can read her body like a fucking book, and she’s enjoying this shit. To prove my point, I release her hair and remove the hilt from her body, stepping back to watch her.

For several seconds, she remains on all fours, waiting. When it’s clear I’m not returning to her, she turns to look at me—and I swear to God, her eyes plead with me to continue.

“Should I finish you, or leave you wanting?” I ask. “Which would be more fun?”

She turns to face me, yanking the comforter roughly over her body. If I could see her face clearly, I’m sure she’d be glaring at me. “Get the fuck out,” she spits. “I can have someone else finish me .”

She’s saying that to provoke me. She wants me to fuck her without having to admit she wants it. Because saying it would cost her that precious pride she holds onto with white knuckles.

I’m wearing black slacks, and I unzip them, pulling out my swollen cock. Her eyes follow my hand as I slowly begin to stroke, my fist moving from base to tip. I get pussy all the time, and I shouldn’t need to fuck right now, but when I’m in Wyn’s presence, my cock instantly stirs to life. Doesn’t matter how much pussy I’ve gotten, I want her. She’s that persistent itch that I need to scratch.

Still clutching the comforter to her chest, she licks her bottom lip, eating my cock up with her eyes. I’m not even sure she realizes she’s doing it. But I know her tells.

“You want this cock?” She opens her mouth to answer, but I interrupt before she can speak. “Lie to me and see what happens.”

She clamps her mouth shut, and I imagine that glare again. She wants to play the victim. She wants to pretend she’s not being given a choice. I’m cool with that. I can play that game.

With my cock still in hand, I reach over and rip the comforter out of her fist, exposing her. She’s kneeling on the mattress, one hand wedged between her thighs.

I shake my head. “See, that’s cheating.”

Leaning forward, one knee on the mattress, I continue stroking my cock. Her tongue darts out as she licks her bottom lip. Fuck. I’m three strokes in, and I can tell I’m not going to last long. The pressure in my balls is already building. It doesn’t help that Wyn is kneeling in front of me with the musky scent of her arousal filling my lungs, feeding the frenzy of need rioting inside me.

With my free hand, I slide my fingers under her curtain of hair, and grip the back of her neck, pulling her forward. By some miracle, she lets me. I tug her head closer, my masked face brushing against her ear. “Do you want my cum, Pretty Thing?”