Page 11

B unny’s text came through just past midnight, East Coast time, like it always did. I was already staring at my phone, waiting, while taking a break from streaming.

“Wearing your shirt and those stockings you like…”

Fuck.

I hadn’t expected that .

My fingers tightened around the phone, heat licking up my spine as my brain short-circuited with a hundred images at once.

Her small body draped in my shirt, her thighs wrapped in those soft cotton stockings, probably biting her lip and squirming while she typed.

The thought of her so far away—alone, wet, teasing me—made something primal unravel in my chest.

I didn’t even bother typing back. I put on my mask and hit FaceTime before I could think twice. I needed her face. I needed her voice. I needed to know she was mine tonight—even if it was only through the screen.

She picked up immediately. Her voice came through soft, breathy. “Hey, you!” She giggled at my enthusiasm.

The screen lit up with her beautiful face.

The bedroom was dimly lit with pink LED lights framing the ceiling, snow falling slowly behind the window.

She was curled up in her bed, her long hair spilled over one shoulder, slightly messy but still looking like silk.

Her lips were parted and swollen, eyes flickering to mine like she couldn’t decide whether to be shy or seductive.

Dangerous combination.

“You said you’re wearing my shirt,” I murmured, my voice dropping automatically into that slow, commanding register that always made her breath hitch. “Show me.”

She smiled, cheeks pink as she angled the camera down.

My shirt hung on her like a damn dress, worn down cotton falling to mid-thigh. But it was the way she moved—legs shifting just enough to give me a peek at the curve of her ass, the lace of her panties barely visible beneath the hem—that sent blood surging straight to my cock.

And those stockings. White with pink stripes, pure softness hugging her skin, ending on her upper thighs where her bow tattoos were. They made her look even more breakable. Like she needed to be held down and devoured.

“I like sleeping in it,” she said quietly. “Still smells like you. I don’t wanna wash it.”

God.

My cock throbbed against my sweats. I adjusted the camera so she could see me leaning back in my gaming chair—shirtless, inked chest rising and falling with each slow breath, muscles flexing as I propped the phone on my knee.

The white mask covered my face, smooth and unreadable, the black balaclava framing the bottom half and falling over my neck.

She couldn’t see the hunger in my expression—but she didn’t need to.

“Do you like the view?” she asked with a coy smile.

“Like it?” I laughed without humor. “You wanna know what that does to me, baby?” I tilted the camera lower, giving her the full display.

Her breath caught as the screen filled with the outline of my cock straining beneath my grey sweats.

“That’s how much I like them. You’re all the way across the country, and still you have me hard in seconds.”

“Ghost…” she whispered, voice shaky. Her thighs pressed together as she squirmed, loving the sound of that.

“Uh-uh.” I smiled under the mask. “Don’t hide from me.”

She hesitated, playful and shy all at once. And she was driving me fucking crazy. “It’s not fair. You keep hiding from me.” She gave me that look—the one that made my chest clench and my cock ache—and whispered, “Can I see your face tonight?”

My smile widened behind the mask. God, she always asked. Like a fucking prayer.

“You like not knowing.”

Her lashes fluttered. “But I wonder… all the time.”

I leaned into the camera, dragging one inked hand over my throat and chest, down the cut of my abs. “And wondering gets you wet, doesn’t it, baby? Not knowing what I look like, but still giving me everything I ask for. That turns you on, doesn’t it?”

She bit her lip, and I saw it—the subtle tension in her body. The heat flickering in her gaze. Another clench of her thighs.

“Yeah,” she admitted, voice barely there.

“Good.” I leaned back again. “Now, take off my shirt. Slowly. Let me see what’s mine.”

She shifted the camera. I watched her settle back against her tower of pillows by the headboard, then she peeled the t-shirt up, inch by inch. No bra. Her breasts bounced free, soft and perfect, nipples already hard, flushed pink, and begging for attention.

“Fuck, Bunny,” I groaned. “Mmmm, you’re so sensitive tonight.”

“I was thinking about you all day.”

“Oh yeah?” I palmed myself through the fabric, dragging my hand slowly up the length of my cock so she could see what she was doing to me.

She let out a tiny noise—half-gasp, half-whimper—and her dainty fingers moved delicately over her breasts, cupping and lifting them before tracing her thumbs over the nipples.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. If I were there, I’d have your back arching under my mouth. I’d mark every inch of those tits so that your skin would hum for days. I’d suck your nipples until they were swollen and sore and perfect. Until you begged me to stop. But I wouldn’t. I’d just keep going.”

She let out a breathy laugh, eyes closing as she pinched one taut peak and rolled it between her fingers.

Then she repeated it with the other one, and a soft moan spilled out from her parted lips.

My cock jumped up at the sound and I had to squeeze harder.

Her thighs were slowly spreading now, and my gaze dipped.

There it was. That sweet little wet spot in the center of her panties.

“Oh, Princess, does that feel so good?” I asked in a raspy voice, barely controlling myself. “I see you soaking through your panties, baby.”

She whimpered again, looking down at herself. “I can’t help it. You make me—”

“I want you wet,” I cut in, voice sharp and dark. “I need you like this. You’re perfect. Perfect for me.”

Her hand drifted down, slowly skimming her flat stomach, caressing the soft, fair skin just above her waistband.

I barked, “No. Ask me first.”

She looked up at the screen, flushed and desperate. “Please, Daddy… can I touch myself?”

My balls draw up and my cock throbbed. “Good girl,” I praised. “Pull those panties to the side. I want to see you.”

She whimpered, legs trembling, breath growing shaky. Then she hooked her thumb beneath the fabric and shifted them just enough to reveal her puffy lips. And fuck, I almost came just from the sight. So pink and glistening, parted delicately with her fingers, her juices catching the light.

“Fuck, baby… that’s a damn fine pussy,” I growled, eyes locked on the screen. “That’s mine. That sweet little cunt belongs to me.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“God, I could eat you all night long. I’d spread your legs open, bury my face in your pussy, and tongue you until you forgot how to breathe.”

“Ghost,” she moaned, her fingers trembling against the wet slit of her pussy.

“You’re gonna touch yourself for me now. Just like I say. Rub that clit. Slow circles. Just your fingertips. No rushing.”

She followed my words, her fingers moving in smooth, deliberate motions. The wet sounds were enough to drive me fucking mad.

“Look at you,” I murmured. “So fucking pretty when you obey.”

She moaned louder, her breath turning ragged. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I shoved my sweats down in one rough motion, and my cock sprang free—hard, flushed, veins thick, the glint of silver from each barbell down my underside catching the light. At the tip, a hoop ring curved through the flesh.

She gasped loudly, freezing. “Oh my God! You’re so big. And pierced…” she sounded in awe. “It’s so hot…”

“Yeah? You like Daddy’s cock, little bunny?”

She giggled, half-nervous, half-excited.

“Look at how hard I am. That’s all you. You own this.”

Her legs squirmed on the bed, mouth gaping open, chest heaving.

“And guess what I’ve got?” I reached beside me, grabbing the folded scrap of fabric.

Her panties—pink, lacy, still holding her faint scent.

“They smell like you, too.” I brought them under the mask, inhaling the intoxicating aroma deeply like I needed it to live.

My groan was deep and unfiltered. “So sweet and fucking addictive. I jerk off to them every night thinking about your pussy.”

“Show me,” she whispered, teasing her pussy again.

“You wanna watch me stroke myself with them?”

She nodded, blushing.

I started slow but steady, wrapping the lace around my shaft.

Each stroke dragged the delicate material along the pulsing length of my cock.

Then, with a quiet hiss, I drew the silken crotch panel over the swollen, sensitive head—precum already beading at the tip, soaking straight into the fabric, mixing with her heady scent.

Her eyes locked on my hand, working her clit faster, legs spread wider, her arousal dripping.

“Slide two fingers in,” I directed. “Nice and deep. I want you to fuck yourself like I’d fuck you.”

She gasped, pushing in, her face tilting up as her eyes fluttered shut. I watched her stretch her pussy, the way her mouth opened on a silent cry, the camera catching every trembling movement. My cock throbbed in my fist, more precum spilling over my knuckles.

“You feel that stretch?” I couldn’t stop talking. “That’s me. Filling you. Splitting you open. Imagine my cock—thick, heavy, every barbell dragging against your walls.”

She was panting now, squishy wet sounds echoed through the speaker.

“You hear that, baby?” I groaned. “Those wet little noises? Fuck, they’re driving me insane.”

Goddamnit, she was close.

I could see it—her eyes unfocused, her movements frantic now, desperate for release. My strokes matched her rhythm as I imagined thrusting deep inside the wet heat of her tight cunt, clenching around me, squeezing hard.

“Rub your clit again,” I growled through the clenched jaw. “Harder now. That’s it. I want you messy. Loud. Let the neighbors hear.”

She did as told. Her hips gyrating against her fingers.

“I—I’m gonna cum,” she gasped. “Daddy, I’m—please—”

“Let me see your face. I wanna watch you fall apart for me.”

She lifted the camera with trembling hands and angled it to her flushed face, eyes heavy-lidded and mouth open, chest rising fast.

“Say my name,” I said, on the edge of my own peak.

“Ghost,” she cried out as her orgasm hit.

Her face was a picture of raw, perfect pleasure, fingers soaked and trembling, entire body quaking under the weight of it. She looked divine—ruined, glowing, wrecked for me. And that’s what finally broke me.

I exploded seconds after. Hot, pulsing streaks spurted over my abs, across the panties, leaking down my hand. I growled her name, nearly snarling, completely lost in her.

We both sat in silence after, collecting ourselves. I watched her watching me, pupils blown, lips curling into a dazed, blissful smile.

“I wish you were here,” she whispered.

“I know, baby,” I murmured, voice thick. “But… I can be there soon.”

The silence stretched.

Her smile faded just slightly. Her eyes flicked away. Her body shifted, like she was retreating into herself.

“Um… we can talk about that later,” she said, soft but not quite the same. “I’m sleepy.”

I blinked, heart still pounding, a strange tension curling in my stomach. Doubt slowly started creeping in.

“Alright, baby,” I said. “Sleep tight.”

“Night…”

She ended the call, and I was left staring at the black screen.

Still holding her panties. Still aching for her. But suddenly uneasy…

There was something she didn’t know yet.

I already booked the ticket.

I planned the perfect Valentine’s weekend for us. I’d fly out to her. No mask, no games. We’d have dinner. See the Broadway play. Maybe finally take things where she clearly wanted them to go. Make her mine.

Over the next days, she seemed to have warmed up to the idea of me coming to NYC.

When the day finally came, I was buzzing with excitement as I arrived at the airport.

My flight was boarding in thirty minutes.

And then, she sent me a text.

“Hey. I’ve been thinking. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come after all. I’m so sorry.”

I stopped dead.

My heart palpitated as I stared at the text, my fingers tightening around my phone.

No.

This wasn’t real.

I called her. She didn’t pick up.

I called again. Nothing.

I texted. Over and over and over.

“Bunny.”

“What the fuck?”

“Answer me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Pick. Up. The. Fucking. Phone.”

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t even read them.

Something inside me snapped.

She played me.

This wasn’t some flirty game anymore. This was betrayal.

I had been so fucking patient. Months of planting seeds, of waiting, of holding back. The restraint it took not to rip her away from that piece of shit boyfriend of hers, not to take what I wanted from the moment I saw her on that fucking terrace in New York.

And this is what I got?

This is how she repaid me?

I didn’t feel much but this fucking hurt .

My vision tunneled, my breath slowing to something too steady, too calculated.

She thought she could cut me off. Like I was disposable.

Like I hadn’t been building her. Shaping her. Molding her into something that belonged to me.

I clenched my jaw, flexing my fingers at my sides.

She made a fucking fool out of me.

But I remembered who the fuck I was.

Then I took a breath and boarded the flight anyway.

I wasn’t going to let my Bunny run away.

Not now.

Not ever.

She was going to pay for this.

And I was going to enjoy every second of it.