Page 21 of Phantom

I know his name is Sol, but my heart pounds in my chest at the thought that he is mysoul. He’s the fabrication I’ve concocted to heal from the trauma of losing my father. Maybe this voice is exactly that. My soul.

“My soul,” I whisper back. “Sing to me, Sol. My demon of music.”

He doesn’t sing, but music comes from somewhere and Iknowit’s the song my demon wrote for me. His hand gives off a dim light, seemingly summoning the music from somewhere. The glow shines on his bone-white mask. Even though it covers half of his face, it can’t hide the five o’clock shadow dusting his strong jaw. My eyes trail down his body over his unbuttoned collar and the rolled-up sleeves of his black dress shirt. His dark pants do little to hide the hardening bulge behind his zipper, and I love the fact that he’s not trying to hide it from me either.

Then again, why should he? This is my medically induced fever dream. Why would he hide his need for me?

Even as I think it, my mind fights itself, telling me something is off here, but I shake my head and plead again, wanting to give in to the sensations.

“Please touch me, Sol.”

His midnight eyes scorch my skin as he stares at me hungrily in a way that has me writhing underneath my fingertips for that crescendo that remains infuriatingly out of reach.

His warm hand brushes against my cheek and I lean into the touch like a cat in heat. As I do, he sits down, knuckles still touching my skin, until he stops suddenly.

“Did you take this shit again?” he grumbles and grabs my medicine bottle from my bedside table. “After the way it made you pass out last time?”

“H-how… do you know about that?” I ask, confused. But of course he’d know.Iknow and that’s the extent my dream state can provide.

“Why?” his voice demands gruffly. If it weren’t for the gentle way he’s stroking my cheek, I’d be afraid of his tone.

“I lost my medication.”

“Lostit?”

“Yes.” I wince sheepishly, embarrassed that I can’t remember where I put my pill container. “But I don’t want to go back there again.”

“Where?”

“The ward. I can’t be crazy again.”

Understanding wars with the protective concern wrinkling his brow. He nods once and pockets the meds.

“No more of this, Scarlett. I’ll find your other medicine before you resort to taking old ones. I’ll take care of you.”

“Th-Thank you,” I moan just as my single-minded fingers find a very sensitive spot. “Please, Sol…”

He twists to see me better, but his fingers don’t leave my cheek. I can see his other hand grabbing his cock through his pants, but not stroking, almost as if he’s having to stave off his own release.

“I will not touch you the way you want, but show me how you give yourself pleasure and tell me how you like it as you do.”

“I… I’ve never.” His eyes flare. “I mean, I know how to do it myself, but I’ve never… in front of someone… orwithsomeone.”

His knuckles flow along my jawline and down my neck until he reaches my collarbone, uncovered by my baggy T-shirt. “You’ve never been with anyone before? Not even before this year?”

The phrasing of the question is odd, but when I shake my head “no,” his left midnight eye sparkles down on me, causing a delicious shiver to erupt through my whole body. I lie on my back and wantonly spread my legs for his view, loving the way he raises his brow and growls when he asks his next question.

“When you fuck yourself with your fingers,ma belle muse, who do you think of?”

“You,” I whisper over the soft song playing on repeat. “My demon of music.Yourmusic.”

“Ah… think of me,ma chère. Touch yourself. Stroke those slender fingers against your pretty clit and think of the music we’ll make together one day.”

I moan at his words as I obey him and my fingers work furiously.

“Good. Now stop—” I whine in protest, but listen to his command. “Massage your nipples with your wet hand until they’re glistening pink for me. I can see your pussy dripping from here. Dip your finger deep inside and feel how much you need me.”

I raise my shirt and drench my nipples with my desire while my other hand curves two fingers into my entrance. His hungry gaze widens and his fingers keep stroking the sensitive skin of my collarbone, never going past the stretched collar of my T-shirt. The hand on his clothed cock stretches angrily before fisting himself through his pants again.