Page 22 of Phantom

“Please, Sol. Touch me. I need to feel you.”

“No,” he finally says. “I want to hear that pretty voice tell me what you like until you come.”

I’m so turned on and I’m beginning to worry that the medication is going to stifle my orgasm like it has in the past. It keeps feeling like it’s drifting away, and if I lose it while this need still drives me, I’ll fucking scream.

“It’s going away. Please, Sol.”

“I can’t touch you yet, but I love to hear you beg, pretty muse.”

I moan and close my eyes, getting lost in the haze. Who is this woman that’s pleading for her phantom to pleasure her? At least he doesn’t seem to mind, even though he’s making no moves to listen to me.

It’s because he’s not real. He’s a hallucination.

Oh god…am I going crazy again?

My throat feels tight and it takes me a second to realize Sol is cupping my neck. I should be freaking out, but I’m calmed by his touch, especially when concern softens his eyes.

“You’re not crazy, Scarlett.”

Did I say that out loud?

“You’re just medicated with the wrong drug, which you will never take again. Do you understand? It’s not good for you.”

“O-okay.”

His fingers gentle before leaving my neck to play with a curl of hair.

“Close your eyes. Give in to the darkness. Let my voice guide you until you come.”

I shut my eyes again and a wave of exhaustion washes over me, like the drug is finally kicking in. My need to come is still overwhelming yet has never felt more out of reach.

“I… can’t,” I groan and pull my hand away as I roll to my side, feeling stupid at the tears pricking my eyes. One escapes and falls down my face, but he catches it swiftly with his index finger. “I need to come but I can’t, Sol. Please, you have to help me come.”

Hunger and indecision mar the unmasked half of my phantom’s face. He finally swallows hard and his voice is rough when he speaks.

“You need me to help?” When I nod, he growls. “Fuck, okay. I could never deny you,ma petite muse.”

The bed dips as he squeezes in behind me on the twin mattress. His essence—whiskey, sugar, and leather, like a Sazerac in a lounge—washes over me as his arm slides underneath my neck and rolls me closer to cradle me, my back to his chest.

My mind is sluggish as the sleeping drug works its way through my system. His warm breath flutters the tiny hairs on the back of my neck and I tremble. Lips brush against the sensitive skin, drawing a moan from deep within my soul, mixed with the frustration of my tired limbs and the ache between my thighs.

“Close your eyes, Scarlett.”

I blink quickly, not even realizing they were still open. My eyelids finally drift closed like he commands. His fingertips skate lightly down my arm until his large grip trembles over mine, covering me in such a way that no part of his hand actually touches the rest of my body. He begins to control my body masterfully, like a conductor in his own symphony, and leads my hands where I need them.

Under his direction and fingertips, I trace my arousal-soaked nipple with one hand. With the other, my new guide travels us back down to my pussy and we delve underneath the hem of my panties.

When I feel my own desire, my phantom curses behind me, and I squeeze my breast almost to the point of pain. My hips grind against the hard length branding my ass and I wish I could feel him from the inside. Our fingers find my clit at the apex of my legs and Sol uses the pressure of his own finger to flutter over the delicate bud.

“Sol, yes,” I moan as he pulsates my finger like a heartbeat. “More.”

“Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Good… so good…” My sentence drifts off but he shakes me.

“Give me more than that or I’ll stop.” The edge in his voice only heightens the thrill.

I whimper as I search for my words and an orgasm in the same moment. “Y-your hands on mine… they’re warm… strong. Safe.”