Page 25

I hesitate before looking down and seeing my pussy splayed beneath me. My lips, puffy and pink from arousal, glisten.

“Look how wet you are,” he says, noticing my wetness.

I imagine him smirking before I see the object in my ass.

A candle.

“You’re not the only one who likes games,” he says, flipping open his Zippo.

My jaw drops in horror. “You’re not?—”

“I’m not, what?” His tone is laced with bemusement as he lights the wick. “You better squeeze that virgin asshole nice and tight.” He saunters around to face me and strokes my cheek. “Or I’ll set your house alight.”

I’m more worried about the wax melting inside me. How would I explain this injury at the emergency room?

“What do you want?” I ask through gritted teeth, fighting against my crippling fear.

If I tried to pull it out, I’d topple over, and I’m already struggling to balance…

“Come for me,” he demands. “If you don’t, I’ll leave that candle burning. And if you’re having any thoughts about trying to remove the candle, remember that I have no qualms about leaving you hanging.”

“You’re sick,” I hiss.

“If you keep talking dirty, I’ll set fire to your room and watch it burn with you inside it,” he warns, catching my throat in a vise-like grip and squeezing. “Do you understand?” I blink away tears and clench as a drop of wax hits the floor. “I want to see your pussy drip, just like that wax.”

He returns to his briefcase for another object, what looks like a metal stick with something bunched on its end. He dips it in an alcohol-smelling liquid, then walks in slow circles around me, enjoying every second of this.

Like a conductor directing an orchestra, he holds the rod end to the candle’s open flame. With a theatrical flourish, the top of the rod lights up like a marshmallow over an open fire. I yelp in horror. His erection springs to life under his jeans, creating a giant tent.

“Are you scared, Little Ghost?” he asks. With his free hand, he catches a drop of falling wax and smears it onto my ass. The heat is mild, but I’m more concerned about the massive burning rod between my legs. “Touch yourself for me.”

“I…”

To silence me, he edges the candle deeper inside me.

“Do it,” he commands. “Or else.”

What choice do I have? I slip my hand between my thighs. Every instinct is telling me to run, but there’s nowhere to go when you’re attached to a burning light. I clench my jaw to keep my adrenaline-induced shaking at bay.

“You know what to do,” he says.

“I hate you,” I moan, squeezing my eyes shut and imagining I’m anywhere but here while I touch myself.

Blindness provides momentary relief until a sting of heat bounces up my arms.

My eyes spring open to see Lex.

I scream as he rolls the fiery rod down the front of my chest, forgetting all about touching myself.

“That noise,” he says, licking his lips under the mask. “Your scream is everything.”

He twirls the wand in his hand, dancing the flames between my breasts. It only touches one spot for a nanosecond, long enough to heat and startle me, but not lingering enough to burn. Lex’s amber eyes look almost red, hypnotized by the flames and the shadows they cast.

“Why did you stop?” Lex asks huskily. He sweeps the flickering flame across my nipple, making them harden instantly, and I scream again. “I’m a man of my word. Remember what you have to do.”

My cheeks flush with shame as I touch my clit again, trying to separate my mind from my body.

“And don’t think about faking it,” he sneers. “I’ll know.”

Pleasuring myself has always been a guilty thrill.

Going to Sunday school as a child taught me that sex should be reserved for marriage.

Although I stopped believing in that notion long ago, part of that conditioning still lingers.

But there’s nothing thrilling about this. It’s dirty. Sordid. Objectifying.

“Look at yourself,” he instructs.

I stare at my pussy from beneath in the mirror, watching it soak my fingers while trying to ignore Lex’s twirling fireball circus performance.

“That’s it, Little Ghost,” he says. “Keep finger fucking that ripe little cunt of yours. Look at that candle burning. You’ve not got long now. Tick tock.”

There’s about three inches left to burn, but I’m taking no chances.

I massage my clit furiously, relishing the pleasure but hating myself—and this situation—at the same time.

I always imagined sex would be pure and beautiful.

A sacred act where you rolled around in silk sheets and whispered sweet nothings in a lover’s ear, but this? It’s nothing like that.

“You’re getting close,” he comments.

He holds the fireball to my ankle and bounces it up my leg. I yelp, but continue pleasuring myself. Focus on your hands, Erin . Ignore what he’s doing. He goes higher, and the flames lick at my knees. I imagine that it’s something else. A warm caress. A gentle touch. Anything to distract me.

“Maybe you need more incentive,” he says, pushing the candle farther into my ass, so deep that I can feel its warmth.

Lex’s flame wand continues rolling up my legs, whooshing back and forth. I gasp as it brushes my delicate inner thighs.

“Come for me, Little Ghost.”

My orgasm nears. I push aside my self-consciousness and let my eyelids flutter closed, seeking the joy in the heat like a warm shower spray. There’s no other way.

The first wave of pleasure rolls over me with a moan. The stuffed candle heightens the sensation, as if the orgasm is rebounding around my body, like an echo down a mountain range.

Lex yanks the chain hard, cutting into my windpipe. I choke and gasp for air. Dots swim across my vision while my pussy spasms, consumed by waves of toe-curling pleasure that are being squeezed from me, alongside my oxygen.

“Lex—” I gurgle, wobbling on my feet and about to pass out.

He releases the tension, allowing my lungs to swell.

When I come to, dizzy and in a haze, Lex faces me. He watches with a deep fascination that, while unnerving, reminds me he’s under my spell, too. There’s power in my ability to hypnotize a monster while coming undone. If only I can understand what they see in me…

“I’ve played your game,” I say, glancing at the mirror. “Put it out.”

He cackles. “Do you really think I play by the rules?” He leans close, his breath fanning my face. “Like you, I play dirty.”

My heart thunders while he heads to my bathroom. The faucet runs, followed by a sizzle of him presumably putting out his flame rod. I thrash my neck from side to side, increasingly more panicked the shorter the candle gets.

“Lex,” I yell, unable to keep the terror from my voice. “Put it out!”

He doesn’t respond.

He simply returns to the room, gathers his supplies, and walks away with his briefcase.

“Lex!” I scream as his footsteps grow distant. Wax continues to drip onto the floor and mirror. One drop lands on my inner thigh, scorching me. “You can’t leave me here!”

The chandelier rattles as I grope the collar, fumbling with the lock. It’s no use. A key is required. Frustrated tears spill down my cheeks.

“Help!” I plead. “Somebody help me!”

I scream in frustration. Not at Lex. Not at my masked men. But at everything. It’s primal, coming out like a carnal roar.

Suddenly, the floorboards creak, and Lex nudges the door open.

He leans against the doorframe and purrs, “I knew you’d have a pretty scream.”

This is what he wanted. To humiliate me. Shame me. Make me scream.

Lex calmly pulls the candle from my ass with a slippery pop. He blows it out and stashes the waxy stump in his pocket.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” he says, unlocking my collar, then holding my chin. He cups my face with a force that implies he won’t hesitate to break my neck. “Never let another man touch you again.”

Finally free, I fall to the ground, cradling my neck and spluttering for air.

“What do you know about Sarah?” I wheeze, reaching for his ankle but missing.

His shoulders tense. “If you want to know what happened to your sister, look closer to home.”

Lex goes to leave again when, suddenly, he freezes. His body language shifts as he looks down at me. He shakes his head, as if willing a memory away.

Before I have time to question him further, he slips back into the shadows, where he belongs, leaving me with more questions than answers.