Page 9

“ W averly, what are you doing?” I thought frantically as my body heated, his lips circling my nipple, teeth clamping down, causing my body to bow under him.

“Letting a masked man fuck you in your bookstore, duh!” my darker side answered gleefully.

So fucking unhelpful.

My brain was racing with too many revelations for one day.

G. Barlowe was in fact Garrett Barlowe who is clearly a man.

Garrett Barlowe was GhostX.

G. Barlowe – who is a man and also GhostX – had written his debut novel about me .

This must’ve been the dangers of social media my generation grew up hearing about and tossed out the window without a second thought.

My brain flashed back to this dark god between my legs, grinding against me in the middle of the bookstore I owned. Thanking myself for shutting the lights off, I was torn between fighting him off and putting a much saner end to things, and saying fuck it and pulling him closer.

His calloused fingers were bruising in their hold on me and his kisses were claiming and thorough. I felt my lace dress, my favorite lace dress , tear under his hands as he completely removed my bra.

This man had completely ruined my favorite underwear and my favorite dress in the span of five minutes.

“Could you at least stop ruining my clothes?” I snapped without thinking. He barked out a laugh against my skin, rising up over me in the nearly black room.

“There she is,” his voice rumbled. “Finally going to play?”

I sat up straight again, my naked chest coming aginst his bare one, staring into those green eyes I should’ve known were familiar for a reason.

“You led me on for a year doing this.” I finally state, hands shoving him, distracted and furious suddenly.

Garrett was quick, hands grabbing my wrists and pinning them behind my back.

“Don’t even pretend to be mad at me, little muse. You want this so badly you’re dripping on your display table in the middle of your bookstore. You have no idea the things I’ve done for you. I’ve been watching you. Protecting you. Following you.”

My breath caught and I felt my cheeks flush, torn between being infuriated and embarrassed and…

“Wait. What?!” I gasped realizing what he’d just said.

Garrett…Ghost? Fuck. He grinned at me, as the next revelation he’d spilled that rocked my world. He’d been following me? I took a shuddering breath.

“I can’t help my body’s natural reaction to stimuli.” I snapped, sounding a lot braver than I felt. I at least had to put up some kind of a fight.

He growled behind the mask, his eyes narrowing on me.

“This isn’t your body’s natural reaction to stimuli though, is it, Waverly?” he rumbled into my ear causing chills to race down my spine. “You’re only ever this desperate when you read the pages of your romance books.”

I opened my mouth to argue but a free hand shot up, wrapping around my throat and choking off what I was about to say.

“No man has ever made you feel the way I’m making you feel. So, we can do this with you pretending to fight me, because, baby girl, I’d love the chase. Or you can lay here and take it like the good little girl I know you can be.”

Fuck this man and his words. All traces of feminism had left my body. I craved, literally was panting, to submit under him. I wanted to lay there and take it like a good girl.

I’d started today as a simple bookstore owner and was ending it as the main character in one of the books I read.

Garrett must’ve felt my body relaxing against his, under his. Because his head tilted as he leaned back. I could almost feel the smirk he had on his face.

His huge, tattooed hand released my neck and while he hadn’t been completely closing off my air supply, I took a huge gulp of oxygen, overwhelmed. Before I could gather myself he was trailing that hand down between my thighs, two thick, long fingers sliding inside me easily to the knuckle.

My hands squirmed in his other hand’s grip behind my back as I bit back a moan and fuck if my thighs weren’t already trembling for him.

Sliding the digits out of me to the tip and then thrusting them back in hard, he drew a cry from my parted lips turning his wrist, twisting them inside of me. My thighs relaxed, opening wider for him and he praised me.

“That a girl, little muse.” he rumbled, sounding a little out of breath himself. His eyes tracked down my body to watch where his fingers played inside of me. “Look at you, taking these fingers so fucking well, even though you wish it were my dick.”

My eyes narrowed even as I moaned louder as he found that elusive spot inside me that had me jerking my hips against his hand.

“Don’t worry,” he continued. “You’ll be coming around my cock tonight, too.” he promised, darkly before starting to move his fingers in a rhythm against my inner walls that had my eyes fluttering shut.

His grip on my wrists loosened but I didn’t shove him away, my hands came up around his broad neck, holding on as he finger fucked me into oblivion. I probably should’ve been embarrassed by the noises that indicated how wet I was for him, but they seemed to goad him onward harder and faster, and I wasn’t in the frame of mind to fight this anymore.

“Garrett…” I gasped, voice sounding broken and desperate, so unlike its usual tone.

“That’s it,” he praised, “You’re going to come all over my fingers, aren’t you, Waverly?” he panted behind the mask. Obviously not as detached from this scenario and as in control as he wanted me to think.

I couldn’t stop myself. I flipped his mask up, just over his lips, where it had fallen back down. The ones my brown eyes had been drawn to over and over all day long as he smiled and laughed and flirted with other people, and kissed him hard. He froze momentarily, seemingly shocked at my sudden onslaught of affection then he was kissing me back harder and deeper.

My nails dug into the back of his neck as his thumb found my clit, working together to bring me to the edge of an orgasm so intense I felt like I couldn’t take a full breath.

“Be a good girl and come for me,” he spoke low against my mouth, panting, before kissing me messily. All teeth and tongue as he swallowed my cries and I let go, shuddering and rocking desperately against his fingers.

He groaned along with me, the wet sounds growing even louder as my orgasm went on and on, and he kept moving his thumb pressing against my swollen clit until I was trying to back away on the display table, my entire body quivering as my moans turned into broken sobs at the sensitivity.

“We’re not done until I say we’re done,” he snapped, withdrawing his fingers from me and shoving me down against the table again.

Throwing my curvy legs over his broad shoulders before I could argue, he was ducking and pressing his mouth against my drenched core. His mask still covered everything except his mouth as my hips bucked up against his lips at the first open-mouthed suck against my core.