I continue gyrating against the handle, the pleasure compounding at Ghost’s ragged breathing. I’m so close. So fucking close.
“Come.Now,” Ghost snaps.
I obey, my body shaking uncontrollably. He’s quick to wrap his arm around my waist, preventing me from impaling myself on the handle as my orgasm wrecks me. Over and over.
When the world settles back into focus, I find him watching me with something dangerous in his eyes.
Possession.
Devotion.
Something too deep to name.
I swallow hard, my pulse still erratic. “Happy now?” I manage, breathless.
Ghost grins. “Not even close.”
CHAPTER 39
GENEVA
Ghost lifts the knife to his mouth, dragging his tongue slowly along the handle, his eyes locked onto mine the entire time. The act is meant to unravel me. And it does.
He tilts his head, gesturing lazily with the blade toward my hands. “Unbuckle my pants.”
I pause, unsure if I’m still resisting him. Or seducing him.
His smirk deepens as he takes in my hesitation. My stubbornness returns full force to prove that I’m not intimidated by him. I reach for the zipper, my knuckles brushing against the hard lines of his stomach. At the clench of his jaw and the way his muscles twitch, I know I’m affecting him just as much as he affects me.
The moment his pants are undone, I yank his shirt off, along with my own. His sculpted torso comes into view, marked by scars that hint of past fights and possible abuse. But it’s the tribal tattoos that really draw me in, igniting another surge of lust as I trace their bold, intricate patterns with my eyes. They wind aggressively around his arms, up his neck, and spread over muchof his upper chest, the dark ink clinging to his skin in a way that’s beyond sexy.
Ghost sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread, the blade resting casually in his palm. His eyes are heavy-lidded, dark with intent. “Ride me,” he orders, his voice deep and rough.
When I don’t move, he leans back, spreading his legs wider. His large cock rests against his abdomen while pre-cum leaks onto his skin. He twirls the knife lazily between his fingers, tapping the flat of the blade against the outside of his thigh. The gesture is casual, but the command in his eyes is anything but.
I take a fortifying breath. Then, slowly, I crawl onto his lap to straddle him.
After putting down the knife, he reaches out to grab my hips, the heat of his body seeping into my skin. My heart hammers against my ribs as I realize I’ve willingly put myself in his hands. Again.
Maybe that’s his point.
With one hand, he kneads the flesh of my thighs as he looks at me, drinking me in. He grabs the knife and drags the tip up my spine, the cool metal leaving goosebumps in its wake. I arch instinctively, pressing myself closer to him.
I hover over his cock, my breathing uneven, my hands braced against his chest. The heat of him is tangible, radiating through every point where our bodies connect. His smile is lazy, but his eyes are watchful, tracking every flicker of emotion on my face.
“Use me,” he says. “Take me. Every. Single. Fucking. Inch.”
I swallow the nerves gathering in my throat as my fingers tremble against his skin. I can feel his cock pressing against me, thick and hard. Although he easily could, he doesn’t force me.
No, Ghost is making mechoosehim.
I exhale, then move, sinking onto him. He curses under his breath, his fingers biting into my flesh as I take him in. It happens inch by inch, me stretching around him with a whimper despite how wet I am. My nails claw his chest, drawing blood, my thighs shaking as I adjust.
“Fuck.” He tilts his head back slightly, his jaw tight. “You’re going to kill me.”
A shudder runs through me, my body humming at the praise. I brace myself again, lifting my hips just enough before sliding back down farther than before. I still have a couple of inches left to take. Ghost watches me through hooded eyes, seeing me struggle. It hurts, and he knows it, but it’s the pain that has me feeling alive.
“Make it fit, or I will,” he says.
