“Do you want to come over?” I ask, changing the subject. “Luca has training this afternoon, so he won’t be home for a couple of hours. We can binge Milo ice cream and true crime docos.”
“As tempting as that is,” she says as she falls into step beside me. “I have to pick up my sisters from dance practice. Raincheck?”
“Sure, later.” I give her a quick hug before I turn and head home.
As I walk, I let my mind wander back to the night I met my phantom at the club, standing in the voyeur hall.
“It’s so … powerful,” a low, husky voice says near my ear, setting every nerve in my body alight.
I swallow around the lump in my throat before shifting my gaze from the scene in front of me to the literal god standing next to me. I actually have to crane my neck to take in his full, broad shoulders and the maroon and silver phantom mask that covers half of his face. Beckford U’s school colours … Interesting. He’s tall, towering well above my five-foot-four frame.
His eyes never move from the window, watchingas the dominatrix inside whips her submissive with a riding crop. “Pleasure and pain is such a turn-on, no?”
Only if I’m the one inflicting the pain, I think, but I don’t voice it out loud. Instead, I turn back to the scene in front of me. The large and very naked burly man covered in tattoos remains on his knees, his huge, veiny cock jutting out in front of him and leaking precum as he counts the petite woman’s whips.
My mouth waters as I imagine what it would be like having a giant on his knees in front of me. We both watch on in silence as the man grunts out, “Ten.” After the final lash against his skin, the tiny brunette runs the tip of her finger over his glistening crown, gathering his moisture before sucking it into her mouth.
I bite down on my bottom lip, suppress a moan, and clench my thighs, but the friction does nothing to relieve the throbbing in my core.
“Would you be interested in perhaps getting a room?”
My cheeks heat as my eyes snap up to meet the intense golden gaze of the mysterious phantom next to me. “M-me?” I somehow squeak out.
“Yes, you, Angel,” he says with a low chuckle. He steps in behind me, cupping my chin between his thumb and forefinger as he directs my gaze back to where the woman is now sitting on a throne-like chair in front of the man, his head buried between her thighs. “I have to say, this little show has excited me.” He rubs his erection against my arse and leans down to murmur in my ear. “I’d be interested in seeing what kind of pleasure and pain a little poppetlike you might be able to inflict on me. What do you say?”
I shiver from his warm breath brushing over my flushed skin. With his hands still on my chin, I can’t tear my gaze away from the look of gratification on the woman’s face as she’s devoured by the man in front of her. The thought of losing the opportunity to explore my sexual fantasies with this guy chases all of my nerves away. I straighten my spine and turn to face him.
“Okay, pet,” I say in a steady tone as I press my body against his. “Let’s get this room and see if you can be a good boy for your new mistress, hmm?” The impressive bulge in his pants hardens further against my stomach and I smirk up at him. “Let’s see just how much pain it takes to bring you pleasure.”
My cheeks flush as I let myself into the house.
Thankfully, no one is home, and I head to the kitchen for a tub of Milo ice cream and a spoon. Armed with my ultimate comfort food, I settle onto the couch in the media room upstairs, and flick through to the latest true crime doco that I’ve been watching.
“I’ll wait for you.”
Fuck. I can’t get the memories of my phantom off my mind. The way he submits to me. The eager look on his face as he waits to see what method of pain I’m going to inflict on him next. The animalistic way his body takes over when I give him permission to finallyravish my body.
We’ll lose all of that the moment we discover each other’s true identities. There’s no way we can ever meet up outside of the club. Once a month is all we’re destined to have with one another. It’s all it can ever be.
One week later,I sit sandwiched between Leni and my mother in the bleachers of Beckford U. Luca is playing in a match against our rivals, Blue Haven University, and my mother blackmailed me into coming along.
“If you want us to support you financially when you leave for Los Angeles next year, you’ll come along and support your brother’s game,” she told me when she came into my bedroom earlier this evening.
Thankfully, Leni agreed to join us and save me from an insufferable night with Mum and George, but in return I had to promise to go to the club with her afterwards. Turns out I have no control in my life whatsoever, but I can’t hold her blackmail against her, as I know it’s difficult for her to sit through the game with her arsehole ex-boyfriend playing for the opposition.
The crowd cheers as our team runs out onto the pitch, led by Luca wearing number thirteen. Even from here, I can see the rippling muscles that fill out his shirt. He exudes power as his teammate passes him a ball and he deftly juggles it—once, twice, three times—before he flicks it into the air and sends it soaring into the net.Show off.
There’s no point in denying his talent. Everyonearound us is talking about him. George and my mother lap up all the attention from being related to the Beckford U star, while I slouch further in my seat—the invisible family member. Leni, being the best friend she is, tries to distract me with funny animal memes on her phone, and it works. At least until the game starts, and my mother snaps at me to, “Sit up straight and act like you want to be here supporting your family.”
I’m tempted to bite back that this isnotmy family, and that I don’t want to be here, but I know it’s not worth the drama it will cause. Gwendoline Whitford does not take kindly to backchat or insolence.
BHU are good, and one of their players scores from a free kick in the thirteenth minute, but they’re no match for Luca and his teammates. In the twenty-second minute, Luca takes a corner kick and sets up a header for Theo, who slots it past the goalkeeper. The Beckford U crowd goes wild, and my stepfather grins, accepting the congratulations thrown his way.
The game remains tied at half-time, and I breathe a sigh of relief when my mother asks Leni and me to get food and refreshments.
“Your mum really takes the Stepford wife thing to the next level, huh,” Leni says as we line up at the canteen.
I roll my eyes. “Perfect life, happy wife.”
