41. Ghost
41
Ghost
O ur bodies collide in a rage of heat and desperation, her nails scrapping down my bare skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. My grip tightens in her hair, tilting her head back as I devour the soft, needy sounds spilling from her lips. She’s breathless, but I don’t let up—I can’t.
Her fingers move up and roam over my chest, exploring, teasing, igniting every nerve as she presses herself against me. My hands slide down her sides, over the curve of her waist, until I’m gripping her hips, pulling her body closer to mine. The friction is intoxicating, and the hunger between us is a force neither of us can resist. We belong here with one another.
She gasps as I spin us around, pressing her against the cool wall, my mouth trailing along her jaw, down the curve of her neck, where I bite just hard enough to make her whimper. “Mine,” I murmur against her skin, my voice rough with need.
Her response is immediate—her hands push into my hair, yanking me back to her lips, her tongue sweeping against mine in a battle of dominance—the air between us is electric and uncontrollable.
“Then take me,” she dares. Her voice raspy, her eyes dark with lust.
And I do.
I lift her off the ground, her legs wrapping around my waist as I press her harder against the wall. Her breath hitches, her fingers digging into my shoulders as I grind against her, letting her feel exactly how much I need her.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” I growl against her lips, nipping at her bottom one before soothing the sting with my tongue. She tastes so damn delicious.
She shivers, her body arching into mine, craving more. “Then show me,” she whispers, her voice dripping with a determined challenge, her nails dragging down my back, igniting the fire in its wake that refuses to be tamed. She will never be tamed. And I love that.
I don’t hesitate. My hands slide beneath her thighs, gripping her soft skin as I carry her across the room, my movements determined and careful. I lay her down, hovering over her, my lips trailing along her collarbone, down to the swell of her chest. Her back arches, a soft moan escaping as I take my time, tasting her, worshiping her.
Her hands are restless, tugging at my hair, urging me on, but I refuse to rush. I want to hear every sound she makes and feel every shudder that courses through her. I want her desperate, aching, utterly undone beneath me.
When I finally meet her gaze, her lips are parted, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “More,” she pleads, her voice breaking with need.
A wicked smile tugs at my lips. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”
Her whimper sends a jolt of satisfaction through me, but I am far from being done with her. I drag my mouth further down her skin, slow and with technique, savoring every reaction she gives me, every shake, every sharp, meaningful inhale.
Her grip tightens in my hair, yanking my head back just enough to force my eyes on hers. There is a fire in her eyes, dark and commanding, her lips curling into that knowing smirk of hers.
“You think you’re in control?” she whispers, tilting her head as she forcefully rolls me over and straddles me, her thighs caging me in. “That’s cute.” my, my, the fire in those eyes.
Before I get the chance to respond, she leans in, her hot, tempting breath against my ear. “But I am the one who decides when you get to break.”
My pulse pounds in my ears, and my cock is begging for her. She trails her fingertips along my chest, slow, teasing. She takes her time, savoring my reaction, her power becoming undeniable.
“I want you to beg for it,” she whispers yet again. Her teeth grazing my jaw line. Let me hear you say you need me, Ghost .”
A shiver runs through me. Oh, how the tables have turned. I meet her gaze. She is waiting.
She owns me at this moment, and we both know it.
She doesn’t wait. Her hands shove me back against the mattress, nails scraping the raw spots on my chest. She arches her back, taking my hands to her sides and grasping her breasts. She knows exactly what she is doing to me and is feeding off it.
“You like teasing me, huh?” she taunts me, rolling her hips, slow, controlled, driving me fucking insane. “Let’s see how much you can take.”
I grit my teeth, a groan building up in my throat as she pins my hands above my head with one hand, her grip surprisingly tight. The other trails back down my body, fingertips barely skimming over my skin, setting me on fire.
She leans in, her lips hovering over mine. “Tell me how bad you want it,” she commands, voice smooth.
I buck against her, desperate, but she only tightens her hold, her smirk pure fucking sin.
Her mouth crashes into mine, all heat and dominance, taking my breath as her own, she deepens the kiss, claiming me without any hesitation. I am hers, all hers.
Her grip adjusts as she shifts lower. She bites my neck, and a kiss follows after. Sour and then sweet. She wants me completely wrecked, completely undone beneath her, and I would be fucking crazy to stop her.
She drops down, and my cock surges inside of her. We moan in sync. She feels so. Fucking. Good. A shudder runs through me, and she releases her grip on my hands. She has had her fun, and now it is time for me to show her who is really in charge.
I swing her over, pinning her legs by her head, and jam straight into her. She cries out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, swirling all into one. She claimed me, and now I will claim her–again. This time she won’t forget it. She will understand that this is more than just a moment of satisfaction but a moment built on love, anger, and the need for one another.
She claws at my shoulder, trying to get me to slow down, but it doesn’t work. She begs me for more in a voice that sounds nothing short of painful desperation, and I savor every damn second. This isn’t about taking–no, this is much, much deeper. This is about branding her. I give Little Killer all of me, and she does the same in return. She will know that no one else will ever have her the way I do, touch her the way I do, have her the way I do. She is mine. And after tonight, there will be no doubt left in that pretty venomous mind of hers.
My movements slow, just enough to force her to meet my gaze. “Say it,” I demand out, my voice rough, raw, slightly pushed out. “Tell me who you belong to.”
Little Killers breath hitches, her body shakes under me. Her legs are in an uncontrollable battle of being restless, jarring the both of us. Her mouth opens, bottom lip quivering–“You.”
I growl in satisfaction, a sound that rumbles in my chest. “That’s right, Little Killer. Never forget that.” and she won’t.
I pick back up the speed her small yet strong hands grip my throat. Every moan, every gasp, every fucking scream is gasoline that fuels the fire inside of me. She is all I needed to ignite. She tries to move away and take control, but I don’t let her. Not this time. This is mine–she is mine.
I shift, leaning in until my lips touch her ear. “You feel that?” I let out in a rasping voice, thrusting hard enough to steal her breath right out of those pretty little lungs of hers. “That is me claiming you. Owning every inch of you.”
She trembles beneath me, her body completely surrendering to me. Yes. Her mind lost in the pleasure only I can give to her. But it is not enough. I need more. I need her soul to know who I am and that my soul belongs to hers. This isn’t just love.
It’s obsession.
It’s fire and wind making a hell of a tornado, destructive–not to each other but to anyone who dares cross either of us.
We have become reborn to each other and will build an empire solely for the ones we lost who were dearest to us: her mom and my sister. Our story is far from over.
You will know our names for Gabriel and Inés, Ghost and Tormenta, My Little Killer.
If you thought this was the end…oh baby, we’re just getting started.