Chapter 12
GHOST
After Prez sending me on a two-night run to our Dawson chapter, I want nothing more than to have a hot shower and head to Xanthe’s house.
I’ve had Omen, one of our prospects, keeping an eye on her while I’ve been away.
Not wanting to be distracted while I handled a minor problem, I stayed focused on the task.
I thought after the night we shared, it might be good to give her a little space so she can be sure about what she wants.
Because I know what I want.
When I walk through the clubhouse, I can hear laughter coming from outside. They must be out in the pool. Not bothering to go out there, I head to my room, take a shower, and dress in fresh clothes. I’m walking back downstairs when I run into Lore, who has a squirming Dove in his hands.
“You’re back!” He grins, clapping me on the shoulder as he passes. “Did you go outside? There’s a little surprise for you.”
My brow furrowing, I head straight outside, only to see Xanthe standing there in a red bikini that leaves nothing to the imagination, surrounded by at least five of my club brothers.
Bones, Skull, Curse, Rune, and Blade are all sitting around her, admiring the view. Slamming the door behind me a little harder than necessary, all eyes turn to me.
As a group, the men take a step back from Xanthe, with Blade going as far as to move his lounger away from her.
“Ghost, how nice of you to show up,” she drawls, looking at me over her big sunglasses. She looks like a movie star.
“Fuck, you look beautiful,” I drawl, and there’s suddenly dead silence around me. All eyes are still on us, but I don’t give a fuck. I normally avoid groups, never even swam in this pool, and I sure as fuck don’t talk to people in front of a crowd.
Xanthe stills, taking off her glasses and putting them down to study me. “I came here looking for you.”
“I only just got back,” I explain, walking around the pool and sitting opposite her. “You’re mad at me?”
“You didn’t call or message me.” She pouts, but the anger seems to have drained out of her.
“I had club business,” I reply, using the phrase I’ve heard the other men use on their old ladies when they need them to stop asking questions.
“You can’t send a text?” she mutters, pursing her lips.
“I’m sorry, I will next time,” I promise, sliding off my cut and putting it over her shoulders. “Now, if you care about my brothers, you’ll cover up because I don’t fucking like all their eyes on your body.”
“Ghost!”
I lift her in my arms and carry her inside, ignoring the cheering and catcalling. “I’ve never had a woman who’s mine, sunshine, but I can tell you right now, I don’t like others looking at you. I’m not fucking sharing you.”
“Well, I came here for you,” she huffs, resting her cheek on my chest. It makes me feel like a million bucks. “But you didn’t communicate where you were.”
My lip twitches. “Is this our second fight?”
“We still haven’t finished the first one,” she reminds me, scowling. Fuck, she’s cute. I unlock my room door and close it behind me, then place her down.
She takes a look around, but there’s nothing much to see. A king-size bed, a cupboard for my clothes, and a pile of books on my bedside table.
No one comes in here.
I like my space, and I like to be alone.
But having Xanthe in here feels so right, especially after what went down in Dawson. I had to torture and get information out of one of the men we thought was a club brother, but was a fucking traitor.
I killed him.
Having something so fucking good to come home to almost feels too good to be true. Xanthe slides off my cut and hangs it up on the hook on my cupboard door. She handles it gently, like she knows how important it is to me, and then turns to face me in nothing but her tiny bikini.
“Yeah, going to have to fucking blind all of them,” I mutter, reaching behind her to pull free the knot at the back. The red top drops to the floor, exposing her small, perky tits—less than a handful, but perfect for me. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too. That’s why I came hunting for you.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” I ask, laying her back on my bed and sucking one nipple into my mouth.
“I sent you a message, but I wasn’t going to call,” she gasps, running her hands over my head. “You should have called me.”
“I had Omen watching you. You were safe. I’d never leave you unprotected. You should know me better than that. Although the asshole didn’t warn me you were at the clubhouse.”
“I thought I saw him,” she mutters, then softly moans.
“Is this what you came looking for, little one? You got a taste of what I can give you, and you wanted more, didn’t you? Was your tight little virgin pussy needy for me?”
“Yes,” she admits, making my cock hard as a fucking rock. “I wanted you.”
“What do you want?” I ask, my voice thick with lust. “Do you want my fingers?”
“Yes,” she pants. “And your mouth.”
“Anything else?”
“And your cock. I want your cock inside me. I’m done waiting.”
I still and gently push her hair back from her face. “I’m not going to fuck you right now, Xanthe. But I’ll give you everything else you want.”
I get up and drag her to the end of the bed, then get down on my knees, slide her bikini bottoms to the side, and worship her.
It’s not only her who needs this. I’ve spent the past two nights replaying our time on her couch over and over, the way she tasted and the sounds she made.
She’s such a distraction, but in the best way.
She’s my reason to stop being so fucking reckless, to want to be here. I never used to care if I lived or died. I just lived my life without giving a fuck.
But now my need to protect her has given me a purpose.
Does she know what she means to me? That she doesn’t need to worry if I don’t text or call because she owns my fucking soul? I’ve given her a piece of me I didn’t even know I had to give.
And she has no damn clue.
“Ghost,” she whimpers on a low breath. “That feels so good.”
My tongue traces my name against her clit with the ball of my piercing.
All.
Fucking.
Mine.
And then I slide my fingers in, curl them, and make her scream.