22. Marked by the Phantom
Marked by the Phantom
Ari
I close my eyes, breathing through my nose to calm my racing heart. Before I open them, before I see him in the reflection, I feel him.
A slow pulse of heat at my back. Maddox . My spine locks up, my breath freezing in my chest. I snap my eyes open, meeting his gaze in the mirror—dark, unreadable, burning with something I can’t name. His neck, covered in tattoos. Black button-up giving him the appearance of a gentleman.
But I know better.
He doesn’t say a word, just closes the door behind him and locks it.
When he’s done, he takes a step closer.
“Answer me one thing,” I say quickly, glaring at him in the mirror.
His eyebrows shoot up, and he looks at me with amusement. “I’ll try my best.”
“It was you,” I say simply. “The notes in my house. You wrote them.”
He tilts his head as he walks closer. “It was, and I did.”
“But we hadn’t met,” I say slowly, watching his reflection as he comes up behind me. “Did you know I was dating Asher?”
He smirks, and when his hands settle on my hips, my breath comes out in short pants.
“I knew. I’ve known for a long time.”
“How’d you get past my security system?”
“That’s more than one question, Ari.”
“Tell me,” I breathe. My skin is on fire.
“I disabled your security system in less than a minute. Is that what you want to hear? Once you’re back in that house, I’ll be ensuring you have a more robust system set up.”
I.
Can’t.
Breathe.
“Now I have a question for you, angel.” Goosebumps erupt along my bare arms. “Why did you resist it for so long?”
I swallow, gripping the counter so tight my knuckles ache. “I didn’t?—”
“You did.” His lips twitch, like he’s amused by the lie.
The tenor of his voice is low, dark, edged with something sinful. He moves again, stepping closer so that he’s caging me against the sink, his warm body pressed up against my back.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, my voice too breathy, too affected.
He lifts a brow, tilting his head. “Are you done lying yet?”
I should tell him to fuck off. But all I can think to do is stare into the mirror, watching him watch me. My reflection looks different. I see myself through his eyes. I see the way he’s looking at me.
Like he already owns me.
Like I’ve been his from the moment he first came to my house.
He works a finger up my side, trailing my bare forearm. A shudder racks through me.
He notices, and his smirk sharpens. “If this isn’t what you want, tell me to leave.”
My pulse hammers, and the words catch in my throat. I can’t. His finger drags slowly back down my arm, calloused skin against smooth, bare skin, heat licking at my stomach.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs.
I swallow hard, my lips parting, but nothing comes out. A dark chuckle rumbles in his chest.
“That’s what I thought.”
Then his hands grip my hips again, and he twists me around.
Pinning me against the vanity, he steps into my space and presses his body against mine. He’s warm, and that familiar, intoxicating smell hits my nostrils. Leather and some kind of expensive cologne.
“Wait,” I whisper, putting a hand against his chest.
To my surprise, he inches back, giving me space. A crease forms between his brows as he looks down at me. His presence crackles with something raw and unrelenting, an energy that demands attention without a single word. His light blue eyes, so much like Asher’s, should make me feel safe. Instead, they unsettle me. They strip me bare, exposing thoughts I haven’t even fully admitted to myself. My pulse stutters, a mix of nerves and something far more dangerous threading through me.
“Did you kill him?” I ask, my voice raspy. “Did you murder that insurance guy to avenge your wife and daughter?”
He chuckles, and the sound sends a flash of hot energy through me. “Yes. I killed him.” I can hear the pulse rushing through my veins, but before I can react fully, Maddox takes a step back. “Does that scare you?”
His question and the way he seems to know to give me space catches me off guard. I expected him to take what he wanted from me, but instead, he seems unsure of what my answer will be.
“No,” I say quickly. “But… why me? Is it just because I remind you of your late wife?”
Maddox’s gaze is steady, unwavering, as if he’s deciding just how much truth to give me. He studies me for a beat longer, then exhales, shaking his head like he’s amused at himself.
“Not really. You have the same fight as her, but you’re different than she was. Do you want to know the truth?” I nod, and he swallows, like the truth will cause him pain. “When my mom sent me a picture of you, I couldn’t stop looking,” he finally says, his voice low, rough around the edges. “I kept staring, wondering what you’d be like—how you’d move, how you’d speak. There was something in your eyes, something strong. But the picture didn’t do you justice. It never could.”
He steps closer, not touching me, but close enough that I feel the warmth radiating from him, feel the thrum of his presence pressing into me like a force I don’t know if I want to resist.
“I’ve always been drawn to strong things,” he continues, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. “Not just anything with power, but things that endure. Things that have been broken and still piece themselves back together.” His lips curve into something that’s not quite a smile, something more like understanding. “Things like me.”
A shiver runs through me, but I don’t step away. I can’t.
His gaze flickers over my face, lingering like he’s memorizing me. “And you… you’re stronger than you realize,” he murmurs. “Maybe that’s why I couldn’t look away. Maybe that’s why I already know I won’t be able to stop.”
His jaw tenses, and something unreadable flashes in his eyes. “Because I can feel it already—the pull, the need. And it has nothing to do with the way you look, though I must admit, you’re even more beautiful in person.” His voice drops even lower, almost a whisper. “It’s you. And I think I’ve been looking for something like you for a long time.”
His words catch me completely off guard, and before I realize what I’m doing, my fingers curl around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to mine. He doesn’t hesitate. His mouth claims mine in a kiss that’s deep and consuming, stealing my breath, unraveling me with every flick of his tongue. He tastes like something dark, something forbidden, something I know I shouldn’t crave—but I do.
Maddox growls against my lips, his hands sliding down my waist, gripping my hips like he’s anchoring himself to me. His fingers press into the fabric of my dress, bunching it up, dragging it higher. I barely have time to register what’s happening before he lifts me onto the vanity, stepping between my legs, his body flush against mine.
“Ari,” he groans against my skin. Soft. Pleading.
I tilt my head back as his lips trail down my throat, his hands spreading my thighs wider, his grip firm, commanding. Heat pools low in my stomach, and when his fingers skim up my inner thigh, teasing, testing, I gasp, my nails biting into his shoulders.
A low, satisfied hum rumbles from his chest. “If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say the fact that I killed someone arouses you. Because your cunt is weeping for me, little warrior.”
“Shut up and fuck me,” I hiss, rolling my hips against his hand.
He chuckles, moving my underwear to the side. He works me like he’s done this a thousand times before, like he already knows how to pull me apart, how to push me right up to the edge. Every touch, every press of his body against mine, is deliberate, dominating. The sound of his belt coming undone echoes through the small bathroom, and I gasp as the thick head of his cock presses against my entrance, stretching me just enough to send a shudder rolling through my body. Then, my mouth drops open in a silent scream as he thrusts into me with one hard push—deep, unrelenting, filling me completely.
“Oh, fuck ,” I whimper, my hands gripping the edge of the vanity for dear life. My nails dig into the cool marble, desperate for something to hold on to, something to anchor me against the sheer force of him.
“I knew you could take me,” he mutters, his voice reverent, almost disbelieving. His fingers flex against my hips, possessive, grounding himself, like he needs something to hold on to before he loses himself completely. His breath stutters, a low, hoarse groan rasping against my ear. “You feel so much better than I imagined.”
A spark licks up my spine, pooling low in my belly. I’ve never been this full, this taken. There’s no hesitancy in his movements, no uncertainty—he fucks me like he’s done this a million times before, like my body was made for this, made for him.
Asher never touched me like this. Never moved like this.
Maddox doesn’t just take—he claims.
His hands slide up my waist, spreading me open wider, angling my hips just right. And then, with a deep, punishing thrust, he presses into something devastatingly perfect inside me—so deep, so precise, so fucking good that a strangled moan tears from my throat.
A sharp inhale. A satisfied chuckle against my neck.
“There it is,” he murmurs, voice dark, smooth, laced with something lethal. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
My thighs tremble as I brace myself against the vanity, trying to hold myself up as the pleasure rips through me, fast and all-consuming. His strokes are deep, deliberate, dragging over every sensitive part of me with unbearable precision.
“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groans, his forehead dropping briefly to my shoulder. Like it’s too much. Like he’s barely holding himself together.
Then, he pulls out slowly, letting me feel every inch of him, making me ache with the loss before driving back in hard and deep, forcing me farther back on the vanity. The impact sends a sharp, bright jolt of pleasure straight to my core.
My breath shatters. “Maddox?—”
“I know,” he growls, fucking into me again, harder this time, his hands tightening around my waist. “I fucking know , angel.”
I gasp as his fingers slide down between my thighs, finding my clit without hesitation. He doesn’t fumble. Doesn’t second-guess. Just circles it with ruthless precision, his movements confident, controlled, like he already knows exactly what I need.
And that’s what’s different.
Maddox doesn’t just fuck me, he reads me. Learns me. Pulls me apart piece by piece like he’s always known my body better than I do.
Asher has a big dick, sure. But he used it like a fucking accessory. Like he expected that to do all the work.
Maddox, though? Maddox wields it.
He watches me like a man hunting weakness, like he won’t stop until I come undone completely. Until he ruins me for anyone else.
“Twenty years,” he rasps against my neck, his voice strained, almost pained.
His thrusts grow sharper, more urgent, his control fraying at the edges. I can feel it—the way he’s unraveling, the way his body trembles, the way his fingers dig into my skin just a little harder.
But I don’t want him to hold back. I want to feel all of it.
“It’s been twenty fucking years.”
Something raw and desperate breaks in his tone, and the weight of those words hits me like a force. He’s been starved for this. For touch. For warmth. For something real. And now he’s here, inside me, and it’s undoing him from the inside out.
Then—a knock at the door.
I freeze, my entire body going rigid beneath him. Maddox doesn’t stop.
“What if it’s Asher?” I whisper, panic threading through my voice. But before I can even think of pulling away, Maddox’s free hand is on my mouth, silencing me.
His lips brush my ear, his voice low and sinful. “Then I dare you to make a sound while he’s right outside this door.”
I shake my head, pleading with my eyes, but he just smirks, slow and knowing. He wants this, wants to see how far I’ll go, how much I’ll take. And the worst part? So do I.
Outside, Asher’s voice is muffled, confirming my worst fears. “Ari? You in there?”
Maddox presses deeper, his other hand gripping my hip, holding me in place. I try to hold back the desperate moan threatening to escape, my nails digging into his shoulders.
“Don’t make a sound,” he warns, voice like a blade against my skin. “Let him stand there, clueless, while I ruin you.”
I whimper against his palm, my body shuddering around him. He knows I’m close. He can feel it.
His hand slides from my mouth to my throat, a gentle squeeze, grounding me as he whispers, “I know what you need. I know how to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. And I bet my brother never fucked you like this.”
My head falls back against the mirror, my lips parting under his grip, and he feels it—the exact moment I give up the fight.
I nod, surrendering, giving myself over to him completely.
“I’m sorry for taking the call, Ari.” Asher exhales sharply outside the door. “Let me know when you’re done in there.”
Maddox chuckles darkly, never stopping. “That’s right, sweetheart. Let him walk away without knowing how completely mine you are right now.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” I tell him truthfully.
Because fuck, I’ve never had sex like this.
His rhythm falters for a split second, like he’s struggling to keep himself together. Like he’s never felt anything like this before.
His teeth graze my shoulder, sending a shudder dancing along my nerves. A shaky exhale escapes him, his body pressing deeper, harder, his control slipping.
His fingers never stop circling my clit, and when he presses down harder, I feel my climax draw up closer and closer and closer with every movement. It’s like he’s somehow able to draw the pleasure out of me like a fucking vacuum.
“I can’t—” His grip tightens, his hips stuttering, like he’s barely holding on. “I’m not going to last…”
He thrusts again, rougher this time, and his groan is guttural, almost tortured. “Fuck. You feel…” He trails off, like words aren’t enough, like nothing could ever capture what this moment means to him.
I clench around him, pleasure twisting inside me like a live wire. My body is on fire, burning from the inside out, but I need more . Need him to push me over the edge.
He feels so good—too good. Deep, thick, perfect, dragging against every sensitive part of me with a precision that makes my head spin. And his fingers against my clit… the obscene sounds of wet skin meeting wet skin fill the air, mingling with my gasping breaths, and his ragged groans…
Fuck.
His thrusts slow, but they don’t lose their intensity. Each one lands deep, sharp, hitting that spot inside me that sends a hot shock wave through my core. I whimper, my thighs shaking, my fingers gripping the vanity so tightly my knuckles go white.
Maddox notices. Of course he does.
A dark, satisfied chuckle rumbles against my shoulder. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Take it, angel.”
I bite my lip, trying to hold back a scream. It’s too much. It’s not enough. My body is begging for more.
Maddox exhales sharply, his hand on my clit slowing down deliberately, like he has all the time in the world, like he’s savoring every reaction.
A broken moan rips from my throat, my head falling against his shoulder.
He groans. “Fuck, I love that sound.”
His touch is merciless, slow but devastating, sending sparks of pleasure through my veins. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Exactly what I need. His fingers match the rhythm of his thrusts, teasing, coaxing, unraveling me one perfect movement at a time.
I arch against him, rolling my hips, chasing it.
“Good girl,” he rasps, but there’s something rougher underneath it. Darker. His voice so broken, so raw with need it makes my stomach clench and my thighs tremble. “I knew you’d be perfect for me.”
A desperate sound slips from my lips as pleasure coils, sharp and unbearable, knotting tight inside me.
“That’s it,” Maddox murmurs, almost cruel with how soft he says it. His hand then delivers a sharp, deliberate slap against my clit.
I jolt, a strangled sob escaping me as the sudden sting blooms into molten pleasure.
I’m gone.
Completely undone.
“There you go,” he snarls, dragging the words along my skin like a promise. “Let go for me. Give it all to me.”
His hand flexes around my throat, not tight, but enough to make sure I stay exactly where he wants me. The weight of it grounds me, pins me, but it’s the desperation in his voice that shatters me wide open.
“I need you to come with me,” he growls, the words low, rough, barely restrained. “I need to feel you fall apart first.”
And I do.
Pleasure crashes over me like a tidal wave, brutal and all-consuming, stealing the breath from my lungs. My thighs snap tight around his hips, locking him to me as my entire body bows beneath the force of it. My back arches, a helpless, uncontrolled reaction as molten heat explodes from deep inside me and ripples outward in relentless, shattering waves.
My walls flutter around him, gripping him like a vise, pulling him deeper, demanding more. A sob catches in my throat as sparks skitter across my skin, my vision going hazy, my thoughts slipping completely out of reach. My nails carve into his shoulders like they’re the only thing tethering me to reality.
And that’s when he breaks.
Maddox growls, a frayed, almost tortured sound, and then he’s rutting into me harder, chasing the inevitable. His body trembles above me, locked, desperate. His cock throbs deep inside me as he loses it, pulsing, emptying himself until I swear I can feel every last drop.
A deep, fractured sound tears from his chest as he comes—twenty years of hunger and need crashing down all at once. His grip is relentless, fingers bruising, holding me like if he lets go, I might vanish.
“You’re mine,” he hisses, cracked and reverent, every syllable seeping into my bones. “My perfect little angel. That’s my girl.”
I can barely breathe, barely think as he presses his forehead against mine, panting hard against my lips. His praise, his possession, his desperation—they’re the only things anchoring me through the aftershocks.
And I fucking love it.
When it’s over, when he finally stills, his breath ragged and his body trembling against mine, he doesn’t pull away. He just stays there, inside me, his face buried in the crook of my neck, his arms wrapped around me as if letting go isn’t an option.
And maybe it isn’t.
“Fuck,” I whisper, feeling his cum leak out of me. “You’re lucky I’m on the pill, asshole.”
Maddox smirks, his fingers gripping my hips possessively as he pulls out and watches his release spill from me. His thumb drags through the mess between my thighs, pushing it back inside with slow, deliberate pressure.
“Lucky?” he murmurs darkly, his gaze burning into mine. “I don’t think so. If I had my way, you wouldn’t be on the pill at all.” He leans in, his breath hot against my ear as his fingers press deeper, making sure none of it goes to waste. “I’d fill you up again and again until you were dripping with me. Until your body knew who it belonged to.”
A shiver rolls through me, and he chuckles, low and knowing. “And the best part?” He brushes his lips against my jaw, his voice like sin. “You’d let me.”
Fuck him. I push him away from me as I hop onto my feet. He tucks himself away with ease, and just as I reach for some toilet paper to clean myself up, his hand tightens around my wrist, firm but unhurried.
“Don’t.” His voice is low, commanding, laced with something dark and possessive.
I scowl, tugging against his hold, but he doesn’t let go. “Don’t what, Maddox?”
His smirk is slow, deliberate. “Don’t wipe it away. I want my cum dripping down your thighs when you’re sitting next to Asher at our family dinner.”
Heat coils in my stomach, my pulse stuttering. “You’re unhinged.”
Maddox tilts his head, eyes flicking between my parted lips and the mess still dripping between my thighs. “Maybe,” he murmurs, his thumb dragging lazy circles over my pulse point. “Or maybe I just want you to remember exactly who you belong to.”
I let out a shaky breath, and his smirk deepens.
“Every step you take back to that table, every shift of your thighs, you’ll feel me.” He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “And later, when you’re pretending like nothing happened, I want you to know, this is still mine.”
Holy fuck.
His fingers move down under my dress, pressing against my core, slow, possessive. “And the next time you try to forget?” His voice dips into a gravelly whisper. “I’ll just have to remind you all over again.”
A shiver rolls through me, traitorous and undeniable.
I yank myself free, my heart pounding as I glare at him. “You’re a fucking bastard.”
Maddox just grins, lazy and satisfied as he steps back. “And yet, you let me ruin you anyway.”
“Fuck you.”
He laughs. “You already did, little warrior.”
Before I can get another word in, he turns around, unlocks the door, and leaves me standing there with flushed cheeks and his cum still dripping down my thighs.
My breath comes in sharp, uneven bursts.
What have I done?
And the worst part is… I don’t regret it.
Not even a little.