23. Phantom in her Veins
Phantom in her Veins
Maddox
I can’t ever walk away.
I’ve known it for a while now, but sitting here at this pristine, candlelit table, watching Asher glance between Ari’s empty seat and me, the truth settles deeper, taking root in a way that gives me a sense of pride.
This was never going to be temporary, and I think a very large part of me always suspected that.
Asher thinks he knows her. He thinks he’s got her all figured out, all wrapped up in the polished, predictable life he’s created for himself. But Asher doesn’t see her, not the way I do. Not the way I have from the start.
He doesn’t see the fire simmering beneath the surface, the way she hides behind forced smiles and careful restraint. He doesn’t see the woman she really is—the one who just let me take her against the sink, who clenched around my cock with a helpless little whimper, who let me fill her up so completely that I know she’s still feeling me now and probably will for days.
The one who probably likes the idea of my bruised fingerprints on her hips.
The one who likes it rough and wants someone who won’t treat her like a goddamn gentleman.
The wine in my glass tilts as I swirl it, pretending to give a damn about my dad’s commentary on the seafood. I don’t care. I’m waiting.
The soft click of heels against tile makes my breath slow, makes my grip tighten around the delicate stem of my glass.
My eyes flick up to Ari as she slides into her seat across from me, her expression perfectly composed, her movements effortless. But I know better.
I see it—I see her.
The too controlled breath, the flush still lingering on her throat, the way her fingers grip the napkin just a little too tightly as she places it in her lap.
She feels me all over her just like I feel her all over me.
Every step she took from that bathroom to this table, every movement, every shift of her thighs—she feels me. My cum inside her, slick and warm and undeniable.
A ghost of me still owning her.
Heat curls in my balls, low and insistent, my cock twitching beneath the table as I imagine her squirming, trying not to give herself away. Trying to act like she’s not dripping for me right now, in the middle of this fancy fucking restaurant, next to the man she’s supposed to belong to.
Asher looks over at her, probably wondering what took her so long in the bathroom. “You okay?”
Ari stiffens. I smirk as I watch her hesitate, searching for words, something neutral, something safe. Instead, she downs the entire glass in one go.
“Fine.”
I chuckle into my wine.
Asher blinks. “Uh. Are you sure?”
Ari clears her throat, setting the glass down with a clink. “Just thirsty.”
I stretch my legs out under the table, letting my knee brush against hers. Subtle. Possessive. She inhales sharply, but she doesn’t pull away.
She grips her fork instead, knuckles white. I take a slow sip of wine, watching her over the rim. She’s unraveling, piece by piece, right here at this table, in front of all of them. And no one but me can see it.
That’s the best part about all of this.
Asher carries on, oblivious, talking about some client, something mundane, something that doesn’t fucking matter. I don’t care. I barely hear him.
Her fork scrapes against the plate when I shift, slow and deliberate, making sure she feels me. The way she grips the edge of the table tightly with her other hand, like she needs something—anything—to hold on to.
I lean back in my chair, casual, stretching my arms behind my head. I could say something. I could ruin her right now, right in front of everyone.
I could murmur something just for her.
Something about how well she took me.
Something about how I’m still inside her.
Instead, I settle for this—this slow, quiet destruction.
She exhales, shaky and uneven. And I can’t help but smile.
She knows it. I’m not just under her skin now, or something she can excuse away as a bad dream or harmless flirting.
I’ve burrowed deep, carved myself into her bones, left a mark no man will ever erase.
And now, with every step, every breath, every slow, aching shift of her thighs, she feels it.
Feels me .
A reminder that she’s already been claimed in the most unforgiving way.