Chapter 11
GALINA
Are you fucking KIDDING me?!
I blow through the door to my room like a hurricane.
“Furious” is the first word that comes to mind to describe my current emotional state. But it goes deeper than that.
I feel lied to.
Fucked with.
It’s not like The Ghost Prince and I set up “rules” per se—well, aside from my whole awkwardly blurted “no sex” one. But still.
It should go without saying that you don’t plant fucking bugs in people's bedrooms.
Or…does it, for a man like him?
I’ve always assumed when watching his videos that he’s like me. As in, he’s just a person who makes content for a specific niche of social media viewer, and he leans into that vibe to please his fans.
It’s not like any of the guys doing the MaskTok stuff are actually walking around shirtless in Halloween masks, brandishing baseball bats and breaking into girls’ homes to tie them up, delve into their darkest fantasies, and shower them with orgasms. In real life, I'm sure these guys have regular jobs and families.
They pay their taxes and make plans to watch the game with their friends.
And I think that’s what’s freaking me out the most. I’ve been assuming that The Ghost Prince, same as these other guys, is a performer putting on a show.
But maybe he’s not pretending.
Maybe he’s not playing games.
Maybe I’ve accidentally become entangled with an actual lunatic in a mask with zero sense of personal boundaries or the line between fantasy and reality.
I slump against the door behind me, trying not to think about what happened tonight before he accidentally let it slip that he’d been spying on me. Heat creeps up my face, and my thighs press together as the memory of his tongue between them bleeds through my thoughts.
His hands on my skin. His groans rumbling in my core as I shattered—
No. I am not going to sit here fantasizing about this weirdo just because he happened to make me come.
“Fucking psycho!” I hiss aloud through clenched teeth.
A jolt stabs into me.
Oh, right.
He’s spying on me.
He probably heard that.
“I said,” I yell loudly, “fucking psycho!!”
I shove away from the door.
This ends now.
In the movies, they always have some sort of high-tech gadget to find the surveillance bugs that “the bad guy” is using to listen in. But I'm not James Bond, and I don’t have any of that at my disposal. So I just start tearing my room apart.
I check behind framed pictures on the wall, in the folds of my drapes, under my bed, between the leaves of the avocado plant I’ve been trying to grow in my window.
I dig through my closet and crawl under my desk, which only results in whacking my head against the underside of it when I get back up too fast.
It also results in the lamp on my desk knocking over, shattering the light bulb. But when it does, something falls off the edge of the desk to skitter across the floor.
What the actual fuck…
I frown, rubbing the bump on my head and gingerly standing. My eyes are trained on the little black thing on the floor as I walk over and pick it up. I'm holding a small plastic device, with a hair-thin wire dangling from it and a tiny glass circle on the front…
Fuck me.
It’s a camera lens.
The Ghost Prince wasn’t just bugging my room with a microphone.
He was watching me.
I rapidly start mentally flipping through every single private moment I’ve had over the last two weeks, and the color drains from my face.
Changing. Showering. Walking around my room naked because it’s my fucking room and why the fuck shouldn't I.
My pale face suddenly blooms with fire.
The times I was masturbating.
I turn, my cheeks throbbing as I stare haggardly at my bed.
The scene of the crime, where I frequently touched myself over the past week while thinking of this creep.
I cringe.
Please God, tell me I didn’t say his name out loud while I was doing that.
I turn to look at the corner of the desk where my lamp was. Then I squat a little and try to gauge the angle of the hidden camera.
Good lord.
It’s a straight shot to my bed.
Here I was so nervous about going there tonight, wondering what would happen, and that motherfucker’s already seen the whole show.
I glance down at the device in my palm. The little wire hanging from it must be a transmitter.
“You still watching me, motherfucker?!” I snap as I lift the little camera in my hand and glare death down the lens. “Choke on a dick, asshole!”
I drop it onto my desk, grab the heaviest schoolbook I can find, and smash it down as hard as I can. The camera shatters into fragments of black plastic and green and copper circuitry.
I exhale in a rush, relief washing over me.
The feeling doesn’t last. But half an hour later, after I've scoured every fucking inch of my bedroom and determined there isn’t a second camera, I finally allow myself to unclench and slump onto my bed, hugging my knees to my chest.
I’m actually alone now.
But over the last week or however long he had that camera in here, I haven’t been.
He’s been with me, in a weird, supremely fucked-up way.
I refuse to acknowledge the throb of heat in my core that accompanies that idea. But it grows, coiling through me until all I can do is replay what happened earlier.
His hands on my body. His growls in my ear. His tongue making me see fucking God…
I quickly yank out my phone and navigate to my Velvet Villainess account, hungry for a distraction…which, let's face it, is what social media does best.
The second I open the app, I see that I’ve been tagged in a video.
I smile, curious. I do occasionally have fans make “response videos” to my reviews, or try to imitate my latest upload, which I always find really flattering. But when I tap on the notification, my face drops, along with my heart.
It’s not a fan video.
I’ve been tagged by him.
My jaw grinds, my heart pounding as I click on The Ghost Prince’s latest video, which already has a shitload of likes and comments even though he just posted it ten minutes ago.
Begrudgingly—at least I tell myself it’s begrudgingly—I tap on the stupid fucking thing. Instantly, his gorgeous, tattooed, muscled and shirtless torso fills the screen, the shadows starkly accenting his grooved abs.
It has zero effect on me.
None whatso-fucking-ever.
…I swear.
He was wearing a different mask earlier tonight—a plain black cloth ski mask, not his usual rigid one with the white crown painted across the face. I was curious about the change until he shoved me down across his bed, and I realized why he wanted a mask that he could roll up over his mouth…
But now, the usual one is back and covers his face as he stands in front of his customary black backdrop. Low, sultry music purrs through the phone speakers as he rolls his body, his abs rippling.
He starts to pump his hips harder, and I totally stare at him, watching with a half-open mouth and my pulse skipping as he thrusts his hips forward, like he’s fucking someone.
Me.
He brings some black fabric up to his face. I frown, peering closer at my phone screen before it hits me like slap. I gasp in shock, my face throbbing with heat as I watch The Ghost Prince bring my fucking panties to his face and inhale deeply.
God, there’s no reason that should be so fucking hot.
Suddenly, words bleed across the screen:
POV: she was just over but left too soon. Now, just thinking about the way she tasted has you needing more.
He looks straight at the camera and his modulated voice growls. "Hope you'll change your mind and still want to play, baby.”
My jaw drops.
What. The. Fuck.
Not at all unsurprisingly, every single one of the comments on the post are thirsty and reek of parasocial desperation.
BriannaReads:
Tasted?!? SIR.
Hannahrose_617:
Yes Daddy <3.
MafiaRomanceGirly:
Wow, that’s so weird. I’m suddenly pregnant.
BookBaddieMasLibres:
If you’re still hungry, how do you feel about Mexican? :P
But those aren’t the comments that make my skin tingle with heat and send a feeling I can’t define slithering though my chest.
CassidysTbrlist:
Is “she” @VelvetVillainess?!?
BookTokMadeMeDoIt:
@VelvetVillainess can u pls confirm???
LaurensBookEscape:
OMG ITS HAPPENING!!!
PraiseKinkKaren:
@VelvetVillainess DETAILS NOW!!
Readingpastmybedtime:
@VelvetVillainess ok you just won the internet lol
Ashleyyy23:
@VelvetVillainess for the sake of all our sanities and libidos, please for the love of God share every MFing detail
HeatherAnneBooks:
@VelvetVillainess you stole my future husband lmao
Hotgirlsreadsmut:
omg so insanely effing jealous. @VelvetVillainess you lucky B!!!
Lucky?
Lucky?!
I’m seconds away from DMing this girl and telling her how “lucky” I am to have been spied on without my consent for fuck knows how long.
To be lured somewhere by a psychopath who’s been watching me in my most intimate moments without my knowledge or consent—a psychopath, by the way, that I had to fucking pepper spray.
Okay, maybe I didn’t have to do that. I did feel backed into a corner, at least a little, and I was furious, but in hindsight, I think it might have been rage and not any immediate fear of him hurting me that pulled the tab on that spray.
Oops. Sorry, not sorry.
I watch the video a few more times, my anger building as my lips tighten. Before I can second guess myself, I tap on his username.
Velvet Villainess
That was a cheap shot.
He reads it instantly, like he was waiting for me to see the video and say something. Probably because he was.
The Ghost Prince
Cheaper than pepper spraying me in the face?
Velvet Villainess
Please. You deserved it, and so much more.
The Ghost Prince
For…*checks notes*…making you come on my tongue?
My face heats as I glare at the screen.
Velvet Villainess
Sure. That makes the most sense of ALL the reasons that would warrant getting pepper sprayed in the face. Definitely not the fact that you were…*CHECKS FUCKING NOTES*…SPYING ON ME!!!
The Ghost Prince
"Spying" has such a negative connotation :(
Velvet Villainess
Hence the pepper spray, dickhead.
The Ghost Prince
What if the camera was for your protection?
I snort out a brittle laugh.
Velvet Villainess