Chapter 15 #3
This was the closest I’d ever seen Phantom to losing control, drunk on pleasure, and I was intoxicated with how much he wanted me. His hand closed around my throat. He gripped me here and murmured in my ear, voice deliciously dark: “Turn around. Hands on the wall.”
“Yes, Sir.” I fixed my palms to the tiled walls. Water pounded and cascaded down my back. With one hand on my throat, the other gripping my hip, he aligned us so our bodies pressed together, no space between us.
“I need to be inside you,” he said. “Tell me you want it.”
“I want you, Sir,” I gasped.
“Bare?”
My breath caught. “Yes. I want to feel you. Every inch.”
His hand slid between my legs. His fingers filled me first, warming me. Then they were replaced by the thick head of him. I arched my back to grind against him. He fit himself inside of me and we moaned in unison.
Fuck. This felt so right.
I was so slick with want and he fit inside perfectly. He hit that aching, needy spot inside of me and I gasped, my fingers curling against the linoleum of the shower wall. His hand curled around mine and we locked together.
“Just like that,” I whined. “Don’t stop. Please, Sir.”
“Never.”
He thrust into me. This was a dance. Pleasure tightened in my core with each one of his slow, hard thrusts and I heard myself whimper. My palms anchored me to the wall—I was a good girl. I wouldn’t move from my spot, even as my knees began to buckle.
Each thrust sent me closer to the edge of pleasure. Phantom’s lips found my neck, my shoulders, my back. “You’re perfect, Ophelia,” he murmured, and—
I believed him.
My heart thumped in my chest. His hips beat me like a drum. My body went tight, pleasure curling around me like a vice.
“Phantom,” I gasped. “Please. I need to cum…”
“I know. I feel it. God, you’re so tight.” But he prolonged my pleasure and thrust inside me again and again, even as my legs trembled, before he finally gave me the command I was desperate for: “Give, Ophelia.”
I exploded with pleasure. I cried out, legs buckling.
My body clenched, pulsing tightly around him.
He moaned like I was his prize, his reward at the end of a rough day—no, at the end of a rough existence.
He gave the smallest, loveliest shiver, and flooded me with his heat.
He pumped inside of me until he’d given me everything, every drop, and I whimpered, my body clutching him, greedy for it.
He pulled out of me suddenly. I gasped at the emptiness, but then he flipped me around. My back hit the tiled wall and his mouth claimed mine. I sunk into him; I belonged to him. He cradled me, marked me with his kisses, with the press of his body, and I melted like candlewax in his hands.
“God, Ophelia.” His forehead rested against mine, his breath beating like butterfly wings against my cheek. “You bring me back to life. How do you do that?”
The wonderment in his voice fluttered through me. I felt so deliciously precious in his arms, for a minute, I couldn’t speak. “Kiss me again. Please, Sir.” And he did.
We kissed until the water went cold.
We had aftercare spread out on my couch. We lounged across from each other, legs entwined. Phantom in nothing but briefs, me in nothing but panties and a light robe. My feet rested in Phantom’s lap and he rubbed them, bursting little knots trapped in the arches.
“Tell me again how a pen does that.” I motioned to his chest. After the shower, he finally allowed me to disinfect the spot and slap a Band-Aid on it.
“Fountain pen,” Phantom explained.
“Are you sure it wasn’t the ghost of Shakespeare, claiming retribution?”
“You tell me, Ophelia.”
That made us both grin.
“I have an IUD,” I blurted out. “By the way. Just in case you were worried about it.”
“I wasn’t. I know. It was in your chart.”
“So that’s how you knew where I lived.”
His face actually colored. Caught red-handed.
I smirked. “Doctor…are you medically stalking me?”
“You’re also allergic to oysters.” His thumb pressed in, spreading my toes. “You broke your arm when you were nine. And you have naturally high sodium levels, which makes you prone to fainting spells if you don’t drink enough water.” He frowned. “You need to be better about hydrating, Ophelia.”
A glass of water sat on the table beside me. I tilted my head at it. “Will you help, Sir?”
Phantom picked up on my cues. He put my foot down and shifted forward on the couch, climbing on top of me. He curled a finger against my jaw. “Open.”
I opened my mouth for him. He lifted the glass of water, but tilted it to his own lips, taking in a mouthful. Then he bowed over and fed me from his mouth, spilling water into mine. It should not have been as erotic as it was and I swallowed, sucking, our tongues dancing together.
It hit me, all at once: Phantom is in my home. We can exist outside the club. This felt new. Almost…forbidden.
We were breaking the rules, but I couldn’t stop.
I wanted him to fuck me on my couch. In the kitchen.
In my bed. I wanted every room to have a memory of him inside of me.
I could feel him starting to swell again against my hip, and I pushed my body against his desperately, and—fuck—we weren’t going to get any sleep—
He broke our kiss with a quick breath. “God,” he said, “kissing you is addictive.”
I bit my lip. “Are we breaking the rules? You know…Phantom and Ophelia need to stay at the club.”
“New rule,” he said. “This stays at the club…except in cases of an emergency.”
“What was the emergency?”
His eyebrows knitted. “I was wounded.”
I tickled my fingers down his chest. “I suppose you were.”
His gaze followed my fingers. “Did you play with anyone tonight?”
The question threw me off. My touch halted. “What?”
“At the club.”
Was this a test?
“No. Was I…supposed to?”
“You can, if you want to,” he said, unaffected.
Wait—hold on. I put my hand on his chest forcing him back so I could look him in the eyes. Sex was officially paused.
“So this isn’t…exclusive? Are you playing with other people?”
I’d like to say I was prepared to have a normal reaction to his response. But the truth was, anger whipped through me like a rattlesnake. If he said yes, there was a good chance he was going to get stabbed for a second time that night.
The edge of his mouth tucked in. “No. I’m not.”
“But you want me to…?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand. This feels like a trick. Or a recipe for resentment.”
“When we first started playing, I asked you what you wanted. Do you remember what you told me?”
I shook my head.
“You said you wanted to experience everything. I don’t want you to hold yourself back. Not for me—not for anyone.”
“Don’t you want it? More.”
He cocked his head. “Like what?”
“A wife, kids…”
I lost eye contact for a minute. When he returned it, however, his tone was resolute. “I have the club. That’s my family. That’s all I need.”
“Maybe the club is all I need, too.”