Chapter Ten
VIOLET
I guess I asked for it, so I’m getting it. Cade owning me, treating me as his to take when he wants.
And I think he’s doing just that. He is showing me what is like to be free. To be with him the way I’d imagined and already had tastes of, ever since finding out who he was. The Ghost and Cade, cohesive as one.
It is fantasy without the games. He is hot, hard core in a way that gets my heart and libido wanting to burn down houses.
It’s strange…the thought of a man forcing me to give him a blow job isn’t really on my list of things I want to do.
Neither is humiliating myself by having to rub against his hand to try to get off.
Package that up in Cade’s dirty fantasy setting, and I’m getting wet thinking about it.
I almost blacked out that night, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I push my thighs together.
Cade is beyond hot. The man is fantasy come to life and to think he is The Ghost is…mind blowing whenever I stop and think about it.
The thing is, with Cade I have my safe word. I can use it if it pushes boundaries too much. If I’m scared, if I just want to stop.
He’ll act like I’m a toy, but then he makes me come.
My heart beats fast.
I want to push boundaries.
Last night, and the night before, he didn’t touch me other than hold me tight.
It was torture.
Tonight, though…
I’m determined to make it happen.
I look at my phone.
He’s still at Enzo’s according to the app.
The tiny dot hasn’t moved.
Whatever he and Enzo are working on must be big…I think. Then again, when I try to remember his being around when Jack and I were together, I can’t. Not definitively.
Jack always said his brother worked weird hours. But I know he works from his room, too.
I want to put the itch for more down to me being bored, as I wait for him to come through on the Walsh internship, and I wait, stacking up other offers and voices of interest from different offices I’ve applied to.
Not that I really wanted to, but I know I have to. I’ve only got a few days to make my decision…
I huff out a sigh, as I put my phone down next to the book I am trying and failing to read. Pushing myself up off the bed, I wander over to his computer.
I run my finger over the black laptop casing.
I could open it. Could even turn on his big computer. See what it is he gets up to online. I’m guessing the laptop is the one that doesn’t have work on it, as he’s left it out in the living room before.
After all, he looked and pried into my personal life, so doing that to him—
My phone buzzes, and I cross and pick it up.
Ghost: Watch those pretty prying fingers, or you might find yourself punished.
I growl and look around, trying to see if he’s got some sort of alarm in that area so he knows if someone approaches his desk.
But I stop and almost smack myself in the head.
What am I thinking?
I look up.
Cameras.
He’s got cameras in here.
I turn in a circle, smiling sweetly, then I lift my T-shirt and bra, turning again, flashing him.
Or the room.
My phone buzzes again.
Nope, definitely cameras.
I drop my shirt, wiggling the bra back in place.
Ghost: Naughty girl.
Me: Asshole.
Ghost: Don’t think that pretty show buys you a pass. Unless you want to drop your pants, get on my bed and spread those thighs and finger yourself to orgasm.
I’m tempted. I really am.
It’s permission, and it’s hot.
Me: Depends who’s watching. You or you and Enzo?
Cade: And if it was both?
I grin at the change in personas. And I drop one hand to the top button of my jeans.
Ghost: That would earn punishment.
Me: You have to be here to punish me.
Ghost: I will be, soon.
Cade: What do you want for dinner? I need to pass through Chinatown first, so Vietnamese?
There are a number of things he can order we can reheat.
Me: Yes.
Cade: Thoughts?
Me: Surprise me.
He stops altogether. And I think about what I want, what I need. I want to take advantage of the masturbation time he gave me, but the thing is what if Enzo’s peering over his shoulder?
I’m okay with him seeing me being fingered under my shirt, I think. But seeing me get myself off?
That’s way too intimate.
And I love the idea of an audience, but an audience I know?
“Cement,” I whisper, voice wobbling.
Right now, I’m not ready.
Down the line?
Maybe.
Does that make me completely perverted?
I’m not sure how much I care.
Instead, I tidy.
There really isn’t much to do. But I keep busy, and then I shower, not washing my hair. I spend time rubbing moisturizer in. I want to be extra soft, extra nice for Cade.
I pull on a loose summer dress, not bothering with underwear. It’s not bedtime, it’s not anywhere near it, but when I come out of the bathroom and pick up my phone I grin at the message.
Unknown Number: Nice show.
I swallow.
Me: Cade?
Unknown Number: Next time, you’ll do it for me in person and with instruction.
Me: Ghost?
Unknown Number: And you’ll blow me slowly and take me up your fine ass.
Unknown Number: Number three or number nine?
I stare at the phone.
Cade: Sorry…number three or number nine?
Dinner? Sexual position? The form of punishment?
I’m about to ask him when the heat of arousal curling up inside me stops me.
There’s a delicious thrill in this, and I’m here for it. I don’t need to know what he’s talking about. I’m assuming dinner, but it could be something else.
Me: Number seven.
Cade: You asked for it.
I don’t even know why this makes me happy, but it does. I like the element of surprise, the fact I can find the long game pull as mesmerizing and full-on sex play anticipation.
Maybe the fact that I can play on the edge of all the meanings that come with the word surprise and Cade is part of it, part of us.
With a slow release of breath, I go to a few specialized sites on my computer in the living room to look for the right position.
Then I go to his room, strip off my dress, and then kneel on the floor, ass on my feet, thighs apart, head and eyes down. I’m not sure what his preferred placement is for hands, whether it’s behind the back or in front, but I decide to put them, palms up, on my thighs.
And I wait.
It’s a funny thing, sitting like this, in supplication, because it makes me both at peace and yearn to see him. It turns me on like he’s in the room, touching, stroking, urging me slowly toward orgasm.
Is this how it feels to have your dark desires fulfilled?
I don’t know.
Time seems to move differently, like its outside itself.
My blood pounds in my ears as it swooshes through my veins. Its beat as it fills my clit.
I’m wet, hot all over, and humming somewhere from within.
From somewhere, a door thuds. Footsteps.
I’m not alone.
Smokey woods and basil. Leather and incense. Dark and dirty sex in an old church.
Cade.
The Ghost.
Mine.
All mine.
And a shiver that’s close to orgasmic rakes down my spine.
“Perfect little slut of a slave, is that it?” He stands in the doorway. “Or just a filthy girl thinking she can somehow take the upper hand?”
Slut. It’s not a word I like, along with cunt. But from him, to me, in sex play it’s hot.
It’s the promise of filth and more dirty talk and actions.
I risk a glance up, and his dark eyes are burning, on me. It’s like he’s touching my clit.
“Well?” Cade asks.
“You told me you wanted me naked for bed.” I set my eyes on the floor again, and his soft sound of approval sends a wave of heat rolling over me. One that’s layered by sweet pleasure.
He likes this.
I do, too.
He comes up, toes my left knee with his foot, and I immediately obey the unspoken command, shifting my thighs apart some more for him.
“It’s not bedtime. I got dinner. Including your number seven.”
“What’s number seven?”
“You’ll find out when you eat.” He pauses, then comes down on his haunches, and touches me, fingers lifting my chin, so I have to look at him. “What was your endgame here? Didn’t I tell you not to poke the beast?”
“You wanted me naked. So, I am.”
“In the sub position?” He searches my face, and my clit throbs hard. “I don’t think so.”
“You asked for this,” I whisper, voice coming out breathy as my whole body throbs.
His dark eyes grow in intensity, and he doesn’t smile.
This is The Ghost, up close, no masks, and it’s beyond any expectations. It’s everything I never knew I needed, everything I subconsciously grasped for.
“You said you wanted me naked every night in bed.”
“But…” he murmurs, voice a caress. “You’re not in bed.”
“Do I have to be?”
“I don’t know, do you, Vi?”
“You don’t like it?”
“I never said that. But you’re taunting me, trying to steal power. And it won’t work. When you do things like this, there are consequences.”
I swallow, my entire pussy throbbing with need of his touch. I have no power here. It’s all his. Like I am. “Like what?”
“Like what, she asks?” He laughs softly. “Like if you keep playing at this, little girl, I’ll keep you naked from the moment you step in the door. Day and night.”
I can’t help it. I moan at the thought. I’m not sure if I’d like it in reality, but here and now, the fantasy of it appeals.
“All the fucking time. The very moment your foot crosses the threshold.”
“Cade—”
“In front of all my friends. I’ll parade them through here.” He leans in, mouth brushing my ear. “Maybe I’ll let them touch.”
I shiver.
“You like that thought, don’t you?”
I like the contemplative and blatantly sexual tone to his voice even better. The fantasy is spectacular and already little bursts of pleasure explode in me at the thought of being so beautiful and desirable to him he’d show me off.
Let others touch.
“I guess we can put that theory to the test, and dinner can wait. Stay here.”
My heart pounds as he gets up, goes moving about, and for a wild moment, I wonder if he’s got a slew of men waiting outside to come in.
It’s hot. It’s frightening. It’s ridiculous.
In reality, I don’t think he wants anyone else touching me. I don’t want any woman touching him but me, and I think I might take her down if this mythical, imaginary woman does just that.