Chapter Twenty
CADE
I need the extra time. There’s a bar that I stop at and get a whiskey.
Fuck. I’ve had some intense sessions in my life, but that one… That one beat out the rest.
I don’t know if it’s the wrongness, the fine lines I utterly destroyed even as we set up certain boundaries that hold the potency, or if it’s Vi.
There’s a part of me that should be pissed the fuck off with her for going in with such abandonment with someone she thinks is a stranger. Someone she hasn’t seen.
Does the girl have a freaking death wish?
The Ghost could be anyone.
Yeah, but I’m The Ghost.
“Fuck.” I knock back my drink.
Am I jealous of my alter ego?
It’s kind of some Superman shit, right there, even though I bear no resemblance to the caped superhero, and I don’t tend to wear my underwear on the outside.
But jokes aside, am I?
Because maybe the light looks she’s given me before, right around the time she dumped my brother, when she brought over her computer, looks that seemed to hold a nugget of something like interest, even if she didn’t pick it herself, just might have all been in my head.
She didn’t notice me in the restaurant.
She didn’t recognize my disguised voice in her studio, and she didn’t recognize my smell.
I down the last one as I pay up and continue to the subway stop, taking the stairs down underground to the platform. I’m wearing a scent. Something potent that’s way more Enzo than me. In fact, he gave me the small bottle earlier, like he knew exactly what I was planning.
Maybe not with who, but…
I use my phone to swipe my metrocard and push through the turnstiles.
Of course, he knew.
Enzo’s a devious motherfucker with a sexual appetite that rivals mine. Only difference is he indulges his at every opportunity. I hold back for the right experiences.
An orgasm is an orgasm, and I can take care of business easily if that’s all I want.
When it comes to sexual preferences, then I hold back and hunt down what I want.
Violet.
That’s what I want.
And fucking her has only increased that want.
I turn my head to work, something we’re just starting.
Tomorrow’s a full day, and it’s going to be tedious, to most people. But I like it. There’s something calming in it all, taking time to look at the system, to see things others don’t, to work out the best way to navigate and also anticipate any unexpected issues along the way.
The name of that game is to not only not be caught, but to try and make it like no one was ever there.
Some idiots love to leave calling cards, little things that stamp it as theirs.
Sort of like I do with The Ghost.
But The Ghost is different from work. That’s meant to wear a signature. People need to know who’s exposing the latest problem.
When I work? A signature is the fastest way to getting caught. So, both Enzo and I go in as clean as we can and try to leave it like no one was ever there.
And The Ghost leaves actual signatures, not a certain way of doing things. I’m not talking surface, I mean under the flair of drama or shock and awe. Even there, no one could say it was one person or twenty as The Ghost.
There have been a couple of copycats, but I’ve tracked each and every one of them down. I keep eyes on them.
Just in case they use my name in the wrong way.
No one has because they all realize if they try to go for fame or money, it falls apart. No once has I sought to make a dime as The Ghost. Or seek recognition.
After all, it’s in the name.
I get off at First Avenue and walk home, keeping my mind on my work as The Ghost.
It’s not until I return to my empty loft that I give in to the memories of fucking Vi.
I can still taste her behind the whiskey. I can still feel her warmth.
I don’t know what possessed me to pick up the metal salad fork I found in her drawer the other day. But I did, and it came in handy as a fake knife to her throat.
Just a little something to add to the whole thing.
I came in her so fucking hard I might have blacked out for a moment.
The sizzle of pleasure that raced down my spine and through my cock is still there, bright like I could touch it.
The way she fought and squirmed and gave into me, let her passions take her over and wrap her thighs around me was better than anything I’ve ever imagined.
And I’ve imagined this a lot.
My imagination sucks.
I groan as I pour another drink, needing to take the edge off, knowing I’m not even close to being done.
My cock’s hard. Her pussy was tight, hot, wet, and the way it clenched was like an epiphany.
She was so fucking wet before I even got there. And she begged.
It was like music, those words, a stroke against my flesh, lips around my cock.
She fought, begged, pleaded. And never once uttered her safe word.
I down my drink and strip off, showering, gripping my cock, and closing my eyes, the water paling when compared to how slick she was when I pushed in my fingers, paling when compared to how she was when I slammed my cock into her.
God, she’s orgasmic, and she’s willing to dive into the game. It’s her fantasy, yes, but with every single stroke, I felt a part of her soften and open for me. A boundary thin and starting to break.
I work my cock harder, squeezing almost like I need to punish myself as my balls tighten.
How many boundaries are there to fall before we reach her hard stone wall? The one of cement.
Fuck. My spine streaks with fire, and I erupt, my cum hitting the shower wall as the orgasm takes me, ripping me apart, not as intense as the one with her, but close.
My legs threaten to buckle, and I slam a hand on the wall, hanging my head as I close my eyes, now slowly pumping, even though I’m done, working through that excruciating sensitivity like I need to punish myself for coming.
I squeeze a sponge of soapy water over the wall a few times, washing the evidence away.
And I finish my shower, enjoying the heat of the water’s needles on my skin.
How the fuck did Jack not see what he had?
She’s exquisite, a rare find, a lone jewel sparkling in darkness.
But I don’t think Jack harbors urges different from the average guys.
He probably thinks gang bangs or threesomes are kinky.
I’m betting he fantasizes more about two girls than a group of dudes banging one girl in all her holes, sometimes at the same time.
That’s a visual thing, a spank bank piece of porn.
Then again, I don’t and have never sat with my brother to talk about what we like. I don’t do that with anyone.
It’s maybe why when I enter into something, the talk side is as erotic as the acts. And why I like to hold off on my orgasm, edging myself.
Thing is, I think I’m going to have to jerk off again tonight.
She’s opened something in me, and I don’t know if I can control it.
I get out of the shower and dry off, pulling on a T-shirt and boxer briefs.
Her pleas still follow me like a scent trail, and they’re just as intoxicating.
She begged.
I ignored her.
But I’d have stopped if she said cement. Immediately, even mid cum.
Well, I wouldn’t be able to stop that, but I’d have stopped fucking her, I’d have pulled out and away. Made a mess, but I’d have stopped.
She didn’t use her safe word. Instead, she fought me, gave in, fought again. It was a symphony. Or maybe a dance.
It was in short, incredible.
I gave her what she wanted and more.
But there’s something, right there in the back of my head, that tempers my pleasure in the aftermath a little.
Because how the fuck would she react if she knew it was just me, Cade? I know I’m The Ghost. But I think she thinks he’s almost mythical. Or someone more desirable than her ex’s older brother.
What would she do if I told her?
There was chemistry between us the other day, I know that. Thinking about it again, I know I didn’t imagine it.
Chemistry can be there without it leading anywhere, but I don’t deny I’d wanted to kiss her, just taste her, see what she’s about.
I still haven’t. I didn’t…
Thing is, I could have, maybe should have, but even kissing her throat was indulgent and out of character for this particular fantasy I just gave her. If we venture into this, then things can morph and grow. But…
Why the fuck didn’t I kiss her when I wanted to? Or tonight?
Before is easier to explain.
The Ghost is her style, a fantasy brought to life, and my alter ego developing a relationship is the thing she wants, not me. If I did kiss her… What if she pushed me away? Or what if she fell into it and that ruined her Ghost fantasies?
Vi’s the type to end it with The Ghost if she meets a real-life man, and then…down the track…her urges would rear up, and I’d be left with a secret that’d pull us apart and push her to someone else.
“Fuck me.” I get another drink and head to my room.
I don’t even know if she’d be that into me. Or imagine something happened, would we be suddenly vanilla?
I shake my head. “Listen to you, man. You sound crazy.”
And I do.
Because why didn’t I kiss her? Apart from it not fitting the fantasy, I don’t know.
And I think I’ll leave it as not wanting to complicate what’s happening with The Ghost.
I take a sip.
One thing is for certain, though. At some point, something has got to give here. If we get deeper into it, risk of exposing the truth is going to rise.
And do I want to keep it all secret forever?
It doesn’t matter this has an end date somewhere down the line. Keeping it as the mysterious ‘Ghost’ means we’re limited.
The truth needs to come out.
I guess I need to decide if I pick a time or if I let it happen?
Right now, I opt for letting it happen.
It feels right, like it’s part of the game.
What isn’t part of the game is not offering her aftercare. Not even a text.
I pick up my computer and log into the texts.
Me
Are you okay?
Vi2l
Like you care.
Me
We played a game. That was your pure rape fantasy. I’m hoping you feel deliciously…violated.
It’s a risk, using the word, but I think I need to. She has to know it was a game and the word, if she’s truly feeling that, will set something off in her.
Vi2l
You left. But I’m okay. More than okay. Deliciously, wonderfully violated.
My heart beats fast, and my cock starts to stiffen again.
‘Please don’t… please…’
Fuck. The thought of her words sets my libido on fire.
Vi2l
It was amazing.
I suck in air between my teeth, determined not to beat off.
Me
That was just purity. Your fantasy in a nutshell. It’s only a taste of what I’ve got in store for you, if you’re willing.
Vi2l
Yes, sir. But…will there be kisses?
Me
Maybe. Depending.
Yes.
I let out a shuddery breath.
Vi2l
Good. And I wish I could hear your voice. Can I? Please?
There’s something so fucking hot about Violet begging outside of the game, the soft ask that comes through in her text, that it heats my blood.
But it knocks me sideways, too, her ask. Because it’s a risk.
She’s not asking for a growled whisper or me using a modulator. She wants to hear me.
And that’s dangerous.
Me
Soon.
It should really bother me, concern me.
Vi’s smart, and she knows me. Chances are high she’ll recognize my voice as she’s heard it enough. She might not have with the growled whisper, but enough times talking, even in a lowered voice, without a modulator, she might work it out.
But it excites me.
I love taking risks. It’s part of what led me into my lifestyle, part of why I love primal play, when I get to do it, and fantasies of control. Not to mention risky, public sex.
Risk taking is in my blood, it’s why I’m a hacker. One of the reasons, anyway.
And taking the risk of her working out it’s me is tempered with the thought of being able to really talk dirty to her in real time without a barrier of anything, but perhaps a throne and a modulator, even the one I have, hides my voice enough so it doesn’t feel right to do more than send a command or voice message.
I can’t pass it up.
If she works out The Ghost’s me, then we’ll deal with that, too.
Hopefully, she’ll be too gone to care by then.
With that, I put my phone down, after sending her one last message.
Me
Sleep well.
I need to sleep and not beat off. I want to, I desperately want to again, but I need to see if I can control myself until our next encounter.
It helps build the urgency, the depravity, and I’m very disciplined when I need to be.
So, I check in on Jack, on the text stream he’s got access to, the one I set up.
I smirk slowly when it shows Jack has read the texts.
And the last one from Vi is a fucking doozy.
Violet
No…but I have this fantasy. I went into the sex shop and saw the butt plugs.
Some of them are huge. Giant things and see…
I secretly want to watch the guy I’m with be violated with a giant butt plug, or better, a giant dildo, one of the fist ones.
Can you imagine, him bent over, ass cheeks held apart as someone rams his ass with that fat dildo? Delicious.
I laugh, I can’t help it.
If this doesn’t scare some sense into my brother, make him veer away from Violet and stop reading these, then I’m not sure what will.