Chapter 25 Violet
Chapter Twenty-Five
VIOLET
I shake. For a moment there, I thought The Ghost had lost his mind. But he was mad, jealous, testing me.
The idea of him being jealous of Cade licks along my insides. If I was another man, I’d be jealous of him, too.
Cade’s good looking, funny, smart, nice. He’s tall and well built like a runner.
And The Ghost wants me to sneak out on him.
I don’t want to.
I like Cade.
I think…I think I’ve got a crush on him, a small one that bubbles away unexpectedly, one that’s been there even when I was with Jack.
But I’m addicted to the filth and darkness of The Ghost.
I stay in the bathroom for a long time.
Am I actually going to do this? There’s addiction, and there’s being rude.
Me leaving has me giving into that addiction and is also beyond rude.
What I should do is tell Cade I don’t feel well and head home.
But…
I want The Ghost more.
With a sigh, I wash my hands and leave the bathroom.
There’s a side entrance, near the bathrooms, and I decide to go out through there. I can’t face going by Cade and out the front door. He might see me. Worse, I might crumble and rejoin him.
But I look at him, as he checks something on his phone, his bag next to him is open, and he has his glasses on. It’s probably work.
I bite down on the guilt as I sneak out, convincing myself he’ll understand. I’ll make it up to him, we’ll go out again and this time, I’ll keep my phone off. Or on silent.
I’ll tell him I felt ill and just needed to go.
It’s lame. It’d never hold up in court, but I’m weak and pathetic, and so I slide out into the night, glad I have my phone because my bag is at the table with Cade.
The phone case has an emergency set of keys in it, so I’ll be able to get into my apartment, and I’ll just call Cade, tell him I’ll—
I stop as my phone buzzes.
Cade: Is everything okay?
Shit.
I don’t answer. Instead, I do something deeply wrong.
I text the Ghost instead.
Me: I’m outside. I feel like shit, leaving Cade in there alone waiting for me. I should go back.
I start to turn, but my phone buzzes.
Ghost: Forget him. Walk. Go to this bar…
Another text appears, an address.
Ghost: Order a drink. Sit on it, two max, but make them last. I’ll be in touch.
I almost text him back, but I don’t. Instead, I do what he asks. And I find a dark corner and sit. I get another Manhattan, paying for my drink by phone, and sip it.
Waiting. I play with my phone, hating that there’s another text from Cade, asking the same thing, but I ignore that, too.
I’m a terrible person, someone who doesn’t even deserve the friendship of someone like Cade.
By the time I order my second drink, having fended off two men who wanted to get to know me, according to them, I’ve been here over an hour.
Each minute that ticks by is excruciating, and I really don’t know what I’m doing.
This is utter insanity.
I don’t even know what The Ghost looks like, and this isn’t a relationship thing, this is sex. Depraved sex.
I ran out on someone who might be too old for me, who might be wrong because he’s my ex’s brother, who’s definitely too good for me, but who I think I like, who I could maybe have a real thing with, for this.
Sitting in a bar alone, drinking and waiting for someone to maybe text me.
It’s got pathetic plastered all over it.
The minutes tick by, and I slow down on the drink. And then, I order a shot. It isn’t a drink, it’s a shot, and I pour it into my glass to make it last.
Because I’m on hour three here.
Hour. Three.
It’s getting close to when I should be tucked up in bed.
Shit.
But finally, I only have one very watery sip left, and I swallow it.
I don’t know what to do.
So, I wait. And wait.
Until…
Ghost: Go now, and don’t turn around. You passed Orlo Park on your way here. Yes, I’ve been following you since you left work. It’s two blocks of urban parkland. And it’s closed. Go there.
Vi2l: But what if someone’s there?
Ghost: Someone will definitely be there.
I shiver.
It’s late, and I’m alone.
I approach the park.
This part of Greenpoint is still industrial, and it’s not busy at all at night. In fact, there’s no one around. And the park is just a maw of darkness, the rustle of leaves among the city sounds makes it emptier, lonelier than it should be.
I take a breath and push through the gate, the padlock picked and the chain open, the gate ajar.
I’d never normally walk through a park at night this late and alone.
Then again, I’m not really alone, am I?
There’s no way The Ghost made me sit in that bar and didn’t have something planned.
He’d never let something happen to me. Not something I didn’t want.
And he knows my fantasies.
I step inside, swallowed by the dark. I stick to the winding path that takes me through the center, not the one on the edge that I took with Cade.
“Don’t think about Cade,” I whisper under my breath.
There’s no one around, just the sounds of the city in the near distance and…
I shiver again.
It’s not cold The evening is warm enough with just a touch of cool around it, but inside I’m ice. I’m fire.
Something makes me jump.
The snap of a twig, and I whirl, almost screaming as my phone buzzes and nothing moves but the shadows.
Thing is, just because parks have opening hours and gates doesn’t mean people don’t come in here. It doesn’t mean I’m alone.
And I’m not counting The Ghost.
I don’t even know if he’s here.
It could be anyone.
Or no one.
I shakily pull my phone from my pocket and look at the message.
Ghost: Remember your safe word.
“That’s no help,” I say, a little louder. A small sob overtakes as I whisper, “What if it isn’t you?”
But apart from the text, there’s nothing.
I put on the flashlight on my phone, and it lights up a few steps ahead. It lights up exactly where I am.
Fuck…
Wavering, I decide to just try to get out of here and quicken my pace. If The Ghost was going to do anything, he’d do it.
As I move, a trickle of unease winds down my spine.
Someone’s following me.
A footstep. A crunch of leaves. The soft sound of breath.
I turn, swinging the light from my phone.
Nothing.
I turn back and increase my pace.
Thing is, the park isn’t huge, but it’s not tiny. A couple of blocks when I think about it, is enough for someone to grab me…someone other than The Ghost. Someone who wants to hurt, do me harm. It’s enough for The Ghost to not be able to find me, to lose sight of me.
Because wouldn’t he keep texting?
Wouldn’t he make himself known?
I keep hurrying, catching a glimpse of a street lamp to my left, so I move off the path, over the uneven ground.
My foot catches on a tree root, and I tumble, phone skittering as I drop it and put my hands out to catch my fall.
My heart is hammering as I start to get up.
A heavy weight hits me, slamming me back into the ground, and I try to scream but a gloved hand slams over my mouth.
“Do as you’re told.” The Ghost’s voice is rough and low, a whisper. “Get on your hands and knees.
Nodding, I do, and then he hauls my skirt up around my waist.
Rough, gloved fingers stroking harsh over my pussy, sending rivulets of pleasure cascading through me.
He shoves a finger in, and I whimper.
“Wet. Good. Filthy, dirty girl. Just begging to be raped.”
“Yes…”
“Shut the fuck up.”
He pulls out, and then leans over me, pulling at my shirt, popping a button and pushing it down with my bra so my arms are caught, my breasts exposed.
I can see me in the light from my phone, one of his black sneakers as he moves, blocking the light, and the sound of his zip fills the air.
The Ghost grabs my ponytail and hauls me up to my knees, and his cock is there, big, erect, precum at the tip.
My whole body spasms. “No…”
He growls. “Yes.”
And then he pulls my hair and forces my mouth open. His cock poised to enter.
“Any words?”
“No.”
“Good.” He shoves his cock into my mouth, gagging me, and I don’t have time to breathe.
He fills me, and he thrusts down to the back of my throat, making me gag.
He doesn’t stop. He pulls almost all the way out and then shoves all the way in, over and over.
I can’t breathe as he fills me, consumes me, and I love it.
My clit throbs hard. I want to touch myself, to hell with his commands, but my arms are confined by my shirt, and I’ve just enough awareness not to pop all the buttons off.
His gloved fingers dig into my scalp as he pushes my face against him, his cock down my throat, and I struggle.
I’m drooling, every single part of me bursting with joy and excitement-tinged fear at his assault.
His cock twitches, seems to grow.
Black starts to burst in front of my eyes, my muscles softening.
The struggle seeping away as I push down even further on him, hungry for more as consciousness slips away.
But just before oblivion takes over, he shoves me away into the grass and dirt.
I lie there, coughing, gasping, and he moves, tossing me roughly on my front, and the dirt pushes soft and cool against my breasts.
My shirt must be ruined, the bra still holding my arms, and I can’t think straight.
I’m instinct. I try to get up, get away from him, and I almost make it, but he flings me down again, rougher this time, kicking my legs apart as he hauls me by the hips up so I’m face down, ass up, the coolness of the breeze on my wet and exposed flesh.
Then he licks me.
It’s pure velvet heat, the pressure different to when he invaded my mouth. This is almost seductive, until he reaches my clit and bites.
I moan, loud.
“Shut up.”
The command rolls through me, thick. It excites everywhere it touches, and I swallow down the scream as I come in waves from that sharp bite.
He licks and sucks and licks some more. Every touch is a layer of need and desire. And when those gloved fingers push into me, I’m plunged into a sea of longing and erotic sparks.
Another small orgasm hits, and he hooks his fingers, suddenly thrusting in and out like a piston until I shudder.
A cry breaks free, and I don’t even know what’s happening except it’s to the entirety of my body, like an orgasm that’s eating me whole, bone deep, insane, and I almost pass out.
Then he slowly pulls out and paints up with his fingers, to my ass.
At first, I think he’s going to do something that’s never been done. I’ve never had anyone back there before. I don’t know if I’m ready.
But his hand bypasses the forbidden place and he grips my hair, kneeling behind me, and shoves into my pussy, so hard it almost hurts.
I grunt. And then he starts to fuck me, and it’s clear this is his pleasure ride, not mine. He’s using me like I’m a sex toy, a thing there to give him pleasure, and my excitement bubbles.
He’s rough, hard, and I fucking love it.
He moves me without asking, and he shoves a finger into my ass, then a second one, stretching me, and I shudder as he slams into my pussy as hard as he needs. Long strokes that hit that thing inside, that resounds out with intense waves of glory.
I start coming, and it’s that same wild bone deep thing that spreads from every part of me and back.
And he pulls out.
Then he pushes into my ass and shoves my head down holding it there while he rides my ass with abandon.
He doesn’t care I’ve never done this. He doesn’t care if it’s good for me. He only cares about himself.
He builds it up, from his slow push in to holding himself in me, to the abandon of the thrusts, now getting rougher, deeper, harder.
It’s a wild ride, and it’s something I’ve wanted to try but not ever dared to ask for, and it’s beyond anything I could have imagined.
Weird, hot, good, and I can feel him everywhere, and whatever he’s touching as he slams into me is so intensely good that I go up in flames.
The orgasm is the most intense thing…I can’t even think straight…it’s so different, and I’m addicted.
And he doesn’t care.
He doesn’t care.
This is his pleasure, not mine, he pushes me down one hand on my hip as he rides me.
I’m used, abused, even as I come, and then he slams deep, releasing in me.
He pulls out and lets me go, and I collapse.
My phone buzzes, and it’s suddenly clear, as I shakily get up, that he’s gone.
The light is still coming from my phone, but something is on it, something soft that smells like him, like he sprayed his scent on it.
I look down in the small light from my phone.
I’m basically naked, and my shirt is ruined, filthy.
The soft thing is a top, a sweater, black and no logo. It smells both new and like him. Like it’s soaked in him.
A small sob rises as I pull it on.
I look at my phone.
Ghost: Lucky I’m not making you do the walk of shame home. Put on the sweater. I want you to smell like me. Like sex. I want my cum running down from your ass, the precum from your pussy. I want your juices there, too.
Ghost: Hold your flashlight to you and turn, so I can see the beautiful damage of fucking you.
Shaking, I do that.
My phone buzzes again.
I flash the light around me but don’t see anything.
And he doesn’t comment.
Ghost: Good. Put the fucking sweater on. Leave your top. Don’t look back.
I do as asked, fighting the urge to look back again.
He let me get away with flashing the phone’s light around in the park, but I don’t think he’ll tolerate me looking back, trying to catch a glimpse of him.
Like Orpheus, I fight the urge to look back all the way home. Unlike him, I don’t.
I know The Ghost is behind me.
Somewhere.
When I get home, I look in the mirror.
I look like what just happened. Like I was basically fucked senseless—fantasy raped—in a park.
Is something wrong with me?
I loved him pinning me down, ordering me about. I thrilled at him forcing his cock down my throat and ripping my clothes. I adored how he fucked me without thought in my mouth, pussy, ass.
And being forced, being made to be a filthy, filthy girl was incredible.
Is incredible.
His toy, his thing to play with, treated as nothing more than something to please him, to take whenever he wants a release.
Being taken against my will…no, that’s not quite right, because I agreed to it, but taken without any say to how I might like it is more amazing than I thought.
I have my safe word but I didn’t even think of using it once.
This experience…
I shudder, pleasure rippling through me.
The experience is even better than my fantasies.
I check my phone.
Lia has called me.
And it drags me back down. Not her, but the fact I left Cade at the bar. But honestly, I’m on a high, I’m still floating in a sea of bliss, and I can’t really let the guilt eat me.
I’ll call her back but just say I was out.
There’s a touch of shame, I know, but what happened is all mine and besides, I don’t think she’ll understand. She won’t get it.
The only person who really understands me is him.
The Ghost.