Page 51 of Ghost

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“I’m fine,” she says, but her tone doesn’t match her words.

Her eyes dart to me, and they might as well be razors slicing my chest open.

“Come on.” I offer her my helmet. “You’re coming with me.”

I turn back toward my bike before she can argue or agree. Before she can think I’m doing this out of care. Before she can think anything more than the fact that I’m trying to keep her safe.

It’s better this way.

Luna disappears into her room the moment we get back to the clubhouse, and I lock myself in my office, notsaying a word to her because I’m an asshole, and there’s no good explanation for how I’m treating her.

This is why I don’t entertain relationships anymore. And it’s why I’ve refused to show her an ounce of attention.

After what we did at the club, she’s expecting something I can’t live up to. Something that will end with her six feet under. Someday, I’ll have to sit her down and explain it, but not now. There’s no time.

Once I’m locked in my office, I can finally think.

I locate the weak point in our system and figure out exactly how the Iron Sinners used it to gain backdoor access to my tracking software. I set up another layer of firewalls and disappear into my work.

Once I’m confident I’ve solved one problem, I spend another hour downloading the data off the Iron Sinner’s phone before destroying it so they can’t trace it back here. There’s not much on it, which means their new tech specialist is probably as smart and paranoid as I am.

Still, I spend a few hours digging through every text, tracing every phone number, and searching the browser history—public and private—to learn everything I can.

I manage to ignore thoughts of Luna until there’s nothing else to think about but the loading bar on a software patch at four in the morning.

This is when I should shut it down and go to sleep. The updates will happen in the background, and I can reset this shit day.

Instead, I find myself flipping through the clubhouse cameras like I don’t already know where I’m going. LikeI won’t inevitably end up on the ones I shouldn’t be accessing. I flip over to Luna’s laptop camera, cursing her for leaving it open like she always does.

It takes a moment for the picture to focus, and when it does, I see her lying in bed sleeping. Her blanket is at her waist, and I watch the rise and fall of her chest with every breath. She tosses and turns a few times, like she senses me watching her, before she settles again.

On my other screen, I pull up the footage from Sapphire Rise. At first, I tell myself I’m just double-checking my work from today, making sure I didn’t miss anything. But as I move back one hour to the next, I know what I’m after.

You can watch this back if you want to, right?

Luna’s question from earlier echoes in my head. She knows I’m sick without me having to admit it, and it didn’t even seem to bother her.

Pulling the footage from the VIP suite, I move it to a private server and delete it from the club’s records. Then I press play and sit back, watching her sway her hips on the stage.

Watching her peel off her shirt.

Her pants.

Walking over to me.

That’s the moment I should have made a different decision than pulling her into my lap.

I can still feel her wet pussy gripping my fingers. I can still smell her pleasure in the air.

Reaching down, I pull my cock out and submit to my sickness. My need for her eats me up inside. On onescreen, she’s sleeping. And on the other, she’s riding my hand.

I stroke my cock, but it’s not enough because I don’t really have her.

I play back the sounds of her moaning while my fingers disappeared inside her, and I imagine my name escaping her lips as she came. I pretend it’s her pussy slicking down on me, tightening and begging for my cum.

My spine tingles, and my body burns as I watch her tip her head back. And when her lips part on the screen, I imagine standing over her and coming down her throat.

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