Page 18 of Ghost
The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh.
She’s sitting here in nothing but a thin, worn t-shirt and a pair of tiny shorts. The fabric of the shirt is taut against her chest, clearly revealing the hard, pebbled points of her nipples.
No bra.Fuck.
“Eliza,” I growl, the word a final warning and a desperate plea all at once.
“Touch me.” Her order comes out shaky. “In return, let me touch you.”
As if either of us can negotiate while we’re in this current state, I’m nodding my head without thinking. It’s when she’s immediately reaching for me that I realize that I’m a goner.
10
Eliza
My hands seem to have a mind of their own, and right now, their only focus is him. Once I start touching Ghost, a switch flips inside me, and I can’t stop. I don’t know if it’s the days of pent-up impatience or the deep, throbbing ache between my legs that I’ve denied for too long, but the last shred of my control evaporates with the steam between us.
I can’t take it anymore.
His hands find my hips, his grip demanding, then slide lower to squeeze my ass, pulling me hard against him. A pulse shoots through me, feeding into the throbbing that’s forming against my clit.
Can he feel it? Can he feel the furnace-hot heat radiating from where I’m most sensitive? The way my shorts are clinging to me, damp with arousal, must be a dead giveaway. Every tiny shift of my body against his rough hands makes the slick friction a torturous promise.
I’m not the only one lost in this. The evidence is a hard, insistent pressure against my lower stomach, and the ragged sound of his breathing is the most potent aphrodisiac I’ve ever known.
Dragging my hands down the rigid planes of his chest, I don’t hesitate. I reach for the waistband of his shorts and loosen the weak knot.
A voice in my head whispers I should ask, but it’s drowned out by a louder need to discover every inch. I need to see him. I need to see the hard, thick length of him that’s been digging into me, the physical proof of this hunger we’ve been circling.
His fingers dig brutally into my flesh as another filthy curse tears from his lips. I peel the fabric back, and cool air hits his flushed, straining skin. His briefs are tented, and right at the tip, a dark, damp spot has bloomed against the cotton. My mouth waters on instinct.
“Fuck, Eliza. How am I supposed to think when you’re moving so fast?” His words are strangled, transforming into a guttural groan as I wrap my hand around him through the final, frustrating layer of fabric. He’s hot and solid and so much bigger than I imagined.
It’s intoxicating to see this powerful, controlled man completely unravel because of me. After a lifetime of being a pawn, of being weak and controlled, I crave this power. I love the broken, helpless sounds he makes as I drag my thumb slowly over the dampest spot, feeling him jerk and pulse under my touch.
I give him a momentary relief by hooking my fingers into the waistband of his briefs and pulling them down. His cock springs free, falling heavy against his stomach, swollen and flushed a deep, angry red at the tip.
I have to remind myself to blink, to breathe. My fingers, trembling slightly, trace the thick, roping veins that lead up to the weeping slit.
“How…” My voice is a breathless whisper. “How is something so big supposed to fit inside me?” The thought is equal parts terrifying and thrilling. I hold up my hand, comparing the size of two of my fingers. “I’ve only ever been able to… It’s only been these.”
A choked sound rips from Ghost’s throat. He curses, and his cock gives a violent jump against his stomach, a silent testament to how much my admission affects him.
“We shouldn’t… not here on the floor, of all places,” he grates out, his chest heaving. His hands are still on my hips, holding me like he’ll never let go, even as he voices his doubts. “If we keep moving at this rate… I don’t want you to regret this. Giving away something so precious.”
He’s trying to be noble, to protect me even from himself. But as he’s expressing his concerns, my gaze is locked on the evidence of his desire. A fresh bead of moisture glistens at his tip. My tongue darts out to wet my own lips, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I look up, meeting his conflicted gaze.
“I don’t care about the floor,” I whisper, my voice gaining a strength I didn’t know I possessed. “Can I taste it?”
He does a double-take at my question before leaning back and pinching his brow. “How am I supposed to say no?”
Despite his words, he reaches for my wrists, lifting them to press kisses to my racing pulse. Urging me to my feet, he uses the table to get up. The distance between us doesn’t last long before he’s pulling me back into a searing kiss.
Pulling back, his breath tickles my lips. “I’m stepping away for a moment. When I come back…” He pinches my shirt. “I want everything off.”
My knees feel like they’re going to give out with the low growl of his voice. When I nod, he forces his body away and turns. Disappearing into the shadows of the cabin, I don’t waste time.
