Page 12 of He Who Haunts Me

I tucked that bit of information away.

“It’s at your pace,” he promised against my lips before capturing them again. I couldn’t nail down any suspicions as I was completely consumed by him. He was addicting; his kisses were like electricity sending shocks through my system and interfering with the synapses of my cognition. I was being drugged with affection and attraction. He was a direct absorption into my bloodstream, and I would’ve been content with just this for the night.

“I want it all,” I answered as my head hit the pillows. Darkness still surrounded us, but he turned me over to easily free the zipper and the chilled air rushed over my exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Stripping the black suit from my body, he threw it in a crumpled pile on the floor.

He fisted my hair and jerked me upright. I gasped as his hand circled my throat.

“Don’t ask for things you aren’t ready for.” Arousal hit me harder when his tongue entered my mouth from this angle. His hand skimmed down the front of my body as he touched everything and nothing all at once. I had decided against a bra at the last second, and I was grateful for the payoff.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Mr. Ghostface.” His response was a chuckle that came from deep in his chest, and it was breathy as it made his voice crack. I wanted more of it. I was so perplexed by this anonymity ruse and his admission of our proximity.

How had I never heard this voice or that precious and wholesome laugh? There was shuffling on the bed followed by snaps and zips. I heard the faint ripping of foil follow.

He was at a full advantage in this darkness.

“And you’re not nearly wet enough.” His disembodied voice came through the dark. Night-obscured hands gripped my ankles and slid me down the bed, turning me to face him again. There was no time wasted as my knees hooked on smooth shoulders and large hands splayed over my thighs.

I moved my hand through the darkness and grazed his fingertips. He returned my touch. His large hand embraced mine so intimately as his fingers interlaced with mine, and a pang started in my chest, as I knew this wouldn’t be forever.

Kisses trailed down my inner thigh as he slipped the lacy lingerie off. Without hesitation or doubt, he devoured me as if we had done this many times before and weren’t midnight strangers seeking a rush of release.

I’d never had someone so confident about my body’s needs. His tongue ran the length of me and circled; neglect caused a deep ache to rise. His rhythmic approach was bliss as stress melted away. Hushed cries escaped, and my body began to rock.

His fingers slipped away from my hand, but I didn’t miss them for long. I felt their presence slip past my slick entrance; he was making a mess of me.

“Oh,” he moaned. “You taste so fucking good.” A steady stroke worked with the rhythmic pulls of his mouth and there was nothing left for me to hold on to. My body shuddered as I gripped his hair and ground my orgasm out against his face. My pussy pulsed as he devoured every drop of my pleasure.

“Holy fuck!” I cried as his brutal fingers ended their assault and my high was falling. As I lay panting and throbbing, he rose above me.

“Taste,” he said as he shoved his two fingers into my mouth. I tasted something sweet and coppery. His other three fingers gripped my jaw and pinned my head. “Suck,” he commanded, and I obliged.

Slowly, I was filled with a thick firmness. A pleasurable pressure pushed against my walls and my cry was strangled around his fingers as he worked his cock into me.What is that? Is that, like, metal?

His fingers nearly gagged me in the process, and saliva started to create a mess. He was to the hilt and the ache inside me grew. Moaning, I was drawing breaths through my nose rapidly. There was so much of him.

He was so deep inside me that my core was pleading for him to move. I started to whimper my begs around his fingers. My chest grew heavier.

“Use me.” His fingers slid out of my mouth and across my lips. I hooked my legs around him and rotated my hips as I rocked back and forth from below. It was hardly bearable as he gripped the back of my neck. “That’s so good,” he grumbled from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Please.” My words were strangled as I was racked with pleasure. “You’re so damn big.” His girth alone was pushing me to an orgasm, and it was making me delirious. I felt his body press into mine, but he was careful to keep his weight off me.

“I can go slow for you.” His nose brushed against mine, and I nodded desperately.

I was wrapped in euphoria as he gradually worked with precision and force. He moved his cock slowly, from the deepest point to just the tip, teasing me. He completed that cycle with an expert roughness. It was the perfect blend that my body had always been missing.

Sex had been sex; it was the same in-and-out sequence that hardly built up to anything dramatic. Even while dating Malcolm, there was hardly a spark that ignited campfires, let alone uncontrollable blazes that devastated forests. Sexual encounters with Malcolm grew out of obligation and societal norms as time went on.

Ghostface came out of the gate with worship and desire. Each stroke exuded passion, and the feeling that began deep within responded. He pushed harder and faster, reaching a depth that had been begging for attention for so long. I met his thrusts, stimulating my clit and edging me closer to freefall. His hand found mine again as his long fingers interlocked with mine.

He groaned out into the darkness with a whimper of pleasure when his cock twitched. I pushed on his shoulder, and he took the cue to hand over the reins as he swiftly shifted our position. Straddling him, I took him fully, hitting new angles that elicited strangled cries from us both. He stroked a hand down my back and gripped the flesh at my hip. He pulled me down harder as I ground against him. There was definitely something different about his cock, something extra.

My hand traced down his torso, gliding with the layer of sweat, and when he rocked from below, the jolt of electricity sent my nails into his skin.

“Jesus fuckingChrist,” he hissed.

His body was chiseled by the gods. My fingers fell into the grooves of his abs and the ridges of his sides. As I moved above him, his abs tightened, and his body met mine; we were harmonious.

I was coming to my climax and quickened my pace in selfish pursuit. Beneath me was a pool of elation. He released my hand and pinched my nipples. My body shuddered with the double stimulation.