Chapter Five
She slept on her side, looking innocent and somehow purer than he remembered from his living days. Carson, his first, best friend.
Her slow breathing calmed him. She always affected him like no other woman, so it shouldn’t surprise him that her submission would affect him like none ever before her.
All other women paled in the shadow of her presence. They’d only been practice for this.
Practice for claiming her.
Regret became his new closest companion. If only he’d taken the risk and touched her while he’d been alive. Grabbed her by the hair, pinning her arms behind her and kissing her until she begged him to take her. If he’d bent her over the couch even one time and smacked her soft, round ass or licked her hot little slit.
He wanted to taste her.
Just once.
He wanted to see if the velvet glove of her core would grip his dick and her hot moisture would make him slip in and out….
Instead he was a Dominant without a cock.
Or am I?
Glancing at her bedside table, he used his thoughts to shove open the drawer.
Every girl’s best, battery-operated friend. A purple-headed toy, the rabbit positioned to hit a woman’s clit while the plastic shaft pleased her slick heat.
His lips curled.
I can work with that.
She woke when the blanket shot toward the ceiling.
His smell, all around her, comforted and aroused her at once. Stretching, she didn’t try to hide her smile. “I gotta say, I like that you don’t sleep.”
“Feel like playing?”
“You’re asking?” she teased.
“Not really.” Her legs shot out to be pinned to the mattress. “Don’t move.”
“Can I speak?”
“You can beg. Tonight, I want to hear you beg.” His voice, rough and rich with need, increased the desire awakened so easily.
She sucked in a breath. A new game, then.
“Are you sure you can make me?” A familiar hum answered her. “Is that my vibrator?”
The sound stopped then started again, louder and faster. She wriggled in response, ready for it to tease her to satisfaction.
The toy quieted again and the bed shifted, as if he’d joined her on it. In the utter blackness of her bedroom, she strained her eyes, almost sure she’d see him if not for the lack of light.
His lips closing over hers stunned her.
Never before had one kiss managed to say so very much. His tongue tangled with hers as he mated their lips and his breath brushed across her skin. She struggled against her restraint, longing to curl her fingers into his black hair and feel his breath on her cheek as his tongue danced with hers.
His kiss tasted bittersweet. She’d waited for it so long and finally found it in her twisted grief. She hated the idea it might be a hallucination brought on by the loss of him.
Not that it mattered. A single tear for what they might have had traced its way down her cheek as she twisted in her bonds to continue the kiss as long as possible.
His tender hand stroked her face and she stuttered out a sigh. “I love you.”
The words, only said to him in jest while he’d been a vibrant, breathing man, slipped past her lips so much easier to the phantom.
“Love you, too, blondie.” His earnest declaration filled her with warmth. “And now, I’m gonna make you scream.”
His hands, suddenly everywhere, his mouth, teasing, tempting, biting.
She lifted her arms to touch him, finding nothing to stop her movement, and all of it stopped.
Gone.
Panting in the darkness, she pinched her eyes closed.
Forcing her muscles to still, she waited.
And he was upon her again. When his tongue lapped between her legs, her hips arched up to meet him.
And he left her gasping out his name. Punching the mattress, she glared into the darkness. “You’re not playing fair.”
“You’re not begging yet.”
Again, she breathed through the raging desire, the pumping of her blood running hot through her veins, and lay still on the bed.
He rewarded her by tugging her nipples hard, pulling the tight nubs until he stretched her breasts.
Spreading her legs, he teased the toy against her slit. In that moment though, it didn’t feel like a toy. He may be a ghost but….
He knelt between her legs, a man—her man—in the darkness. He positioned the toy to push it into her and she urged him on.
“Please,” she whimpered.
Ignoring her, he rubbed the vibrating toy along her slit, collecting moisture to move faster. The urge to lift her hips grew so great, she wasn’t sure she could resist it.
“God, please, Randall.”
The movement stopped.
Gritting her teeth, she tried again. “Please, Master.”
Barely touching her clit, he rolled the head and she jerked.
He stopped again.
She howled.
His laughter flowed over her, which arched the pressure, the desire, the need higher.
“Fuck me, Master. Fuck me hard. Shove—”
And then he was, driving into her dripping pussy, and she came so hard, fireworks exploded behind her eyelids. One long, keening cry escaped her raw throat, as if too much pleasure trapped inside her exploded from her. He still moved, riding the crest of the orgasm and when she thought she couldn’t take any more, he flicked on the vibration.
Another scream tore from her and she spasmed around the toy. Ripples crested over her and she shattered into a million fragments.
Teeth closed over one nipple and she was too far gone. Instead of pain, the pressure translated to pleasure and she writhed, jerked against the cock, her nails scoring his back.
“Mine.”
One word, and right then she didn’t have the strength to deny him anything.
“Yours. I’m yours.”