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His masterful manipulation works so well that my head lolls, eyes rolling back and I move my hips in circles on his lap, feeling the penetrative strength of his manhood probe me with fervor.
“No!” I cry, swiftly getting up and nearly stumble before regaining my balance. Turning around, I stare at Phantom who watches me like he doesn’t know what to think.
“The fuck...,” he curses under his breath and I pace, dragging my fingers through my hair.
Oh what is this? I don’t even know what to do anymore...
He must think I’m being so erratic. I’m probably not making any sense to him. I’m not making any sense to me either. And I’m pulling at his strings. If I’m not careful he’ll unravel. Then again maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
Trying not to tremble, I whisper, “I got work to do.” He doesn’t reply and I add, “Are you grumpy now?”
“I’m hard.”
Just what I needed to hear. He’s not making it any easier and I’m fretful. “How about a distraction?” I try because I’m trying to soothe the big, bad mobster and he raises his brow. Picking up another brush, I hand it to him. “Help me out.”
Rising, he takes the brush from me and I shiver at the look in his eyes. Standing beside me, he begins painting and my heart pounds. Sometimes he’s just too much for me to handle. He’s also a lot better at this than I am, his height allowing him to reach places I can’t.
“Angel...?” he murmurs without looking at me and I hum. “I like having you around. Did I ever tell you that?”
“No.”
He didn’t have to. I could tell. There doesn’t seem to be anything about me that he doesn’t like.
“How’s the scar healing?” he asks and I bite my lip.
“Just fine.”
“You want me to check?”
And have his hands on me? Again, too risky. But maybe just one time won’t be so bad...
“Alright,” I whisper and inwardly plead he’ll lose control and just ravage me before I get a chance to protest. It won’t count if it happens in a blur, if it happens as a mistake. Dropping the brush, Phantom looks at me with cautious eyes but I still present my back to him.
Facing the windows, I shudder when he slides my shirt up and lets out a groan. I’m not wearing anything underneath and my skin gets all sticky as soon as I feel his fingertips on my lower back. “And?” I pant. “What do you think?”
He silences for a moment as if he can’t speak and then he hoarsely declares, “I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. That ass is the epitome of stunning success but the scar...the scar’s special”
I choke on my words. The scar’s a symbol for our bond. It’ll always be there. Even if I’d marry someone else the scar wouldn’t be erased. It can’t be and neither can Phantom.
“Phantom...” I pant and he whirls me around with a heated groan.
“Skyla,” he growls, yanking me to him but I stumble backward and tip the bucket, causing pink paint to splash across my legs. “Skyla,” Phantom purrs in warning, “you won’t ever get rid of me. My blood runs in your veins, baby.”
Gasping, I stare at him and his eyes narrow.
“Do not turn your back on me!”
He says that because I’m leaving for the bathroom but I shake my head, murmuring an excuse about needing to wash off and then I disappear.
****
Turning on the water, I push my hair away from my face and stare into the mirror. My eyes are shiny and I got goosebumps all over my arms. Shaking myself, I step under the rays and grab the body wash.
It belongs to Phantom. He’s bought me my own but I like smelling the same is him. Soaping up my skin, I let out a moan when my hands trickle over my sensitive breasts. They feel so heavy and the tips are just as inflamed as my core. Trying to wash myself between my legs, I whimper because I ache too much and this is just torturous.
And what am I going to do when I walk back out again and lock eyes with Phantom. I got so much sympathy for him because he must be so confused. First I wanted nothing more than to be his and now I’m acting like I’m having second thoughts.
Thing is though...that I do have second thoughts.
