Phantom
: Chapter 21

September 18, 1944

I’m dumbstruck by such a licentious command.

In my thirty-six years, I’ve never heard a woman use such vulgar language. Never had a woman demand from me so boldly, either.

She’s a marvel—a wonder that I haven’t even begun to truly learn yet.

Even so, her brazen words affect me viscerally. My cock swells further, becoming painfully harder than it’s ever been. And I’m overcome with the carnal need to make her wish she never asked me to fuck her with a fierceness that will surely send us both into an early grave.

At this moment, I couldn’t give a damn.

I lean closer to her, unleashing all those dark desires and allowing her to see just how dangerous it is to challenge me.

“As you wish, my love.”

Her straight teeth bite into her plump bottom lip, though the red staining them is now smeared across her face from our feverish kiss. There’s also black residue smudged beneath her eyes from her makeup, but the minor imperfections only make her more tantalizing. All this coupled with mussed curls and the sheer black stockings and high heels she dons make her look every bit like a whore, yet I know she has only ever looked this way for me.

It’s a sight curated just for me, and only I will ever get the privilege of seeing her like this.

And that nearly sends me over the edge with an uncontrollable craze. The pride and gratification leaking into my system is toxic, yet there is nothing in this world that could prevent me from relishing in that knowledge.

Unable to hold back any longer, I capture her lips in a deep kiss, diving my tongue into her eager mouth. She moans, and I drink it down greedily, desperate to taste more of those exquisite sounds. I reach between us to position my cock at her entrance, her arousal instantly coating me. She’s sopping wet, proven by the lewd noises that arise as I push into her.

Her mouth falls open against mine, halting our kiss, though I refuse to sever the connection and rest my lips against hers. She sharply inhales while a ragged moan tumbles off my tongue, the two of us swallowing down one another’s pleasure. Her cunt fists me, slowly yielding to my cock. Despite how soaked she is, she’s a virgin to my size, so I force myself to allow her to adjust.

A futile effort.

When I’m halfway, I become impatient. My arms tremble, my body desperate to break free of the restraint coating my muscles.

She ordered me to fuck her like a whore, and it would be terribly rude of me to deny her.

I slam the rest of the way into her, earning a high-pitched squeal. Her warmth is addictive, worse than the drugs tainting Seattle’s streets. Her tiny hands fist the quilt, twisting it in her grip as I pull out and drive back into her a second time.

“Oh! Oh my God,” she pants, a crease forming between her brows as her eyes pinch closed.

“Too much?”

“Yes!” she huffs against me.

I grin against her lips, letting her feel my approval before I murmur, “Good.”

Her eyelids fly open, and she pins me with a weak glare. It’s no more intimidating than a mouse, and she struggles to maintain it. The pleasure is overriding any forced ire, especially as I find a steady pace, pumping into her cunt with quick yet rough strokes.

Soon, she’s peering up at me with unadulterated bliss, her brows pinched and mouth parted. I move away an inch, allowing me a full view of her expression. Her moans grow higher in pitch as I fuck her harder. All the while, she holds my stare, seemingly as entranced by every expression on my face as I am hers.

Just as I presumed, my need for her is insatiable. I ache for more of her. She’s an itch nestled beneath numb skin. No matter how hard I dig, it can’t be scratched.

Gripping the backs of her knees, I pin them to her ears, forcing her to lie flat on her back. The new angle allows me to drive deeper into her. Her cries turn to screams, but if she were to beg for mercy, her pleas would go unanswered.

Her nails fly to my back, raking into my flesh without restraint. The sharp bite of pain mixing with the intense pleasure from her cunt is nearly my undoing, but I refuse to succumb to it just yet.

Snarling, I release one leg to reach between us, my thumb finding her clit and applying pressure. Her eyes roll, and her back bows off the bed.

“That’s it, baby. I want every soul in this damn house to hear you scream my name,” I growl, my vision beginning to blacken from the pleasure.

She’s on the verge of coming undone again, and I refuse to unravel without her.

“Oh my God,” she chokes out, her body beginning to convulse beneath me. Instead of dragging her nails along my back, she now keeps them in place, piercing them deeper and deeper into my flesh until warm liquid trails down my spine.

I lean closer to her ear. “No, mia rosa, not even God can have you,” I growl. “You’re mine, and you will only pray to me.”

“Ronaldo!” she gasps a moment before she silences completely. Her back arches farther, and then she erupts. Her release floods past my cock and splatters onto my stomach, and a scream unleashes from her throat. My name becomes a chant as her orgasm rolls through her, and it’s all I needed to hear to let go.

I’m helpless as her inner walls tighten around me, and I lose myself to the pleasure instantly. Lightning zips down my spine, and I still inside her as fireworks detonate in my blackened vision.

“Fuck,” I groan loudly, unable to contain the word from bursting out of me. The little vixen lets out a breathy, satisfied laugh that mingles with another moan, and if I wasn’t already in love with her before, I’m utterly powerless to her now.

My own release fills her cunt to the brim, and for a moment, I feel crazed enough to think it’s not nearly enough.

It takes several minutes before the both of us come down. Our bodies are slick with sweat, and the smell of sex permeates the air. She pants heavily, staring up at me with astonishment.

Then a melodic—albeit breathless—laugh spills past her lips.

“You didn’t tell me I could have orgasms during sex,” she breathes with astonishment.

I grin. “There are many ways to make you come, baby. I intend to show you all of them.”

Wonder settles on her beautiful face, and she gazes at me with a look I can only compare to a puppy. “How long until we can go again?”

September 18, 1944

He came back. Ronaldo came back.

He was bruised and hurt when he did. Cuts marred his beautiful face. Bruises discolored his skin. I was so excited to see him, I threw myself at him. Only then did I notice the grunt of pain. I nearly cried when I saw his pain.

He wouldn’t tell me what happened. But I think the distance got to both of us.

Because we . . .

I lay with another man. A man who is not my husband.

And I’m finding it very hard to regret it. There’s shame. I feel that. But not regret.

In fact, all I want is to do it again.