I tilt my head to the side, longing for his touch. Longing for this. Because there was a time when we were so much more. A time when we’d make each other come. With our fingers. Our mouths. And our magic.
Suddenly, the air pinches my nipple through my shirt, and I arch into Terence’s touch. And in this moment, he’s Terence, not Ghost. Never Ghost. Not when we’re like this.
My body longs for him and I arch again, silently begging for more. My hands are still pinned above my head, my feet spread. Each one is held by invisible hands made of air. Because the thing about magic is that it’s limitless—and Ghost can touch me anywhere he wants, all at once.
I stare at him. He’s still tied to his chair, with a brown sock in his mouth. He’s breathing heavily, fidgeting in his seat. I could untie him. Let him speak. But I’m terrified that if I do, he’ll just piss me off. Again. And in this moment, I want this. Want him. Want to let go…
He shifts in his seat, and my gaze zeroes in on the bulge in his pants. I remember the feel of his cock, hot and hard against my palm. The way I could make it pulse. Make him groan. How it would feel when he slid inside me. Over and over and over again.
My eyelids flutter shut as air zooms under my shirt. It touches me. He touches me. Caresses me. Cups my breasts. Flicks each nipple in turn.
I picture his hands on me, his dark skin against mine, and my hips buck.
Goddess, I want him. To take me against the door. To make me come.
Not enough to untie him, but enough to pump my hips in invitation. To silently beg him to take that wind and… oh, Goddess, yes!
His invisible palm slides down my abs. Teasing me. Filling me with need. It slips under the waistband of my pants, and I whimper against my invisible gag.
Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. I repeat the words in my head, over and over. If I could speak, I’d be screaming them.
But then, just as his palm is inches from where I want it—from where I need it—he stops. Because he is, was, and always will be a freaking Ghosthole!
I’m too wet. Too filled with need. Too pissed off to stop. I need more, and if he’s not going to give me more, then I’ll make him pay. The same way he’s making me pay. By turning him on and leaving him with his balls as blue as my clit.
I magically grab another sock—since apparently guys use those to jerk off—and unbuckle his pants. Shock registers in Ghost’s eyes a split second before his erection springs free. Long, hard, and oh so tempting. Instinctively, my hips jerk with need.
Ghost’s hips mirror mine while that sock launches itself at him and slides on his cock like a thick, brown condom. It starts moving up and down, his hips pumping after it, seeking release.
Once upon a time, we tried it all. Socks. Scarves. Rubber gloves. Moaning and smiling and coming over and over again. Then cuddling in each other’s arms, satiated, happy, in love. Now, all that’s left is hate.
I stop the sock and smirk in triumph as my eyes meet Ghost’s. Take that, Ghosthole.
And suddenly, that wind just inches shy of my clit zooms down. It grazes it. Once. Twice. Spreading wetness and pleasure and making me want to beg for more.
I almost lose my hold on the sock, but magical sex—or magical mutual masturbation, the triple M—is like riding a bike. You master it once, and you never forget.
So I pump that sock up and down his cock for all that I’m worth. While invisible air draws circles around my clit, heightening the pleasure and bringing me closer and closer to release.
It feels good. Too good. My entire body is keyed up. Filled with need. Each magical touch strokes the fire. Until I don’t think I can take it anymore.
And that’s when more air spreads my folds, slips inside me, and starts to expand. Fucking me. Like a huge invisible cock that pumps in and out while invisible fingers play with my clit. Over and over and over again.
I nearly come right then and there. Nearly. And then more air joins in. It pinches my nipples. Swirls around my neck. Grazes my lips. Presses up against my belly. Slaps my ass.
I gasp as every part of me comes alive. Until it’s all too much. And all it takes is one more thrust from that huge invisible cock… one more flick of my clit… before I shatter. And then I’m coming, over and over again. Until the wind finally lets up. And Ghost shoots his release.
My magical hold on the sock sags, and it slips off his cock and onto the floor. And within seconds, he has an erection—again—and I’m no longer pinned to the door.
For a second. A small, minuscule, barely there second, I want it. I want him. Until Ghost smiles in triumph. And just like that, I realize where I am. And with whom.
The languid satisfaction is replaced with rage. And shame. Because I just let the man who betrayed me make me come. Because I just jerked off the jerk who broke my heart.
I want to cry, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. Ever again. So I force myself to stand tall. Head held high. Back straight. And aim a glare at the self-satisfied Ghosthole who’s tied to the chair with his cock sticking out.
“I hate you!” I snap as I throw open the door and step into the hall. Then I turn to face him one last time. He shakes his head, silently pleading with me, but it’s too little too late. “I never want to see you again!”
Chapter Twelve
Zoe
“What’s gotten into you?” Mini asks when I storm inside my apartment and slam the door.
You’d think that after having an epic orgasm, I’d feel relaxed. I want to murder someone instead. Two someones: Xavi and Ghost. Possibly three. Leith’s rejection still hurts, but at least he didn’t sell me out… he just led me on.
“You seriously need to take a chill pill,” Mini adds when I throw my jacket onto the couch and turn to glare at her.
She’s sitting on my bed, eating my food. There’s an empty bag of chips next to her, a box of cookies, and what’s left of my loaf of bread… a few slices and a lot of crumbs. Her hair’s freshly washed and dripping on my sheets. She’s wearing my clothes. And my fuzzy is curled up on her lap, purring like a kitten instead of the cold-blooded killer he was made to be.
And it’s bad enough that all three of my mates betrayed me. But my pet, too?
“What the hell are you still doing here?” I narrow my eyes at Mini, my magic flaring to life. Everything in the room starts to levitate—the candy bar wrappers, the box of cookies, the loaf of bread, even the bed.
Anyone in their right mind would run. Mini doesn’t so much as bat an eye. She raises an eyebrow instead. “You’re the one who locked me up in here.”
“Well, now I’m unlocking you. So go!” I point at the door, anger boiling just below the surface.
Mini tilts her head slightly and then shakes her head. “Nah. I think I’ll stay.”
“Excuse me? This is my house! And I’m telling you to leave.”
“Technically, it’s an apartment.” Mini starts wringing her soaking wet hair. On to my bed.
“Stop that!” I magically summon a towel. It launches itself at her head and starts rubbing as furiously as I feel.
“You stop!” Mini shrieks. “You can’t do that. It’s going to frizz!”
“Let it!” I double down on toweling off her hair while Mini shrieks.