Page 61 of The Phantom's Vice

I lose track of time—between the symphony of her moans and the intoxicating taste coating my tongue, I doubt I would be able to remember my name if someone asked. I lick every inch of her until she’s writhing, and even then, I don’t stop.

At some point, Brett’s hands return to my skull, and I’m vaguely aware of a primal growl filling the room as she tries to push me off.

“Ghost, please,” she whimpers, her hips bucking wildly. “It-it’s too sensitive.”

Painstakingly, I pull my tongue back into my mouth and raise my head, meeting Brett’s flustered gaze head-on. Her cheeks are flushed, and her hair—usually so glossy and smooth—looks like it’s been through a category 3 hurricane.

How the fuck is it possible for this woman to be hotter? It’s really not fair.

Her chest heaves, and my mouth waters as I get a good look at her perfect, peaked nipples.If her clit is too sensitive… I wonder if she’ll let me play with something else.

“I see that smile. Keep it in your pants,” shemutters, her head slumping back onto the pillow. “You wore me out. I need a damn nap now.”

A satisfied sound rumbles low in my chest, and I flick my tongue against her clit one last time before climbing to the head of the bed.

“Ah! Hey!” she squeals, burying her face behind her hair as I scoop her into my lap. “What are you doing?”

“Aftercare is important, Brett. I’m surprised you don’t know this,” I say, running soothing circles along her back and hips. In a moment of insanity, I press my lips to her hair like I did this morning. I freeze, expecting her to pull away—-or possibly deck me in the jaw—but she does neither. Letting out a satisfied humming noise, Brett snuggles deeper into me, going so far as to press her lips to my chest in return.

Several minutes pass before her breathing evens out, and I adjust my body slowly so we’re lying down. In her sleep, she reaches out, holding her body close to mine, and electric fire spreads wherever her little hands touch.

Brett. Darling, indescribable Brett.

Her name echoes throughout my mind as I follow her into the darkness. And it is the warmest embrace I have ever known.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

BRETT

Jane Evangeline: Entry#13

I made a huge mistake asking Hudson to remove his mask. As soon as the words passed my lips, he fell into a fit of rage, smashing his fist through walls and breaking all the plates in his kitchen.

Then he turned on me.

No, no! He didn’t hit me—though I admit, his fist did come pretty close when he slammed it through the wall next to my temple.

But I know Hudson. He is kind and gentle. His reaction was merely a product of his upbringing, not who he is on the inside. It’s really the Sanctum’s fault for his outburst, and the sooner I take them down, the better.

I wakea few hours later to something hard poking me in the back. I look over my shoulder, my body tensing as my nose brushes the cool black metal of Ghost’s mask.

Oh shit. Oh fuck. What have I done?

I try to lift his arm off my shoulder, but it’s heavier than it looks, and ultimately, my efforts are for naught. I huff, trying to wiggle out from underneath instead, but Ghost tightens his grip, almost as if his subconscious knows I’m trying to escape.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is the opposite of good.

I lay my head back, forced to look up at the ceiling as I listen to Ghost snore next to me. My mind is a mess of colors, feelings, and sensations, all twisting together in a tangled ball of fuckedupness.

I let the Phantom eat me out. Not just that, but I fuckinglikedit. The way his tongue worked against me, the highs of pleasure I’ve never thought were possible…

And the fact he didn’t care that I was bleeding… I’m just not going to think about that part. If I do, I might realize that was the hottest part of all—and that would make me insane. Certifiably, lock-her-up-and-throw-away-the-key insane.

As long as I don’t think about it, it should be fine. I can go back to hating this man with every fiber of my being, and things will returnto normal.

A small part of me screams that I crossed that line about a mile back, but I dutifully ignore it. The alternative is too messed up to consider.

“Did you enjoy your nap, darling?”

---