Page 29 of Ghosted in Arkadia
A stab of fear washes over me, worried that he is about to fuck my nearly comatose body. And it isn’t for the reason some might think I should have felt fear.
I want to remember the first time.
There are a lot of things I haven’t figured out when it comes to my thoughts on Ghost, but there are two things I know. He is my soulmate, and I want to fuck him. Or more accurately, I want him to fuck me.
He moves up my body with his cock in his hand, stroking it idly while using his thumb to swipe over the tip in a circular motion. He releases his cock to reach down and grab a handful of my hair, which he uses as a hold to turn my head to the side. My eyes are closed and there’s a stupid grin plastered across my cheeks along with random strands of sweat soaked hair.
That must have been some orgasm.
“Open those pretty lips, kitten,” Ghost purrs as he grabs hold of his cock again.
I obey immediately, popping my mouth open and sticking my tongue part of the way out of my mouth. Stupid grin still present.
I watch the video as he directs the tip of his cock between my lips. My body hums with a strange sort of jealousy toward myself, yet I watch fascinated as he works the tip into my mouth, teasing himself with my body while I watch him do it. My body feels in favor, but I’m not sure how I feel in the video as I hear myself choke.
“Good girl. Just a taste,” he growls, fitting less than half of his length inside me. He stills, holding himself in place until my head jerks. He allows it for a moment before pulling free, and I hear a desperate gasp for air.
His hand pumps his cock again, and I can see the veins straining around his hard core. He looks ready to come at any moment, but seems to be fighting the sensation. He moves back down my body, settling back between my thighs and my stomachbottoms out again, still hoping that he doesn’t end up fucking me.
His finger hooks my underwear to the side, exposing my flush lips. He directs his cock over them, wetting the tip in my arousal, then slipping over my clit. He doesn’t make his way inside me, preferring to work in the space between my underwear and pussy. Soon I’m moaning again on the video and my hips move and grind against him.
“Scream for me, Kira,” Ghost says, and I can feel the power of his voice commanding both versions of me.
My clit throbs while the version of me on the video cries out incoherent words that bleed into desperate pants.
I hear a low moan before the camera is lowered, getting a close shot as streams of cum leak from his tip all over my throbbing clit. He slides his cock through, working it all over before pulling his cock free and putting my underwear back in place over top of the cum he left.
The video ends abruptly, without a parting message or taunting of any kind. I’m left in speechless silence.
Caramel Coffee Side Quest
Ihit delete, and instantly my heart feels like it has been thrown into the trash alongside the hottest accidental sex tape I have ever starred in. After I watched it several more times, taking notes on anything that could be identifiable. And masturbated.
It still hurts my heart to erase it.
But I am not in the mood to justify my sexual tastes, should anyone else see it. There would be questions. Nothing in the video gave away the fact that Ghost is my soulmate. The problem lies within the content. Even if I told an outsider it was an act with my soulmate, I would still face judgment for the context.
I like what I like. I don’t need to explain it, and I certainly don’t have the patience to sit and listen to a stranger tell me how I need to feel about my preferences.
My mood is shit and I really hope this is the last day of this miserable rain, like the forecast promises. I’m not sure if I can handle being stuck inside the station much longer. At least I have a mission today. This morning, I dug through my closet until I found the underwear featured in the video. The driedstains were a mixture of our combined releases, meaning his DNA should be present along with mine.
The underwear is in a plastic bag, shoved toward the bottom of my purse, but it feels like it is going to spring out the top and land on the floor as soon as I step through the door. All I have to do is pay my favorite techie, Vicky, to run the DNA check for me on the side.
I arrive fifteen minutes earlier than usual and find the station empty. It gives me enough time to stash my purse inside my desk, where it will remain until lunch. Then it’s a quick and simple trip down the street for a salted caramel coffee bribe for Vicky as I offload the package.
Shouldn’t be a problem.
As a boon, I head over to the coffeepot and get to work brewing the first of many for the day.
James walks in, Killian hot on his heels, both of them lost in some rapidly forming bromance. I tuck myself into the small alcove beside the table and they breeze past like I am a newly installed statue.
“Kira?” James whips his head back and Killian narrowly avoids colliding with him before turning with a look of confusion in my direction.
“Just hit start. Lots of cream, no sugar.” Without allowing them the chance to reply, I head back to my desk, leaving them standing like statues.
It takes James a moment, long enough for me to get settled into my chair, before the gears in his mind stop spinning and land on a thought. He reanimates like a puppet come to life and a wide grin stretches across his face while he makes his way toward me.
“Someone got laid last night.”
