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“Okay. Why am I here,now?”
“Because you’re territorial.”
“Go on…”
“You came here to toy with my mind, but someone else got to me first. They’re spoiling your fun, so you want to take them out.”
I lean into her, so we’re breathing the same air. The warmth of her lips radiates into mine, drawing me in for a taste. Everything about this woman is alluring, even the madness she wears as a cloak.
“Correct,” I reply. “We have a truce until every one of those bastards threatening your life is dead.”
“And then?” she whispers, her breath quickening.
“Then every twisted fantasy we talked about will come true.”
She whimpers, the sound going straight to my cock.
“Take off your camisole.”
She stares up at me, her eyes widening, her bottom lip trembling so invitingly that it takes every effort not to seize it between my teeth. Amethyst’s terror is like Marsala wine—rich, dark, and complex. I never know which version I’ll get. The cold killer, the fainting damsel, or last night’s crazed savage.
The more facets of her personality I uncover, the deeper I’m enthralled.
When she doesn’t move, I take my knife from her loose fingers and slide it beneath her camisole’s lace hem.
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
“Something we discussed last month, when you wanted to know what I’d do if I teleported into your bedroom.”
She shivers, her pupils dilating. “But that was just talk.”
My fingers tighten around her neck. “I have seen your soul, and it belongs to me. I have seen your fantasies, your darkest desires, the deepest chambers of your heart. Everything you yearn for will be made real.”
As her eyes flutter shut, I slide the blade up her torso, slicing through the silk fabric until it falls away, revealing those perfect breasts.
I run the cool metal over each nipple, making them pebble.
“Xero,” she whispers, her voice breathy. “Are you going to stick the hilt in my pussy?”
“Topping from the bottom, little ghost?” I ask with a smirk.
Cheeks darkening, she shakes her head. “It was just a question.”
“Take off your shorts.”
She bows her head, breathing so hard and fast that I’m mesmerized by the rise and fall of her tits. My little ghost might complain and whine, but she’s spent her entire life sleepwalking. I’m the only man who makes her truly awake.
My blade finds the waistband of her silk shorts, and I cut it with a single slash. The silk fabric falls into a puddle by her feet, leaving her gloriously naked.
“Hands on the shoe rack,” I command.
“What?”
“Do it.” I spin her around, place each of her hands on a shelf, and kick her legs apart.
The sight of her spread out for me makes sensation rush south. My heart pounds, my breath quickens as I take in every delicious curve and contour. Her pert ass cheeks, glowing with red handprints, taper down into shapely thighs that part to reveal a tantalizing peek of heaven.
Her trembling triggers every predator instinct, and the heady yet familiar scent of her arousal wafts up, urging me to claim what’s mine.
