Page 63 of Ghost Ribbon

A: Next time I’m going to come on your tongue so you can really taste it before you swallow.

I curled onto my side, phone clutched to my chest like I could hide the messages from the universe. My thighs pressed together on instinct.

Another message popped up.

A: Are you hard right now thinking about it?

A: Be honest, little star.

A: Your throat felt so good around my cock. Tight and warm and perfect.

A: I can still feel the way you gagged when I pushed in deep.

A: Next time I’m going to hold you there longer. Make you take all of it until you’re crying again.

Marco: Please stop. I have to go eat dinner soon. My mom is downstairs. I don’t want those images in my head.

A: Good. Think about me.

A: Think about how you begged with your eyes for me to use your mouth.

A: Think about how hard you came just from sucking my cock and stroking yourself like a desperate little thing.

A soft knock at my door made me jolt upright so fast I nearly fell off the bed.

“Uh, come in?” I called, voice way too high. I quickly smoothed my hair and tried to look like I hadn’t just been having a full-blown meltdown about getting face-fucked by the academy’s resident psychopath.

Luca stepped in.

He was wearing one of his favorite hoodies and carrying his new sketchbook under one arm. The second he saw me he lit up with that bright smile.

I smiled back automatically, the panic easing just a little at the sight of him. “Hey, little man. What’s up?”

Luca closed the door behind him and padded over to the bed. He climbed up without asking and sat cross-legged in front of me, sketchbook in his lap. His hands started moving in fluid signs.

I heard you have a boyfriend.

Mom said a tall guy came over for dinner. Said he is your boyfriend. Is it true?

Alexei wasn’t my boyfriend. He was whatever terrifying, possessive, obsessive thing he was. The man who had killed someone in front of me, who had spent a year stalking me with his eyes, who had just had me on my knees in a storage room swallowing his cum. He lied to my mom. I had gone along with it because I was terrified of what he would do if I didn’t.

“Yeah,” I said softly, forcing the lie out. “It’s true.”

Luca frowned a little, protective big-brother energy radiating off him even though he was younger. He signed again, slower this time, making sure I understood every word.

Does he treat you good? Mom said he was polite but you’ve been really tired lately. Is he the reason?

My chest tightened. “No, Luca, he isn’t. I’ve just been busy.”

Luca wasn’t buying it. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing.

You can tell me if he is mean. Or if he is making you sad. I will tell Mom and Dad. Or I can draw him something really ugly and stick it on his forehead with superglue.

A surprised little laugh bubbled out of me despite everything. I reached over and ruffled his curls the way he hated (but secretly loved).

“I’m fine, Luca. Really.”

Luca studied my face for a long moment, then signed again.