Page 110 of Ghosted

Instead, my breath catches.

Johnny feels it and smiles against me.

“Oh, fuck,” he murmurs, way too pleased. “That’s what you needed?”

“Shut up.”

His grip tightens, and for half a second, everything in my head goes quiet.

No Jagger. No cage.

No Friday night waiting to ruin everything. Just Johnny’s hands on my hips, the sharp bite of his fingers, and the awful truth that right now I something that hurts louder than my fucking feelings.

“That’s better,” he says, voice low and amused. “There’s the honest part.”

I glare down at him. “I hate you.”

Johnny’s smile turns wicked.

“Mm. Fuck, yeah that’s good,” he says. “Use that.”

I reach down, line him up, and sink onto him in one rough drop.

"Fuck—" The word punches out of me as he stretches me open. I don’t wait, don’t ease into it. I ride him hard, thighs flexing, ass slapping against his lap with every slam.

My tits bounce in his face and he leans forward, catching one nipple again, sucking hard, biting the other until I swear and shove his head back.

Johnny’s hands stay where they are, but his hips lift to meet every drop of mine, the movement lazy, like he’s letting me use him.

"God, you’re tight when you’re pissed," he groans, voice strained but still amused. "You feel that? How wet you are for the guy you hate?"

I slap a hand over his mouth and keep riding, cunt slick and gripping him tight.

My clit drags against him with every roll of my hips as he watches me through half-lidded eyes, that smug little smirk still visible around my fingers.

His shoulders shift under me, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he pushes up to meet each slam of my hips.

"Christ, listen to you," he says when my hand slips, voice low and taunting. "Soaking my cock like you can’t help yourself. You hate me this much and still can’t stop fucking dripping all over me." His tone stays casual, like he’s commenting on the weather instead of how my cunt clenches around him.

"I bet you’ll think about this every time you sit on this couch."

I grind down harder, zoning him out, chasing the edge, and he just watches me with that same lazy amusement, hips rolling up to meet mine in a steady rhythm.

"That’s the face you make when you’re about to cum on the guy you can’t fucking stand," he murmurs, voice rough.

Johnny’s hands move. One slides up my stomach, fingers wrapping around my throat—not tight enough to cut off air, just enough to hold me still while he speaks.

"We’re not so different, you and me," he says, voice low and rough. "You’re mad at my little brother. You know this is going to hurt him. That’s why you’re doing it. That’s why you’re riding his big brother’s cock like a fucking pro right now—getting back at him by letting me stretch this tight little cunt open."

His thumb strokes over my pulse point as he talks, hips still rolling up to meet every slam of my body.

"You look so pretty when you take what you want," he praises, voice almost gentle even as his fingers flex around my throat. "So fucking pretty riding my cock like you own it. Like you know exactly what you’re doing to him by letting me fill you up."

He leans forward and sinks his teeth into the soft flesh above my nipple, biting down hard enough to make me gasp.

The sharp sting blends with the ache between my legs, and I ride him harder, cunt clenching around his thick cock with every brutal drop of my hips.

His free hand grips my ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he helps guide my movements, though he lets me stay in control.