Page 54 of Hot Ghost Summer

He needs to learn how reckless he is. How impulsive. How… defiant.

If he’d just listened to me from the beginning, handed back the LPA Synchrotron when I asked for it, and closed that séance down when I told him to…

Theo stretches out an arm, blindly rummaging in the drawer until his slick fingers close around the silicone body of a pulsing prostate massager. Its magnetised charging cable drops to the floor when he brings it close.

Oh, Baby, you’ll learn.

He lubes up the toy, then bends both knees before slowly advancing the tip. He takes it well, probably because while I was out there cleaning up his mess, he was in here prepping himself.

Wedging it against the mattress, he angles it to leave himself handsfree—as I hoped he might. A gentle buzzing fills the bedroom, and Theo’s breath hitches. Wriggling, he adjusts, then turns up the vibration. This one must hit the spot because he tilts his head back to stretch his neck long, and takes himself back in hand.

His breaths turn to shallow pants. When he swallows, the tattoo on his throat bobs, inspiring a warped mix of hatred and helpless, violent arousal.

My fingertips brush his skin. “Baby.”

Theo groans; the sound is mine.

I apply pressure, and his pulse echoes through my form as if it belongs. It would be so easy to squeeze harder. There’d be nothing he could do. He doesn’t even know I’m here, holding his life in my hands.

“Hollis…”

My name on his lips wraps like a chain around my neck. Heavy. Grounding. I exhale its weight.

Theo’s head snaps forward, hand freezing in a vicelike grip on his dick. Mine doesn’t leave his throat. He can’t see me, but he can feel me.

Tentatively, he places his fingertips exactly over the top of mine, then applies his own pressure, and another moan tumbles out through parted lips. This one sears like a brand, and I take ownership of the toy that fills him from the inside.

He’s not in charge here.

The buzzing between us grows louder, and Theo’s eyes grow wider.

His heart hammers through the artery in his neck, and I move closer.

Watching. Harder.

Waiting. Faster.

When his pupils dilate and the muscles in his jaw go slack, I strip the power from the massager.

Breathing hard, Theo’s sweaty chest rises and falls, and I release my hold on his neck.

“H-Hollis?” he pants.

Usually, I don’t answer—I’m not his to command—but this time is different. This time, I want him to know who owns him. “That’s right, Baby.”

He goes perfectly still, then whispers, “Why can’t I see you?”

“Because you haven’t earned that yet.”

“W-What?” He tries to shuffle away, and I grip his narrow waist to keep him in place.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” I chide. “You don’t leave here until I say you do.”

“No way! Get off me, you pervert.”

I turn the toy back on to its lowest setting, and Theo’s eyes glaze over. “Are you ready for your lesson to begin now?”

Slack-jawed, he slurs, “Lesson?”