Page 97 of Petrify

“They don’t know it yet, but Bran Rivers of the Philharmonic is going to be there. I’ll make sure an invite makes its way to him.” He lists a few other names, some I recognize, some I don’t, and as he does, staring down at me with hooded eyes, his hipsbegin to move again, slowly. He groans, the sound stoking a fire in my belly.

I lave at his cock, my eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of fullness. As I work him, his fingers loosen, his breath still coming in pants. I grip the back of his thighs, forcing him deeper. His breath shudders as the head of his cock slips into my throat. I gag around him, but he doesn’t care, thrusting forward, fucking my mouth. All the while his cum leaks down my thigh in a pool on the floor of his tomb.

He hisses sharply through his teeth before he tugs on my hair, forcing me to stand. We’re eye to eye.

“How does it feel to fuck a ghost?”

My mind is spinning too much to answer. I’m still overflowing with need, my fingers drifting closer to my center.

He spots it, before growling and shoving me down onto the bench. The air rushes out of me as I fall onto my back. He wrenches my leggings off and throws them across the room, looming over me with one arm bracing himself, the other digging into my jaw, forcing my lips to part.

And still all I want is for him to kiss me. He was so gentle with me the other night, and now he is so demanding. The duality is heady, not knowing what side of him I will get.

“I will give you what you need, Mal, I will give you what I promised you.” When his cock slides back into me it feels like we were never meant to be apart. I sigh my relief, my pussy a mess of his cum, and he’s bottomed out in a second, pressed in as far as he can go.

“What do you need?” he whispers. “Tell me.”

If there are any other answers, the only one I can even think of is that I need him to fuck me. “Please.” It’s all I can manage, my legs winding around his hips, and he indulges me. I can’t help grinding my hips, chasing the electricity in my thighs, my core, as my clit rubs against him too, and when I come, I don’tmuffle the cry that escapes me, my ecstasy echoing throughout his tomb. My nails dig into his shoulders, my ankles tightening around him, but he doesn’t stop. His movements are less frenzied than before, his cock sliding in and out in an unhurried rhythm until my orgasm fades away.

The white mask peers down at me. He’s propped up on his elbows. His fingers soft on my skin as they trace under my eyes. He doesn’t leave me.

It’s only in moments like this, after chasing our pleasure, after the frantic beat of my heart has slowed, that I can finally breathe.

I stare up at him through my lashes. “You stole my phone.”

“That’s what you’re thinking about?” Mirth sparkles in his dark eyes. “I didn’t steal it, I’d give it back if you asked. Besides, you don’t need it.”

“What if my mother calls me?”

He gives me a silent look.

When I begin to shiver, he withdraws, retrieving my leggings and helping me dress. My legs are too shaky, so I hold onto his steady frame, and when we’re both mostly presentable, the urge to tear off the mask and kiss him is too strong.

Maybe he can read my thoughts, and that’s why he grips my wrists.

“I couldn’t find you,” I say.

“I was… busy. I’m sorry.” He studies me for a second. “It’s daytime, Mallary.”

Those three words send an ice shard straight through my sternum.

He’s only doing what I asked—and here I am, freaking out, pushing the boundaryIset, being over-dramatic. I can’t expect him to shadow my every move. I can’t expect this much from him. Especially when I’ve asked himnotto.

At some point in the last few weeks, he’s superseded my need to spend every moment on music. There’s a space carved out in my heart, safe and hidden under the cage of my ribs, and in it, for the past decade, music has resided. Nothing was more important.Nothing.

And now… I’m not so sure that’s true anymore. I’m not sure these two things can coexist within me—my days of music and my nights with him.

Eventually, something has to give.

Chapter 44

The Ghost

“You.”

Desmond freezes in his steps. But he doesn’t startle. He slowly turns, like he knew I was here all along.

“Bastien.” Like he’s greeting an old acquaintance.