Page 100 of Ghost Hunted

She cringes, and that small movement makes me let go of her, and edge backward until I’ve hit the opposite wall. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that, Lia; you can think it if you want. I don’t give a shit what you’re thinking. Just don’t fucking say it.”

She stares at me sullenly.

“Answer me, Lia.”

“You didn’t ask me anything.”

“Just…” I ball my hands into fists, willing myself to stay in control of my anger. “Just fucking say something!”

“It doesn’t matter what I say.” She lets out a shuddering sigh. “You’ve made that clear.”

My heart twists as I realize I’m losing her. I’m losing her all over again. Only this time, it’s because of me.

Fuck, am I going to spend the rest of my life losing her?

No. She’s here, her body is here, and it’s mine. I can’t lose her, just as long as I keep her locked up. Can I?

“That’s right,” I spit out. “That’s right, it doesn’t matter. Get on the floor, Lia. On your knees with your arms up.”

Slowly, she gets into my preferred position, keeping her eyes down.

“Say something.” My voice comes out tight, far too tight.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Anything! Fucking anything! No, never mind. Don’t speak. I don’t want to hear your voice.”

I sit on the bed so I’m facing her, and try to glue my eyes to her body so they don’t wander up to her face. I don’t want to see the sullen, resigned expression that I know I’ll find there.

Gingerly, I tug up her shirt, bunching it up so it holds over her breasts. They’re as fat as ever, but the nipples are soft. I stroke across them, pinching and tweaking them, but they take an awfully long time to form stiff peaks. And she’s not reacting at all; she’s perfectly still, as if I’m not having the least effect on her.

I grit my teeth in frustration, stroking her more, pulling her to me and sucking her tit into my mouth just the way she likes it, swirling my tongue around the sensitive bud, using just a little teeth to keep her on edge.

Still nothing.

She doesn’t say red, but she doesn’t say anything else, either.

How the hell did we get here? Everything had felt so good. I had felt so connected to her. All it took was me telling her my plans for the cage.

I know I could get her back by lying. I could tell her I didn’t mean any of it. That I love her, and she’s my equal.

Only she isn’t. And I’m going to lock her in that motherfucking cage, because there’s just no fucking way I’m losing her again.

Overwhelmed by sudden rage, I draw back, replacing my mouth with my fingers. I latch onto her tits, and pinch them until she has no choice—a loud scream leaves her lips.

“Logan! Stop! Please, stop! Red!”

“Sorry, Lia. Sorry.” Guilt overwhelms me. I lift her up into my arms, cradling her. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I love you, baby.”

It’s probably just from habit, but she nestles her head in my chest, wetting my shirt.

I really can’t help it; even as my heart breaks from seeing the visible sign of her pain, my cock feels ready to burst.

“Maybe I should have pinched you harder,” I murmur, my hand traveling down to her panties. “You said red, but you’re soaked, ghost girl. Can I touch you again? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

She bites her lip. “Yes... please.”

“I think you’ll like the cage,” I breathe, stroking up her thighs. “We’re both fucked-up in the head, aren’t we? Just like you said. And I just know you’ll like it.”