𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐑 | 18+

Chapter Twenty-Four

Warning! This chapter contains sexual content.

His finger in my ass was so intense. That was the only word to describe it. So overwhelming that I went motionless for a moment and just felt what he was doing to me. His thumb still stroked my clit, and when he laved his tongue over my nipple.

the combined stimulation was enough to make me melt into him, his middle finger sliding deeper into my ass.

Carefully, I shifted my hips in the subtlest of thrusts, and oh, wow. Okay, that wasn't terrible. It was kind of hot, actually, still intense and slightly disconcerting, but if anything, the taboo of what we were doing just made me want it more, and I ground myself into him and the knife a little harder.

"Good girl."

"Look how well you're already doing." A thready moan slipped through my lips as I started to ride the knife faster. I was experiencing so many sensations at once—anal penetration, clit stimulation, and nipple play, not to mention the knife handle filling me up—that soon they started blending into one overwhelming feeling of fullness and pleasure. I was going to come. Soon. And hard.

He curled his finger forward inside me, and I could feel him pressing my inner wall against the knife. "Fuck, I want to be inside you," he growled out before pinching my nipple between his teeth. It was a little bit painful but not much.

"Yes," I panted. I wanted that, too, so bad it made me want to cry.

"I want you so bad," I said, thrusting down harder, faster, the pressure building inside me.

"Soon, gorgeous," he promised. "But first, I want to watch you come on that knife. Can you be a good girl and give me that?"

"Oh Yes!" I moaned as I rose and fell.

He put his mouth on me again, worshipping one nipple and then the next, keeping his finger crooked and his thumb right where I needed it. It was all so much. Better than anything I'd felt before.

This man was going to be the death of me. I was screwed because I had a feeling he was forever altering my sexual cravings.

"Fuck, Bella, you're going to be the death of me," he said.

Shit, I must have spoken that last thought aloud, and now it was too late to take it back and too late to slow things down because I was coming, my hips bucking at a frenetic pace, moans falling from my lips, stars dancing across my closed eyes as the pleasure rocked through me so hard that my ears began to ring.

To my horror, tears started leaking from my eyes. I couldn't help it, though. It was so good, such a perfect release after the awful things I've been through. Hell, the past few months, years, everything. All the emotions I've held in check came pouring out as the dam gave way.

"Fuck, are you okay?" he said as I curled forward into him. "Hang on, gorgeous."

He carefully slipped his finger out of my ass and then grabbed my thighs, lifting me off the knife. I clung to him, seeking comfort in his arms like a lost child. "Shh, it's okay," he said soothingly, standing up with me. One arm was wrapped around my back, the other beneath my ass, holding me securely.

He walked us to the bathroom and gently set me down on the counter. "You did so good," he murmured, his voice filled with praise and tenderness

"I'll be right back," he assured me, and I nodded, feeling a mix of exhaustion and confusion.

I waited for him, the minutes ticking by slowly. Five minutes passed, then ten. When it hit around twenty, I started to feel uneasy. I got off the counter and walked back into my room, where he was nowhere to be found.

He left me. He really just left me. Again.

Tears blurred my vision as I struggled to understand why I kept putting myself in these situations. Why did I keep letting him hurt me like this?

-

I had to leave before I did something I would regret. I can't love her under any circumstances. I am her tormentor, not her prince. I hated her.

With all these thoughts swirling in my mind, I made my way to the window, my movements quick and purposeful. I climbed out of the window, the cool night air hitting me as I dropped to the ground below. I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and trying to steady my racing heart. I can't afford to show any weakness.

Love is an illusion.

Love is what makes us weak. And I can't afford to be weak. Not now, not ever, not even for her.

With one last glance back at her window, I turned and walked away, disappearing into the darkness. As I made my way through the night, a part of me felt empty, hollow. But I knew this was for the best. I can't let myself be swayed by emotions, by the fleeting illusion of love.

I am Ghostface, the killer tormentor. And that is all I can ever be.