chapter 4 :The Ghost in My Bed

Kane’s POV

The morning sun was a jagged blade cutting through the heavy curtains of my room, but the light didn't bring any clarity. It had been three days since the bar. Three days since I’d seen that girl in the oversized hoodie, and she was still rotting in my brain like a fever I couldn't sweat out.

I was lying in the tangled, grey sheets of my bed when I felt it a hand, soft and lingering, began to caress my bare chest. The touch should have been welcome. In any other week, it would have been exactly what I wanted. But today, the sensation was like sandpaper against my skin. It was irritating. Wrong.

I rolled my head to the side, checking the clock on the bedside table before turning to face the woman beside me. Sandra. She was one of the regulars at the clubhouse, a girl who knew the rules. Or at least, I thought she did.

What the hell are you still doing here?i growled, my voice thick with sleep and a growing edge of redirected rage.

Sandra flinched, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned in closer, her eyes searching mine for a warmth that simply wasn't there. I thought we had a good time last night, Kane, she whispered, her voice a pouty lure.

Last night. Last night had been a lie. Every time I closed my eyes, every time I touched her, I wasn't seeing Sandra. I was picturing the girl from the bar. I was imagining those innocent, wide eyes pinned beneath me, watching her face crumble as I whispered every filthy, dark thought in my head into her ear. I wanted to see that blonde hair fanned out against my pillows,I wanted to hear her scream my name until her throat was raw.

Just the memory of her the way she batted her lashes in that godforsaken kitchen hallway made my cock stir. It was already becoming as hard as a rock, a heavy, pulsing weight between my legs.

Fuck, I’m screwed, I thought, staring at the ceiling. I was obsessed with a ghost, a girl who probably didn't even know my name.

Suddenly, I felt a familiar heat. I looked down to see Sandra had moved. She had taken my hardness into her mouth, her lips sliding down the thick shaft with a desperate kind of hunger. I watched her, detached and cold, as her tongue swirled across the veins bulging from the dark, rigid flesh.

I closed my eyes, and the hallucination returned. I didn't see Sandra’s dyed hair; I saw the angel from the bar. I reached down, my fingers tangling in Sandra's hair, but in my mind, I was gripping those blonde locks. I began to move, my hips jerking upward as I forced myself into her mouth.

I wasn't being gentle. I was being a predator. Each thrust was a punishment for the fact that she wasn't the girl I actually wanted. My knob banged against the back of her throat with every rhythmic, heavy slam. I could see her face turning a deep, flushed red, her eyes watering from the sheer size and force of me.

I didn't care. She wanted to please the king of the clubhouse? Fine. Here we go.

She shifted, her tongue licking at my balls, trying to keep up with the violent pace I was setting. I slammed into her mouth again, ramming my cock down her throat until she gagged, the sound muffled by the meat of me. Strands of spit drooled from the swollen shaft, dripping down her chin and onto the sheets, but I was far away, lost in a vision of a girl in a hoodie surrendering to me.

Sandra’s fingers messaged my balls, her eyes looking up at me, pleading for something more—some spark of affection, some sign that she mattered.

Yeah, a fucking hook. That’s all you are, I thought bitterly.

I picked up the pace, my breathing becoming a series of jagged snarls. I was chasing a climax that felt like it was miles away because the woman under me was the wrong one. I fucked her face faster, my hand tightening on the back of her head, forcing her to take every inch of the frustration I was carrying.

Finally, the pressure snapped.

I pulled out abruptly, the air hitting my overheated skin like ice. I aimed at her face, and the explosion was violent. Hot, thick cum erupted from the tip, splashing against her cheek and shooting up the side of her nose. I didn't stop. More shot across her forehead, tangling into her hair. As the last of the tremors hit me, I shoved my spewing cock back between her lips, depositing the final, salty spurts onto her tongue.

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by our labored breathing. I pulled away, the disgust settling in my gut like lead.

Leave my room. Immediately, I commanded, already swinging my legs off the bed.

But... I thought I should stay, Kane, she stammered, wiping her face with the back of her hand, her makeup smeared and ruined. I love you. I don't even mind sharing you with the other girls. I just want to be close to you...

I stopped. I was halfway to the bathroom, but her words made me turn back. I looked at her really looked at her and the pity I felt was sharper than the anger.

Listen to me, I said, my voice quiet and deadly. You, and every other girl in this clubhouse, mean absolutely nothing to me. You’re a distraction. That’s it.

She looked like I’d slapped her, her lip trembling.

And I should advise you, I continued, stepping closer until I was looming over her, a dark shadow of the man she thought she loved. If you do anything stupid, if you start catching feelings or acting like you own a piece of me, you’ll wish you were dead. Get out.

Sandra didn't wait for a second warning. she scrambled off the bed, grabbed her clothes in a heap, and ran out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

I stood there in the center of the room, my skin still buzzing from the release, but my mind was still in that bar. I walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on, stepping under the freezing spray.

I needed to wash the scent of Sandra off me. I needed to wash the scent of the clubhouse away. But no matter how cold the water was, it couldn't put out the fire that girl had started. I was a man who took what he wanted, and right now, I wanted to find that angel and drag her into my world.

Even if it broke her.

Even if it destroyed us both.

I leaned my head against the cool tile, the water drumming against my shoulders. Who the hell is she? I wondered. I knew the girls in this town. I knew the trash and I knew the bored housewives looking for a thrill. But she was different. She had been a vision of purity in a den of filth.

And like a moth to a flame, I was already circling, waiting for the moment I could finally reach out and catch her. I wasn't going to let her stay in that kitchen hallway forever. Tuesday was coming. The money was due. And I had a feeling the money wasn't the only thing I was going to collect from that bar.

I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist. I caught my reflection in the mirror eyes dark, jaw set. I looked like a man possessed.

Tuesday, I whispered to the empty room. See you soon, sweetheart.