Phantasma: A dark fantasy romance (Wicked Games Book 1)

Phantasma: Chapter 45



Something cold was pressed against Ophelia’s cheek. As she blinked open her eyes, she found herself still lying in the mirrored room, but the flames and smoke were gone. As was the Shadow Voice.

And looking down on her as if his entire world had just shattered was Blackwell. His hand was cupping her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing gentle, soothing strokes across her skin.

“Angel,” he breathed, voice thick with relief as she came to. He gathered her up into his arms and crushed her into his chest, burying his face into her neck. “I thought I lost you. I thought…”

“What happened?” she whispered as she glanced around, noticing that her reflections in the mirrors were all uniform now.

“You…” He swallowed. “You hurt yourself. You clawed your chest and stomach to pieces. I was worried I didn’t heal you in time.” His eyes darkened. “I’ve never been so terrified to see so much blood.”

“What? No… I didn’t… the Shadow Voice… it was here…”

The Shadow Voice had attacked her. Its claws shredded her apart. The fire…

“What do you mean it was here—Wait. What fear did you give Phantasma as your payment to enter?” he asked. “Did it have anything to do with the voice?”

“Oh,” she sobbed as the realization hit her. “Oh.”

When tears began to stream down her cheeks, he swiped them away, letting her quietly process her thoughts.

“My biggest fear has always been accidentally harming myself because of it,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to. I swear. It had felt so real⁠—”

“Hey,” he murmured, combing a comforting hand over her hair, the gesture rife with affection. “I know. It was an illusion. Phantasma is going to throw everything it has at you now that you’re all almost to the end. But I’m here. I got to you.”

She began to cry harder. “I didn’t know if you’d be able to find me.”

“Your injuries made it hard to hear you at first—our link from the blood bargain has been weakening,” he admitted. “But I felt you calling. I’ve never had that sort of connection with any other contestant before. I told you before that nothing would ever stop me from getting to you if you needed me, and that will remain true forevermore. I would tear the universe apart at its seams if I must.”

She wanted to roll her eyes at the drama of that statement, but, truthfully, her heart was swelling in her chest. She knew in every fiber of her being that he was telling her the truth.

He tilted her chin up to look her in the eyes. “Let me stay with you tonight. Please.”

She sniffed. “I always knew you’d be the one to beg first.”

“I would stay on my knees all night if you wanted,” he vowed, heat sparking in his eyes. “Just let me stay. Let me hold you.”

There wasn’t an instant of hesitation in her mind. “Take me back to my room and make me forget everything that just happened.”

He groaned at the request, not wasting a second to transport her away. Back in her room, he placed her down and she stepped from his arms.

She gestured to her dress. “Get rid of this.”

He snapped his fingers and undressed her. He groaned at the sight, his eyes raking over every inch of her naked body, his face telling her that there were a million different things he wanted to do. But first, he had a promise to fulfill.

“Now, beg,” she told him.

Shock flitted across his face, chased by fervent lust. He made a show of lowering himself to his knees before her, every movement slow, deliberate. He looked up at her face as he placed his fingertips at her right ankle and trailed them all the way up the side of her leg until he reached her knee, making her bend it up so he could hook her leg over his shoulder. He turned his face to place a kiss on her inner thigh, his gaze never breaking from hers.

“Please,” he murmured against her skin.

She smirked down at him. “I’m sorry, I can’t quite hear you.”

“Wicked angel,” he told her, his eyes blazing with want. “Please.”

“Please, what?” she asked, reaching down to plunge her hands into his hair, tugging gently with impatience.

“Let me taste you,” he begged.

She tilted her head. “Is that all you want to do to me?”

“Not even close,” he growled. “I’m going to devour your pussy and drink every sweet drop you give me. Then I’m going to fuck you until the only thing you can think or speak is my name. I’m going to make sure I bury myself so deep inside of you that neither of us will be able to tell where I end and you begin.”

Warmth flushed over her body, and she felt herself become slick with arousal. A downward flick of his eyes, and she knew he’d noticed as well. He sucked in a sharp breath, and though she was the one naked, vulnerable, in this moment she was completely in charge and they both knew it.

“You get so fucking wet for me,” he said, his voice becoming gruff as his own arousal grew. “I love how excited your body gets for me.” His grip on the back of her thighs tightened. “I know you want my cock inside of you, angel. Be a good girl and say the word.”

He was right, and though she wanted to have enough self-control to tease him longer, she simply didn’t.

“Alright,” she told him.

He groaned in relief as he leaned in and began to make good on his promises. And he did. He lapped at her swollen clit, her entrance, not missing a single drop that he milked from her body. The first orgasm hit her surprisingly quickly, and he hardly gave her enough time to catch her breath from it before he was working to wring out another one. Carefully, so carefully, he scraped his teeth against her tight bundle of nerves, making her hips buck forward and her legs begin to shake. He hummed in satisfaction as he held her steady.

“Blackwell,” she whimpered, tightening her hands on the back of his head to keep herself stable. “I can’t stand for much longer. It’s too much.”

He grinned against her as he blinked them into a different position. Her lying back on the bed, ass perched on the very edge so he could spread her legs wide and finish her off one more time with his mouth. When she came this time, she moaned his name.

“That’s my good girl,” he said as he prowled up her body, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses on its way to her breasts.

When he suckled one of the hard, rosy buds into his mouth, nipping gently, she thought she might perish from the pleasure of it. His hand came up to roll her other nipple between his fingers, pulling harder and harder until the pain became euphoric.

When he released her nipples, she tugged his face up to hers, meeting his lips in a haze-inducing kiss before lowering her hands to the buttons of his shirt and ripping them open. Threads popped and buttons went flying to the ground, and Blackwell huffed a laugh at her eagerness as she tore the shirt away from his body. She sighed in contentment as he moved his mouth to the underside of her jaw and over the sensitive part of her throat.

“I want your pants off,” she told him. “Now.”

A second later and they had disappeared. Oh, how she loved having a Ghost as a lover.

“Fuck me,” she demanded.

“Yes, Miss Grimm,” he drawled. “Your every wish is my command.”

She made a noise of mock annoyance in the back of her throat, lightly tapping his shoulder with the back of her hand. “Don’t start.”

He gave her a wolfish smile. “Don’t fuck you, then?”

She glowered and squirmed beneath him until she reached the hard length of his cock with her right hand and pressed it against her entrance herself. “Don’t make me go back to making you beg. What is it you said before? You’d stay on your knees all night if I wanted? Maybe I’ll change my mind and we can try that instead, hmm?”

He bit at her bottom lip with affection. “You’re a menace.”

“Only to you.” She grinned, smug.

“And it’d better stay that way,” he told her as he rocked his hips forward and gave her his entire length. He pulled out to the tip once more. “I never want another soul to touch you like this. Only me.” He thrust back in. “I will fuck you until you tell me you can’t remember a single other lover’s name.” Out. “Until you can’t remember your own name.” In. “Until nothing else exists but this.” Out. “Us.” In.

“There’s only you,” she swore as she writhed beneath him. Wanting more, more, more. He gave it to her. “Blackwell. Blackwell. Blackwell.”

“In all the darkness, in all the loneliness, you have been my one source of light,” he lamented as she began to come undone. “My soul will go to its grave with your name echoing in my mind.”

His words made her crash over the edge, and he followed her moments later. As soon as they both recovered, he switched their position, him sitting back against the headboard and her straddling his lap. She slowly lowered herself on his still-hard length, thanking the heavens that he didn’t need any downtime as he filled her completely once again.

He kissed her as his hands dropped to grip her waist, pumping her up and down his length in a steady rhythm as she pressed her chest into his, her nipples desperate for more friction. He seemed to realize what she needed, because he broke their kiss and leaned his mouth down to capture one of the rosy buds into his mouth as she arched up into him.

“Fuck,” she panted as she picked up her pace. “Hell, that feels so good.”

“That’s right, angel,” he murmured. “You’re taking it so well.”

“Mmm,” she moaned. “Harder.”

He squeezed her hips and guided her over him faster, hitting a spot deep inside her that was quickly becoming her favorite.

“Harder,” she demanded, her breasts bouncing lightly with her effort now.

A grunt of pleasure came from his throat as he angled up his hips, his bent knees hitting her back, to drive into her until her eyes rolled to the back of her head with the bliss of it. She was utterly consumed. She wanted to stay here forever, wrapped around him. There was nothing in the world that could make her stop in this moment.

And then there was a knock on the door.

“Ophelia?” someone called. Someone familiar.

Genevieve Grimm.


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