Bloodshed (Order of the Unseen, #1)(43)

“Is this okay?” he asks, barely any sound to his voice as he ignores all spectators entirely.

“Y-yes…”

“You’re my favorite girl, Quinn,” he promises. “My one and only.”

He firmly grips my jaw with his free hand and pulls me back to this heated moment, pressing a rough, fervent kiss on my lips. I give in wholeheartedly, letting out slow, shaky breaths as he traces his fingers over my clit.

I’m dripping with excitement, coating his fingers as he sinks two of them deep inside of me. His breathing quickens along with his pace. Thrust after thrust, he fucks me mercilessly with his long, slippery fingers, creating friction against my clit with the smooth palm of his hand.

“Yes,” I pant, pulling hard on his hair, trying to stay balanced.

Ghost groans with amusement, kissing the corner of my parted lips. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he seductively grits out. “I want this sweet, little pussy to clench around my fingers. Let go for me.”

From the corner of my eye, I notice the girl scurrying away.

And right on cue, an earth-shattering orgasm washes over me.

Wave, after wave…

After wave…

It’s never-ending.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” I breathe, as Ghost presses his palm over my mouth, in an attempt to keep this spectacle as discreet as possible. “Yes, yes,” I mumble into his hand, as he hooks his fingers, precisely stroking my walls. Suddenly, he hits my most desired spot, and I fall forward, breathing hard and fast.

“Yeah?” he questions, letting out a small laugh as I bite down on his palm, stifling my moans. “Keep coming for me, Quinn.”

And I do.

Minutes must pass as he works magic, finger fucking me callously, sending me over the edge more times than I can even keep track of. He buries his hand deeper in my pants, adding another finger, grunting sharply with each thrust.

“Good girl,” he breathes heavily, pumping into me harder.

My body rocks back and forth from the force.

The wheels of the book cart begin to squeak loudly.

The bookshelf behind my back shakes violently, sending several books toppling onto the floor beside us.

“Good,” he approves, slowing his pace. “Such a needy little thing.”

My heart feels like it’s going to burst right out of my chest, and my breathing begins to slow as I finally start to come down from my high.

With one, last stroke of his talented fingers, he pulls his hand out of my pants.

…And he sinks his fingers into his mouth. He takes his time, sucking them dry, before withdrawing them slowly.

Then he wets his lips with his tongue, savoring every bit of me. “Mmm,” he lets out, with a low, primal growl. “The way you taste—” he begins, leaning down, and kissing me tenderly. He pushes his tongue through the seam of my lips, sharing the sweet aftertaste, mingled with my lavender soap and sweat. “—Pure. Fucking. Bliss.”

“Excuse me,” a hushed voice comes from the front of the aisle. The librarian gawks at the two of us suspiciously, although mostly at Ghost. Pushing up her glasses onto the bridge of her nose, she frowns. “Is everything alright?”

Flustered, I nod yes, unable to form a coherent reply.

“Everything is fine, ma’am,” Ghost promptly responds, expressing a tight grin, showcasing two dimples I haven’t made out until this very moment.

I swoon, and a hot flash overtakes me.

She drops her gaze to the book cart beneath my ass, and arches a brow.

“Oops, sorry,” I mutter, quickly rushing to my feet with a forced smile.

“My girl here is iron deficient,” Ghost adds, and I anxiously blink up at him. “Felt a bit woozy. Had to sit down for a minute.”

The librarian glances at me with concern. “Are you alright?” she questions.

“She’s better now,” he nonchalantly replies.

She nods, staring at us accusingly. “Uh-huh.”

“We’ll be leaving now,” he says, linking his fingers through mine.

He practically uses my arm as a leash as we brush past the curious librarian and make our way back to the table. I snatch my book as we walk past, and we make our way outside.

“That was some quick thinking,” I humorously tell him.

He smirks. “Was it?”

“Yes. Very.”

As we walk down the front steps, I spot two figures in the distance. Even from this far away, I know it’s them.

Jason and Michael.

Ghost leads me their way, tightening his grasp on my hand as I clutch both my notebook and novel to my chest. They’re standing on the curb by their motorcycles, eying me closely.

Jason smirks.

“He’s not going to like this, Quinn,” he presses, rubbing his fingers along his jaw. “He’s going to lose his shit when he wakes up, and you’re not there.”

“I told him that by sunrise, it’s over.”

He steps closer, catching me off guard. “But is that really what you want?” he asks.

My heart immediately sinks at the thought of losing him.

Losing all of them.

His eyes narrow. “Seems like you’ve already made up your mind,” he points out. “Tell him. Tell him what you want. How you feel.”