Phantom: Her Ruthless Fiancé: 50 Loving States, Kentucky (Ruthless Triad)

by Theodora Taylor

“I’m sorry!” I gasped out—only to gasp even louder when he buried himself all the way inside of me.

  “Don’t be sorry,” he said as he started powering into me, rough and hard. “Just understand why I’ve got to take you like this, why I can’t be nice. Not when you come for me like that.”

  With those words, he fell on top of me, his huge body pressing into my back.

  And yes….he was as heavy as I expected. So heavy, I fell to my forearms, unable to stay up as he rutted me like an animal.

  It was too much. The filthy words. The weight. The pressure between my folds as he pumped into them. He was big. I suddenly understood why women sometimes said impossible things, like, I could feel him in my womb.

  I’d never been filled like this, so completely that I couldn’t properly breathe between strokes. Not just because of his almost crushing weight on top of me, but also because when he pulled back, I kept holding my breath in anticipation of him filling me up again.

  But surely I wouldn’t. I couldn’t—

  That thought cut out, and the world disappeared.

  “Three,” a voice said somewhere in the distance as another climax hit.

  He was so heavy, and in the end, I needed that. He laid on top of me like a weighted blanket, keeping me grounded and safe as the orgasm tore through me.

  “Best one yet, beautiful,” he said, lifting off of me when I was done. “But I’m going to have to take a break, or else I’ll blow before we get to five.”

  His idea of a break and my idea of a break were two very different things. I found that out when instead of flopping down on his back like I did, he crooked one of my legs over his shoulders. And…

  Holy moly…if I thought the first time was good, it barely compared to what happened when he buried his face between my legs along with two fingers, polishing my clit while he worked them inside of me.

  This was crazy. I didn’t want to be this wanton woman coming all over a virtual stranger.

  But my body was so primed—I couldn’t hold on. Just a minute or two later, he raised his mouth from my pussy with a triumphant. “Four. And looks like I was right about you being a squirter.”

  Oh my gosh….luckily, I was too wiped out to feel as mortified as I should. I lay there like a melting chocolate pudding pop, my body quivering with aftershocks.

  He rose from the bed. And now.…now he finally took off the suit. I watched him strip in a daze and wondered at all the tattoos covering his chest. The snake with red diamond eyes who slithered all the way up to his neck, also a dragon, and an ancient-looking man, who I could only guess was some Chinese god. They appeared to be meaningful.

  Too bad I was incapable of asking questions in this melted pudding pop stage.

  He climbed back into the bed and flipped me over onto my stomach before my eyes could travel below his waist.

  “Can’t believe I lasted this long.” His voice held a new urgency as he pulled my hips up again and lined the hard knob of his dick with the back of my pussy.

  He didn’t have to feed it to me this time. I was wet, so slippery with all my orgasms. He slid right into my still clenching core.

  I began to meet his thrusts, finding a store of bad girl endurance I wouldn’t have guessed I had.

  But then, for the first time ever, I voiced a sexual want out loud. “Could we do it this last time, facing each other?”

  He stopped pumping behind me, and his voice was quiet and tense as he answered, “I figured this would be easier for you if you didn’t have to look at me?”

  “What?” I unimpaled myself from his cock and flipped back over to look at him.

  I’d spent so much of tonight feeling weird and uncomfortable until he dropped all my shields with that no-holds-barred sex. But now, he appeared to be the awkward one.

  He scraped a hand over the back of his head. “I’m not pretty like your boyfriend. And I know…I know women like that.”

  It was funny. How many women had acted like I was so lucky to have such a traditionally handsome boyfriend. A few of them had stared at us on the street, their thoughts as noisy as shouts. How did she manage to land him?

  But I realized something for the first time at that moment.

  The things that made people most attractive had almost nothing to do with facial symmetry.

  “No, you’re not pretty,” I agreed. “But I don’t care about that. You were the person your grandma asked for when she got hurt. You came to get me when Dawn needed someone to check over her baby. You sang me happy birthday after the worst night of my life. And now you’ve given me, hands-down, the best sex I’ve ever had. To me, you’re beautiful—plus, it’s only fair to let me see your cum face since you’ve seen mine so many times tonight.

  He chuckled, the sound a low grumble in his chest. Then he said, “Alright. As long as you promise me one thing...”

  “What?” I asked without reservation, feeling bold and sexy—yet another thing I could credit to the Dragon in front of me.

  “Don’t ever bring up my grandma again while we’re smashing,” he answered.

  This was only a one-night stand, but I couldn’t help but laugh and wince. “Yes, yes…I hear it now. You almost lost your erection, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I did,” he let me know with a disgruntled shake of his head. But then he sobered to say, “Olivia.”

  His voice was so serious. I couldn’t tell if he was asking for my full attention or commanding it. Either way, I answered, “Yes?”

  “Happy birthday, beautiful.”

  He claimed my mouth and fell back on the bed with me. No more back and forth, no more jokes. He just pushed right into me and began taking me again with deep, powerful thrusts.

  He felt even larger inside me at this angle, and I widened my legs to give him some room, to take him even deeper. And this time…

  This time I wasn’t surprised when the orgasm crested over me just a few minutes later. Of course, it did. I’d learned to expect it, and when that fifth train came thundering through me, I climbed aboard and hung on as it lifted off the tracks and throttled me into outer space.

  “Five…five…five,” somebody was chanting as I floated back down to Earth and found myself underneath the Dragon’s frantically rutting body.

  But then he suddenly stopped and bit out, “Fuck, beautiful.” He pushed into me with one final shove. Then his entire body spasmed as he released into the condom.

  Some feminine instinct made me wrap both my arms and legs around him. I held on as best I could, anchoring him like he’d anchored me earlier when I thought the orgasm might actually tear me apart.

  It was the least I could do. I’d never felt so wanted. So satisfied. So….so….everything that I suspected could exist with sex but didn’t know for sure until this moment.

  It was like that final note, Sirena Gale hit at the end of the opera, Chrysanthemum. She held you inside of it for so long that anyone with a soul was weeping by the time she released you from its thrall.

  Actually, it was exactly like that. I didn’t realize I was crying until The Dragon said, “Sssh, it’s okay. It’s okay….”

  He rolled us onto our sides and wrapped me up in his arms.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, sniffling into his barrel chest. “It was just so good.”

  He chuffed. “Hey, don’t be sorry, beautiful. If you wanted to make me feel like a king, this is how you do it.

  And just like that, I went from crying to laughing.

  “Seriously, you could teach a masterclass,” he told me. “Hey, this is Dr. Olivia with a message for all you women. You want to make a man happy in bed, all you gotta do is come five times in a row and cry legit tears because”—he put on a high southern falsetto to imitate me, “’ It was just so good! Nobody does it like you, Phantom!’”

  I stopped laughing to ask, “Is that your name? Phantom? I thought maybe it was Hak-kan. That was what your grandma called you, right?”

  He stopped laughing too. And it felt lik
e a decision when he said, “Hak-kan is my Chinese name. Phantom is what everybody else calls me.”

  “Really? Not Hawk?” I asked. “I mean, as far as American nicknames go, that one’s pretty intimidating.”

  He stilled. “Alright, now I’m pissed that I didn’t think of that. You’re right. Hawk is totally bad-ass.”

  My fiancé forgot my birthday. Then I caught him getting a blowjob. From my stepsister. My dream of having a child of my own had never been farther away.

  But somehow, I found myself laughing uproariously with Phantom. Like a girl without a care in the world.

  “So what should I call you?” I asked when we were done with that round of laughter. “Phantom or Hak-kan?”

  8

  PHANTOM

  Phantom came to regret his decision the next day.

  He woke up way later than usual, thanks to last night’s activities—nearly noon. But the sight of Olivia’s dark body wrapped up in his white sheets…

  His dick turned to concrete, ready to go again as if last night had never happened.

  But it had. Her presence this morning proved it. And he wanted to make last night happen again. Maybe spend the entire day in bed repeating the challenge.

  But first, a real birthday celebration.

  He got up, rinsed off in the shower, and threw on some sweatpants. Only to immediately regret the decision when she rolled over. She must have taken off her bra sometime during the night. The sheet pulled down, revealing one of the perfect dark breasts he hadn’t taken the opportunity to sample when he had the chance. Fucking hell…

  Alright, jeans it was. But when he looked back up after the wardrobe change, the sheet had slipped even further. Both breasts….both supple breasts were now exposed, those black cherry nipples just begging to be touched, and sucked, and a whole lot of other things—

  Food, he reminded himself. Gotta feed her.

  This responsibility was the only thing that allowed him to rush out of the room before he could give into temptation.

  Victor and Han loved having at least a handful of their Silent Triad ranks at their avail at all hours. So every meal they ate was either prepared by their full-time chef in Rhode Island or brought to them by someone else. He doubted either of them had any food delivery apps on their phone or even knew how to make their own restaurant reservations.

  Phantom preferred to do all that shit himself. He didn’t even bother with guards unless it was for show during a big meeting. But that afternoon, he felt kinda conflicted about his usual stance.

  On the one hand, he would have preferred to stay in bed with Olivia. On the other, he knew exactly where to go around his place to celebrate her right.

  He ran down to his favorite brunch spot, where everything on the menu was chef’s kiss. Then he went a few doors down to the bodega for some champagne and ran across the street to the French pastry shop and got a box of croissants, along with two cupcakes, so he could sing her “Happy Birthday” again.

  The text from Victor came through just as he was headed back into the building.

  VICTOR: “Where are you?”

  Phantom immediately texted back.

  Personal business.

  VICTOR: Need you here tomorrow for breakfast to run interference.

  Phantom cursed out loud. He’d forgotten about the ongoing drama of the Victor and Dawn show.

  PHANTOM: Fuck your C-drama shit but K. B there.

  Loyalty. No Questions. That was his three-word belief system. Especially when it came to his fellow Silent Triad Dragons, but that was another stance he was low-key regretting as he made his way back to the penthouse.

  He wouldn’t have minded spending a few more days in the city before going back to Rhode Island. Maybe taking Olivia out on a real date to show her he wasn’t just a gorilla who knew what to do in bed.

  Speaking of which, he took the time to plate up the food like a civilized morning after date. He even made a note on his Alexa device to put a tray on the shopping list so that he could do breakfast in bed right next time.

  Next time…

  His chest rattled with all sorts of emotions jumping up and down in there.

  “Hey, wake up…Liv? Livvy?” he asked as he walked into the bedroom. “We never talked about what I should call….”

  His words trailed off when he saw the note on the now empty pillow where Olivia’s head had been resting before he left.

  “Dearest Hak-kan,

  Thank you so much for last night. I’ll never be able to repay you.

  I used your landline to call Garrett, and I was able to go home.

  Again, I am so grateful. I’ll never forget you or be able to thank you enough for being there for me in my time of need.

  If ever, you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.

  Now, I owe you one.”

  Your friend,

  Olivia

  He could almost hear her flowers and molasses voice as he read the note.

  No, you’re not pretty. But I don’t care about that…To me, you’re beautiful.

  That was what she’d said. And he’d believed her. But one night. One night was all he got with her before she decided to go back to her pretty ex-boyfriend.

  Rage boiled inside of him, corroding his bones like acid. And he hurled the food he’d so carefully plated a few minutes ago into the wall.

  9

  OLIVIA

  A wave of frustration rolled through me when I woke up hot and alone on Thanksgiving morning—hot even though a glance at my phone told me that it was only thirty degrees outside. Hot and very, very bothered.

  I always slumbered on my back. But that morning, I awoke face down, my breasts tender and my pussy swollen and achy because I’d been grinding myself against the bed while I’d slept. There was also a suspicious slippery sensation between my legs. Not again….

  I turned over, and sure enough, there was a wet spot on the front of the gorgeous white Josie Natori silk nightgown my mother had gifted me last Christmas. Which meant I’d have to change before going down to breakfast.

  I’d hope coming home for Thanksgiving would maybe mitigate what had become a daily problem before I left New York. But no, here I was in the elegant French country guest room my mother had assigned me after she’d been forced to downsize to a six-bedroom house in Harrod’s Creek after the divorce. Throbbing with memories of the sex I’d had on my birthday.

  If I were back in Manhattan, I’d roll out of bed, rush off to work, knowing that my state of constant motion would make it go away. But I’m not at home. I’m in Kentucky, facing down a boring Thanksgiving day with my mother, sister, and her eerily perfect kids.

  I couldn’t go downstairs in this state.

  So I closed my eyes on the petite chandelier hanging above the foot of my bed and imagine him…

  It was one night. Just one night.

  But the details came back to me crazy fast. His heavy body on top of mine, his thick waist forcing my legs apart as he rode me. The space adventure I’d taken that fifth and final time.

  I’d woken up that morning, slick with arousal too. And even though he’d sent me a clear message by being gone when I awakened, I’d almost humiliated myself for him.

  I’d considered lingering at his apartment until he came back. Asking for more birthday sex, even though my birthday had technically passed at that point.

  But in the end, I managed it. I gathered up my remaining scraps of pride and cobbled them together into an appropriate thank you note full of the breezy good cheer I imagined normal women exhibited when a one-night stand was over.

  So I saved my pride. But for some reason, my body hadn’t gotten the memo about needing to get over the guy who’d obviously wanted me gone the following day.

  I bit my lip, and waves of humiliation rolled over me as I continued to imagine him despite how our one-night stand ended. And the orgasm I had envisioning him between my legs was ten times more powerful than the ones I’d been able to give myse
lf before sex with Phantom.

  So, I felt somewhat if not completely satisfied when I made my way down to the breakfast nook just as Minerva, my mother’s long-time black housekeeper, was setting out platters of buttermilk biscuits, country ham, eggs, and fried potatoes.

  “There you are,” she said, beaming when I walked into the breakfast nook. “I missed you when you got in last night. But I knew you’d be the first one up like always. You been keeping busy up in that big city of yours, ain'tcha?”

  “Sure have.” I’d never quite managed to shake my accent like so many of the southern belles who moved to New York. And it always started coming in thicker when I talked to Minerva. “But how are you doing? I can’t believe your great-grandniece is growing up so fast when you keep getting younger as far as I can tell.”

  “Oh!” Minerva preened. “You know this witchy face cream keeps it plump, tight, and uncracked.”

  Unfortunately, she said that just as my older sister, Skylar, came walking in with her two blond children trotting behind them like show ponies and her husband, Clement bringing up the rear.

  Skylar and Mama squabbled like only two people who were way too much alike could. But for some reason, Skylar had moved into the house right next door to Mama and came over fully dressed for breakfast every day. After two decades of not living under the same roof, I couldn’t even imagine Skylar wearing a pair of sweatpants or—gasp and scandal—pajamas out of the house.

  “I’m aware you’re just kidding with your witch jokes, Minerva, and you know I don’t mind because I love you like a second mama,” Skylar stopped to say as the rest of her family continued on to the eight-person table. “But please keep in mind the children take things very seriously. They might not understand that you’re just having a bit of fun.”

  Minerva and I exchanged looks because we all knew she wasn’t just having fun. Minerva came from a long line of “spirit women,” and pretty much every lady—and a few men—in Glendaver County had come to her door looking for “quick consultations.” These sessions, which she’d held out in the guest house she’d been given when we lived on the Glendaver estate, had usually ended with the exchange of some potion or cream that would provide a bit of magic.