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She had never been so affected by someone’s attractiveness as she was his, and it drove her wild that he seemed to know it.
“Good girl,”
“Then he was useless and a waste of your time,”
“No. That wasn’t for me,”
“There will be no living with you after this,” she muttered. “That… That can’t happen again.” He lifted a brow. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself of that, angel?”
“Whatever you say, but don’t be surprised when you find yourself having to resist begging me for more.”
“Nothing is going to hurt you while I’m here, Ophelia. Rest.”
She wanted to tell Vivi about their ill-advised bargain and how infuriating she thought the Phantom was. She wanted to tell her about the annoying way he gave her half-answers to every single question and made her want to stab him, just for him to turn around and save her life or make her laugh. And she absolutely, desperately, wanted to tell her sister about the mind-blowing way he touched her, how intoxicating his kisses were and how one erotic encounter with the Ghost made her realize that maybe she wasn’t broken after all.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,”
“Next time your mind tries to convince you otherwise, remember this: there is nothing about you that I find undesirable. Okay?”
“Aw.” She pressed a mocking hand to her chest. “Are you saying you’d be sad if I were to get maimed or die?” He gave her an odd, inscrutable look. “Tell me, angel, do you believe me to be heartless?”
Though, that effort became muddied up by the butterflies in her stomach every time he got a little too close to demonstrate something.
But all of Blackwell’s critiques were constructive in a way that encouraged her to elevate herself to his level, rather than break her down.
He’s been gone for less than an hour, get a hold of yourself. Kissing him had been an astronomical mistake.
But the problem wasn’t that she had stopped finding him annoying—the problem was that she had started finding him enticing.
“As much as it pains me to say this,” Blackwell’s voice rang out, “keep your clothes on, angel.”
“Angel?”
She took two more gulps of air as instructed, something inside her swelling with a foreign emotion that he had so shrewdly observed such a specific detail. Always in threes. Her locket began to warm.
With him was the safest place she could be.
and when she finally opened her eyes, a beaming smile stretched across her face as she gazed up into Blackwell’s emerald eyes.
“I think you must have been heaven-sent,” she told him as her head finally cleared. He lifted a brow in amusement. “That’s a new sentiment for me. Here.”
“Thank you. You got me through that.”
“You got yourself through that. I’m proud of you.”
“Ophelia.” His tone was firm now. “You don’t need to fix yourself. You’re not broken. But it’s okay to get outside help if it gets too loud.”
“Excuse me for being concerned.”
trial… taking care of yourself first is not a sin.
“C’mon, angel. Tell me what I can do to make you feel good. I’m at your service after all.”
“I want you to let me see you.”
“All of you. There is nothing I have seen yet that has made me look away. No atrocity you could commit to make me not want you like this. No matter how forbidden.”
“I want to know everything. I want to see all the darkest corners of your mind.” He tilted his face up to whisper his next words right int...
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He kissed his way down her throat, nipping at her pulse before lowering himself down to his knees before her.
“Tasting
“You taste like heaven,” he murmured.
“You’re so beautiful. It’s quite irritating.” “I know,” he said wryly.
“You’re…”—he rubbed a hand over his mouth in wonder—“stunning. Angelic.”
“It’s my turn to taste.”
“Fuck,” he groaned. “I take back what I said about you being angelic.”
“Is it okay if I—” “You can do anything you want, angel,”
“I’d let you drag me to the depths of Hell right now if that...
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“Ophelia.” She had always adored the way he spoke her name. Like a wicked prayer.
“You can have everything, angel.”
“You’re such a good fucking girl,”
“Fuck me,” he told her. “Harder, angel.”
Not even the thunder overhead could drown out the sound of his name being wrought from her lips.
“Do you want me to stay?”
“Yes.”
“Then, I’ll stay,” he avowed.
Fall in love within Phantasma at your own risk.
“Clearly, I didn’t wear you out enough if you’re already awake,”
It had probably been a mistake that she asked Blackwell to stay the night—especially because waking up to him was more comforting than she’d like to admit.
