Phantom (Cat and Mouse, #0)

by H.D. Carlton

“What’s your name?” I ask again breathlessly. “Ronaldo.” “Do you want to hurt me, Ronaldo?” “Never,” he answers. “I only want to cherish you, Genevieve.” “How do you know my name?” “I know everything about you. Just as I know you will love me, too.”

Im already in love

I’m not only riveted by her. I’m possessed by a need to have her. And she must be mine.

I’d love nothing more than to be consumed by her words, no matter how they greet me. Whether it’s through those red-stained lips or from her delicate hands. I want to know every facet of her, every centimeter of her—mind, body, and soul.

She plagues my mind, infecting it like a parasite and overriding any autonomy over myself. My free will is indebted to her, and without her, I am nothing.

She will never be the same, as I am not.

It’s physically painful for me to walk away from her, but I know that I must. I’m a bad man, but I won’t be her monster. No. I want to be her savior.

If Genevieve is my end, then I open the door to death with no hesitation.

“If you wanted to hurt me, you would have by now,” she breathes, almost as a placation to her own fearful thoughts. She’s wrong. I do want to hurt her. I’d love nothing more than to see her bare ass reddened by my hand. Or the faintest of bruises around her neck where my fingers grip as I drive into her. And those beautiful eyes filled with tears, pleading for me not to go any deeper down her throat. Husbands don’t hurt their wives the way I want to hurt her. They save those darker desires for their salacious nights in brothels, where those actions are considered disrespectful but acceptable.

There’s nothing gentle about the way I plan to love Genevieve Parsons.

John may as well have stuck his fist down my throat to grab hold of my heart and crush it.

“I want you so badly, it hurts to breathe without you near,”

“Because you possess my lungs, as you do my heart, Genevieve. And I intend to take yours for myself,”

“I will bleed for you, mia rosa, but I must require you to bleed for me, too,”

“Your forgiveness, my love. I ask it of you,” he rasps. I’m rendered speechless as he plucks at the garter straps clipped to my stockings. “There is little in life I’m deserving of—little that I allow myself to indulge in. Yet you are the crux of all my selfish desires. I would cease to breathe if I could not share air with you, Genevieve. If I can’t live with you, I refuse to at all.”

She ordered me to fuck her like a whore, and it would be terribly rude of me to deny her.