Page 81 of The Masquerade: Room 2

Pierce wraps his arms around me, lifting me as if I’m light as a feather, before pressing my back against the wall, his kiss ravenous as he takes the lead. By the time the doors reopen, I realize we didn’t choose a floor. Now we’re on the top floor of the hospital as people shuffle in beside us, my breathing ragged as I attempt to find some composure.

I can see myself in the mirrored walls. I look freshly fucked, just from a kiss, and Pierce—holy hell, he looks hot. His dirty blond hair is messy, just the way I like it, knowing it was my hands raking through it only seconds ago. He meets my gaze in our reflections, a dark, wry grin on his face. I know exactly what’s going to happen when we get back to his place.

Startled, I awake, the serenity of sleep decimated by the thrashing next to me.

“No… stop.” Pierce’s voice is unfamiliar as he shouts so loud it makes me jump.

“Get out.” His arms are flying everywhere as I attempt to wake him.

“Pierce, wake up. It’s just a dream.”

“Stop hitting her.” I try to place my hand on his chest, but he fights against my touch.

“Pierce. It’s me, Freya. Everything is okay. It’s just a nightmare.”

“No, Daddy. Please. No.” And just like that, my heart shatters into a million pieces, broken by the pain of realization. It’s not a dream. It’s a memory.

I drag in a shaky breath, knowing that the splintered shards of my heart may be the only way to bring light into this moment. Reaching over, I cup his face with my hand. “Wake up, Daddy. I’m here. It’s your little one. I need you to wake up for me. I love you, Daddy!”

His eyes fly open, wild and disorientated, his breathing erratic as he finds my gaze.

“Freya?”

“Yes, Daddy. It’s me.”

He pulls me into his arms, my head against his chest, listening to every thudding beat. “I’m sorry if I scared you, little one.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” One word carries so much devastation. I’ve been keeping Pierce at arm’s length since the moment we met, but now all I want to do is know him and help in whatever way I can. “I’m going to get a drink of water.”

He starts to move, but I pull my head up as I reach for him. “Talk to me.” I lean in to kiss him, but he shirks away from me, out the bed, and through the door in seconds.

My body trembles as I grab the first piece of clothing I find—his T-shirt. It’s hugely oversized, but I don’t care. The scent of his cologne lingers, wrapping me in much-needed warmth. I pad down the hallway to the kitchen, the light from the refrigerator casting Pierce’s shadow as he gulps a bottle of water.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Go back to bed.” His words are clipped, cold, and devoid of anything close to the man I’ve grown to love.

“You’re obviously not fine. I tried to wake you multiple times. You’re shaking right now.”

“Do as you’re told, little one. This isn’t the time for you to catch feelings. Either go back to bed or get in the position.”

“What do you want to do to me?” I say with trepidation, my voice nothing more than a whisper.

“I’m your Dominant. Does it matter what I’m going to do? It ends with an orgasm. If you keep talking when I tell you to leave it alone, I’ll be the only one coming.”

“You’re my Dominant? What happened to you being my Daddy?”

“For fuck’s sake, Freya. What do you want me to say? You wanted me to take your virginity. I did. You wanted me to teach you. I am. You wanted to call me your Daddy. I let you. What more do you want from me? Go to fucking bed and leave me alone.”

A pain I’ve never felt before slams me square in the chest—not for me, but for him.

I grab the bottom of his T-shirt and pull it over my head, discarding it on the floor as I walk toward him, every step feeling more vulnerable than the last.

“Go to bed, Freya.”

Without a word, I drop to my knees at his feet, clasping my hands above my head. I’m at his mercy.

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