Page 27 of Filthy Few

“What if we call the police?” I hedge.

Waylen pins me with a dumbfounded look. “You are the poor girl whose mother married a rich ass real estate tycoon, who do you think they are going to believe? Plus, if what this masked crew says is true, then they would be the ones to help us find out who the fuck Thomas really is and what this Haven Saints thing is.”

I chew on my bottom lip as I contemplate everything and weigh up my options. “If we do this, then we have to go after Homecoming.”

“Skip the fucking dance?—”

“If I skip the dance Vivian will never forgive me and if I don’t show I can’t guarantee that Vox and the other’s won’t snitch to Nexus that I never showed. If we are wrong about all of this, I can’t let Thomas catch on to the fact I think he killed my friends’ fathers.”

“Friends?” I cringe and shoot him a sheepish smile.

“I know what I have told you sounds bad but they aren’t… terrible?”

He rolls his eyes. “Are you asking me or telling me, babe?”

“Both?” Waylen and I spend the next few hours making a plan for tomorrow. I realize he is right, my only hope of findingout the truth is to ask the fucking favor and be in their debt! Waylen is fast asleep beside me while I lay here staring up at the ceiling with worry churning inside me, a favor this big is going to cost me and I’m scared to know what the price is going to be.

I startle awake to the feeling of a gloved hand over my mouth. My eyes are wide in fear but when the soft glow of the moons lighting allows me to see the mask, I relax at the sight of his two horns. He doesn’t say anything when he clamps his other hand around my throat and drags me out of my bed. I bite my tongue to keep from lashing out at him as he drags me across the room to my bathroom. He closes the door and locks it. I reach for the light switch but he just smacks my hand away and releases me, not taking a step back, leaving me trapped between him and the wall.

Call me crazy but I can feel the anger wafting off him in waves and the slight hint of fear I feel inside me has me feeling light headed and intoxicated by the prospect of what he will do to me.

“You want him to die?” he says, keeping his voice low. His words snap me out of my lust-filled haze.

“Don’t you fucking touch him!” I snap.

His hand wraps around my throat, his thumb stroking the underside of my jaw as he tilts my head up to meet his dark gaze. I may not be able to see his eyes clearly but I can feel the heat in his gaze when he runs it over me.

“You thought this was a good idea?” Even with the voice distorter I can hear the anger that laces his tone.

“What idea?” I rasp out.

His free hand grips my hip, the leather of his glove chaffs against my bare skin sending a shiver down my spine. “Wearing this and allowing him to sleep next to what is mine.”

My eyes widen at the dominance and jealousy I feel wafting off him. I look down and take in the sight of my crop top and sleep shorts. He’s never seemed to mind my sleeping attire before so I am concluding that the fact Waylen is seeing me in this is what he doesn’t like.

“We’re not—” My reply is cut off when he cups my pussy, drawing a gasp from me.

“Did he touch this?” he asks as his hold on my throat tightens and he leans down scraping his mask against my cheek. The roughness of his mask against my skin feels unholy and taboo, the fact I have no idea who he is only adds to the appeal. In a move so bold and risky I reach up and lock my arms around his neck. I feel him stiffen but he doesn’t pull away which just fuels me to push on.

“I wore this foryou, not him or anyone else.” My words seem to ease some of the tension radiating off of him. He releases his hold on my throat, only to grip the back of my neck. He tugs me forward until my face is pressed against his mouth, I dart my tongue out needing to taste him only to be disappointed when I taste the mask and not him. Call me deluded or fucked in the head but I don’t think I ever want to know who the man is beneath the mask. I love being able to indulge in my dark fantasy without being judged. Being hunted by him and at his mercy every night is something I never thought would be something I would ever get the pleasure to experience.

“On your knees,witch.” There it is again! That fucking name is starting to haunt me and a part of me is now terrified that my masked fuck buddy is someone who knows me from school. I know it isn’t Vox or his stupid friends because they have all made their feelings clear to me, none of them would touch me. Notthat I would want them too, well maybe I do want one of them to touch me but I would rather chew razor blades than admit I want to be touched by Vox Hatchett. I mean, Vox did kiss me the other night and I can’t seem to get that fucking kiss or the feeling of his hands on me out of my head. “You think of no one but me!” Two horns snaps angrily as he shoves me to my knees. I whimper when I hit the tiled floor.

“I wasn’t thinking about anyone?—”

“Your eyes told me you were.”

“How the hell would you know?” I bite back as he begins to unfasten his pants. I hate that I am pissed off at him but my mouth is watering at the prospect of being able to suck his cock.

“Was it the fucker in your bed?” he growls as he grips his cock in his hand, stroking it, the sight alone has me clenching my thighs together to try and dull the ache. “Answer me.”

“No!” I admit.

“Who then?” he asks as he rubs the head of his cock against my lips, smearing his pre-cum. I’m powerless to stop my tongue from darting out and tasting him. He groans when I taste the head of his cock. I moan at the taste of him, sweet and salty.

“My asshole neighbor,” I admit as I grip the backs of his thighs and flick my gaze to him as I open my mouth waiting for him to fill it.

For a moment he does nothing aside from stare down at me, the pressure of his gaze has me fighting not to squirm. This whole moment has me on edge—hiding in the bathroom with my secret stranger while my best friend is asleep in my bed in the next room.

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