Page 96 of Devil's Thirst

“You say the sweetest things,” I tell him in a tender voice to make sure he knows I’m not joking either.

“Yeah, it’s time to get home. I need to be inside you.”

“Okay, okay. We just need to hit the dressing room real quick.” I lead us back there and go to my vanity, but the problem is, there’s nothing among the makeup and supplies that I need. What I wanted was something a little twisted, and I’m not sure how to ask.

As it turns out, I don’t have to.

When I turn around, Sante is leaning on the wall in the same place he did that night he wore the mask. I practically start to salivate as I combine my knowledge of him with the memory. I feel like any shrink would tell me that being turned on by that night is a red flag for all sorts of mental health issues, but I’m tired of caring what other people think. I find it hot as hell.

My breathing turns shallow, and I’m pretty sure my panties are now soaked.

“Oh, pet, what have you done? You should know better than to let a man like me see you thinking thoughts like that.” His voice rakes across my sensitized skin, drawing out a shiver. “Stay,” he commands, then disappears back into the hallway. When he rounds the corner again seconds later, he’s wearing the mask. I can hardly believe my eyes.

“Where was it?” I can’t stop from asking.

“Giant lost and found bin in the hallway.” He resumes his station at the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “The dress. Take it off.”

I reach back to unbutton the single-loop closure at my neck. The emerald-green dress is long-sleeved and square cut, outlining my frame without being glued to me. Elegant and almost professional if it wasn’t for the length—possibly my favorite part. The dress is super short, which shows off mytoned legs to their full potential. The perfect mix of sexy and sophisticated.

I lift the fabric over my head and drop it on the floor. I wasn’t wearing a bra, leaving me in my panties and heels. My nipples pebble from the exposure and knowing Sante is starving for a taste.

“Panties off.” His voice is ragged, worn through like the knees on an ancient pair of jeans.

I slide them down to the ground.

“Take that chair and set it facing me. Then have a seat.”

I do as he says, laying one of Hazel’s misplaced scraps of fabric on the wood seat before I sit.

“Spread your legs, and let me look at you. I want to see that beautiful pussy weep for me.”

I have never felt sexier in my whole life.

I press out my chest, hands on my knees as I open them wide.

“Fuck, I can taste you already.” He walks to where a robe hangs on a hook and slips the belt from its loops. He then prowls around behind me. “Hands,” he demands.

I bring them together behind the back of the chair. It’s easy enough as the wood chairs used in our dressing room have been around for decades and are petite café-style chairs. He uses the soft terry to loosely bind my hands.

“If any of this is too much, you say so. I want it to be enjoyable, not triggering. Understood?”

I nod readily, eating up every second of this delicious fantasy.

“Look to your left.”

I do, just as his hand cups my breast. I see it all play out in the vanity mirror beside us. I arch into his touch, silently begging for more.

“Such a performer, pet. I approve, so long as this sort of show is only for me.”

Again, I nod. “It only feels good because it’s you.” If I truly was in a room with a masked stranger, I’d be petrified. This is different. Role-play. Fantasy. This is safe.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror.”

I watch him circle before me and undo his pants, letting his swollen cock fall free. I see it bobbing in the mirror and desperately want to turn my head, but I don’t. I want to be his good girl, and he hasn’t told me I can look yet.

He steps one leg between mine and rounds the other to the side of the chair. The side where the mirror is. I can now see the crimson head of his cock inches from my face, though I’m not looking directly at it.

“So good at following orders,” he purrs. “So good at pleasing me.” His hand trails along my jawline, then down to my breast, where he twists one nipple in the perfect mix of pleasure and pain. “Tell me, pet. Would you like to please me by wrapping your fuckable lips around my cock?”

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