Page 14 of Masked Mayhem

“I’m so close... Please, don’t stop,” I plead, lost in a symphony of sensations—the fullness of Crow, the delightful torture of Havoc, and the rising tension deep within me.

“Three… two… one…” Crow counts down, his voice colliding with my own ragged breaths.

And then it happens—a stunning wave of pleasure crashes over me, pulling me under, consuming me whole. I arch my back, muscles clenching around Crow as I cry out, gasping for breath as euphoria engulfs me.

“Good fucking girl,” Crow praises, anchoring me as I ride out the waves of my climax.

Havoc throws himself back into his work, licking and kissing me all over, prolonging my pleasure and wrapping me in a cloud of euphoric sensations.

As I float back down from the climax, too spent to relay coherent thoughts, I know this moment will change everything among us three, igniting a bond that feels electric and irrevocable. I can’t help but smile, even behind the blindfold, anticipating whatever thrilling encounter is yet to come.

Once the blindfold is removed and I’m dressed again, I slide beneath my blanket, letting my weary head sink into my pillow. Expecting Havoc and Crow to leave, I’m surprised when they settle onto the window seat beside my balcony doors, their masks radiating a soft glow as they silently watch over me, like guardian angels vigilant against unseen threats.

Their presence stirs uncomfortable memories of Dustin, pulling shadows from the past into the forefront of my mind. I’m reminded of how fiercely protective my foster brothers, Raze and Hawk, used to be—two people who haven’t been part of my life for nearly a decade. The thought of them tugs at my heart, a bittersweet tightening in my chest.

After I got involved with Dustin, I lost contact with them—I couldn’t see them—I wasn't allowed any contact—and God, I tried so fucking hard. But somehow, he always found out. It wasn’t until later that I discovered he had secretly implanted a GPS tracker in my thigh during one of the nights he had drugged me. He regularly slipped me drugs to make sure I complied with his demands, allowing him to maintain complete control over me for far too long. The night he beat me so badly that I lost the baby was also when I learned about the torment of that implant. I’d never felt more violated or betrayed. Breaking free from him was necessary, but the scars he left behind linger. A deep sense of fear has taken root in me, one that I doubt I will ever fully shake off.

I direct my attention to the two masked figures at the foot of my bed, who continue to observe me with an unwavering silence; the only sound is the wind sweeping around my small room. I can’t help but wonder how Raze and Hawk have changed over the years. I find myself questioning where they might be now, if they ever made it to Boston as they once dreamed, and if, perhaps, they are somehow here, and we're all unaware of each other's presence.

Grabbing my phone, I prop myself up against the cushioned headboard, pulling my knees to my chest, determined to search for any trace of them. In the past, any time I tried to look them up, my attempts to find them were unsuccessful.

"What are you doing?" Havoc's voice interrupts the silence as Crow flicks his lighter and sparks life into a freshly rolled blunt.

“I can't sleep, so I thought I’d try to find some people from my past,” I reply, not looking up from the screen.

“Put your fucking phone down, Whitney,” Havoc commands, striding toward my bedside with the blunt in hand.

Confusion washes over me as he snatches the phone from my grasp and presses the blunt into my hands instead, encouraging me to smoke.

“Just take a fucking hit if you can’t sleep. You’ll be out like a light in no time.” He locks eyes with me, and I can’t help but shiver as I place the blunt between my lips.

As I inhale, the smoke envelops my lungs, soothing every tense muscle and instantly relaxing my shoulders. Before I can exhale, Havoc covers my eyes with his hand. I hear the rustle of his mask being removed, and, without warning, his lips meet mine, drawing the smoke from my lungs as our tongues intertwine in a sudden, chaotic dance.

My heart races in shock, a mix of surprise and an instinctive flutter of desire that I find difficult to control. He pulls away, his breath warm against my skin, and I blink up at him as he quickly puts his mask back on, still struggling to fully process what just happened. The intimate moment lingers in the air, thick like the smoke now swirling around us.

"Relax," he whispers, his voice low and steady, with a hint of encouragement laced through it.

He glances quickly at Crow, who leans back against the wall, one arm casually thrown over his head, watching the two of us with an amused expression.

"Don't look so fucking surprised," Havoc continues, a smirk making his eyes squint. "You're not fucking fragile, Whitney. You need to live a little."

I can feel warmth creeping into my cheeks, both from the dense haze of smoke and the chemistry ignited by his kiss. I’m still hesitant; this isn’t the best course of action amidst my whirlwind of memories and emotions, but my whole life I've been known to make bad decisions.

"I'm…not sure," I manage to say, even as I take another tentative drag from the blunt, inhaling more of the calming haze. “I’m not ready for—”

“Ready for what? For someone to care? To actually fucking want you?” Havoc interrupts, uncompromising. "You can't let the past keep you in chains forever."

His words strike a chord deep within me, awakening a mixture of longing and fear. All these years, I’ve kept my distance from feelings and connections, convinced that the best way to safeguard myself was through isolation. But here I am, face-to-face—in a way—with two amazing men offering me an invitation back into the world—the essence of life that I had closed myself off from for too long.

With a hesitant nod, I take another hit, letting the smoke wash over me, grateful for the effect it’s having on my nerves. As I exhale, I notice Crow standing a bit closer, curiosity flickering in his sharp eyes.

"You should know," Crow says, his voice more soothing than Havoc's, "we're not here to be another one of your scars. We want to be part of your next chapter, something fresh."

The idea of embracing this "next chapter" feels dangerous, but in a way it excites me. “You don’t know anything about me,” I murmur, hugging my knees tighter. Yet, the determination in my voice begins to waver.

"Then let us," Havoc replies, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his tattooed fingers lingering there, igniting a spark that runs down my spine. “Let us in. It’s been a long fucking time since you've allowed yourself to feel.”

His touch awakens something dormant inside me, and I can’t help but wonder about the possibilities. What if I did let them in? What if I stopped hiding behind my past and allowed myself the chance to be happy, to allow myself to love and be loved again?

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