Page 39 of Masked Mayhem

"Just do it," she begs, her body shaking. "Just fuck me. I don't care if it hurts," she says, her eyes locking onto mine as he pulls his fingers out and pushes his cock against her ass.

"If that's what you want," he growls, holding her hip as he slides into her ass, a painful, seductive moan escaping her lips, vibrating against our hands, still tightly squeezing her throat.

The three of us slowly become one, moving in sync, our moans like a sexy melody playing on repeat as we tangle in each other's embrace. Whitney bounces on my cock while Raze fucks her ass, the pain slowly fading with each thrust, turning into pleasure she never could've imagined. She leaves scratches on my chest while we leave bruises around her neck and handprints on her ass, reminders of our time together.

I find myself looking into Raze’s eyes more than Whitney's, like we're having a silent conversation just by blinking, both thinking the same thing. This is what we've been fucking wanting for so long, but the sting of our betrayal is a painful reminder that we need to come clean.

But first, Whitney's pussy constricts around my cock, and I can tell she's about to come. Helping her, I slam her onto my cock, slipping my fingers between her legs and pinching her pierced clit, making her body spasm against us. Raze grunts and groans, and before I know it, he's coming again, filling her ass while she finally comes undone for both of us. She throws her head back, clawing at my chest while pushing back against Raze and squeezing her thighs around me. It's like a fucking waterfall when she comes, soaking me and the sheet beneath me, a primal cry slipping from her throat as we finally release our grip, using our mouths on her soft, sweaty skin instead.

Between wild gasps and muffled cries, we collapse together, a tangle of limbs and heavy breaths, the aftermath wrapping us in a blanket of warmth and satisfaction. Whitney nestles between us, her body a perfect fit—like the puzzle piece we've been missing—and for a moment, all is silent, except for the sound of our heaving breaths catching up to reality.

Tonight was just a dance, but in that sensuous rhythm, we discovered so much; we found an exhilarating connection that had been dormant far too long. I can feel the weight of the moment pressing down, the promise of something deeper lingering in the air as we embrace the aftermath of our pleasure, reveling in the bond we've created.

fourteen

Safe and Stoned

four days later

Whitney

What Would You Do?: City High

Ithasbeenrainingsince the moment we arrived, a relentless drizzle that has transformed the ground into a muddy swamp over these past five days. Dark gray clouds loom above us, enveloping us in a suffocating bubble of gloom and despair. Our days blend into a monotonous routine: we awaken—often in the morning or afternoon—light up, review safety protocols, do some more smoking, eat, watch TV, fuck, eat, and then smoke yet again before drifting off to sleep. While this stripped-down lifestyle is undeniably relaxing, it has become painfully tedious, and at this point, I’d almost rather take my chances in the city; I'll welcome the thrill of facing my stalker who’s still at large.

Lux and Donovan haven’t had any more encounters with the masked man, and there’s been no sign of any disturbance at my apartment. Everything appears to have settled back to normal. But can it truly be called normal? Is he lying in wait, ready to pounce as soon as I’m within his reach? Most likely.

Today, the thunder rumbles ominously in the distance, rolling endlessly across the sky, accompanied by flashes of lightning that seem to stretch on forever. Even muffled by the music and TV, the thunder resounds loudly, startling me with each crack.

Reclining on the couch, my head resting comfortably in Havoc's lap and my feet cradled in Crow's hands as he massages them, I flip through the limited channels in search of something captivating to watch. Nothing catches my interest in the way I want it to, leaving me yearning for a distraction from the overwhelming chaos that has consumed my life these past few days.

The aroma of pot hangs heavily in the air, a dense scent that lingers like a well-used air freshener, with the amount of weed we've been smoking. Havoc is rolling a small joint now, delicately sprinkling a touch of cocaine over the weed before wrapping it in the thin paper.

Outside, darkness settles around us again, and the rhythmic tapping of the rain becomes a soothing melody, calming my restless nerves that race chaotically with no fucking end in sight. As he sparks the joint, I inhale deeply, savoring the fresh scent of burnt weed, my gaze locked onto Havoc as he lifts his mask just enough to slide the joint between his lips, taking an impressive drag.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, his voice steady as he expects me to obey.

I comply, shutting my eyes tightly, and I can feel his warm lips brush against mine. His fingers grip my chin, holding it firmly as he kisses me, exhaling the smoke from his hit into my mouth. Just as we lose ourselves in the haze of our smoke-filled kiss, the oven timer dings, prompting Crow to leap up, inadvertently dropping my feet back onto the couch.

“Brownies are done!” he exclaims, bursting with enthusiasm like a child in a candy store over his homemade pot brownies.

“Ooh, could you please bring some milk too?” I pull away from Havoc, opening my eyes and barely catching sight of him as he quickly covers his face with the mask again.

Throughout our time together, neither of them has ever removed their masks. I initially thought they simply took their roles with Masked Mayhem a little too seriously, but with everything that has unfolded lately, I’m left questioning if there's more behind their reason. What are they concealing? Why do they insist on hiding? Will they ever reveal their true selves to me?

My head begins to throb from all the unanswered questions, so I sit up and apply pressure to my temples, hoping to ease some of the ache behind my eyes. I can feel Havoc’s eyes on me, but I don't turn to engage him. As Crow sings in the kitchen, cutting and plating the brownies, Havoc takes the opportunity to slide closer, leaning in to claim my neck with soft, sensual kisses. His fingers dance up my thigh, slipping between to tease me, and because of the way it feels, a quiet moan escapes from my lips, making me forget all about the throbbing in my head.

I lean back, my head resting against the top of the couch, parting my legs to welcome him without speaking. He takes the hint and turns me, hovering his body over mine while trying to smoothly slide my shorts off to give him access to the area he wants the most. I prop my feet onto his shoulders as he dips his head between my legs, subtly sliding his mask to the top of his head without showing his face.

The moment his lips connect with my skin, a rush of warmth floods through me. He kisses a path along my inner thigh, igniting a fire that dances just beneath the surface. I tangle my fingers in his hair, barely able to control the soft moans that slip from my lips. There’s something tantalizing about this, the air thick with anticipation and the sweet haze of smoke. My mind drifts briefly, questioning why I crave this connection with someone equally cloaked in mystery, but the thoughts dissipate with each downward stroke of his mouth against my pussy.

His breath feels like fire against my skin as he bites at it, growling and leaving mini vibrations that surge through me like wildfire. His tongue curls around my clit, and he gently tugs at my piercing, forcing an arch in my back that makes me claw frantically at the cushions for something to cling to.

"Your legs are shaking," he says, laughing with his mouth against my pussy. "You like when I eat this pretty kitty, don't you?"

I moan, and he takes it as a yes, diving in deeper with his hands pushing my thighs down to the couch to keep them open. After teasing and sucking on my clit, he licks a line along my pussy lips before pushing the tip through, easing slowly inside me and making the arch in my back even higher. My headache isn't even an issue anymore as I feel the muscles in my stomach tighten, pleasure flowing through my body, straight to my core. His movements are a mixture of thrusting and blowing his breath on my clit, and I can't help the quivering in my legs as he presses them firmly into the couch.

Since I can't move my legs, I lock my thighs around his head and grind against his face, the friction of his tongue and my movements bringing my climax to the edge, and a mixture of gasps and moans begins to slip from my lips louder than before.

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