Page 40 of Masked Mayhem

"Mmm, that's it, Little Mischief. Moan for me. Moan my name as you come all over my tongue," he growls against my pussy, his tongue already lapping up the wetness he's coaxed from me.

"Havoc," I moan, my entire body stiffening. "Yes, don't stop," I beg, feeling like I'm about to tumble rapidly off the edge of desire.

"I'm not, baby girl. I won't stop until you're fucking shaking. Until your cum is all over my mouth—until I've sucked every fucking drop out of your tight, little cunt," he promises, and it's enough to send me barreling the rest of the way over the edge.

Pleasure explodes through my body, and I can feel my pussy clenching around his tongue as he fucks me with it, slipping his fingers inside me for the fun of it. I keep rocking my hips, riding out my climax by riding his face. He slurps and sucks my cum out of me as it begins to soak him, just as he promised, and by the time he's sucked me dry, my legs go limp around him and my body drops to the couch.

“Hey, I need some help with the brownies!” Crow calls from the kitchen, somehow oblivious to the electric tension building between us, but just in time to not disturb us.

The sound of his laughter breaks the moment, reminding me of our absurd little bubble of sanctuary amidst the storm outside. Havoc pauses momentarily and slides his mask back over his face, pulling back just enough to look at me, his eyes darkened with desire. There’s a teasing glint in them, a promise of more to come.

“We’ll be right there,” he calls back, his voice low and husky.

The urgency of his tone is met with an eager chuckle from Crow, who remains unaware of the other kind of warmth simmering in the room. Before I can protest or fully comprehend what’s happening, Havoc stands, seamlessly pulling me to my feet.

He leans in close, his breath hot against my ear, “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

My heart races at the suggestion, a thrill of anticipation swirling within me as I nod, barely trusting my voice. He lingers by my side, one hand still resting at the small of my back as we walk into the kitchen. Crow is busy arranging the brownies on a plate with a dollop of ice cream on top. The aroma of chocolate and weed whirls in the air, enticing and rich, wrapping around my senses like a comforting weight. I can’t believe how easily the atmosphere shifts back to normal, laughter bubbling up over our sneaky memories and mischief.

“Just wait until you taste these,” Crow beams, placing the plate down and reaching for the milk. “They’ll blow your fucking mind."

“Like the first time I blew smoke into your mouth?” Havoc asks, shooting me a cheeky glance as he fills three glasses with cold milk.

I chuckle, the tension of a moment ago dissipating, replaced by a playful banter that feels necessary. Maybe we aren’t completely surrounded in darkness at the moment. The warmth of our bond, like the brownies and milk, feels almost... comforting.

As we settle down at the small kitchen table, I steal glances at both of them. My curiosity about their hidden faces has not faded, but I sense the bond we’re forming runs deeper than appearances. Crow’s laugh is contagious, and Havoc’s subtle winks make my heart skip, even in this mundane setting.

The rain continues to patter against the window, and for the first time in days, I start to feel a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos. Just as I reach for a brownie, the familiar buzz of my phone pulls me from the moment; a single message lights the screen. My heart drops as I see the sender. The stark reminder of my reality cuts through the haze, the dark clouds looming not just outside but also in the recesses of my mind.

I fucking see you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.

I feel the world tilt, the laughter of Havoc and Crow fading into a dull roar as panic escalates within me. They notice my expression shift, and suddenly their playful demeanor evaporates, replaced by concern and confusion. I can’t help but see it—their masks—more than a facade but also barriers, veils hiding their true selves, all while keeping me sheltered from the storm of my own fears.

“Havoc, Crow,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I think—there's something I need to tell you.”

The air thickens with tension, the casual atmosphere of the kitchen shattered by the weight of my words. Havoc’s and Crow's eyes morph from lighthearted to serious in an instant, their masks suddenly feeling like a shield between us and the reality that refuses to fucking let me go.

“What is it?” Crow asks, his brow furrowing. “You look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost.”

“This message,” I stammer, my hands shaking as I hold up my phone for them to see. “It’s from him.”

The blood drains from their faces, and for a moment, silence reigns, broken only by the relentless sound of rain drumming against the windows.

Havoc leans in closer, his voice low. “What does it say?”

I read the message aloud, each word feeling heavier than the last, as if it was physically dragging me down. “I fucking see you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.”

A sense of dread wraps around me, tightening like a noose. I can see Havoc's and Crow's minds racing as they process the implications. It’s not just a threat; it’s a reminder that the stalker is still out there, lurking in the shadows of my life like a spider waiting to weave its web.

“Okay,” Havoc speaks, his tone steady, though I sense a tension simmering beneath the surface. “We need to act fast. Lux and Donovan—”

“... Are still on the lookout,” Crow interjects, his eyes darting around the room as if the masked man could jump out of the shadows at any moment. “But we can’t just sit here. We need to come up with a plan. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

I shake my head, panic clawing at my throat. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to block it out. I thought… I thought maybe if I stayed here long enough, he would forget about me, but he didn't.”

Havoc reaches for me, his grip firm but gentle on my shoulder. “You’re safe here. We’ll keep you safe, I promise.” His words are comforting, but the stark realization hangs in the air: it’s not just me I have to consider. The threat bleeds into their lives too.

“What about the police? Should we report this?” Crow suggests, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.

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