Page 45 of Masked Mayhem

"What's the matter?" I ask Whitney, once Cade leaves the room to check out the noise.

"That was... strange," she says skeptically, eyeing me with caution.

"What was?" I ask, playing dumb.

"The way you both drew your weapons. You looked like fucking cops," she snaps, her demeanor changing. "Are you guys fucking cops, Carter?"

Wanting to scream to her,Yes, we are,I bite my tongue and force a lie out of my mouth, trying to protect myself while still protecting her.

"No, we're not. We both have military training; that's what you saw," I inform her, telling a half-truth that seems to relax her frayed nerves.

Cade comes back with his gun tucked back in his waistband, a small look of relief in his eyes as he sits back down and takes the blunt from Whitney, her eyes red and glassy from the mix of the drugs.

"Looks like the wind blew Boston's door open. The front door is still locked, and so are the windows and shit. I shut and locked Boston's just to be safe." He looks at me, clearly pissed. "I don't know how you fucking missed that, 13, but do better next time."

In shock, Whitney's jaw drops, listening to the way Cade snapped at me, but I don't blame him. I also know that I checked all the windows and shit, and they were all locked, so something isn't sitting right with me, but I keep it to myself for now, not wanting to freak her out.

"Sorry," I mutter, trying to regain my composure as the tension settles in the room again. Whitney’s gaze shifts between us, her brows furrowed, wary of the discord that just erupted.

“Hey, it’s fine,” she says, attempting to lighten the mood. But I see the flicker of fear in her eyes, and my chest tightens. “Can we just... can we focus on, I don’t know, having fun? Just for tonight?”

“Yeah. You’re right,” I say, forcing a smile. “Let’s not let anything ruin this night.” I exchange a glance with Cade, who nods, though I can see he’s still on edge.

“Right, let’s do this,” Cade says, trying to recalibrate.

He takes a hefty pull from the blunt, passing it to me before he grabs Whitney’s glass, downing the liquor, his bravado returning faster than I expected.

“You really want to get blitzed?” I tease, but my heart isn’t in it. After the scare, I’m suddenly more conscious of how quickly things can turn.

“Damn right,” she says firmly, downing the rest of her drink with one swift motion. “What’s life without a little risk?”

Her audacity is inspiring, igniting something primal within me. But my stubborn protective instincts surge in response, battling against my nature to keep this night lighthearted.

“Whitney, I know you want to have fun, but just one drink at a time, alright? I don’t want you completely wasted if something happens.”

“Why? You think I can’t handle myself?” She challenges, a slight grin forming on her lips, masking the underlying fear.

I can’t help but admire her spirit. “No, it’s just... sometimes things can change quickly, like what just happened. I just want to keep you safe.”

“Then let’s do more than just sit around worrying.” Whitney stands, placing her hands on her hips defiantly, summoning that confidence again. “Let’s have a little fun, something that takes control away from—”

“Whitney, I don’t think now is the time for games,” Cade interrupts, his tone more serious.

“You’re no fucking fun, Cade,” she pouts, but the lightheartedness returns to her voice. “Come on, what if we do something that keeps us all involved? Keep the focus on us and off the rest of the fucking world?”

Feeling a sudden wave of inspiration, I remember the various card games I’ve learned over the years in the military—ones that require a healthy dose of risk and reward.

“How about a round of poker?” I propose, eager to redirect her energy. “We can bet for shots, or whatever embarrassing consequence you want.”

“Now we’re talking,” she grins, finally letting go of the earlier tension. “You guys know I’ll win, right?”

"That's the spirit," I cheer, moving swiftly to gather a deck of cards from the side table. There’s nothing better than a little competition; it distracts from the creeping unease of the outside world. “But just remember, if you lose, you’ve got to do what we say for the next round.”

She chuckles, the hint of a challenge in her eyes. “Alright, bring it the fuck on.”

As we set up the game, a sense of belonging forms between us. The cards shuffle between our fingers, laughter intertwining with the smoke swirling above our heads. I can feel the heaviness of the evening slowly lifting as the game progresses and shots flow freely, the drugs invading our bodies and indeed fucking us up more than if it were a regular blunt we smoked.

Whitney has a look of seduction in her eyes, and I can tell that the molly is working. Her eyes dart to my lap, and she licks her lips, slowly returning her gaze to mine, my cock hardening immediately. She gets up and sits on my lap, wiggling her ass as she feels my cock poking into her, extremely turned on and wanting to fuck. I wrap an arm around her waist possessively, holding her in place because her ass feels so fucking good against me.

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