Page 50 of Masked Mayhem

“More,” she gasps, rooted against Cade, every need flooding her senses.

And we listen; we give her everything—hell, we're both so lost in the pleasure and connection that nothing exists outside the three of us as we plunge into an inseparable unity.

“Let go, Whitney,” Cade urges, a wicked glint in his eyes as he deepens his grasp on her as we become a whirlwind of desire striking deep into her core.

Together, we drown out the noise of the world as we roll around on the bed, our cocks both buried deep inside her tight, wet pussy at the same time, crafting a sanctuary of passion and intimacy, a secret moment that pulls her deeper and deeper into the embrace of the night, ready to explore every boundary until we all realize what true euphoria feels like.

seventeen

The Shampoo

Whitney

Daisy: Ashnikko

Mybodyachesinways I've never experienced due to something good that's happened. When Dustin used to beat my ass, I felt this same way, so each move I make is extremely triggering, but the memories from last night—from having both Cade and Carter inside me—bring a smile to my face and push the fear into the black hole in my mind where everything about Dustin resides.

Deciding to shower and then go for a run for the first time in months, I slip out of bed while the guys are fast asleep, welcoming the steam from the scalding water cascading over my achy body. I reach for my shampoo and freeze, dropping the bottle so it thuds loudly against the shower floor. Looking down at it, I study the bottle carefully, coming to the realization that someone switched out my current shampoo for the same exact kind that I used to use when I was with Dustin.

Leaving him, I literally changed everything in my life so I wouldn't be reminded of him and his beatings all the time—including my shampoo. I shiver as a flashback hits me hard, bringing me to my fucking knees in the shower, hugging my trembling knees to my slick chest, the water still rushing over me but not snapping me out of the nightmare from my past.

Flashback, 3 years ago

After a long day at the hospital, I try to relax in the shower, letting the hot water beat down on my throbbing muscles and melt the overwhelming stress away from my body. But as I hear the front door slam, the walls shaking from the force, my state of relaxation quickly vanishes as panic begins to set in.

It's early. It's too early for Dustin to be home, so I immediately know it can't be a good thing. I try to quickly finish my shower before he bursts through the door in a rage, but I'm too slow. The bathroom door swings open, slamming against the closet door behind it and making me jump, the bottle of Dove shampoo slipping from my shaky hands and clanking against the shower floor. The shower curtain gets ripped open, and Dustin stands there with bloodshot eyes and a murderous look on his face, his gaze letting me know that he's about to hurt me in some way right now.

I've become used to his looks, his sounds, and his demeanor. Usually when I can tell he's in a rotten mood, I'm able to shift it back to normal, and I save myself a beating. But I can tell by the look on his face that isn't happening this time.

He reaches into the shower and grabs my hair, yanking it so hard tears fill my eyes on contact as he tugs me against him. He begins choking me right away, looking down at my naked body in disgust. I feel so small I just want to crawl under a blanket, far away from him. But I can't free myself from his grasp, the airflow into my lungs slowly getting cut off.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" he yells in my face, his spit showering my cheeks and nose, making me shake in fear even more.

"I'm just taking a shower, Dustin. I just got home from work," I tell him, choking out words through his brutal grasp, trying not to sound "condescending," as he usually tells me.

A hard, painful slap across my face lets me know right away that I obviously said it in a way he didn't like. I bite back my words and hold in my tears, refusing to give him the satisfaction of my cries. His upper lip quivers the angrier he gets, and the panic flooding my insides becomes even worse.

"Why the fuck do you have to talk to me like I'm a fucking idiot, you slut?" He sneers, slapping me again with absolutely no remorse.

Noticing the broken bottle of shampoo on the shower floor, the mixture leaking out from the cracks in the bottle and making a mess of bubbles in the wading water my feet are in. The look he gives me when his eyes meet mine again truly terrifies me, and even though I don't pray, I begin to say a silent one—one to help save my life.

"Why the fuck did you make a mess with your shampoo? It's fucking cracked and leaking all over my goddamn shower!" He chokes me harder, slamming me into the shower wall as he climbs in with me, the faucet digging painfully into my spine.

"Dustin, it was an accident. I'm sorry," I croak out, clawing at his fingers to try and loosen them so I can breathe.

"You're a fucking liar. Did you have someone else in here with you? Huh, you fucking slut?" He screams and screams, losing his temper sooner than usual.

"No, I promise nobody was here. I just got startled when you slammed the front door, and it made me drop it," I whisper, afraid of what he'll do if he doesn't like my answer this time.

"Oh, so now the messy broken bottle is my fault?" His eyes turn wild, like I've never seen before, and it truly scares the shit out of me.

"No, that's not wha—" I try to assure him it wasn't his fault, but he loses it and roughly kicks my feet out from beneath me so I crash to the shower floor.

He bends down, letting my throat go but fisting my hair and yanking it very hard. He picks up the broken bottle and stands with his legs against my body so I can't move in the slightest way. And then he forces the bottle into my mouth, squeezing whatever shampoo is left down my throat until I'm gagging and gasping for breath. But he doesn't fucking care. Instead of helping me, he shoves my head down, holding the back of it while the rest is submerged in the water, basically drowning me in my own fucking shower. I flail my arms, trying to find any part of him to attack, but I can't. I panic even more because my mouth is full of shampoo that I keep throwing up, but the water floods down my lungs and up my nose as I fight back, shortening my survival time.

I can't breathe. I feel like I'm going to die with my face held underwater, and Dustin isn't even going to try to save me. He wants to see me dead, but every time he's close to killing me, he stops and walks away like nothing happened. I begin to see darkness under the water as my body stops fighting and my eyes are open, seeing my life flash before them.

Present Day

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