Page 56 of Masks and Mishaps

“Come on,” Essie breathes before she faces me again. “Someone did a number on you, and I wish I could wreck their life because we’re going in circles.You’re not a fuck up.”

“But—”

“You’re not,” she insists. “You’re the most chaotic man I’ve ever met, but you’re not a fuck up. You areperfect.”

God, it sounds good. She’s so unbelievablygood. I need her. I need to feel her. I need to show her how much I appreciate her.

I move in to kiss her—

“Dalton! What is wrong with you?” she blurts out, swatting my hand away.

“Sorry, are my signals mixed? I thought when you called me perfect you’d be amenable to—I don’t know—making out with my perfect mouth.” I let out a frustrated groan. “Jesus, woman. Do you have any idea how impossible it is to read you?”

“It’s not complicated; it’s a deal. You get my body and that’s it.”

This again. This obsession with our goddamn deal. I bite down, clenching my jaw. “Fine.Fine. I want to fuck tonight.”

“It’s girls’ night.”

“Cancel it.”

Essie laughs out loud. “You’re hilarious.”

I breathe out through my nostrils. “Fuck it,” I decide before scooting my chair back. “Up.”

“On what?”

“Babe, you’re too smart to be asking these questions.”

Rolling her eyes, Essie undoes her seatbelt and moves until she’s straddling my lap. “There,” she says, bracing her hands on me. “Are you happy?”

“No,” I grit, holding her waist. “I haven’t been happy in eleven months. Now, show me your pussy.”

Her brow knots, but my expression doesn’t waver. “Right now?”

“You signed a contract. Free-use. Seeing as this is the only way I’m ever going to have you, I may as well take what I can get.”

Her mouth is a flat line, but she pulls up her skirt, revealing her lush pussy glistening with arousal.

Staring right into her eyes, I take out my cock for the second time today. Her pupils dilate at once.

I grab the phone she left on her seat and prop it against the door, taking care to keep our faces out of the shot.Record. Then I drag my cock along her pussy, and her body loosens. A moan passes over her lips, and she spreads her legs further, exposing more of her cunt to me. She’s so desperate for it. Easy. So entirely unlike the Essie everyone else gets to see.

But I don’t know which version of Essie to trust anymore. How can she not want me like I want her? How can we understand each other like this—toucheach other like this—and not be together?

It’s borderline callous is what it is.

“Put it in,” I instruct. When she doesn’t move, I raise my chin. “Go ahead. Fuck me. That’s what you’ll do, right? You won’t kiss me, but you’ll let me do whatever I want with my cock.”

“You’re not being fair,” she protests, pushing down her skirt. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, her expression is resolved. “I know you’re frustrated—”

“I’m losing my mind.”

“I know.”

“Do you know how hard it is for me to do this?”

“Can I explain?”

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