Page 77 of Masks and Mishaps

“But we won’t be filming much longer,” she reminds me before she abandons my chest in favor of her phone, which is on the center console where we propped it. Then, she’s too busy playing the video we just made of me eating her tight little ass to notice the look of stark despondency spreading over my face when I remember this arrangement has a deadline.

That deadline is in ten days.

“You look so good when you do that,” she mentions, rotating in my lap so her back is flush against my bare chest. She nestles in, and she fits nicely against me. “Will you wear the Ghostface mask for the stream on Friday?”

It’s her favorite one. “Of course.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Feeling bold, I slide my hand over her stomach and caress her, which makes her snuggle even closer. Together, we watch the video, where Essie is bouncing on my cock with the thick cloth cheek of my ski mask trapped between her teeth. Fuckingfilthy.

“It’s unreal how good this is. Legitimately unreal. Like, I could go for a cigarette right now—donottell Everett I said that.” I twirl a lock of her hair around my fingers. “I just, like, feel youeverywherewhen we fuck. It’s like you’re in my bloodstream.”

She releases a relaxed humming sound. “I watch these videos all the time. I don’t go a day without getting a fix of your cock.”

My heart flips. “It’s your cock, Ess.”

“I wish I could keep it forever.”

Forever. Essie never talks about forever.

“What would you do with it?” I ask, moving my hand between her legs. She’s still so damn wet—and I push the cum leaking out of her pussy back inside before plugging her with my middle and ring fingers.

Essie then tightens her muscles around my fingers,milking them. “I would worship it daily,” she replies. “I’ve never had anything like it before.” She pauses the video and sits in silence, perfectly still, before she turns and gives me a soft smile. “I love it, Dalton.”

***

Essie loves my cock, and my cock is a solid fifteen percent of my personality (with the other eighty-five percent being a mix of liquor, charisma, a really good body, being a little too rich, and my deep appreciation for Nancy Meyers films).

My smugness quickly turns into unease. The thought of Essie being deprived of something she loves makes me physically sick. She deserves it for all eternity…

…which is precisely why I end up in my bathroom with globs of plaster on my hands, my sink, and even my cheek. This isn’t going well.

Sighing, I take out my phone and open my group text with Lander and Everett.

Me

Code Purple

Lan the Man

No. Nope. We’re not playing this game.

Me

Code Purple.

Lan the Man

Get that shit out of here

Me

CODE PURPLE.

Evergreen

I’ll bite. Is Code Purple for when you get stuck in a bathroom stall?

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