Page 12 of Run for Us

I jump off the weathered planks and onto the sand below, my knees buckling under me for a moment before I’m up and sprinting down the beach.

“We are coming for you, pretty girl!”another growls.

I spot the lifeguard building ahead. It looks deserted, with peeling white paint and broken windows.

I barrel through the thick, dry sand, and skid across the wooden ramp, my palms sliding over splintered handrails. My chest sears with every breath, and I glance over my shoulder.Two masked figures vault over the driftwood benches, while the third is already halfway up the stairs.

I fling open the door of the tower, and it’s dark inside. After a split-second of hesitation, I hurry over the threshold and press my back against the wall, my fingertips grazing over the cracked plaster as I wait for them to follow. There is nowhere left to run. I’m out of breath, and if I’m being honest with myself, a small pulse between my legs signals to my brain that I actually like this. I want to get caught—to feel a stranger’s hands on me.

My pulse spikes as the first masked silhouette slips inside, red and blue lighting up the derelict room. He pauses, causing my breath to hitch. Surprisingly, I realize I want this to happen.

The second man steps over the threshold, and I lick my lips, tasting the faint hint of salt clinging to them from my mad dash through the evening ocean air. The third man follows, and suddenly I’m surrounded, my body flooding with warmth.

One of my pursuers steps forward.“I want you to tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” I whisper, though there is no real reason for the lowered tone. Maybe because it feels like we are doing something we shouldn’t, and while something like this would normally scare me, it doesn’t.

“Good. Now I want you to remove your dress, slowly.”

I freeze. What if they see my scars? Will they care? Surely in the dark they won’t be easily seen.

I grab the hem of my dress with shaky fingers and drag it up my body and over my head, then drop it at my feet. My skin prickles under their silent gazes as I step over the fabric, my heart hammering in my throat. I stand there in my thong and white tennis shoes as my nipples pebble.

Another of the masked men motions me to step further forward, and I do as he asks, then each one moves to surround me. My eyes flutter closed as a single finger trails down my neck,starting from just below my ear. Goosebumps rise on my skin, and I focus on the sensation as it moves down to the nape of my neck. The man it belongs to stands behind me, our bodies close enough I can feel the heat radiating off him, but not close enough that he is touching me.

“God, the way your skin feels under my fingertip is driving me insane.”

He feathers his touch over my shoulder and down between my breasts, a small moan slipping from my lips as his finger reaches my navel and my stomach dips.

“So fucking hot,”the man in front of me says. Even through his mask, I can feel his eyes on me—watching, waiting for his turn to touch me. The night air might be cool, but it’s like an inferno is burning under my skin in the wake of being touched.

The third man is off to the side. I can’t see him, but I feel his reluctance to step forward. The first man’s hand dips beneath my thong, and I suck in a breath. It has been a long time since someone touched me, and I hadn’t realized how much my body has been craving it.

Chapter Seven

Ripley

I lean against the plastered wall, my heart in my throat as I watch Kasen’s fingertip graze Kinsley’s stomach. Shore stands in front of her, and I know he is grinning behind his mask. This situation is made just for him.

My palms sweat beneath my gloves; the memory of her hand on my arm yesterday ricochets through me still. It shouldn’t have felt safe. Every other brush of skin sends me spiraling, my PTSD clawing at the edges of my mind, a warning of the memories I’ve buried so deep I barely remember.

But with her, it was different. Her touch didn’t spark panic. Instead, it sent a flicker of something warm to wind its way through my chest.

I don’t like to think about the past. Once I became part of Shore’s family, I locked it all away. I was finally safe from the monsters of my previous life, and Shore promised I would never have to return. My ribs tighten. I swallow past the lump in my throat and straighten, determined not to let my past win.

“Oh my god,” Kinsley moans out as Kasen circles her clit.

Shore has no chill; he undoes the zip on his pants, and her eyes widen. She watches with fascination as Kasen slows his movements, drawing out her pleasure.

Shore pulls out his thick cock—one I’ve had my lips around so many times—and wraps his hand around his shaft, stroking himself slowly.

“Do you enjoy watching how turned on he is just for you?”

My own words surprise me. When someone in town talks to me, I grunt in response; the words get stuck in my throat as anxiety winds its way around my vocal cords. But I felt the connection when she walked into my shop. She looked lost, a little broken, and sad. Not obviously, but I could see it in her walk and the way she talked, in how her spirit was restrained. My soul felt it. Some people might think I’m crazy, but I’m not. It comes from years of abuse at the hands of those who should love you the most, having to read their mood and watch for danger that shouldn’t exist.

She nods as her knees buckle a little, but something comes over her. The pure bliss morphs into something closer to pain, as if she is stopping herself from going further.

“No holding back, just feel,”I say, and her eyes find me.

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