Page 29 of Unmasking Mayhem
I drive harder; the sound of our bodies colliding ringing through the room is the only soundtrack we need. I feel the heat of my imminent release building within me, but I refuse to let it overtake me just yet. I want to watch her unravel first, to see her pleasure explode in a glorious riot of sensation.
“I—oh God!” She whimpers, and I feel her clamp around me, the pressure pushing me to the brink.
It’s as if time has collapsed into this single, beautiful moment where everything else fades into the background. I’m no longer fighting against the darkness; I’m fucking embracing it.
"God isn't fucking here, but you know who is," I grunt in between thrusts. "Say," thrust. "My," thrust "Fucking," thrust. "Name, Whitney,” I demand, my voice a ragged whisper as I slow just a touch, hovering on the precipice.
“R...Raze,” she chokes, stuttering as her breathless plea fuels my desire.
It snaps something deep within me, breaking the last tether of restraint that held me back as I unleash a torrent of thrusts, driving us both toward the edge. The world outside ceases to exist. It’s just us—the fire, the heat, the passion raining down in waves of overwhelming desire. And as she spirals beneath me, I shatter just moments afterward, our release colliding like a thunderstorm echoing through the darkness of our souls. We ride the waves together, lost in each other, encased in a silence that speaks louder than words ever could. When I finally pull away, breathless and drenched in sweat, I see the haze of pleasure and vulnerability in her eyes.
“I fucking missed you,” I murmur, pulling her close, fingers gently wandering through her hair.
The weight of everything looms in the air around us, promises still unspoken. But in this moment, with her pressed against me and our bodies intertwined, the past feels just a little lighter. Together, we can face whatever comes next—Dustin, the choices we've made, and the battles we have to fight.
And as I hold her, I know one thing for certain—no matter what it takes, I will keep her safe. The mask is still on for now, but soon enough, she’ll see the real me, the man beneath it who is willing to do everything for her, even if it means standing against the demons from our past. As we both come down from our intense highs, breathless and tangled together in the sheets, I know our battle is far from over. But as I look at her radiant face, illuminated by the dim light of her room, I can’t help but believe that for the first time in years, I finally feel like we might just be able to conquer it all.
But amidst the warmth and solace, the shadows loom ever closer. The reality of our situation creeps back in, gnawing at the edges of this fragile peace we’ve forged. I can’t let my guard down—not yet. Whitney stares up at me, her green eyes shimmering with a cocktail of emotions, equally powerful and chaotic. I lean down again, grazing my lips across her forehead softly, chest tightening at the vulnerability etched into her features.
“Raze?” she whispers, the sound almost breaking me apart.
“Yeah, babe?” I murmur back, willing her to voice what I already know she’s feared.
“Dustin…” Her voice trails off, drifting into a silence thick with unspoken dread.
A part of me wants to shield her from the storm gathering outside the window, even as I know that’s impossible at this moment. The prick of anxiety in my gut reminds me that we’re in the eye of a hurricane.
“He won’t find you,” I assure her, tone fierce but soft. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“What if he does?” she asks, and my heart clenches at the clear worry etched across her features. “What if he hears about us?”
I sit up, shaking off the remnants of euphoric bliss as I shift my weight, turning solemn as the reality of our past weighs heavily on my shoulders again. “He’s in prison, Whit. For now, we have to focus on the present. The past will either haunt us or protect us.”
Even I don't believe the bullshit coming out of my mouth. He's out of prison somehow, but admitting it seems unnecessary. Feeling her shiver beneath my touch, I pull her closer, encasing her body protectively against mine. Her trust and the memory of her safety become a vow etched into my very core, and I realize that I would tear apart the world just to keep her safe.
“You’ve been through so much…” I remix thoughtfully, tracing a path along her bare shoulder where her skin glows like an echo of firelight. “You deserve to heal and to fight back.”
Tears glisten in her eyes as she shakes her head. “I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to drag you guys down into this mess with me.”
“You’re not a burden,” I growl, the fire in my tone igniting the soft flicker of her hope. “You’re everything to me—to Hawk. This life… the chaos—it’s ours to deal with together. Don’t you see?”
She bites her lip, and for a moment, her vulnerability juxtaposed with strength sends a bolt of pride through my chest. “But what if… what if he comes after you? What if this cycle starts again, and you get hurt?” Her voice trembles, an echo of the worry I’ve always known lurked beneath her strength.
I sweep a thumb along her cheek, feeling the warmth radiate from her skin. “Then I’ll fight back, Whitney. I fucking promise you that. I’ve survived worse, and I’ll protect you until my last breath. You’re the light guiding me through this darkness.”
ten
numb
Whitney
Roll the Windows Up: mgk
Returning to the club feels surreal—a vivid dream wrapped in neon and gold. The flickering neon lights, once a source of my irritation, now envelop me in warmth as I sensuously twirl around the pole, tilting my head back with grace. The intoxicating blend of sex, smoke, and liquor, once revolting, now whispers comfort to my senses. It's unexpectedly soothing, a feeling I hadn’t anticipated.
After a month-long hiatus for my "protection," King has allowed me back to work this evening, as there have been no further incidents or sightings of Dustin or the California Bloods. It’s ironic—here, amidst the chaos, I’ve always felt safer than anywhere else, yet this was the very place I was told to stay away from.
“Are you doing okay?” Boston twirls toward me, her energy infectious.
