Page 21 of Noire Moon
He?
I swallow thickly.
Oh, fuck.
Blinking several times, the reality of what I’m seeing sweeps through my body like a thunderstorm, crackling and sizzling with electrified tension.
On the opposite side of the fireplace, directly across from where the three of us have been engaged in sheer depravity, sits an oversized matching armchair.
Filling the space like a conqueror is a man.
One wearing a familiar gold-splattered mask.
The same man who I stumbled into at the very start of the night.
How long has he been sitting in that chair watching me get fucked senseless? There’s a burn of shame in the back of my throat, followed by a fresh wave of arousal darting around myalmostnaked body.
Seeing him again now, I realize he’s dressed similarly to the others. Black combat boots are spread wide as he takes up the seat as if it were a throne. His large hand wraps one armrest, and fingers drum the leather in a slow rhythm. The other elbow is propped on the cushion behind him, which makes him look like he owns this place and everyone in it.
Jesus Christ. Who are these people?
To make matters worse, my pussy is weeping with delight at the fact he’s here, too. However, my mind isn’t quite so certain. There’s something in this man’s aura that is far colder than the others. He sucks the air out of the atmosphere around him in a way that screamsdanger… and yet I’m so far gone with this fantasy coming to life that I gleefully turn away from all the warning lights flashing in that particular part of my brain.
Tonight, we’re conveniently forgetting that sensible bitch exists.
Instead, I obediently wait for my next command. My body heats the longer I sit here with my exposed pussy and bare breasts, while working hard to regulate my shuddering breaths.
They can surely hear my heartbeat because it’s a deafening racket, a cacophony of desire between my ears.
“Go on. Let him see how well you can crawl, love.” Two sets of rough hands push me off the couch, leaving me slumped to my knees. In all honesty, landing in this position is perfectly fine by me because my legs are pure jelly at this point, and I’m not sure they’d carry me across the room.
“Show him what a filthy slut you are.” Once again, the teasing voice of Copper Mask is behind me. I don’t know why the other man hasn’t said a word this entire time, but I don’t have time to stop and attempt to make sense of anything in this frenzied experience. Those two are undoubtedly getting a fantastic view of my bare ass while I start to make my way across the carpet on my hands and knees.
“Show him how drenched you are after being stretched by two cocks.”
Those crass words are doing that thing. Being spoken to in this way isn’t supposed to pulse and sing like slutty zaps of excitement inhabiting my veins. I’m not meant to feel a secret thrill of being thoroughly used and filthy and the center of attention, capturing three sets of stranger’s eyes. I keep my own firmly trained on the plush carpet beneath my hands and knees because I’m burning up with the thick coating of shame at how demeaning this is.
Shame? Or excitement?
I can’t tell the difference anymore, and don’t dare examine the truth of what my answer might be.
My breasts are swollen, swinging heavily with each shift of my hands, my red-hot skin still covered in remnants of partially dried cum. No doubt my makeup is smeared all over my face by now, and my lips feel bruised.
Yet, despite how this looks, I’ve never felt more alive, or more right.
I have to press my teeth into my tongue because evidently, now that I’m here in this humiliating position, the truth isrevealed. Any attempt at disguising how I really feel is scraped away just like the scratch of carpet against my palms and knees and shins.
There’s nothing about this that I don’t want.
So I continue to crawl, making my way toward the skull-faced emperor seated on his leather throne.
Reaching the spot just in front of his heavy boots, I take up a kneeling position on reflex. Keeping my head bowed. Why? I can’t say. This feels like the type of obedience this man expects and he hasn’t needed to say a word.
Fuck knows what he’s thinking, but I can’t bring myself to look at him just yet. Something about this man makes me immediately want to follow his commands, and I can’t help but keep thinking about that moment from earlier when Rita said he was watching me.
Has he been part of this, the whole time? Remaining hidden in the dark, while these other two men had their fun and toyed with me?
Goosebumps flutter across my skin, and the longer he stays silent, well, all that does is whip me into a frenzy. His intense energy leaves me squirming, squeezing my thighs together, panting like I’ve run a marathon around this estate in nothing but my heels.
