Page 2 of Nothing to Fear
He quickly shifts us, turning so I drop to my back on a large lounge chair as he drags my pants down my legs, pulling off my boots as he goes, and tossing everything to the side. Naked from the waist down, my fingers loosely grip the throbbing length of my shaft, tugging on it as I watch him rid himself of his pants, dropping them to the pile on the ground and tossing a few items onto the chair next to my hip. My eyes trace over his long, girthy length, my cock throbbing in my hand at the sight. My mouth salivates, wanting a taste of him, especially as he gives himself a rough squeeze with his gloved hand from base to tip, beads of precum dribbling over the thick head of his crown.
His head cocks to the side again, eyes hidden by the skeleton mask, nothing but pure black looking down at me. Everything in my brain is telling me to run. But it’s the dangerous recklessness of the situation that is so thrilling. He’s a predator assessing his prey, and although fear is pumping through my veins, I’m more than willing. As long as our masks stay on.
A rush of adrenaline shoots through me as he kneels on the chair, the base sinking under his weight. Rough hands grip my thighs, pushing them out and up so that I’m exposed to him. I grip my legs to hold them up, my ass on full display for his taking. I watch with rapt attention as he slowly peels a glove off his hand, finger by finger, as if to slowly torture me by prolonging what I need.
My breathing picks up, my heart rate steadily increasing behind my ribs as I anticipate coming skin to skin with him forthe first time. I try not to make a sound as he rips open a single packet of lube, squeezing the gel out onto his fingers.
“Take a deep breath,” he says as the air is quite literally stolen from my lungs. There’s no easing into it, no teasing, or tender touches. My masked man plunges a single finger into my asshole with one thrust. I bite my tongue hard until the metallic tang of blood spreads across my taste buds. The jolt of pain from the intrusion mixes with the arousal, making my head swim and feel fuzzy, even as goosebumps scatter across my skin. My cock steadily leaks precum down my shaft as I run my fingers up and down the length, spreading it around.
He stretches me like a pro, like he knows my body and has done this a thousand times. He keeps his finger deep, twisting and stretching before pulling out and adding a second. I hum as my hands grip the fabric below me. His head is downcast, as if he’s watching his thick fingers disappear into my body.
“So sexy. You’re gonna take my cock so well. Look at this ass swallowing my fingers.”
Oh fuck.
His words wash over me as his fingers pass over my prostate, sending pleasure scattering through my body like an electric shock. I’m so close already, my hips grinding against his hand, wanting more, needing more. I grip my dick tighter, running my hand from base to tip, giving the head a pinch to stave off the orgasm that’s rapidly approaching.
The moment he pulls free from my body, I let loose a pathetic whine. He chuckles, the sound so maniacal and wicked through his mask. He covers his dick with a condom and empties two packets of lube over himself before notching the thick head of his cock firmly against my ass. I brace for it as my heart thumps out of my chest.
Then he’s inside me. Thrusting forward slowly, his hands holding my hips steady. But of all the stimuli happening rightnow, the only one I can seem to focus on is the bare skin of his hand on my hipbone, his thumb swiping back and forth with affection.
Sparks of electricity shoot through me, synapses firing off, an explosion of emotions and energy as I gasp for precious air. This isn’t just a taboo sexual experience—this is an awakening. A reckoning.
Who the hell is this man? And why do I feel like he just changed my entire life?
Chapter 2
Asher
The wind howls as it whips around my face, flinging my scarf from my neck and nearly choking me with the fabric. I roughly grip it, yanking it back in place, tucking the loose ends into my jacket with a huff.
“Fucking Corvus. I swear, this place is as haunted as it gets.”
Parker chuckles as we walk in tandem toward our residence hall, Crimson Keep. “It’s our last year here, Ash, you’ve got to cut the shit when it comes to saying that.”
“Are you kidding me with that bullshit right now? This college is totally haunted. Our building is literally named after the bloodshed that seeped into the ground before it was built.”
“Receipts or it didn’t happen.”
I roll my eyes at my best friend. It’s the same argument every school year. The wind whips again, knocking Parker’s hat from his head, as if to prove my point. He groans loudly, his hat flipping around on the invisible wisps of wind as he jogs to chase it. A laugh bubbles free from me as he finally snatches it, jogging back over to the path with an exaggeratedeye roll.
“What was it you were saying about this placenotbeing haunted?”
“Shove it, Asher. Let’s get inside before I freeze to death.”
It’s October in Massachusetts, which means it’s not “freeze to death” weather. Parker just happens to be from Hawaii, where it’s eternal summer, so the rare forty degrees we’re feeling today isn’t going to kill him. Not to mention how overly dramatic he tends to be.
“Did you hear about Professor Mortwood?”
“What about her? I’m in her Fear and Ink course. Easiest one on my schedule because she’s so chill.”
Parker turns his head to look at me, his eyes saying everything before his mouth does. “She quit, man. No notice, just packed up and left.”
My head whips in his direction. “What the hell? Seriously?”
“Man, you really live under a rock.”
“Well, I kinda rely on you to fill me in on this kind of shit, Park. My head is usually buried in books, and I’ve been in class all day.”
