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Confused, I wait.
The grip in my hair turns me to face the left, where my full-length, freestanding mirror is. A car passes by my window on the parking lot outside, the lights illuminating the room at the same time I catch a glimpse of us in the mirror.
My face is flushed, arousal obvious. But it’s his face that makes me scream. A white mask with red lips hovers over me in the mirror. His head tilts, and I just know that beneath the mask, he’s smirking.
Terror fills me at the same time he does.
I buck against him, but it only shoves him in deeper. The force of his thrust knocks the wind out of me.
My orgasm rolls over his shaft.
My hands grapple to steady myself, fearing I’ll hit the metal headboard, but his grip on my hair pulls me toward him, arching my back.
The room is filled with the sounds of his moan and my gasp. The bed strains under us, the metal whining in a desperate plea as the ribbons refuses to give way.
With each gasp, I drag air in through my mouth that’s so thick with our arousal I can almost taste my own wetness.
His cock, thick and long, makes me feel full. Stretching me in ways I never thought possible. The feel of his open trousers caught between our bodies is erotic and speaks of his need to fill me so quickly he didn’t bother to strip.
But it’s not the cock that’s inside me that bothers me, it’s the man attached to it. Everyone who wore a mask tonight flashes through my head. I buck again, trying to dislodge him, but he’s buried too deep.
“Please, don’t be Darrell.”
The man above me freezes, his body turning to stone.
“You ever say another man’s name while my cock is inside you, I’ll go out and kill everyone with that name, just to make sure I got the right one,” he hisses.
The way his body looms over me and the powerhe exudes, I believe him. His hand comes down on my ass with an unforgiving slap. The force is so hard I shift forward, his cock slipping out a little.
My heart floods with relief despite the threat. It’s not Cassie’s boyfriend. His voice is mechanical, altered somehow. Just like the masked man at the party, the one who dragged me away when the cops arrived.
The one whose friend brought Stacey back to the dorm and forced her to lock the door, only leaving after she promised not to open it to anyone. No matter what.
I’d been beyond worried when I got home earlier. I had snuck onto her floor, needing to know she was okay. And she was. Terrified but okay. Without breaking her promise, she’d explained through her locked bedroom door how her own mystery man had lectured her the entire way back about the risks of accepting drinks from anyone. Of what could have happened.
I didn’t feel much like partying after that. With a quick good night to anyone I crossed paths with, I went straight to my dorm room, crawling into bed even more thankful for my own masked man.
I hoped to see him again. But I hadn’t imagined it this way.
“No,” I whine as he moves back, pulling his cock out.
Metal clangs, and I think he’s undressing more at first, but the feel of the warm leather coming down onmy ass extinguishes those thoughts. He rains it down over and over until I lay flat on my bed, sobbing into my pillow.
My ass feels like it’s on fire.
“You don’t ever say another man’s name,” he tells me again.
I nod quickly. I lie still, hoping he won’t leave. His panted breaths fill the room so loud that even the music’s bass doesn’t drown them.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, needing him to know. “I won’t. I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t speak, and eventually, his hips settle against my sore ass. I brace myself just in time. The thrust of his cock is quick and hard.
Buried deep, we stay still, just happy to be joined. I’m splayed out, my hands wrapped around the bars of the headboard and my legs spread wide. He leans over me, his left arm bracing him beside my head, his right hand once again buried in my hair. His upper body looms, not touching me, but it somehow makes it feel all that more desperate.
And then he starts to move.
Fuck. Me.
