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He huffs, tapping my foot sharply.
He can’t be serious? The handle wiggles again, and male laughter floats in.
Someone is about to come in here. I’m spread out and bound to the headboard. Humiliation floods me . . . along with a fresh course of arousal.
I’m beyond wet.
Someone is breaking into my room for the second time tonight, and I’m so wet anyone in the room can see how much the thought excites me.
“Shhh,” a male voice whispers. “Don’t wake her.”
“Not until he has her where he wants her.” Another laughs.
How many of them are there?The door cracks open.
Where’s my masked man?
I squeeze my eyes closed.
“Look, just bring the party down this hall and set up outside so no one hears.”
My breath catches, and I recognize that voice. Darrell.
Stretching my neck, I peer over my left shoulder at the door. His large form slips inside. Light spills in for just a second, but it only shines into the bathroom, leaving me and the rest of the room in darkness.
He turns, his back facing me, and fist-bumps his friend through the gap in the door. My eyes fill with tears.
Quietly, he closes and locks the door. Stepping out of his sneakers, his hands drop to his pants button.
I whimper at the sight.
Darrell’s head shoots up, his eyes widening at the image of me spread-eagle on the bed.
My mouth opens in a silent scream, seeing the white mask appearing behind him. Slowly, the dark form of the taller man creeps forward. Dressed in all black, the mask seems to float, stopping right behind Darrell.
Oblivious to the danger, Darrell’s eyes drop to my bare pussy the same minute a baseball bat passes over his face, quickly pressing against his throat from behind. The masked man holds the bat on either end, using the leverage to keep Darrell in a chokehold, the wood unrelenting against his neck.
The two men grapple, but my man is bigger.
They stagger to the left toward the door. The masked man tucks one end of the bat into the crook of his elbow, his other hand pulls the opposite end toward himself, pressing the bat tighter and tighter on Darrell’s neck.
Darrell’s face is growing redder the more he’s robbed of air. His eyes bulge, his hands clawing, desperate to live.
My eyes are glued to them, unable to look away. Darrell can’t win this; he didn’t come in here for a good reason.
Did your man?
Did he? Is waking up with him eating me out any better than Darrell sneaking in here? I shove the thought away. What we’ve done tonight, I’ve wantedthat. Even as I screamed and thrashed, I griped and pleaded for more.
The two men fight a foot away from my bed, yet my legs stay splayed apart because he told me to. He hasn’t forced me to do anything.
The two fall into the door.Shit, will his friends hear?But only banging and cheers come from the other side.
Assholes.
Darrell and my man stumble away from the entrance farther into the room. That’s when I see it. The playful way he moves.
My man’s not worried. While Darrell gasps for air, he’s toying.
