Page 49 of Your Masked Haunting

“Let’s add some stakes,” I counter. “I catch you lying, you lose an item of clothing.”

“And if I’m telling the truth?”

“Then I lose one.” My voice is low and breathy.

She chews on her cheek before finally agreeing. “Deal. First question—and don’t rig the game, or I’ll never talk to you again.”

Her heart rate jumps, and I chuckle, knowing that she’s about to lose her first article.

“That’s a lie.”

It takes her a second to get what I mean. But once she does, she stomps her foot against the ground, huffing.

“You’ve got to be kidding me! That doesn’t count!”

Competitive. Noted.

“The game is the game, Mona. Strip.” My voice plummets on the last word, coming out like a ragged demand.

A heavy exhale leaves her, and she reaches up, pulling my hand from her throat, dramatically shoving it away from her. “Excuse me.”

Without stepping back or creating any more space between us, she turns around, a smirk on her lips flashing in her reflection in the mirror. Then she bends at her hips, and my stomach soars into outer fucking space. My eyes are glued to her skirt, and I can’t help but to flip it up, exposing her tights and …

Holy mother of God.

She’s wearing thigh-highs, secured in place with a satin garter belt, and I didn’t know I had a preference compared to the full leg ones, but that’s clear as day now from the amount of blood rerouting to my dick.

“There.” She stands up straight, the skirt falling over her ass, and she spins back around, grabbing my hand and putting it back in place around her neck. “Next.”

I take a quick scan of her body because I don’t remember seeing her take anything off. But I spot her boots lying off to the side.

There are a million things I want to ask her. Endless possibilities. Let’s start with this. “Tell me one of your fantasies, one you genuinely want to enact. Something you've been too scared to say out loud.”

I’m aware that my question isn’t exactly a good fit for this game. But I want to know its answer more than I want to play by the rules. Right now, I can trust that her answers will be true based on her heartbeat, and whatever she says will be something she really wants versus talking dirty and telling me things she thinks I’ll like.

Her eyebrows pinch, and her nose twitches as she carefully considers my question. Seconds pass before she responds, her pulse steady the entire time. “I want … you to scare me. Not where I’m truly fearing for my life, but the illusion of it at least. Chase me while I run as hard and fast as I can away from you. When you catch me—because inevitably, you will—I want you to do whatever the hell you want to me. Nothing’s off-limits. I trust you to read my body, know when you’ve hit a hiccup or when I'm hesitating. Bind my hands, my mouth, my legs. I don’t care. I just want to feel, not think.”

My mouth opens, but she quickly covers it with two fingers before continuing, wanting to get it all out. I happily listen, my dick getting harder by the second.

“I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you. I don’t think you understand that, with you, there’s nothing I wouldn’t try. I want to explore things I’ve never even thought of. I want you everywhere, anywhere, all the damn time. Surprise me and strip me bare. Wide awake. In my sleep.” Her eyes fall to half-mast, lust blowing her pupils out. “I know my safe word. I’ll use it if I need it.”

My voice is rough and deep, cutting through the room. “I can’t chase you with the people here. We’d end up with cops coming after us—or rather, me. But I’ll add it to the top of my list.”

She swallows hard, hearts in her eyes. “You have a list?”

“I sure as fuck do. Candle wax—check. Devour your sweet pussy—check.” The memory flashes in my mind, and I almost moan at the imagery. Fuck this lie detector game. We’ll play again later.

Releasing the pressure from my grip on her neck, I trail my fingers down over her cropped band tee to the swell of her breasts. “These, however, still need my undivided attention.”

Grabbing her shoulders, I spin her around and slide my hands down her back, and a shiver ripples through her shoulders. Roughly, I force her to bend over, shoving her down with one hand while my other keeps her hip in place, gauging her reaction to my roughness in the mirror. Her lips part, and her cheeks redden as she inhales sharply.

Her skirt’s waistband is flexible, and I yank it down her bent hips in one fell swoop, dropping it to her ankles. With her palms on the countertop, where her makeup is strewn everywhere, I help her out of her top, pulling the back of it over her head so it falls to her wrists.

She’s not wearing a bra, and the sight of her tits hanging down, begging for my mouth, is nearly enough to do me in. They’re small, perky, and perfect exactly how they are.

Mentally, I add to the list: Make her come by sucking and pinching them.

But I don’t know how much time we’ll have before someone tries to get into this room. Without revealing my identity, I can’t exactly tell any of the employees to give us the space. Until that becomes a problem, we’re ignoring it.