I ENTER HER French double doors, not even bothering to be quiet. She had been crying. What in the fuck happened that she wanted to see me? The masked me? Not Easton Bradley Sinnett.
I’m fucking pissed. Jealous of myself that she didn’t call Sin. Was I not enough yesterday and last night? Did she think I was fucking around? That she doesn’t belong to me?
It’s been an hour since she called. I was in the middle of something and couldn’t get away right then. It fucking killed me to make her wait. But I had to wrap up what I was doing. I couldn’t tell her I was coming. I can’t chance her recognizing me.
I curse myself when I realize I can’t fuck her. She’ll know it’s me. Maybe I should just tell her and get it over with. Why hide who I am now? It’ll just prove my point that she’s mine. Has been before she ever even knew it.
Looking over at her bathroom door, I watch her exit, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped underneath her arms. She’s got her hair up in a messy bun on top of her head. Her once pretty ice-blue eyes are bloodshot, her face puffy and wet from tears. Has she been crying this entire time?
Stepping toward her, she notices me. Her legs come to a stop, and I watch her break out into tears almost immediately. She runs to me, throws her arms around my neck, and hugs me tightly. Her body shakes against mine while she sobs.
I pick her up, my gloved hands gripping her thighs, and she wraps her legs around my waist. The towel drops to the floor, and I carry her to the bed. Lying down, she curls herself into me. It’s like last night all over again, but it’s not the real me. It’s someone I’ve made up—mask, gloves, hoodie, and contacts. She’s come to need him more than anyone else in her life because I allowed it. Pulling her face out of my chest, she looks up at me, and my body tenses when I look closer at the perfectly placed handprint on her cheek. “Who hit you?” I don’t have to hide my voice because I don’t recognize myself. Rage like I’ve never felt before is making my skin tingle and my heart race.
“Doesn’t … matter.” She hiccups.
Did she fuck David today? Maybe they got rough, and he slapped her around. The thought makes me want to rip off my mask, hold her down, and fuck her ass to remind her she’s mine. If anyone is going to mark her, it should be me.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I tilt my head to the side, confused by her words.
“For saving me,” she whispers, and I feel my chest tighten, the rage turning into guilt because I know exactly what she means. That’s why she’s attached to this version of me. The realization hits me that I might have to play two roles longer than I wanted to.
I tighten my arms around her. She closes her eyes, and I watch fresh tears run down her cheeks, more confused than I’ve ever been before.
This was supposed to be easy. I no longer have to hide who I am. Not with her. So why can’t I remove my mask and let her see who I am?
She won’t trust you.
Not like I want her to. Sin, she’s known since we were kids—the guy she’s always had a harmless crush on, and she let me use her for one night. But the mask—he’s her savior. She’s emotionally attached to him. And no amount of orgasms Sin can give her will break that bond.
ELLINGTON
THIRTEEN YEARS OLD
I SIT OUTSIDE my mother’s office on the fourth floor. I’ve got a pop in one hand and a Snickers bar in the other. It’s summer, so I get to spend my days sitting outside listening to her sessions.
Today is a man who has a fetish for role play. He likes to pretend his girlfriend is a stranger. They go to a bar separately. And then he walks over to her, buys her a drink, and ends up fucking her in the bathroom stall while his wife is at home with their children.
I’m taking a bite of my candy bar when I hear the elevator ding, signaling it’s about to open.
My heart races as I jump to my feet. I’m about to run, but it’s too late. The door slides open and out steps my mother’s new husband.
His blue eyes meet mine. “Elli, what are you doing up here?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.
My mother’s voice comes from the closed door behind me while she talks to her patient. He sighs heavily, walking over to me.
I hold my breath, tears already stinging my eyes. I’m going to be in so much trouble.
“Elli.” He places his hand on his knees, leaning over to be eye level with me, talking softly. “Are you listening to your mother’s sessions?”
I can’t answer. My throat closes up on me. I suddenly can’t catch my breath, and I drop my candy bar.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He takes my hand and pulls me over to the waiting room area my mother designed to make her patients feel more at ease when they come to our home. “You’re not in trouble, Elli.”
“I’m not?” I manage to ask through a deep breath.
“No.” His eyes shoot to my mother’s office door and then back to mine. “How about we keep this our little secret?” He reaches up and runs his hand through my dark hair.
I bite my bottom lip, tasting my tears. I manage a nod.
He gives me a soft smile. “That’s a good girl.” His hand drops from my hair to my leg, and I jump. “It’s okay, Elli. If you keep my secret, I’ll keep yours, deal?”
I don’t know his secret. So I just stare at him, confused by what he means but too afraid to ask.
“See,” he scoots closer to me, his leg now touching mine. His black slacks rough against my skin. “If your mother knew that you have been listening, you’d be in big trouble.”
Fresh tears sting my eyes.
“She could lose her job, Elli. And you don’t want that, do you?”
I shake my head. My mother has already been through so much over the past year. Things are just starting to get back to what it was before my father died. “No, sir,” I whisper.
He reaches up, rubbing the stubble on his chin. After a second, he says, “You know, Elli. I’m now married to your mother.” I nod, sniffling. “She’s my wife, which makes you my family too.” I nod again. My mom tells me we’re going to be a happy family and that everything will be okay. “So…” His hand drops back to my thigh. “Why don’t you call me Daddy.”
I open my eyes, sitting up straight and gasping for air at the dream. But it’s not a dream. It was a living nightmare. One I didn’t understand until years later.
Even in death, he haunts me. He’s been dead for two years, and he still makes my skin crawl. That was the first time he ever touched me. Years later, I’d willingly given him my virginity.
I’m used to being someone’s secret. Someone’s whore. That’s what I’m good for. My body was made to serve men. He told me all the time how pretty I was. How sexy I was. And how much I turned him on. I hated him. That he made me want him. How good he made me feel. It was a sickness for us both.
Reaching up, I rub my swollen eyes, wishing I could erase the memory from my brain. My head is stuffy, and I have a pounding headache. My hands drop to my lap, and I look up through my lashes to see him standing at the end of my bed.
He came for me.
He’s still wearing his black mask, hoodie, gloves, and matching jeans. The red contacts stare at me, and I wonder what he’s thinking. I’ve never broken down like that. Not with him. Not with anyone.
I get up on my hands and knees, crawling to the end of the bed. He stays still as a statue as I rise up on my knees, my hands falling to my thighs. I’m naked. After he hung up on me, I took a hot bath where I cried into a bottle of wine, hoping it would help. It didn’t.
“Why don’t you fuck me?” I ask, my voice rough.
He says nothing. Just stands there.
I reach out, raising his hoodie just enough so I can grab his black belt and start to unfasten it. His glove-covered hands grip my wrists painfully. I whimper, my breath quickening. “Why don’t you fuck me?” I demand through clenched teeth. I’m on the verge of being manic. I can feel it bubbling up inside as my mind slips further and further away from me.
The memories of James, David, and Sin… they’re all too much.
He lets go, and I punch him in the chest. “Why? Be a fucking man and fuck me!” I’m screaming, tears stinging my eyes while I gasp to catch my breath. “Can you not get it up?” I try a different angle. Manipulation. Make him prove himself. No man likes to be belittled.
I’ve never seen his dick. He’s tied me up and played with me, but it’s never about him. “Come on.” I give him a taunting smile. “Fuck my mouth. Come all over my face. Make me your whore.” I hold my hands out wide. “That’s what I am, right? Fucking use me.” Tears fall from my eyes, and he just stands there watching me lose my mind.
I climb off the bed and round the bedpost, coming up beside him. He turns to now face me. “If you’re not going to fuck me, then get out,” I shout, pointing at the French doors. “Get the fuck out!” I shove his chest, but he doesn’t budge. “You’re useless,” I spit at him. “Nothing but another useless cock who can’t fuck.”
His hand comes out so fast I don’t even have a chance to react. It wraps around my throat, immediately cutting off my air. His fingers have an iron grip as he lifts me off my feet. I don’t even fight him. A little piece of my heart breaks because my pussy tightens in anticipation of what’s to come. How he’ll use me.
He shoves me on the bed before letting go and flipping me onto my stomach. I go to crawl across it, but a hand grabs my hair, yanking me back, and a cry is ripped from my lips. My nipples rubbing on the fitted sheet makes my breath catch. They’re still swollen and extremely sensitive. He holds me in place while I hear him open and close my nightstand. Then my arms are yanked behind my back. I feel the familiar roughness of a zip tie before he tightens it in place around my wrists.
Then he’s yanking on my hair again, flipping me back over. I lie there looking over his skull mask. It’s mainly white with black around the eyes that run down the face as if they’re bleeding out. The jaw and teeth are outlined in black as well as the nose. His red eyes are glaring at mine. I can see his chest heaving through his black hoodie and hear his heavy breathing inside his mask. I’ve pissed him off. Good.
His hand lowers to his belt, and he rips it from his black jeans. Then he’s wrapping it around my neck, pulling it tight, making it hard to breathe but not impossible.
I know what’s coming, but it won’t be enough. I need a fight. I want him to take it and make me like it. So I kick him, my foot hitting him in the stomach.
He hunches over, a grunt coming from behind his mask. He grabs my ankle, yanking me off the bed, and I fall on the floor. The impact forces the air from my lungs. I’m on my stomach, and he drops behind me. The feel of his rough jeans against my skin as his knees force mine open makes me whimper.
I hear his zipper a second before his cock slams into my cunt. I go crazy. My body thrashes against his weight. Embarrassed that I was so wet that he didn’t even need to ease into me.
Fresh tears fall from my eyes, and he grips the belt, taking away my air.
His body covers mine, and his heavy breathing fills my ear while he pounds into me. I’d sob if I could breathe. The tears fall freely down my face while it rubs against the carpet. I’m going to have a rug burn when he’s done with me. It’ll match the handprint that I got from David perfectly.
My pussy clenches down on him, my body breaking out in a cold sweat. Suddenly, he pulls out, loosening the belt, and I choke out a sob. I hear the drawer open again behind him and then something cold slides down my ass.
My heart races. “Wait—”
He grabs the belt again, taking away my air and leaning over my back once more. “A whore gets used.” His voice is a low, dark whisper, and my heart pounds at the promise it holds. “So shut the fuck up and take it.”
