Page 50 of Unmasking Mayhem
I guide her backward until she’s perched on the counter, her legs wrapping around my waist as I position myself at her entrance. Together, we both glance to Hawk, who is watching with that glowing intensity, readying himself for whatever comes next.
“Just breathe, Whit,” he instructs, stepping forward to kiss her forehead as he takes his place beside us. He leans in close, whispering sweet nothings that further bolster her confidence.
“Good,” I growl under my breath as I give her a teasing thrust, just the tip entering her pussy, followed by another. I continue to hover there, holding myself just on the edge as I let her feel the sensation of me ready and willing to fuck her.
“Please,” she begs, her hips moving instinctively to draw me in deeper.
The vision of her desperation is intoxicating. With one swift motion, I bury myself inside her cunt, the heat and the wetness wrapping around me like a vise. My body takes over, driven by instincts that come to life—both of us moving in perfect unison.Hawk matches my rhythm. He positions himself closer, and before I know it, I’m lost in the intoxicating dance of bodies and essences, each thrust propelling us deeper into an exploration of untamed desire, surrounded by shadow and rain, giving life to a moment that holds the power to rewrite the narrative of our lives.
With each passionate thrust, we reclaim control, rewriting the hurt she endured, unraveling the chains he tried to place upon her, and reaffirming that she will never have to wrestle with her demons alone again.
sixteen
walking on eggshells
Cade (“Red”)
Sure Thing: Miguel
As I navigate through the packed crowd of Masked Mayhem members, an electric energy courses through me. Since I haven't spotted King or D yet, I can breathe a bit easier. I know, however, that when they arrive, things are bound to take a chaotic turn.
Tonight isn’t just another event; it's one of our big races—our money-making night. Plus, I have to deliver what the captain expects from me. That can wait until tomorrow, but damn,how am I supposed to gather intel on people I’ve come to care about? Undercover work has never posed a problem for me, but Whitney has changed everything and brought me to a better place, and in my line of work, that's a fucking problem.
I scan the crowd but fail to find 13, Havoc, or even Crow, so I head up the stairs toward the main area. There I see Boston and Whitney dancing, captivating the audience as part of the evening’s main act—the crowd is massive. I push through the sea of bodies until I reach the front of the stage, where I accidentally bump my shins against it, sending a sharp sting radiating through my legs. From the crowd, I can sense the tension simmering between Whitney and Boston; the glares and eye rolls are unmistakable, even behind their masks. Yet, they continue dancing, performing seamlessly as if nothing is wrong.
I take a seat on the steps beside the stage, my gaze fixed on Whitney as she gracefully maneuvers her body up, down, and around the pole. The way she moves leaves me utterly fucking speechless. Although she knows I’m watching, she deliberately avoids meeting my eyes, but I know why. Suddenly, a jarring punch to my shoulder spins me around, and I come face to face with Havoc and Crow. Their expressions are more suspicious than anything else. They don’t need to say a word; I already understand why they’re here. We have a fucking job to do, and it’s time to get started.
"Didn't think you'd show up, ghosting us like you have," Havoc says with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest.
His gaze darts to the dancers—mainly Whitney—a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. Crow leans against the wall, hands in his pockets, watching the scene unfold with an expression that's mostly unreadable.
"Yeah, well, priorities," I reply, forcing a casual tone as I glance back at Whitney.
She's in the moment, wholly absorbed in her performance. I want to yell at her to drop the fucking act and come join us, but that would ruin everything. If I want to get to the bottom of what's been happening, I have to play my part. Havoc snaps his fingers in front of my face, pulling me back from my thoughts.
"Focus, man. I’ve seen a couple of new faces in the crowd, and something feels off."
Crow shifts against the wall, finally breaking his silence. "Then we split up and hit the floor. I can catch up with some of the guys near the bar. You and Havoc should keep an eye on the back; if King and D show, they'll probably come in from there."
"Sounds good," I agree, though my mind drifts back to Whitney. "But I’m going to need a distraction. Something to shake the crowd up a little before the race."
Havoc grins, a wild spark igniting in his eyes. "You’re talking about chaos, right? What if we kick off a little fun? You know how well that always works—people lose their fucking minds when the unexpected hits. Leave that shit to me." He leaps from the steps, heading toward the edge of the floor, and I turn back to Crow.
"Stay close to them. I don’t want anything happening."
Crow simply nods, his expression serious. As Havoc begins to stir up ‘good trouble,’ I skirt around the edges of the crowd, my pulse quickening. The music shifts, and the crowd roars with delight as a few brave souls step up, eager to showcase their skills alongside the dancers they feel so inferior to.
I can feel the atmosphere change as laughter and cheers erupt, and that’s when I decide to take my chance. I weave my way through the crowd, my eyes darting between the dancers and the newbies lurking in the corner. With the crowd momentarily distracted, I reach the edge of the stage again, spotting Whitney lost in the music, her body captivating with an intoxicating rhythm. For a heartbeat, everything else fades away—theundercover mission and the pressure from the captain, even my growing anxiety about King and D. It's just her, lost in the music, and I'm fucking mesmerized. But the moment falls short. I force myself to focus again, scanning the darkened corners of the club where the shadows loom, potentially hiding those who might be involved in the dangerous underbelly of our city.
Havoc's wild antics continue on the dance floor, and I notice a few of our rival associates peering out from the shadows, amused yet intrigued by the commotion. I push off the stage, feeling the music pulse beneath my feet. I approach one of the figures—a tall man with a slicked-back haircut and an air of confidence.
“Exciting night, isn’t it?” I venture, leaning against the wall next to him.
He turns, eying me up and down, though his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Depends on who you ask,” he replies, his voice low. “Some are just here for the show. Others… well, they have different interests.”
I nod, keeping my expression neutral. This was the guy I wanted to talk to. “I’ve heard rumors about some new plays in town. Club Mayhem’s just the front, right?”
He raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Always a lot of whispers around here, but you have to earn your cuts. What are you willing to offer for that kind of knowledge?”
