Page 24 of Masked Sins
“Phantom of the Opera, remember?”
I clench my jaw. I’d forgotten about that—and most importantly, I’d forgotten thathewas going. Zoe and Liam had two extra tickets to see a Tuesday night show, and I happened to have the night off from PCB. Zoe also knows it’s my favorite—I guess I should’ve known I’d be into masked men because of how much I loved the book.
Little did I know that the fourth ticket would be going to Orion.
“Right. Yeah. See you then,” I say quickly, feeling flushed and flustered.
He walks away just as I go to unlock my door, and once I’m inside, I close my eyes and lean my arms on my steering wheel to rest my head and calm my racing heart. It’s not until I hear Orion’s bike engine tearing down the street that I truly exhale. I grab my phone and unlock the screen to text Zoe and Remy about our upcoming girls’ night, and when I do, I realize I never exited Starboy1997’s profile earlier.
I scroll for a few minutes, watching and pining over his videos as I squirm in my seat. It’s the mystery ofwhohe could be. If he’s in Los Angeles, have I stood behind him in line at the grocery store? Does he get stuck on the 405 every afternoon like I do? I check for clues that he’s married or maybe even a perv, but so far, he seems legit and knowledgeable. And thanks to the books I read, I’m intrigued by the topic of kink and BDSM.
The things I fantasize about are things I’ve never even told Zoe, who’s in the kink lifestyle. I’m not anywhere near as experienced as she is, though, so I never feel like I can chime in and talk about how I want to be choked or held down andcalled awhore.I didn’t even know I’d like stuff like that until I started reading about it. Who knows—perhaps if someone did those things to me in real life, I wouldn’t enjoy it. Sure, I got turned on while reading about it, but that didn’t mean I’d be into it personally, right?
Starboyis exactly who I’ve been searching for. A safe space to explore my interests. I scroll all the way down to his first video, and it’s the same as all the other videos—him standing or sitting with spread legs as classical music plays and text pops up on the screen. At the end of the video, it says:
My DMs are always open.
I should send him a message.
I mean, he probably gets thousands of messages a day with two million followers. The chances of him seeing it are slim to none, but I suppose I should shoot my shot. I fumble over what to say, but eventually, I decide to keep it simple.
LittleDancer
I’m really interested in a specific kink. But I’ve never done it in real life… I’ve only read about it. I’d like to learn more, but I’m a total noob, and I don’t know where to go from here. Thanks! I love your videos.
Sighing heavily, I click out of his profile and set my phone down.
He probably won’t respond, but at least I tried.
As I drive out of the parking garage, I imagine Starboyseeing my message and clicking over to my profile.Shit, I’d put that I’m a ballet dancer in my bio.He might put two and two together and figure out who I am. My full name is there, and an internet search would show me as the company dancer for Pacific Ballet.
I imagine him coming to a show—sitting in the front row with his hood up.
I imagine those large, veiny hands running up and down his thighs as he watches me dance for him—a dark mystery full of secrets and power.
I imagine what his voice would sound like. Would it be deep, rough, a low purr? Would he ask me to kneel for him after? Would he sound just as commanding as he looked, with long, muscular legs and large, beautiful hands?
How would those hands feel onme, doing the things I’ve only dreamed about for the past couple of years?
By the time I get back to my house, the space between my thighs aches and pulses with need. I say a quick hello to Sparrow, who stretches on his pillow by the front window as I walk inside and throw my bag onto the floor.
Shutting my bedroom door, I don’t even bother removing my clothes as I climb into bed and quickly rub one out by slipping one hand under the waistband of my sweats. My orgasm crashes over me quickly and powerfully, and my back arches as I pant heavily, imagining it’s Starboy’shands instead of my own. When I’m done, my legs shake, and I can’t stop laughing as reality sets in.
Thisneverhappens. Being turned on by a stranger? Not ever. But there’s something so… fresh and real about this guy. It’s not the hot body that turns me on. It’s the way he makes his videos, the music he chooses, and the words that flash over some of my favorite music.
It’s like hegetsme on a deep, visceral level.
All the guys I date assume I’m a prissy ballet dancer with my tight bun and prim posture. They assume I don’t want to put out, and one even joked once that he only went on the date to see if he could get into my pants. If it’s not that, it’s guys making disgusting comments about how flexible I must be.
That’swhat I deal with on a day-to-day basis, andthat’swhy I don’t date a lot.
This guy, though… I have a feeling he’d tempt me to no end.
The mystery of who he really is only adds another element of intrigue.
As the post-orgasm haze dissipates, my smile falls off my face.
Masturbating to some guy I found online is a new all-time low.
