Page 95 of Masked Sins
“Oh God, Orion,” she whimpers, her hands exploring the muscles on my chest.
“Tell me what you want,” I say, my voice breaking as I press myself against her and grip her dress with both hands.
She inhales sharply, pulling my mouth back to hers.
Suddenly the back door slams open, and Layla pulls away, panting.
“There you—” I pull away from Layla to face Liam, and my brother’s grin is wide and conspiratorial. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” he says, propping the door open and walking back into the building without saying anything else.
Layla and I both stare at the open door, and as her hand comes to her lips, something light and hopeful sparks inside of my chest.
Maybe … just maybe …
I step closer. “Layla, there’s something I should tell?—”
“I told you not to kiss me,” she whispers.
At first, I think I mishear her. “What?”
Her eyes shine with tears, and suddenly, I’m reminded of the audition. She has the same accusatory look in her eyes, and I know she’s going to reject me again.
I take a step back as hurt lances through me. “Go back inside.”
She doesn’t move. “You can’t just keep doing whatever you want.” Her voice thick with unshed tears.
She felt it, too. Whatever the fuck is between us, she felt it. Iknowshe did.
Bending down, I grab my jacket and straighten, looking down at her.
“Trust me,sis. You’ve made your point very clear,” I practically snarl. “It was a mistake.”
Her mouth drops open, and I recognize the hurt splayed over her face.Good.If I hurt her, she can’t hurt me.
Her hands shove my chest, and her eyes well up. “I don’t want to see you ever again.”
There’s no conviction in her words, but they still fucking hurt, nonetheless.
“You know,” I say, my voice sharp with cruelty as I step back from her, “I should know better than to think you would ever admit how you really feel about me. No, that would require letting someone in.”
She flinches as a tear rolls down her left cheek, and my heart squeezes at the pain marring her expression.
That’s what I do, right? I hurt people.
The sting of my own words hangs in the air. Layla takes a shaky breath, but I can’t bear to hear her push me away again.
I’m not sure I’d survive.
So I walk away from her.
I can’t focus.
My emotions are running ragged, and as I bring the riding crop down on my submissive, I feel nothing. Usually, hearing them whimper and squirm is enough to get me hard, but nothing is working. I feel numb, like there’s a cage around my emotions, and I’m just going through the motions.
“Yellow,” she says, turning around to face me.
Her name is Nadine, and her long, red hair is damp with sweat. We’ve always had a good time together, but I can’t separate myself from the other person with long red hair who occupies my thoughts.
“Talk to me,” I say, crouching down.Going through the motions.
