Page 62 of Masked Sins
“Please, Sir?—”
He smacks her again, and this time, she screams. I’m practically panting, watching as sweat forms on Orion’s skin, glistening beautifully and exaggerating the cut of his muscles. After several more smacks with the paddle on the other leg, I see him lean down and whisper something into Haley’s ear. Even knowing that they’re just friends doesn’t matter. White-hot envy flows through me as his thumb brushes her cheekbone affectionately. He drops the paddle suddenly and picks her up, carrying her across the room and to a back door. They disappear through it, and I feel like I’m going to vomit.
“Where are they going?” I ask, feeling uneasy and restless.
“Aftercare,” Remy explains, arms crossed.
“What does that entail?” I know what it entails on paper. Almost all the research I did involved discussions about aftercare, but I want to know specifically what Orion and Haley are doing because right now, my emotions are all over the place as I imagine them cuddling in a bed somewhere.
“For Haley, probably a warm cloth to remove the wax. Soothing lotion. A cuddly blanket, or a dark room. Maybe some food, water, juice … It depends on her preference. Orion will also want to check in on how she’s feeling about the scene.”
I tamp down the burning jealousy.What the hell is wrong with me?A heavy ache settles inside my chest, and it takes me a second to realize that I miss him taking care ofme.
“Do you want to stay?” Zoe asks me, grabbing my hand. “Or shall we check upstairs?”
I look back into the room Orion just exited. Iwantto stay and watch more of what he did, but I can’t say that.
“Sure,” I tell her, giving her a fake smile despite feeling sick.
Once we ascend the stairs, I glance back at the room to make sure Orion hasn’t returned, but he hasn’t. He’s still off somewhere with Haley, doing who knows what.
I rub my chest as we make our way up to Pleasure, and I spend the trek up two flights of stairs shutting Orion out of my mind.
I promised Starboy exclusivity, which means the best thing I can do is walk away from my stepbrother—despite still being able to feel his eyes burning into mine while he paddled another woman.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE TEMPTATION
Orion
I hold my hand out and give Haley a low five. “Don’t forget to tend to your skin,” I tell her, tugging her arm forward and pulling her into a tight hug. A couple of seconds later, I pull away and shove my hands in the pockets of my pants.
“I know, I know. This isn’t my first rodeo,” she drawls, giving me a wry smile. “But it’s nice that you still worry about me.”
I roll my eyes. “Someone has to, Hales. You sure you don’t want me to help with aftercare?”
“I’m okay. It was a short scene. Just enough to take the edge off,” she adds, wiggling her brows. “I have to go. Hot date tonight.”
“Be safe,” I tell her, crossing my arms.
“I always am.” Flipping her hair and giving me a small wave, she walks out of the staff area before turning back to face me. “Hey, you okay? You seemed… off tonight.”
I take a wider stance as I rub my mouth with my right hand. “Fine. Just a lot on my mind.”
“I saw Zoe was here with some friends. Anyone you know?”
I narrow my eyes. “What has dear Zoe told you?”
Haley smirks. “Oh, nothing. Just that your stepsister happens to be a leggy redhead, and that’s exactly who I saw watching us earlier.”
I shrug. “She’s an adult. She can do as she pleases.”
“Very convincing.” She rolls her eyes. “Good night, Ri.”
She leaves the employee room before I can respond, and I walk over to the couch where I’d given Haley some water and snacks fifteen minutes ago while checking in with her. We don’t play together often, but it’s always fun and wholly platonic when we do. Others at the club usually do scenes with me, but I haven’t been an active participant for weeks. I haven’t been in the mood. It wasn’t until I saw Layla standing at the bar in that tight little dressthat something had to give. I thought doing a scene would distract me, but instead, all I can think about is how different that scene would’ve been with Layla on that couch.
First and foremost, I would’ve dragged her to a private room so that I could savor her pleading cries all to myself. I would’ve watched her thighs bloom with color when I dropped the hot wax on her soft, unmarked skin. Herperfectskin—the creamy, unblemished thighs. How sore they’d stay for hours, how she’d have to remember the pain I inflicted every time she sat down or performed in front of three thousand people.
