Page 24 of Breaking Sanity
“See what I mean,” Gunner laughs.
“I do,” Baron says with a hint of amusement. His hand finally releases me and steps into view.
I am not sure what’s worse, him standing behind me or him in front of me. Fuck that mask is terrifying, especially on a mountain of a man. I didn’t get a good look at him before, but now I wish it stayed that way.
Unlike the others attire, he is in dress pants and a dark blue button up shirt. Not as bulky as Vaughn but not lean like Nik. His arms fill out the long sleeves of his dress shirt and display that he does work out. I do see some black ink poke out from his left sleeve, but his right has the same melting skull jaw tattoo as Nik. No tattoos on his knuckles though. Ilower my gaze and he doesn’t skip leg day. His thighs and calves strain the fabric of his black pants. As I run my eyes back to meet his hidden ones, the bulge in his pants steals my attention.
Did he seriously get hard from that?
“It’s rude to stare, Kukla,” he chuckles.
“I wasn’t staring.”
“And you’re a shit liar,” Gunner snorts.
“Asshole,” I mutter.
“Gunner, I will stay with her while you go grab Mel,” Baron says.
Oh hell fucking no.
“Have fun you two.” He whistles as he steps out. Baron follows, closing the door behind him. The soft click of the lock has my heart hammering.
Fuck our life!
“I will remove those cuffs, and I suggest you don’t try anything,” he cautions.
“And why is that?”
ARE YOU SERIOUS ALLEY? CAN YOU LIKE NOT?
He doesn’t answer, but he crouches down to start removing the cuffs. His touch is firm but not punishing but the brush of his fingertips have goosebumps rampaging like a tsunami over my skin. He takes his time removing the right one, trying not to touch the bruises. Baron lets the cuff fall to the floor as he gently turns my wrist tracing the sacred heart tattoo I got when I was nineteen.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, moving to examine the rest of my arm.
The pads of his fingers skim over each bruise almost like he is counting them. The light brush stops suddenly, and his grip turns from gentle to firm, squeezing the outside corners of the most black and blue bruise. His head snaps up and leans to the side, I can’t help but stare in shock and terror at him. I’m not sure what he is about to do but my stomach is knotting and I can feel the tears sting the back of my eyes.
Quickly, his head whips to the other side, tilted, and he is digging all five fingers into the battered flesh. The painjets through my arm as he tightens his grip. His squeezing finally stops when I cry out in pain letting the tears slip free.
“Mother fucker,” I scream, kicking him in the shoulder. It catches off guard enough that he stumbles backward. I quickly rip off the other cuff. But instead of trying to run, I go to rip off his mask.
It happens so fast that I find myself on the cold tile floor, my wrists pinned above my head with one hand and his other is around my throat. He’s not squeezing but there is enough pressure that the threat is there. Unlike his brother, he isn’t straddling me. He’s just hovering over me. The mask is looking more menacing with his head still tilted to one side and he is still as stone.
My panic starts to set in as the hand that’s around my throat skates down my body. He grazes the side of my breast, gently moves over my rib cage and stops on my hip. His ghostly touch traces my love handles and then slowly moves underneath my shirt.
I usually am super self-conscious especially with how jiggly my stomach is but not right now. It could be just the fear of not knowing what the hell he is going to do that I am not focusing on that part. His touch gently follows the stretchmark starting in the center underneath my belly. He traces it underneath the band on my shorts, under the band of my underwear, stopping right above my slit.
“Fuck, you were warned,” he breathes.
He thrusts two fingers into my opening and applies pressure to my clit with his thumb. My breath hitches and my eyes widen but I can’t move. Tears start to burn the back of my eyes as his thumb slowly starts to circle my clit. His fingers inside me move around exploring every inch. This is too much, I can feel my core heating up with the evidence of my treacherous body arousal starting to drip past his hand. I turn my head, squeezing my eyes shut when his fingers start to pump.
“Look at me while my fingers are inside of you,” he calmly demands.
I shake my head in response. The only indicator that I have upset him, is his speed picks and he goes deeper. I can start to hear the squelching the faster he goes.
“So wet from just minimal stimulation,” he whispers, and my cheeks flame with embarrassment.
The pleasure starts to rapidly build without my consent. I want to scream and cry at the same time. He can feel the tension of my body and my inner walls are probably enclosing his fingers. His thumb picks up pace causing my legs to quake. I bite my cheek to keep a moan in.
