Page 6 of Masked
He squeezes my knee, soft but firm, to make his intentions known.
A tsunami of disappointment floods me to the brim.
This isn’t my first rodeo. Coming out more often than I probably should, I’ve swiped more men like this away than I care to count. More interested in getting their dick sucked than being the hero that saves the day. With what happened back home, it makes sense that I looked at him with rose tinted glances. My perfect distraction from a situation I can’t seem to deal with.
But in the end, he’s just here to get lucky.
“I should probably go,” I say, inching away from his touch.
He takes a long swig of his drink, brow raising above his eye. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, I think we’re looking for different things,” I say.
I tug my leg to the side to free it from the stranger’s grip, but instead of releasing, he digs his fingers in tighter. An icy chill sprints up my spine from the dull ache of his squeeze. The light in his eyes fizzles out to a cold, deep stare.
In a flash, he’s no longer the man I met on that dancefloor. He’s as much a monster as the one from the restaurant.
“Relax, Doll-face,” he speaks in a harsh whisper, so no one else can hear us. Though, from my periphery, I can see the other groups have finished their cigarette’s and went back inside. It’s just him and me now. Alone outside. Where no one can hear me scream behind the wall of sound.
“This is the best way to clear your mind. Quick and dirty. Whatever’s got you down will be a distant memory when I’m through with you.” He releases his beer and his ice-cold hand grazes the skin on my neck while it snakes over my shoulder. “And besides, you owe me.”
Owe him.
That’s all it takes for my mind to sink into the darkest depths. I’ve never met this man before, so how could I owe him anything . . . unless he’s the monster I saw hovering over my dad. The devil who has terrorized my family for months, for petty change that got us through the worst of times. A horrible amalgamation of pure terror, shaped in flesh and bone, but molded in something far more sinister.
Could this be him now? Staking his claim on me, after my dad’s continued failures? Taking his pound of flesh in the most literal sense.
“Let go of me,” I say quietly. Voice choked by my own worries of what comes next.
“Why would I do that? It’s just a bit of fun, Babe. Relax. Enjoy it.” His hand moves higher up my thigh. Not much, but enough for me to know exactly where this is going. That I’ve fucked up.That even if the twins were here, none of us would be able to stop the stranger from taking what he wants.
“It’s not fun for me.” My body tenses, and I shut his hand tightly between my thighs before it can reach any closer.
“Oh, but you will,” he says.
“Let go of me,” I repeat, louder this time. Not quite a scream, but close enough that my voice echoes down the alleyway behind us.
I press my fists into his midsection and push, the way I had with the beast hovering over my dad. Unlike him, this stranger doesn’t budge. He remains firm, one hand restraining me by the shoulders while the other wriggles between my legs.
“Keep your fucking voice down,” he hisses, casting his eyes at the door. His arm tightens around my shoulders, the hand inching ever closer to my breast.
My heart stops. My mind erupts with all the evils on the horizon. No one’s coming to help and I’m alone. I open my mouth to scream, but the hand reaching for my breast moves higher to clamp it shut.
“Make another sound, and it’ll get a lot worse for you,” he says. Threatening. Severe. “And fast.”
In the midst of the chaos, I almost miss it. Someone’s whistling emerging from the deep black bowls of the alley. Quiet to start, but like the footsteps carrying it closer, the sound grows louder and louder until it’s an arm’s length away.
The stranger yanks his hand up from my legs, before his neck snaps and cranes to meet the newcomer.
Where I thought the stranger was tall, this new guy is gigantic. Somewhere between six-foot-six and seven even. A hulking mass shrouded in black, both from the dark which the light finds impossible to penetrate, and the coat that hardly hides his physique. Black cloth covers the lower half of his face, and a tanned leather cowboy hat rests atop his head.
Though his eyes manage to catch the light. Light blue, so close to silver they may as well be the daggers his glare sends toward the stranger. And the fire burning inside them isn’t coming from the dim, artificial lamps hanging on the wall. They’re burning from the intense rage even his covering can’t hide.
He continues whistling the tune I’ve never heard before, not stopping until he reaches a minor note that sets the tone for his intentions.
“I believe the lady told you to let her go,” he says, his voice matches the drawling cowboy aesthetic. Fake and forced, it somehow manages to make me smile, even with the unfortunate circumstances that led him here.
“And what are you gonna do about it, if I don’t?” The stranger pokes a finger into the Cowboy’s chest.
