Page 4 of EverGreene
“What?” I glanced at the cup, understanding dawning on me, “Oh, you think I must be drunk. Yeah,” I nodded, “that’s a fair assessment. I can’t argue with that assumption. Unfortunately, I’m stone-cold sober right now, even though I wish I weren’t, so I could forget all about this conversation tomorrow.”I exhaled a sigh, trying to gather my thoughts as I mentally prepared myself to present my case to the mystery man in front of me. I’d never known a man to pass up an opportunity to get laid, but something told me the one standing in front of me wasn’t an ordinary man.
“Look, you don’t know me, and I don’t know you, and I want to keep it that way. So, leave that mask of yours on, don’t talk to me if you don’t want to, and allow me to use you for a night of cheap sex. Hell, use me, too, if you want. In fact, please do. Just make sure you leave when we’re done, and you don’t look back. Does that sound like a deal to you?”
My stomach sank lower with each second that passed without any kind of an answer from him, making me regret both everything I’d just said to this complete stranger as well as being born. “I can see you’re not interested. I’ll?—”
A gloved hand covered my mouth, doing nothing to extinguish the fire that had been lit merely by being in this man’s presence. His fingers brushed against my lips, slowly tracing my bottom one as he withdrew his hand from my face and nodded.
Oh, shit.
“Okay.” I barely eked out the one-syllable word through my faltering breath. “Let’s do this.” I motioned for the man to follow me as every stranger danger story from the true crime podcasts I listened to danced through my head. My fellow murderinos would be so disappointed in me right now.
Sensing him walking closely behind me, I led the way through the condo to the stairs angling down to the basement, where a rec room, full bath, and the guest bedroom were located. Katy and Jem were strict about partygoers going downstairs to the basement area, allowing only a select few of us a pass to crash on the couch or in the bedroom, so I figured it would be quiet. Behind me, I could hear thefootsteps of the man whose name I would never know following me into the dark abyss that, even with half the town upstairs getting sloppy drunk, was relatively quiet.
When I reached the door to the bedroom, I opened it, peering inside to make sure we were in fact alone before beckoning him to follow me. Aside from the residual glow from a nearby streetlight, the room was dark and very much empty. The man closed the door behind him as he stepped inside the room, and my heart skipped a beat with the click of the door.
“Make sure to lock it,” I instructed him, doing my best to keep my voice steady. “Unless you want an audience.”
Oh, shit. What if he wants an audience?
I half expected him to fling the door open and erect a neon sign with an arrow pointing to it, but like me, he apparently liked his private sexy times to remain private. He turned around after locking the door, towering over me like the shadow daddy I didn’t know I needed. The incandescent lighting, coming in the window from the outside, illuminated half his masked face. Had he always been this tall, or was the darkness somehow making him appear more foreboding?
His gloved hand reached out from the darkness and caressed my cheek before tracing a path down my neck to my bare shoulder. A chill went through my body; a contrast to the fire his fingertips ignited everywhere they touched.
“The zipper is in the back.” My voice came out hoarse, clearly conceding any kind of authority I was trying to convey to him. He took a step closer to me, his hand snaking around my back. A sharp tug loosened a feather from my costume, and I gasped when he ran the tips of the soft barbs against the skin of my neck. “I guess I won’t be returning this costume, after all,” I said, only partly joking.
The man’s other hand tugged at the zipper, loosening the corset adorned with feather appliqués, which also happened tobe connected to the accompanying skirt that fanned out from my body like a tutu. Slowly, the corset began to fall, and I sucked in a breath as my costume melted away from my body, revealing me, vulnerable and standing before a stranger in the dark in nothing but a royal blue thong and heels that were going to leave me with blisters in the morning.
I couldn’t be sure because the beating of my heart was thundering in my eardrums, but I thought I heard a sharp exhale emanating from underneath the mask. A small glimmer of vulnerability I wasn’t expecting from the man. But whatever composure he may have lost was quickly regained when he lifted up the hand that was still clutching the feather and pointed to the bed.
Christ, I’d never been more turned on. I wasn’t usually one to take orders, but for some reason, I would follow this stranger down any dark alley or sketchy van he beckoned me into. Without hesitation or a smartass remark, I walked over to the bed and sat down on its paper-thin mattress, leaning over to take off my heels. An abrupt clearing of the man’s throat stopped me in my tracks, and my eyes wandered from my heels to his partially visible masked face. The man pointed at my heels and shook his head, indicating he wanted me to keep them on.
So, he had a bit of a heel kink. What other kinds of kinks would we be unlocking tonight? Lord knows, at this point, I wanted to catch them all like some erotic game of Pokémon.
In the darkness, the man sauntered over to the bed, unzipping his hoodie as he walked. From what I could see in what little light was allowed to make its way into the room, he was toned. A fact confirmed all the more when he slipped the hoodie off completely, revealing arms that told me he lifted weights—or Volkswagen Beetles—on the regular. His chest was inked with a tattoo that appeared to curve down hisabdomen to his back. As hard as I squinted, I couldn’t quite make out the design, and I prayed to the gods of electricity that they would let there be light for even five seconds to let me drink this man and his ink in the way nature intended.
The man motioned for me to lie down as he rested one knee on the mattress, leaning over me with his masked face hovering inches from mine. My attention was so captivated by his dark figure that I gasped when my collarbone was lightly grazed by the feather he still clutched in his hand, and I silently thanked past Everleigh for choosing the sexy peacock costume over the sexy goldfish. Someone truly had been watching over me tonight.
The feather continued its journey down my body, barely touching me yet igniting my nerve endings as though they were reaching out, begging for more, especially when its tiny barbs reached my breast. I shuddered, failing miserably to suppress the moan that escaped my lips when the feather circled my nipple, hardening it to stone. Shamelessly panting, I arched my back as my body struggled to meet the feather in its descent down my abdomen, stopping when it reached the waistband of my thong.
My hand gripped the bedsheets, knotting them between my fingers, when, after a brief pause, the feather continued southward between my legs, rubbing against the sensitive nerves of my clit through my thong, where it lingered while the man slowly applied more and more pressure, edging me to the point of frustration.
“If you’re trying to make me beg, it’s not working.”
You’re full of shit, Everleigh.
I knew it, and he certainly knew it, too, with the waver in my voice. He had been playing chess, whereas I’d been playing checkers this entire time. The man knew if he asked me to, Iwould not only beg for him, I would crawl to him without the slightest bit of hesitation.
Still hovering over me, the man sat up on his knees, discarding the feather before he began pulling off his gloves, tossing them one by one to the floor. A calloused thumb brushed my lip, and equally as calloused fingers cradled my neck while his other hand massaged its way down my shoulders. His touch was an aphrodisiac in and of itself. His fingers were like magic as they worked over my body.
I whimpered when he took my nipple between his thumb and finger, sending me into sensory overload. I’d never had anyone touch me the way he was touching me, exploring my body as though he’d been waiting his whole life for the opportunity to do so. There was so much need expressed in his fingers, which only heightened when his hand slid from my breast, over my stomach, and down to my hips, where he massaged my inner thigh, coming close but never quite touching me where I wanted him to touch me the most.
Even without his touch, I felt my body building toward orgasm as his fingers skirted the edge of my pussy. He had to feel my need, how soaked I was. He knew what he was doing to me, and he was reveling in my torture. Only confirming what I already knew, I looked up to see him watching me in the darkness while his fingers worked my inner thigh, teasing me to the brink of insanity. If he wasn’t going to give in, I would have to.
“You win,” I cried out, full of need. “Please.”
Seemingly satisfied with my plea, his hands gripped my hips, whipping me from my back onto my stomach with impressive dexterity as one hand wrapped around my waist while his arm hugged my neck, pulling me into him and securing me tightly against his body. Firmly in his grasp, the hand that had been around my waist found its way under thewaistband of my panties, pushing apart my folds to expose my clit.
I curved my back against his bare chest, feeling the heat of his body. His arm had forced my head into the crook of his neck, trapping my face mere inches from his. My ass was pressed against his erection, which was on the verge of bursting through his jeans, telling me that he was tormenting himself just as much as he was tormenting me. He must put edging as a special skill on his resume.
