Would we get caught?
Would she let me?
She was a bratty pain in my ass, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t both be a means to an end. A little hate fuck never hurt anyone.
In fact, a good dicking might make her a little more sufferable.
An image formed of her on her knees, her tits popping out of the top of her corset as she begged me to fill her with my cock, and I swallowed down the groan threatening to rip free. If I made any noise, all of this was over. She’d hear me and stop, and I didn’t want that to happen.
Not until we both came.
I squeezed my shaft, moving my hand faster. She might have been a brat, but that didn’t mean she lacked fuckable curves and pouty lips that would look perfect wrapped around my cock. The way she’d run her tongue around my knot, taking me deep until I came down her throat, had my balls drawing up tight.
She whimpered when she came, doing her best to stay quiet, and I got off right after, shooting thick ropes of cum all over the front of my shorts. It was a miracle that I’d managed to stay quiet, and I took a few deep breaths coming down from my climax.
After cleaning up with a T-shirt I found between the mattress and the wall, I settled back onto my pillow and closed my eyes. A twinge of regret left me unsettled, and I couldn’t squash it.
I should have joined her, if only to see the look on her face when I found her fucking herself. But also, because I wanted to see the look on her face as she fell apart. When her confident mask slipped and she was raw and vulnerable. The thought had me half-hard again, but I didn’t have the energy to jerk off a second time.
I’d save it for next time—if there was a next time. I wouldn’t hesitate to join her then.
She could come in front of me or for me, I didn’t care which.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ARINA
Between the other clowns and extras, we were able to scrounge up an outfit worthy of a headliner’s assistant for the show. It was a short red dress with a corset top that made me look like I had way more cleavage than I really did, with a poofy bottom that bounced when I walked.
Ironically, it wasn’t much different than the dress I’d dreamed about, but I tried not to think about it. I also tried not to think about the fact that I’d woken up drenched in slick and masturbated to the thought of Zero while his scent consumed me.
How desperate could a girl get?
I did everything I could to forget last night, but if I closed my eyes, I could still feel Zero’s fingers wrapped around my throat from my dream. And when I thought about it, my skin heated, and the heartbeat between my thighs kickstarted.
Stupid fucking scent match.
That had to be the only reason why I couldn’t get him off my mind. His scent had infected every part of me, including mybrain. It certainly wasn’t his demented grin or ethereal golden eyes. And it definitely wasn’t his thick biceps or incredible precision with those knives…
Nope. Definitely the stupid scent match making me pine for a literal psycho.
“How ’bout these?” Bobbitt piped up, cutting off my train of thought. She was holding up a pair of red fishnet stockings. “You could also go without. Not sure if I’ve ever worn these, actually…”
“They’re perfect,” I assured her. They were see-through, but having something on my legs would make me feel a little less naked in front of the enormous crowd tonight.
I put them on, and she continued to dig through her overflowing closet. She could probably dress everyone in the circus twice if they were her size, with the amount of clothes she had.
“The final touch!” She held out a cute, little red top hat on a bandana. “Adorable, ain’t it?”
It was, but my mouth dipped into a frown as I took it from her.
“Are you okay if Zero puts a knife through this?” I asked, carefully sliding it over my curls that Bobbitt had painstakingly worked on for an hour. “I have a feeling he’ll be trying to outdo himself tonight.”
She chuckled half-heartedly and waved her hand. “All of this is yours to keep, doll. If it gets messed up, it’s fine. But Zero normally plays a little nicer in front of a crowd.”
Her words were meant to comfort me, but they didn’t.
Maybe it was because I’d already been used as target practice once, or maybe it was the conversation with him last night that had me so on edge. Either way, something told me he’d be just as eager as ever to try and terrify the shit out of me.
