He panted, his lips red and swollen, his chin shiny with drool. Pre-cum beaded at my tip, thick and pearly, and I tapped it against his bottom lip, watching as it stretched into a glossy thread before snapping.
“Clean it,” I commanded.
He didn’t hesitate. His tongue darted out, lapping at the slit like a good little slut, his eyes locked on mine. The sight of him—kneeling, his mouth wrapped around the head of my cock like it was the most natural thing in the world—sent a jolt of heat straight to my gut.
“That’s it,” I murmured, my voice rough.
“Get it all.”
He hollowed his cheeks, sucking just the tip, his tongue swirling around the ridge. Fuck, his mouth was hot.Toohot. I could feel my orgasm coiling tight, my balls aching with the need to release.
“Enough,” I growled, yanking his head back by his hair.
His mouth fell open, his tongue still out, begging. I stroked myself once, twice, my grip punishing, before the first rope of cum hit his tongue. Thick. Hot. Filthy.
He groaned, the sound lost under the next splash that painted his cheek, his hair, his chin. Another shot landed on his lips, dripping down into his open mouth. He swallowed automatically, his throat working, his eyes watering again—but not from gagging this time. From the taste of me.From the humiliation of being marked like this.
I milked the last of it onto his tongue, my cock twitching as I watched him lick his lips, catching every drop. His chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven bursts, his fingers trembling where they rested against his thighs.
I tucked myself back into my pants, the zipper a final, decisive click. The sound seemed to snap him out of it. He sagged forward, his forehead nearly touching the carpet, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
I didn’t say a word. I didn’t need to.
I turned and walked away, my boots thudding against the hardwood, the door clicking shut behind me. The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. I knew without looking back that he was still there.Still on his knees. Still dripping with my cum, his own cock aching, his mind racing with the shame of what he’d just let me do to him.
Of course, he didn’t know it was actually me. For him it was just a guy in the mask. That just fucked his mouth, like it was a normal thing.
And the worst part?
I knew that at that moment we both wanted more.
CHAPTER THREE
JAMIE
I stay on my knees for… I don’t even know how long. Seconds. Minutes. My brain refuses to process time, refuses to process anything, except the ringing in my ears and the taste of adrenaline, spit and cum of a total stranger on my tongue.
My chest rises and falls too fast. My hands shake. My shirt clings to my skin. I feel like I’m floating outside my body, watching myself kneel there on the rug like I’m trapped in someone else’s dream.
Or nightmare.
I blink, hard—once, twice—snapping myself back to reality in a slow, jerkingmotion, like an old film reel fighting to catch up.
What the hell just happened?
Tall. Muscular. Dressed in all black.
And wearing that mask.
The same mask from the woods.
He chased me. Cornered me.
Touched me.
I should be freaking out. I should be on the phone with the police. I should be running to my neighbor’s house barefoot, calling Mom, callinganyone.
Instead, I’m just breathing.
