“You look nice, all dressed up for Marcus,” he praised, a hand coming to stroke my hair down the length of one of my pigtails, curling the ends around his finger. “He’s a lucky guy.”
There could've been a giant purple flamingo breaking in through my window and it wouldn't have pulled my eyes away, chancing a grind against his boot.
The alpha’s hand latched onto my hair, giving a sharp tug that warned me against moving anymore.
"Or am I the lucky one, getting to unwrap you instead?" he mused, loosening his hold as he drug the blunt edge of the knife along my thigh. “I bet I could make you come just like this. You're already so desperate, cumslut. I've got your slick little pussy begging for scraps against my boot."
There was no arguing with him. He was right, the moan that escaped me as he ground his toe against my clit only serving to prove Cameo's point.
“Needy slut,” he cooed, a definitive note of approval in his tone.
"Yours," I breathed, feeling the familiar tightening at my core. "Please, Cameo?—"
I was going to come, I just needed a bit more. My hips moved to meet his pace, chasing my finish.
And—fuck, I realized my mistake too late.
“Enough," Cameo ordered, so close to an alpha bark that it made my ears prick. A whisper of his sweet, smoky scent breaking through the acrid chemicals of the hairspray at last like a fucking reward as he pulled his foot away, sinking to his knees between my thighs. "If it wasn't fucking obvious, you come when I say so. Not a second before."
I nodded, the haze of arousal so strong that my lips felt numb with it. "Y-yes, of course, Sir!"
After that first night, I’d dreamed of getting back in this position. I just didn’t expect Cameo to be the first.
The knife was nowhere to be seen as his hands made their way up my body, the pale, circular surface of the mask looming from between my thighs. His touches were surprisingly soft and practiced—entirely at odds with the intensity of the moment. The constant threat of when the first sting would bite into my skin only making it harder to relax into him now.
“As much as I want to mark every inch of you, I wouldn’t want to ruin your outfit for your date.” Cameo murmured, really punching in the word ‘date’ in a way that almost made me feel like he was jealous. His hands massaged and kneaded at my breasts, rolling my hardened nipples in his fingers until I was whimpering his name.
I wanted nothing more than to see his face right now, but it was all a mystery to me.
"Tell me you want it."
"W-what?" I barely managed to gasp, arching into another hard pinch against my breast.
"My marks, beg me to cut you."
"I—" I let out a shaky breath, my neglected clit practically pulsing with the need to be touched. "Cut me, Cameo. Please."
The knife was in his hand in a flash, the sharp edge pressing into my throat making me pant at its bite. Cameo's other hand slipped between my thighs, pressing against my panties with a hiss.
It was like a scene from a horror movie, a killer lurking in the dark shadows of a closet, lying in wait to turn the hapless heroine into their next victim.
Except, when it came to Cameo, I was far from unwilling. The desire to be his pulsing through me in dizzying waves.
"Filthy little whore," he mused, the knife making a slow line down my chest without breaking skin, stopping just before the hem of my dress. "I'm going to turn you into my personal pincushion. Put you on display in a glass case."
I didn't dare move. Didn't dare breathe too deeply as he twisted his hand to bring the blunt edge down my front, until he reached my thighs, teasing along the sensitive skin there with the tip of the blade.
Something that became more and more difficult as Cameo worked me over, my moans and shuddered breaths undercutting the upbeat pop music from my getting ready mix.
Even through the mask I could tell his eyes were honed in on where he was touching me, his fingers falling away to be replaced with the blade.
I froze, a mix of fear and excitement skittering through me so powerful that it knocked the air from my lungs, leaving me breathing in tiny stilted gasps.
"C-c-cam?—"
"Don't worry, I won't ruin your dress for Marcus," the alpha purred. "I will be taking these, though." He cut through one side of my thong with a snap, repeating the movement on the other side to pull the slick-soaked material away from my glossy cunt.
With one rough tug, he pulled the fabric free, shoving them into his back pocket.
