Scream For Us (Holiday Masked Men #1)(18)

“Na?ve, little Quinn. I’d sell my soul for you.” Gripping my hips, he brings me close, as his large, thick erection twitches against my stomach. “If I had one.”

Leaning down, he brushes his lips on mine, taking my face between his rough hands. The heat from his body sends a shiver down my spine, and I lean into him, my fingertips grazing his chest. Resting my arms over his broad shoulders, my fingers glide through his wet hair, as his hands explore the curves of my ribs, hips, and lower back.

He catches my moan in his mouth, and his gentle touch turns to groping, and grabbing. He kisses me hard, demandingly. Moving me backward, he presses my back to the cold wall of the shower. He explores every inch of my body, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his fingertips.

His tongue pushes through the seam of my lips, and he explores my mouth hungrily. Breathing heavily. Cupping his large hands over my ass, he thrusts his hips against me. Stifling a moan at his lips, I grip his broad shoulders, pulling him closer, my breasts pressed firmly against his chest.

“Fuck,” he moans, trailing his lips to my jaw, and down to my throat.

Ghost trails his hand up my spine, grasping the back of my neck, as he sucks, licks, and grazes his teeth on my sensitive flesh. He cups my breast with his hand, squeezing gently, tracing my nipple with his thumb.

He leans down, taking the puckered bud between his lips, and the warmth of his mouth almost brings me to my knees. Twirling and flicking my nipple with the tip of his tongue, he groans loudly against my skin, devouring me.

“God, yes,” I whimper, running my fingers through his hair.

His cock is pulsating against me, twitching with satisfaction, as he kisses his way to the other side of my chest, where he returns the favor. My fingers graze down his toned abdomen, the lower V-shape at his hips, and I waste no time in locking my fingers around his cock.

He flinches, thrusting forward, slamming his palm against the wall to keep himself steady. Grinding into me, he fucks my hand, moaning loudly. His cock is so hard, it’s absolutely throbbing for me. The desperation of needing to fill me flickers in his eyes.

“Please,” he begs me, trembling. “I’m so goddamn hard.” Again, he pushes forward into my grasp, grazing his teeth over my shoulder, biting down as I squeal. “Fuck, baby. If you don’t let me have you, right now, I’m going to fucking explode.”

“Take me, Ghost,” I whisper, as he impatiently lifts me from the floor.

Without wasting another second, he lifts me up, locking my legs around his waist. He positions the tip of his cock at my entrance, and slowly sinks inside of me, inch by inch. Digging his fingertips into my lower back, bruising my skin, he moves within me.

His strokes become slow, and torturous, as his length consumes me. And I’m already there, ready to come undone, as my breathing catches in my throat.

“I saved this just for you,” I mumble against his mouth.

“Such a good girl,” he sharply exhales, increasing the strength with each thrust.

My orgasm claims me, as my body begins to shake, and I cry out in ecstasy. My legs tremor as I grind my hips against him, working my clit at the same time, until my cries fade to soft, little whimpers.

Many thoughts rush through my mind, but there’s only one that stands out. I could get used to this. But this is just for one night. One night only. By sunrise, it’s over.

And that’s what truly scares me.





Through the window, the sun’s rays beam into the room. Ghost pulls me closer in his sleep, the muscles in his arm flexing as his grip on me tightens. Pressing my face in the crook of his neck, I breathe in the lingering, heady scent of his soap.

When suddenly, fear consumes me. It’s morning. I’m too attached. I need to leave.

I need to leave, now.

Carefully lifting his arm, I sneak away, trying my best not to wake him. Tiptoeing across the room, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. What am I doing?

Shutting the door quietly behind me, I release a small breath, hating how I allowed myself to form such an unhealthy attachment to him. Walking down the quiet hallway, my heart hammers in my chest with each step, as I try not to wake anyone.

Until I come to realize I’m not alone.

Jason stands at the kitchen island, pouring himself a cup of coffee, and when he notices my presence, he becomes still. And he knows. Placing the pot onto the granite counter, he frowns, seeming disheartened with my decision to leave.

“Before you sneak out, do you at least want some coffee?” he asks smugly.

Sheepishly dropping my gaze to the floor, I rub my face with my hands. “Shit,” I mutter dryly. “I figured you would still be sleeping. I’m sorry.”

“Coffee?” he reiterates, edginess in his tone.

“I’m okay—”

“Here.” Jason walks around the island, gray sweatpants hung low on his hips. He hands me the canteen of hot coffee, locking his eyes with mine. “To go.”

“I’m sorry,” I anxiously blurt out, embarrassed.

“Is he awake?”

“No,” I practically whisper. “He’s still sleeping.”

His face hardens. “He’s not going to like this, Quinn,” he presses, rubbing his fingers along his jaw. “He’s going to lose his shit when he wakes up and you’re not there.”

“I told him that by sunrise, it’s over.”