Scream For Us (Holiday Masked Men #1)(7)

“I wish I could say it was good to see you, Veronica,” I say, tossing the empty syringe into the nearest trash bin. “But it wasn’t.”

Her mouth falls wide open.

Swiftly turning on my heel, I head toward the nearest bathroom, until I hear her shout something from over my shoulder.

“I’ve changed, Quinn!” she says, almost trying to convince herself.

“I hope you have,” I emotionally shout back, meaning it, from the bottom of my heart.

Pushing open the bathroom door and stumbling inside, I firmly grip the edge of the sink to keep myself upright. My chest tightens, my heart accelerates, and out of nowhere I feel faint. Not another panic attack. Not tonight.

The small room begins to spin in circles around me, and I feel a sense of detachment from the world around me.

Fuck you, crippling anxiety.

“Are you okay?” Ghost speaks up, catching me off guard.

“The door,” I rush out, breathlessly. “Please shut the door.”

And he does.

Taking in a slow, deep breath, and closing my eyes, embarrassment washes over me. I can’t believe he’s seeing me like this, amid an anxiety attack, and at my lowest.

“What did she do to you?” Ghost asks, barely any sound to his voice.

“Nothing,” I whisper, tightly gripping the edge of the sink.

“Quinn—”

“Nothing,” I sternly repeat, inhaling a small, shaky breath. “It was nothing.”

“Alright,” he says, the door creaking open. “I’ll give you space.”

“No,” I gasp, looking into the mirror and locking my gaze on him, completely unbothered by the creepy Ghostface mask in the reflection. “I don’t want space.”

He shuts the door, his hand lingering on the doorknob. After a moment, he cautiously approaches me.

“What do you want?” he asks, testing me, pressing the solid frame of the front of his body against my backside. “Do you want to talk?”

Shaking my head, I softly respond, “No.”

“Then, what?” he gruffly asks. “Use your words, little Quinn.”

“A distraction,” I carelessly breathe, flustered. “I want a distraction.”

Reaching around to the front of my chest, he locks his gloved hand around my throat, holding me still. “Like this?” he breathes, tightening his grasp.

I nod slightly.

Leaning down, he hesitates beside my ear. “Your words, Quinn,” he reminds me.

“Yes,” I mutter. “More.”

Trailing his hand to my jaw, he turns my head to the side, forcing me to look at him. Through the black mesh covering the dark holes of his mask, and just the right lighting, I’m almost able to get a glimpse of his eyes.

Almost.

He turns me around and leans down, gripping beneath my thighs before lifting me from the floor, easing me onto the cold, hard surface of the sink.

“This?” he asks.

“More,” I whisper.

“I know what you want, but I love to hear you beg.”

Lightly brushing his hands against the back of my legs, then trailing the tips of his fingers to my inner thighs, he hesitates at the lower buttons of my bodysuit.

“Please,” I moan, feeling his broad, manly shoulders beneath my hands. “Please, more.”

“You call that begging?”

“Please,” I plead, as he rubs my clit over the thin fabric. “Please, Ghost, please.”

“Fuck, baby,” he sharply exhales. “That’s right. Say my name.”

“Ghost.”

“Are you on birth control?”

“Yes,” I reply, shaking my head once I see the foil packet he’s retrieved from his pocket. “I was recently tested and I’m clean. Are you?”

He nods, tossing it onto the counter.

“Now distract me,” I order.

He groans. Tearing open the buttons at my crotch and lifting the robe of his costume, he yanks down his pants, keeping them right below his ass. His thick, hard cock is already slick with desire, and so impressively big.

Holy shit. There’s no way I can take him.

As I brace on his shoulders, he pulls me to the very edge of the sink, rubbing the tip of his cock along my wet entrance. Up and down, over and over, toying with me. Teasing me. Driving me to the brink of insanity.

“Please,” I eagerly beg, desperate to feel him.

Without warning, Ghost enters me with one, hard thrust. Stretching me wide, buried to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he bites out, getting a better grip on me as he secures his arms around my back.

The inner walls of my core tighten and grip at his cock with each stroke, and my body jolts back from the hard force. Thrust, after thrust, after thrust, he fucks me without emotion. Plunging himself deeper, faster, pushing his way inside of me repeatedly.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I hold onto him for dear life, spreading my legs wider so I can feel him more fully. And it’s almost too much.

He’s too massive.

There’s a sound of praise and skin smacking as he quickens his pace, pounding into me relentlessly. Crying out to him, whimpering, and gasping for air to fill my deprived lungs, I slip my hands under his robe, tracing the muscles of his back. Digging my nails into his flesh, I scrape him all the way down, before taking his firm ass in my hands.