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She pats the bed beside her.

“No,” I say, stepping in. “You don’t need to do that. I’ll go if you want.”

She smiles—small, soft. Brave.

“I want you to stay.”

I move closer. The air tightens. My heartbeat’s heavy in my throat as I crawl onto the bed. The mattress dips. She shifts toward me—slow, drawn by gravity and something more.

Her thigh brushes mine.

The room breathes.

She reaches for the lamp and switches it off.

Darkness swallows us whole.

Our hands find each other— Fingers lacing. Holding tight.

And it’s not about sex. Not right then. It’s about the silence. The weight. The storm we both know is coming.

She exhales a laugh—soft, shaky. “Still think you’ve got it under control?”

And just like that—everything clicks. The smirk. The mouth. That line.

That’s what she said to me. At the party. Mask on. Smirk cocky. Voice laced with trouble.

My chest seizes.

It’s her.

I reach for her, my mouth crashing into hers like I’ve been starving. Consuming. Greedy.

A confession made with crashing lips and swirling tongues.

I don’t want this to end.

Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

But what we have? It’s already soaked in gasoline—and now her brother’s got the match.

And yet when she climbs over me again— straddling my thighs, and that smirk returns, hips rolling, cock hard as steel, begging to dip into her core as she writhes against me— I forget everything.

Her mouth charts a path down my body, hands working my pants past my hips. My dick springs free, desperate for the heat of her tongue. When her lips finally wrap around me, the sound that tears from my throat is pure animal.

She works me like she’s been dreaming of this—like she’s hungry enough to swallow me whole.

Hot. Wet. Focused.

She takes me deep—past her lips, past the back of her tongue—until her nose brushes my abs and my cock twitches against her throat.

She pops off the head with a wet gasp, a string of spit connecting us. Then she dives back down, strangling my cock with her suction until it submits to her.

Blood-hot and velvet-soft. Every swirl of her tongue makes me dizzy. She moans that fucking guttural moan that curls my toes. Low. Hungry. Steeped in craving.

That tongue. That sound. That move.

just like the masked girl.