Page 15 of His Trick

She stared at me, eyes bewildered, confirming my earlier notion that she definitely had a mask kink. Placing the mask over my face, I pulled my dick out of my pants and shoved her to her knees by the cuffs.

Now you can’t see me. You won’t know that my moans aren’t from your pleasure, but the pain you’re in from me.

“Mmm. I will get you wet, Baby. So wet, so you can fuck me. I missed you so much, Shi?—”

I didn’t let her finish her sentence. I slammed her mouth onto my cock so hard she smashed her face into my stomach. The way she gagged and struggled for air made me harder. My hands were wrapped in her blonde hair, my boot on the middle of the cuffs, keeping her from pushing off of me.

You need to stop, Shiloh. Let her breathe. This is too far.

But I couldn’t, I was enthralled with the way she struggled, the warmth of her mouth, the saliva dripping down her face, melding with her tears and smeared makeup.

“Fuck!” I barked, nearly coming as I ripped her off my dick and tried to catch my breath as she struggled for her own.

“Shiloh? Holy fuck. You can’t just hold my face on you like that. I couldn’t breathe.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

My cock bounced with the rapid inhales of her breathing, and I shook my head. The fake apologies spilling freely like the thick saliva coating her face.

“I’m so sorry, Baby. I missed you so much. I am so sorry.”

I kissed her, pulling off the mask, chucking it aside, and holding her in my arms. She forgave me. Every caress, every whispered plea, she submitted to me. I had her back on her knees, my hands pressed against my ass, using the wall to keep them locked away.

Xanthy was good with her mouth. It was always enough to make me come. Even if those orgasms were a muted comparison to the one I stopped myself from having. I watched her head bob up and down as her slurping sounds grew louder. I leaned my head back against the wall, allowing my eyes to close.

Then everything shifted.

The air thickened. A cold crept along the back of my neck, leaving a pinprick feeling in its wake. I didn’t hear footsteps,didn’t sense any movement, or hear the parlor door opening. But I felt the presence.

I opened my eyes, and he was there—Xanthy’s brother.

Carrington Harding.

He was leaning in the parlor’s doorway, casual as hell, like he’d been waiting. His clothes were spattered with something dark, and I didn’t have to guess what it was. Everyone whispered about him, but whispers weren’t the same as seeing him stand there like death dressed in leather. His face was a blank, calm and detached, but his eyes were sharp…watching.

Watching me.

My body stuttered. My hips faltered against Xanthy’s mouth. She didn’t notice, too lost in the frenzy she’d pulled me into. But I noticed.

Carrington didn’t look away from us. Didn’t even flinch. No apologies for standing there like some shadow cut out of the darkness. His gaze stayed on me, dissecting every inch of the way I moved against his sister’s mouth.

It wasn’t disgust.

It wasn’t a shock.

It was…curiosity.

Like he’d figured out, I was holding something back. Like he could smell the restraint bleeding out of me, taste it in the way my breath hitched and stuttered from the pressure on my caged hands.

And fuck…I hated the way my skin prickled under his stare.

Because he is right.

How could he see through me in seconds?

I wanted to snarl, to shove him out, to cover myself, anything—but I couldn’t. I was locked in place, my body still moving against Xanthy, my dick still pulsing, and thrusting into her mouth repeatedly, even though my mind had shifted entirely to him.

She didn’t see her brother standing there. She was turned toward me and the wall. She didn’t feel the dark aura around us like I did. I hadn’t met Carrington.