Page 22 of His Trick

I clenched my fists around his wrists, willing myself to pull him off my body.

His knees were trembling, and I could feel his grinding falter against my body. I wasn’t the only one helpless to this. He was trying to maintain control, trying to resist the surge of whatever possessed him too.

“That makes sense, Sunshine,” he whispered, fingers moving faster, pressing, holding me tighter, stroking me faster. “So tell me, Shiloh. Is my sister‘s pussy this good for you? Do you shiver like this under her grip? Every desperate little thrust, getting my hands wetter and wetter. You may be hers in the morning, but tonight?”

I trembled against the wall, my chest rising and falling in ragged bursts, cock straining under the merciless teasing and stroking. I tried to drag in a steady breath, to shove the shame down, and I held onto the knowledge I was a straight man. I didn’t want a man. I didn’t want this.

His dangerous words sliced through my thoughts, through my reason. My pelvis thrusted into his hand involuntarily, pushing harder into the pressure. My body was eager to respond even as my mind screamed to stop.

“Tonight,” he moaned. “Tonight, Shiloh Anderson. You are mine.”

The more I tried to resist, the more precise his skillful hands became, all the teasing and merciless kneading grew, dragging me to the edge, lighting every nerve in my body until I was trembling, gasping, my muscles taut and desperate for a release.

“Yes. That’s it,” he grunted, my back feeling wet, a result of his pre-come. “Such control…but it won’t save you from this. You can’t hide from me.”

I tried to tighten my abs, to squeeze shut the betrayal of my body. But his hand dragged along my balls, then back up, squeezing my head. He used every shiver from my rebellious body to guide his actions. My chest heaved, my ragged breaths escaping my lips. My thighs were breaking, shaking with the tension that bunched deep, low, and raw inside me.

“Shiloh…so interesting that you make me shiver like this. I can feel every twitch of your dick, every desperate little push into my hand. You’re so responsive.”

I tried to hold it in, to stay sharp, to remind myself I was Xanthy’s. My hips bucked regardless, my cock straining against the merciless fingers pressing and stroking, my groans escaping in short, sharp bursts.

“I’m…Xanthy’s…boyfriend!” I gasped again, my voice clipped and defensive, but my moans betrayed me. I jerked forward, muscles tight and taut, every nerve on fire as I got closer and closer. “Please…stop. Fuck. Stop. Stop fucking touching me.”

“Mmm,” he purred, the vibration making me physically pant. “You’ve said it again and again. Does it make it worse, Sunshine? Fuuuck. You’re perfect like this. So desperate. So mine.”

My legs trembled, thighs quivering as he worked relentlessly, dragging me to the edge, just to stop for a second and do it over again. My body was drenched in sweat. The fake fucking blood dripping off of me under the strobe lights.

I prayed no one could hear me, hear the pathetic whimpers leaving my mouth as he tortured me.

Fuck you. I will not come for you.

It was a chant in my broken mind. But my knees were nearly giving out, my muscles trembling, cock pulsing with every breath in the air, and then it happened.

My fucking body gave in. I came hard, shuddering, restrained, wracked with tremors, heat, and so much fucking shame. My chest heaved against the wall, breathing so jagged I couldn’t hear my own voice anymore.

My fingernails were bleeding from clawing at nothing, trying to tether myself as the waves tore through me.

His hand lingered just long enough to prolong the orgasm, my back splashed with something warm and thick that I refused to acknowledge. And then he withdrew as the silence stretched. The only sound was my ragged gasps as the fog curled around me.

I fell to my knees, unable to hold myself against the wall anymore. I was vibrating, hips still coiled, my face flushed, and my mind racing. My body had completely betrayed me, yet my mind remained sharp, calculating, and aware.

I turned around.

Ready to fucking break his neck for what he did to me. My pants were soaked through, and vomit rose in my throat when I looked down.

The fog thickened with every breath, blurring my vision. The strobe lights spun around me, making me dizzy. But I knew somewhere in the shadows, he was still there, watching, waiting, shaping his warped game.

Would he slink off back to the maze? Chase some other masked actor and force them into this sick fucking release?

This was his game, but the idiot females running around didn’t seem to interest him.

My come dripped from my pants, and I growled in the silence, coming to a sickening realization.

Maybe…it’s me.

I’m his fucking prey.

Istormed out of the haunted house like I was on fucking fire. Hell, my body felt like it was physically burning everywhere he touched me. My breath sawed through my chest with a damn vengeance, my fists clenched so hard my nails dug into my palms, leaving blood dripping down onto the ground.