Page 14 of Nothing to Fear (Wicked Games #1)

Silas

M y residence hall hosts Fright Night tonight for week three, and they’ve all been busy making plans to prepare for it.

Even though we’re the hall that houses students who are majoring in forensics, anthropology, criminology, and herbology, we decided to go with a traditional haunted mansion.

The interior walls of Harrow House are already bleak and black, so we filled every available space with blood-red roses, aged-looking skulls, and black candles.

Sleek. Clean. Simple. With the power off and windows open, the cool air seeping inside and dancing with the flames of the candles, our Harrow House haunted mansion is ready for guests.

To make it easy on myself, I pulled on my costume from week one, the crisscross lights glowing against the dark mesh fabric of the mask.

Anonymity has worked in my favor the last two weeks, and I’m not against it tonight.

Not that I’m planning to hook up again, but now that I’ve experienced being myself, it’s hard not to want to grasp that feeling if the opportunity is there.

And there’s nothing like a costume party to keep things a mystery.

Music floods my veins as the DJ works his magic, the base thumping through the old floorboards as I walk into the party late. I wasn’t in a rush to join everyone, especially because I didn’t want anyone to catch me leaving my room. The more people who are here, the more distracted everyone is.

I find Eli and Rome in the kitchen talking, and when I fill up a Solo cup from the keg, their eyes glancing up at me without saying a word, I know they have no idea who I am.

“C’mon, dude. You can’t go for her. Lucy Darling has been eyeing the shit outta Silas for weeks. Pretty sure he’ll be getting his dick wet inside her soon,” Eli tells Rome.

“Yeah, but he hasn’t made his move yet, which means she’s fair game. Have you seen her tonight? That chick is hot as fuck.”

“She’s hot, but what are you gonna say if you find out Silas likes her, and you’ve just given her your famous homemade cream pie?”

“To enjoy my leftovers?”

Eli gags, a deep, dry heave that forces me to bite the inside of my cheek to hold back my laugh.

I don’t give a damn if Rome wants to hook up with Lucy.

His lack of give-a-damn about me, though, sucks.

Not that I expect anything different from him.

Eli may have a mouth on him, but at least he’s defending me.

I throw back the drink, taking long pulls of the amber liquid until I drain it completely.

The alcohol warms me, my veins pulsing as it does its job.

I look at where Rome is studying Lucy, a girl from our class with long blonde hair and a tight body.

She’s objectively beautiful, but my dick doesn’t notice.

Instead, I spot a familiar costume right away, my eyes flicking to him as if they were a moth to a flame.

His head cocks to the side, and it’s so eerily familiar that it sends chills down my spine.

I push farther into the room, grabbing a bright purple concoction from a drink table and leaning back against a wall.

My mind flashes with erotic images of the same glowing masked skeleton and the way he expertly explored my body, the way he fucked me into the lounge chair, the sound of his distorted voice, and the roar he let loose as he filled the condom with cum deep inside me.

Nothing has ever come remotely close to competing with that night.

It was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.

Except maybe the glory hole. I look around the room, wondering if anything will trigger a memory of the masked mystery man that would give me a glimpse into who he is, but come up short when his fingers do a come-hither motion, beckoning me to him.

I comply without hesitation.

The world fades around me as the masked stranger holds out his hand, glowing green fingers grasping onto my wrist and hauling me into his body. His masked face nuzzles into my neck, and my eyes flutter closed as a subtle, familiar scent engulfs my senses.

“You feel too good in my arms. Never thought I’d see you again.”

“Mmm,” I moan against him. His arms encompass my body, my knees growing weak at the feeling of being held closely.

His heart beats rapidly, felt through the thin layers of our clothes, and I know without a doubt it matches my own.

My arms wrap around his shoulders, my hands cupping the back of his neck and meeting a thin strip of bare skin where the hood of his costume doesn’t connect with the top.

Electricity sparks from the spot, and I pull my head back to face my masked stranger straight on .

His head cocks to the side, eerie skeleton features peering back at me.

“How about a little game?” His voice is distorted, gruff, and sends chills straight down my spine.

“What’d you have in mind?” I keep my voice low, purposefully dropping it deeper and trying to mask it.

“Seven minutes in hell.”

Without replying, I grab his hand, pulling him behind me as I head through Harrow House, past the throngs of people, up the grand staircase to the second story, past the many photographs of important people to the school, and directly to my apartment door.

I know I’m taking a gamble by bringing him here, but I’ve never had people over before, and in case of a hookup tonight, I cleared my room of any identifiable items and strung red lights so I could keep it dark.

Good thing I planned.

After unlocking the door, I pull him inside, kicking the door shut. His hands are on me a moment later, pushing me against the closed door, his hands sneaking under my hoodie and finding bare skin.

I groan against his touch, synapses firing, my dick aching against my zipper in anticipation. I dig my fingers into his shoulders, pulling him closer, hating all the barriers between us but too terrified to eliminate them. He can’t know who I am.

The masked stranger pulls back, taking out his phone and typing something in. There’s a moment of panic before he turns it around in his hand, showing me a timer.

“Seven minutes. But no coming.” Jesus. With the way he’s expertly touching me? I could blow right now, and I’m still fully dressed. “I’m going to edge you until you can’t take any more. And if you last seven minutes, I’ll reward you.”

Fuck yes. That I can do .

I walk farther into my room, a sudden rush of confidence pushing to the surface.

His head does that eerie move as I prowl him, that reminds me of .

. . Asher . As quickly as the thought enters my head, I push it out.

Asher isn’t here with me right now. My masked stranger is.

And this is all that matters. Feeling good. Being myself. Letting go.

Just as my hands reach his body, sliding up the glowing ribs of his costume, he shoves me backward.

I stumble, the back of my knees hitting the mattress and making me collapse backward.

He’s quick to move, kicking my feet to spread my legs, and then he’s standing in front of me.

I’m completely consumed by the heat of the moment, the electricity vibrating between us, a silent hum of desire and lust .

. . of connection. It’s otherworldly, deep, and profound.

Comfortable and familiar. I long to reach up and remove his mask, to see the man behind it.

But that will never happen. And if all I can have are these fleeting moments of pure hedonism, I’m going to take them without guilt before they’re gone forever.

Strong, steady hands remove my belt, unbutton my jeans, slide down my zipper, his dark eyes downcast, watching as he undresses me. Just as he’s about to pull them over my hips, he picks up his phone again, clicking start and showing it to me. I nod my head, and then it’s game on.

My pants are dragged down my legs, not a moment later, and a deep, primal growl echoes off the walls as my hard cock bobs free, slapping loudly against my abdomen. He moves quickly, pulling off my boots and tossing my jeans to the side.

His masked fingers trail lightly over my thighs, glowing against the dim light of the red hue illuminating us in the center of my room.

His costume is tight, showcasing his toned body as my eyes drift over him.

I settle on the bulge at his front, the thick, long cock that is well acquainted with my body.

Goosebumps break out over my skin as I remember what it felt like to have his thick length fill me, how the engorged head of his shaft feels as it passes over my prostate. How it throbs when he comes . . .

“Fuck it,” he says out of nowhere, ripping his gloves from his hands. Then we’re skin to skin, and I nearly black out.

It’s as if everything in my life has led me right here. I don’t deserve it. But I want it, nonetheless.

He gently runs the pads of his fingers across the skin of my thighs, edging upward to my groin, passing through the crevice where my thighs meet my hips.

His fingers trail those two spots, up and down, before moving on and gliding through the short, coarse hair of my pubic area.

I sink into the mattress, my hips starting to buck forward, wanting his touch where I need it the most. But he doesn’t touch it.

Then he pulls back, and I’ve lost his touch altogether. I don’t dare glance at the timer, not wanting this to end, but also wanting to hold out so that we can both come together.

The masked man drops to his knees between my legs, and my mouth goes slack. Shit, I want his mouth on me. I want his tongue, his lips, the warm, wet heat to envelope me and take me over the edge.

“Close your eyes,” his distorted voice demands, and I comply, not wanting to do anything that would make this stop.

I nearly buck off the bed as his tongue replaces the path of his hands, slowly licking up each of my thighs. My skin pebbles with goosebumps, heat rising to my cheeks, pleasure a live wire through my body. I know my dick is leaking now, drops of precum dripping from my tip onto my stomach.

No words are passed between us, the only noise in the room my harsh, heavy breathing. I muffle my moans by biting my bottom lip, trying so hard not to give myself away to my masked man.

His talented, warm tongue licks the base of my dick, taking his time, following the seam up the center of my sack. He laps at me while strong, confident hands reach under my sweatshirt, finding my nipples and gently rubbing circles around each.

I’m desperate.

Wanton.

Eager.

I’m consumed by every touch of his hands, every lick of his tongue, his warm breath against my skin, the bite of pain from his teeth.

He’s reduced me to a whimpering, devastated mess.

My hands dig into the blanket on my bed, holding on for dear life as I bite down on my tongue between my molars, my mouth pooling with the bitter taste of iron as I feel my dick start to pulse.

“Nuh-uh-uh, what did I tell you? You want your reward? You need to be a good boy.”

Jesus fucking Christ. I can’t take much more of this.

Warmth spreads through me as he spits on my hole and drags his finger lower, circling the puckered flesh as I begin to shiver.

“You want my finger, good boy?”

I nod my head frantically, desperate to feel him inside me. Desperate to come. He continues stroking my hole, easing inside me as a whimper spills from my lips. Just as his finger breaches the ring of muscle, the alarm blares, and I can’t hold back my groan of relief.

“Such a good fucking boy.”

He quickly pulls his finger from my body and grabs a condom and several packets of lube, shoving down the bottom half of his costume.

“You want to come? You’re going to come with me while I fill up your ass.”

I nod eagerly, my tongue darting out to dampen my dry lips.

His head cocks to the side, clearly tracking the movement before his hand reaches up, the pad of his thumb swiping across the corner of my mouth and over my bottom lip.

He holds it out in front of us, the crimson blood glimmering against the neon light of the room.

I watch with rapt attention, my heart in my throat as he lifts his mask just enough to slip his blood-coated finger into his mouth. He groans with pleasure, his head falling back. As if that single taste was enough to ignite the fuse, he returns to me.

Feral.

A single packet of lube is emptied onto two fingers, and then they’re at my entrance.

This time, I don’t hold back the sounds that want to escape me.

It seems to drive him wild, his fingers returning to my puckered hole before pressing firmly and swiftly inside me.

I brace for it, the sweet burn, the stretch.

Pleasure pulses from the spot of contact, where his fingers expertly work me open to accept his big dick.

I lose myself to the feeling, my hips gyrating, pushing my ass back against his hand, chasing more.

More.

More.

My cock throbs in need, but instead of gripping myself, I sit up on my elbows and reach for him, stroking him root to tip. Shadows dance across the room before a loud clap of thunder shakes the very foundation of Harrow House. We both freeze, and then we’re shrouded in complete darkness.

Instead of stopping, instead of doing any of the things we should, my masked stranger pulls free from my body. There’s a rustling sound and movement before he’s notching the thick head of his shaft at my hole.

In one torturously slow thrust, he’s filling me. We groan in unison as our connection is complete, my body filled with his, a feeling of rightness washing over me, and I know in this moment, I don’t know how I’ll ever give this up once it’s over.