Page 51 of The Invite (The Massacre Ball #1)

Nessa

Every inch of me is deliciously sore yet I’ve never felt more relaxed.

I definitely understand what being thoroughly fucked means in its full glory.

For a while, I forgot about the impending doom. The threat of Anonymous. The upheaval of the past weeks. But now that it’s just me—the stress sneaks back.

Augustus left an hour ago after we took a shower together, where I avoided looking at the cuts on his chest. The tally has come to four.

He didn’t seem bothered by it in the least. In fact, he wore my marks with pride, male satisfaction pouring off him in spades.

I can’t tell anymore who is crazier—me or him.

Standing in my tiny closet, I rummage for a pair of high-waisted jeans and a cropped tank top to change into.

Apparently, Augustus hasn’t had his fill of me today. Before leaving, he told me to get dressed and that he’ll be back for dinner. The statement was so domesticated as though we’re a couple. The switch in his personality still boggles my mind.

I finish getting ready, pushing his eccentricities to the back of my head. He’ll be here any minute.

My top doesn’t hide the multiple hickeys he’s left. My breasts and throat have taken the brunt of the damage. It’s a good thing I don’t have to go to work tomorrow because there’s no hiding them. There’s literally one below my jaw. I hardly wear makeup, so it’d be a bitch to conceal.

I swear we’re both savages.

Though I, at least, feel guilty about my actions.

The doorbell rings.

My heart skips a beat.

Quickly combing my hair and with one last look in the mirror, I run downstairs. I wonder how long he can keep up the charade of being a gentleman and rapping on my door. Reaching it, I yank it open and the oxygen knocks out of my lungs.

Oh, holy Jesus!

My fingers clutch the doorframe to stop from falling into a puddle on the ground.

I’ve died and gone to heaven .

Augustus stands on my porch in his full biker attire with his sleek black helmet tucked underneath his left arm. A pair of gloves dangling from his fingers.

Tall, rugged, and divine.

Every biker-obsessed girl’s fantasy come to life.

I don’t know where to stare first. The fitted leather jacket molded over his shoulders and arms or his signature compression shirt hugging his muscular torso beneath it.

It’s as if I conjured him straight from one of the videos on his page.

Trailing my gaze down his dark blue denim jeans, I have to bite my lower lip to stifle the moan as I see his laced brown leather boots that finish off his ensemble.

What chemical reaction is happening in my body?

Since when did the sight of a man’s boots turn me on?

It’s the whole package. How is any woman supposed to resist? My heart is racing wildly at his proximity. He is devastatingly handsome every other day but in his biker clothes, he’s taken it up a notch to lethally sexy.

Despite being fucked twice, my pussy quivers as I trail my eyes back to his face. Half of it is shrouded in darkness, making him appear menacing. Those stubborn strands fall over his forehead, and I itch to push them back.

But the sly smirk on his mouth keeps my hand rooted to my side.

He doesn’t miss all the drooling I’ve done since I opened my door.

“Done having your fill, honey?” he purrs, closing my gaping mouth with a fingertip underneath my chin.

No. Not at all.

The soft pet name shouldn’t belong on those full lips and they certainly shouldn’t sound like an angel welcoming you into heaven.

Only to turn out to be a trap luring you straight into the gates of hell.

I swallow before answering. “Umm… mhmm.”

His pupils darken a fraction. “Don’t make that sound or I’ll fuck you right here on this porch. I don’t think your pussy can handle a third round, nor do we want to give your neighbor a show.”

“Because it’s exclusive to your paid subscribers only?” Shit. That totally came out as a taunt.

“Are you jealous?”

Nope. A taunt would’ve been better. “It’s none of my business what you do in your free time.”

“So, you wouldn’t care if I fucked someone else?”

“Do you want to?” I counter.

“I’ve been your shadow since you came into my life, Nessa. What do you think?” His tone is as cool as the breeze in the air, but I sense the harsh possessiveness.

I glance away from the intensity of his confession.

He captures my chin and brings it back toward him. “I’m not interested in fucking anyone but you.” Dropping his hand, he mutters, “For the record, I haven’t slept with the women I’ve recorded videos with. I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

I hate the rush of relief that courses down my spine. “Like I said, it’s not my business.”

“Then make it.”

I gasp at the command, full of heat and longing.

“If you’re finished ogling me, can I take you to dinner?”

“Are you asking me?” I tease dryly, yet again stunned by him.

“Jesus!” He shakes his head, exasperated, and grumbles, “Fuck being a gentleman.”

Seizing my wrist, he tugs me over the threshold, but I stop him. “Wait. Let me grab my jacket.”

“Don’t worry about it. The weather is warm.”

“What if it gets cold?”

“You can wear mine.”

“At least let me lock up.”

He finally halts. “Two minutes.”

I rush into the house, grab the keys, and lock the front door. Spinning around, I meet him at the porch stairs. He’s staring at me funny.

“What?” I ask.

He arches a brow. “Did you lock the backyard door, Nessa?”

“It’s always lock…” I trail off as a light bulb goes off in my head. Gasping loudly, I screech, “That’s the door you’ve been using to get into my house this whole time?”

“Didn’t your parents teach you to lock all doors?”

“We had servants,” I absently answer, and freeze at my mistake. Glancing at him, I lose hope of taking it back. Augustus isn’t one to miss any crumbs I give him about my history.

“So, you’re from a rich family?” he casually asks, pulling me toward his bike sitting regally at the end of my driveway.

“No,” I say too quickly. “I mean, my father lost all our money because of his gambling addiction.”

“Where’s your mom?”

“My parents passed away in a car accident, Augustus.” Not even a flicker of sympathy crosses his ever-so-monstrous eyes. “I don’t like to talk about them.”

Any other person would back off. Or offer words of condolences.

He does neither.

“Why do you hide their photo frame?” Curiosity drips off his tongue. “Because it hurts to look at it and you miss them? Or they never meant anything to you?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I’ve developed an unhealthy obsession to know everything about you.”

“No one knows everything about anyone.”

He comes closer, circles an arm around my waist, and hauls me up against his chest. “I will know everything about you. I promise you that.”

“It’s impossible.”

“I’ll prove you wrong.”

“Does it apply both ways?”

His white teeth press down on the corner of his mouth, like he’s pleased and fighting off a smirk. “Yes. I’ll be an open book… for you .”

Unfettered access to him? Scary. Yet it’s what I’ve been craving ever since meeting him, which tells me that it’s a very dangerous slippery slope.

“Hmm,” I simply hum.

He cocks a brow.

“I’m not accepting that offer.”

A chuckle slips past his throat. “Chickenshit.”

“I am not.” I’m pissed he figured me out so quickly.

Picking me up, he closes the small distance between us and his bike in two long strides. Setting me down, he challenges, “Guess you’ll have to prove me wrong.”

My sharp comeback dies a swift death as I become tongue-tied when he throws one leg over his bike and straddles it. He does it so effortlessly, like he’s done it a million times. Up close, the undoubtedly expensive sports bike is a hundred times more intimidating, beastly, and magnetic.

All black to match the dark aura of the man who owns it. I can feel him watching me stare and admire his ride. He doesn’t interrupt as I get my fill of it. I bet he can tell I’m a novice in all things Augustus and his bike.

I didn’t even know motorcycles could drive a woman wild until I stumbled on the thirst trap videos by bikers on the internet.

No one came close to exuding raw masculine power like Augustus. I bet his bike is one of a kind. I feel lightheaded while a strong pulse forms between my thighs.

Unable to resist the pull, I reach out and caress the shiny tank.

The coldness of the smooth metal seeps into my skin.

An undeniable thrill shoots down my spine at the thought of riding it in a few short moments.

But when I glance at the passenger seat, I worry about how I’ll get on it without being awkward and looking like a fool.

It doesn’t help that it’s sloped upward at the end.

What if I fall?

I jolt when a warm hand covers mine resting on the bike while one curls around the back of my neck, pulling my focus to a set of intense eyes.

“I’ll keep you safe,” Augustus murmurs.

Once I nod, he squeezes me once before his grip around my neck slackens. I watch him grab the helmet from the handlebar. Instead of slipping it on, he twists toward me, making my eyes go huge. I involuntarily take a step back.

“Come here.” His tone is soft. “Wear this.”

I stay put. “What about you?”

“Your safety comes first,” he says firmly, and tugs me to him. The first thing I smell is him after he gently slides it on and secures the strap under my chin.

He keeps my hand in his as I shift to the back and cup his shoulder with the other. His hold tightens briefly, taking a bit of my weight as I hop on behind him.

A soft breath leaves my lungs. Despite sitting at a higher altitude, he still towers over me, which makes all my feminine parts sing.

Placing my hand on his hard thigh, I hear him zip up his jacket. I push down the need of wanting to see him from the front. Butterflies flutter behind my ribs as he wraps my arms around his abs with a command. “Don’t let go.”

Adrenaline spikes in my veins, my grip tightening involuntarily as he leans forward slightly. The engine starts and he revs it. The loud purr of the beast vibrates my thighs, echoing down the deserted street, and I huff a small delightful laugh.

Augustus’s core clenches as though the sound shocked him too.

I feel his head tilt toward the rearview mirror and our gaze locks. Without breaking our connection, he throttles the engine, longer this time, causing a smile to erupt on my face.

“Ready to fly, little prey?” he rasps over the purring noise.

“Yes.”

Turning my head, I close my eyes as he guns the bike and peels down the driveway. When he takes a turn down the end of the street, my heart gallops to my stomach and I clutch him harder, flattening my palms against his lower abs.

I think I feel him skim his fingers over my hands clasped around him, but I’m too lost in the wind blowing on my body and ruffling my hair peeking from under the helmet to pay attention.

I’m on a cloud, with no intention of landing on the ground.

Once we’re on the highway, he accelerates, making us zoom past the bordering woods. My eyes widen because I didn’t think we could speed any faster. Yet I’m proven wrong. It truly feels like we’re flying. Like we’re on the top of the world. Untouchable.

Is this what he experiences whenever he drives? No wonder he’s addicted.

The rush of cruising down the road makes me feel alive and invigorated.

My only center of gravity is Augustus.

My masked monster-turned-devil that I’ve sold my soul to.

Breathing in his scent, his thundering heartbeat underneath my palm, our bodies fitting like a glove, he can take me to the ends of the earth and I won’t stop him.