Page 40 of The Masks We Wear (Satan’s Angels #1)

“Good girl,” he growls as he pushes deeper and deeper. I feel an orgasm building inside of me within minutes and he releases my wrists in favor of stroking my clit instead. He sends me over the edge and I tighten around him as my orgasm rushes through me.

He moans and pulls out of me, repositioning us so that I’m on my belly.

He climbs on the bed and uses his knee to part my thighs.

He lifts my hips slightly and places a pillow beneath them before sliding back inside me in one delicious thrust. I moan at the feel of him.

He resumes his previous pace, driving into me like a madman and already I feel another orgasm building.

He grabs the back of my neck in a claiming grip, “You feel so fucking good squeezing my cock when you come on it, Baby.”

His filthy words throw me over the edge and I come around him again, my moans muffled by the pillows.

He growls and stops moving, his orgasm finding him at the same time.

He spills into the condom, still inside me and pulls out only a second later, his body falling on top of mine.

He wraps his arms around me and strokes my hair as he rolls onto his side.

I place my head on his chest and we both sit in silence, panting and trying to catch our breath.

When we’ve both regulated our breathing, he kisses my forehead and whispers against my skin, “Get dressed, we’re going out and you aren’t Brody Drake, rockstar and public enemy number one tonight.”

Harvey

“I CAN NOT GO out like this,” she complains from inside the bathroom.

I’m still not entirely sure why she felt the need to get dressed in a separate room considering I’ve been inside her and seen her naked countless times, but I have a suspicion it’s because the clothes and the wig are making her self-conscious.

I roll my eyes as I button up the last button of my white dress shirt.

My routine has been thrown completely off kilter this week because of her.

I used to have a strict regimen that I followed but then enter Brody Drake and I’m finding myself voluntarily choosing not to follow my routine in favor of spending time with her, whether it be in the form of morning sex or just cuddling.

Cuddling . Can you believe it? I’ve never cuddled or had a desire to cuddle with anyone.

Sex to me has always been a transaction of sorts.

Both parties enter willingly, both parties exit after feeling fulfilled, and both parties never speak again in fear of growing attached.

It seems I’ve said “to hell” with all of my rules and values because of her and I can’t say I’m mad at it.

Besides, our time together is limited and in just a few more weeks, I won’t have her at all.

I’d rather not regret not spending enough time with her and focusing too much on my routine because soon enough, we’ll both go back to our separate worlds and we’ll never see each other again.

The thought sends a burn to my chest that I rub with hard fingers and try my best to ignore.

It can never be anything serious between us.

We live separate lives, come from different worlds, and aside from the fact that we’re opposites in every way, I could never live in the spotlight.

I’ll take advantage of the time we have left and then after that I can go back to my strict routine and values.

For now though, I really need her to hurry up and get out of the bathroom.

“Stop being ridiculous, Brody. Get out here,” I command her, raising my voice.

I hear a loud grown and a mutter of “fucking guy” before the bathroom door slides open and she steps out.

My jaw drops when my eyes land on her. I can’t help but burst into laughter.

She doesn’t seem to like my reaction much because she reaches for a discarded shoe on the floor and tosses it at me.

It bounces right off my chest and doesn’t phase me. I only continue laughing. “Fuck you!”

“You’ve already done that,” I tease. My eyes rove over her and I slide my phone out to snap a picture before it’s too late.

She gasps when she catches me and demands I delete it but I put it back in my pocket, determined to make that my lock screen.

The sight is just too good. She looks absolutely nothing like herself.

Brody never wears clothes that don’t reveal even a sliver of skin so seeing her in a cardigan and non-ripped jeans is a sight for sore eyes.

Paired with the large framed glasses on her face and the straightened head of dark hair that isn’t hers, she looks like a stranger.

I guess the disguise idea may work after all.

I had my doubts about it but I was willing to take whatever risks necessary to give her just one night away from the press, and free of the paps that harass her.

She deserves it after everything she’s been through.

She crosses her arms over her chest and pouts, looking very much like an angry child. “I can not leave like this.”

I smile at her, “You can and you will because nobody is gonna know who you are when you’re dressed like that.”

I inevitably win our argument and usher a reluctant and hesitant Brody out of the hotel through the back entrance that is typically reserved for staff only.

I bribed an employee with a large stack of bills to get him to help me out when I planned the night, but I don’t regret it one bit because it worked.

I got Brody into a blacked out car and drove off with her, parking on a nearby street.

We spent the night walking around the city that smells so foul, yet I couldn’t bring myself to notice, completely enamored by her the whole time.

The way her nose scrunches at the odor and the way her eyes light up when people walk past her without recognizing her.

The many personalities in the city, everything.

Sometimes I forget her life isn’t normal and that these experiences aren’t realistic for her.

It makes me even happier that I did this.

I took her to get dinner at a quiet little Japanese restaurant and then I took her to a local art gallery that was showcasing bonsai tree art.

I knew she would love it and I was right.

Her eyes were bright the entire time and she had the biggest smile on her face.

I wish I could take a picture of her smile without her noticing, just so I could stare at it all day.

The sight of Brody Drake alone is enough to send a man to his knees but even in glasses and some very unattractive clothes, she’s still the most stunning creature in the room every time she enters.

The night was special, even I could admit that.

Now, we’re walking down the hall to our hotel rooms and I can tell from the wicked gleam in her eyes and the smirk on her lips that she wants something else from me, something I’m more than willing to give.

She leads me to her room and I follow like some kind of puppy, another thing I would never be caught dead doing before Brody Drake.

She slides the key into the door just as I smack her ass playfully, the devious look in her eye and the sirenic laugh that comes out of her mouth is enough to have me stripping her naked in this very hallway but I resist the urge, not wanting Selene or the girls to catch us together like this.

Brody opens the door to her room and I follow behind her.

I’m about to kiss her and by the looks of it, she’s expecting me to, but I resist and take a step back when I realize we aren’t alone.

Inside her room, sitting on her bed are three people who look suspiciously like my little rockstar.

There’s an older man, probably in his sixties, with no hair and a short gray beard.

His eyes are the same shade as Brody’s sapphire blue gems, and he’s lean and muscular.

He stands a couple of inches shorter than me.

I take in the woman at his side. She’s tan with black hair that’s tied into a knot on the back of her head, not one hair out of place.

Her eyes are a hazel color and she crosses her arms over her chest and scowls.

I take in the last person, a man who appears to be about Brody’s age with the same shade of sunshine hair as hers and the very same eyes as hers too.

He takes us in with a raised brow and an amused expression on his face.

This must be Andrew, Brody’s younger brother.

Brody’s mother frowns, “Well, Brody, you must be completely fine if you’re bringing men back to your hotel room only days after being attacked.” Brody’s body immediately tenses. Her mother looks her over with a disgusted expression, “And what on God’s earth are you wearing?”

I watch as Brody retreats inside herself, the spunky and witty girl I know who doesn’t take shit from anyone, disappearing before my very eyes.

She becomes a shell of her outgoing self and molds into someone who I don’t recognize.

I immediately clench my jaw, angry at her parents for blowing out the candle that is Brody Drake.

Her voice comes out shaky as she starts removing the wig and the fake glasses, “It’s a disguise so I could leave the hotel without paparazzi harassing me,” she explains as she looks down at her feet.

“And he’s not just a random person I’m bringing back to my room, he’s my babysitter. ”

Brody’s father raises a brow, “The one Selene told us would be coaching you?”

She nods and I speak up, reaching a hand out to Brody’s father, “I’m Harvey Taylor.”

He takes my hand in his tight grip and shakes.

I proceed to shake Brody’s mother’s hand and Andrew’s.

“And how has she been doing?” Brody’s father asks, curiously.

I want to punch him in the jaw for speaking about her like she isn’t in this very room with us but I hold back out of respect for the girl at my side that looks extremely uncomfortable.