Page 44 of Trick Shot (Miami Blazers #1)

~MELODY~

Halloween night, one year later.

The music’s pounding hard enough to shake the floor. Jace’s house is packed—the team’s annual Halloween party tradition turned feral.

It’s been a year since that night. The night it all started. And since then, everything has changed.

The flower shop I dreamed about for years isn’t just an idea anymore—it’s real. Mine. I still catch myself smiling every time I turn the key in the door and smell the faint mix of roses and fresh paint.

I’m still living in Dom’s house, but not for much longer.

Jace and I decided to wait until we found the right place before moving in together, and now we have—our place.

There’s a room upstairs set aside for the rocking chair he built me with his own hands.

Every time I look at it, I see the life we’re going to have—rocking babies to sleep, little feet running down the hallway, bedtime stories while Jace leans in the doorway, just listening.

Pennsylvania feels like another lifetime. I’m not looking back. I’ve got roots here now, ones I’m never pulling up.

This year, Jace insisted on hosting it himself. Said, “I’ll only throw the party if you wear the bunny costume again.”

So I did.

Same black fabric, same bunny ears, and the same thigh-highs that make my legs lose blood circulation. I took everything with me when I moved to Miami.

I stand at the outdoor bar, gripping my drink, heartbeat in my throat. My chest is already tight, and I haven’t even seen him yet. But I know he’s watching me.

I feel it like a spark crawling down my spine.

I scan the crowd below, that sixth sense pulling my eyes like gravity. And then my gaze lands on a man—massive, tall, same black hoodie. His face is hidden by a Ghostface mask.

The moment my brain registers it, my entire body locks up, excitement and anticipation crashing over me like a tsunami.

He’s standing in the far corner of the huge patio, half in shadow, still and huge. Shoulders built to take a hit and give one back, that same mask staring up at me from across the crowd.

My breath stops right in the middle of my chest, like my ribs locked shut. Because tonight it’s not just Jace. It’s someone I’ve been waiting a year to see again. Tonight, I finally meet Ghost.

I take a sip from my drink, trying to breathe, trying to appear calm, but my heart is pounding and my thighs are already pressing together. I knew what would happen. What this would do to me. But knowing it and experiencing it are two different things.

And nothing could have prepared me for this. Because now, seeing the mask a year later, I realize that this isn’t just a costume. This is him. This is the man who made me come just from his voice, who listened to my darkest fantasies, to my deepest fears, who dreamt alongside me…

And I know it’s Jace under there. I know every inch of his body. I know his voice, his hands, his soul. But somehow, tonight is different. Because I’m looking directly at my faceless, nameless obsession that lived under my skin for months.

And now he’s mine.

My clit pulses like it remembers. My body’s been aching for this moment since the second I first saw him. I swallow hard, legs trembling, and stomach flipping in on itself.

That mask is staring straight into me like it can see my thoughts. Like it can smell the want dripping out of me right now.

And then his head tilts, like a warning.

My fingers dig into the bar, eyes locked on him, chest rising and falling way too fast.

And he moves, walking toward me with slow strides.

My entire body lights up just from the sight of him closing the distance. My pulse is thundering in my ears. Each step feels like a countdown.

By the time he reaches the bar, I’m already breathless.

I hear the distortion in his voice through the mask when he speaks.

“Didn’t know Playboy Bunnies drank whiskey on the rocks.”

I shudder.

Every part of me floods with memory, with recognition, with raw, animal need.

Because those were the first words he ever said to me. The words that started it all. I swallow, lips curling as I lift my chin to look up at that mask. My body remembers everything—the ache, the game, the verbal dance we shared.

I give him a coy smile, playing along, even though I’m already soaked.

“Didn’t know Ghostface flirted before the kill.”

He chuckles behind the mask, leaning closer. His hand slides to my waist, slow and confident.

“Only when the victim looks like you.”

I take a sip from my drink, feeling the burn on the way down.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here all alone?” His fingers trail the curve of my hip, ghosting over the fabric of the dress he’s already seen once before.

“Looking for trouble,” I throw at him, my excitement spilling over.

He leans in, and I catch the scent of his cologne—the same from a year ago. He really has all the details down.

“You found it.” His voice is barely a deep rasp behind the mask.

I almost moan right there, but I manage to speak.

“And what kind of trouble are you offering?”

He laughs again, low and dark. The kind of laugh that tells me exactly the trouble he’s offering.

His hand moves to the small of my back. He’s still pretending. Still roleplaying and acting like I’m some stranger he’s just discovered. And I’m loving it.

“You know what happens to brave girls who flirt with trouble?”

“What?” I stare up at the mask, my pulse humming.

“They get exactly what they’re asking for.” His voice roughens and his grip tightens. “They get ruined like they asked for. With no one around to hear them scream.”

My thighs rub together as I fight back a whimper.

“Still want to play?” he asks.

“More than ever,” I smile, biting my lip.

“Then you have three minutes to hide, Bunny.”

“And if you find me?” I ask, setting my drink down on the bar.

He leans in close.

“Then your pussy is mine.”

I whimper, closing my eyes, already feeling the promise of him between my legs.

“And I will find you.”

He lets go of me like he’s letting me off a leash and takes one step back.

“Run.”

And I do.

I turn on my heel and disappear into the house, slipping between the cracks of the crowd. I turn my head briefly and see him walking behind me, weaving through the crowd, unhurried.

Shit!

Adrenaline is already slamming through me, my chest is heaving, and my pulse thundering in my ears… and other places.

The second I lose sight of him is when I finally allow myself to slow down and think. I know his house well, but he does too.

I weave through the living room, past laughing teammates and their glitter-soaked costumes. Everyone’s drunk, loud, and distracted.

No one notices me moving like a blur through neon lights and sticky bass.

My heels click against the floor, so I stop to unzip them and kick them off. Bare feet now, skin prickling as I cross through the kitchen and toward the back hall. I bolt up the stairs two at a time and turn to look behind me. No one’s there yet.

The second floor is quieter and muffled. The music still thuds below, but it sounds far away now, just a warning pulse in the distance. The hallway is dim, and it’s a bit colder up here without all the body heat from downstairs.

I slip into the first room that I see, my fingers shaking as I close the door behind me—not all the way. Just enough to hear.

The room is shadowed, only a single bedside lamp glows low in the corner.

I walk up to the giant four-poster bed, drop to my hands and knees, and slide under.

My chest is heaving from all the running and adrenaline, my skin is buzzing, and my thighs are slick with desire. I press my hand between my legs and feel the heat already soaking through my panties.

Jesus.

Every part of me is vibrating. I should be scared. I am scared. But I’m more than that. I’m aching because I know what’s coming. I know how he hunts.

I know what he does when he finds me.

I lie there in the dark, my cheek pressed to the cold wood floor, my breath shaky, my ears straining. I’m waiting, listening for any sign of him. And then I hear the slow thud of boots getting closer. One footstep, then another, until they’re inside.

I slap a hand over my mouth, my pulse going into overdrive. And in the sliver of light, I see his black boots. He walks in like he has all the time in the world. I can’t see anything except his shoes, but I feel his presence.

I try to steady the sound of my breath as it stutters out of me. His voice slices through the silence like a knife, low and distorted behind the Ghostface mask.

“You really think you can hide from me, Bunny?”

My whole body locks. I try to stay still and quiet, but I know he already knows where I am.

He’s playing.

“You should know better by now.”

His boots stop right in front of the bed. And for a second, it’s silent again—so quiet that the pounding in my chest feels like it’s echoing across the room.

I close my eyes and try to breathe through my nose. But suddenly, rough hands clamp around my ankles.

I scream, clawing at the floor as he drags me out from under the bed in one fast, brutal motion. I shriek—half from surprise, half from how goddamn hot it is to be hunted like this.

I’m on my back now, pinned beneath him. His body covers mine completely.

“Got you.” That mask stares down at me, black eyes empty, mouth curved in that forever scream.

His breathing is heavier—not out of breath, just… restrained. Like he’s holding back.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

His hand wraps around my throat—not tight, just enough to make me feel it.

“Do you know what happens now?”

I swallow hard. My thighs clench. My hips twitch up toward him like my body’s making the decision before my brain can.

“Jace…” I whisper his name.

That’s when the hand around my throat tightens—just enough to shut me up.

“Jace isn’t here,” he growls.

Fuck.

My pussy squeezes around nothing as I try to claw at his forearm.

“Ghost,” I correct myself.

“There you go.” His masked face tilts and his fingers move, finding my pulse.

His free hand slides up my thigh, under my dress, dragging my soaked panties aside in one rough pull.

Then he grabs both my wrists with one hand and pins them above my head. He leans in close, voice deep and even more gravelly through the mask.

“You had your three minutes. You know what I’m gonna do to you now, don’t you?”

“Yes.” I try to nod.

“Say it.”

“Fuck me,” I whisper, lifting my hips toward him again.

His masked head tilts. “Oh, I will,” he says, voice low and deliberate. “But you have to beg for it.”

His free hand drags up my thigh, hiking my dress higher.

Fingers graze my pussy, sliding slowly between my lips—parting them, but giving me no pressure.

I buck toward him, needy, desperate.

“Please,” I whimper.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises with a dark chuckle.

His thumb flicks over my clit once, sharp enough to make me jolt like I’ve been shocked.

“You scared yet?”

“Try harder,” I breathe, my laugh daring him.

His voice dips lower, right in my ear. “You want to be scared?”

“Y–yes,” I gasp.

His laugh is pure wickedness before he finally pushes two fingers inside me. My eyes roll back, thighs locking around his hand as my body shivers from the first deep thrust.

“Oh my god,” I groan, lifting my head to watch him work me.

“I’ve waited too long for this, little bunny.”

Each word claws through me, twisting in my stomach, pounding in my heart.

“Me too,” I admit, breathless.

THE END

Dear Reader,

If you’re here, you’ve just lived every stolen kiss and heated touch—and I’m so glad you did. If this story made your heart race, please leave a quick review. It keeps these stories coming and helps other readers find Melody and Jace's' story.

~Vitina Rose~

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