36. Keller
36
KELLER
S he laughs, and I smile back.
“A ghost.”
The white mask, with a pink neon bow, is undeniably shaped like a cute, girly Casper. I had it made for her this week, not expecting to need it just yet.
“I love it,” she assures me, putting it on before taking my arm for support.
We walk into the wyvern den together hand in hand, their usual party in full swing, but tonight, we head directly to the first floor, Dez and Markus behind us.
They wear identical masks, black and blood red. There’s no subtlety with those guys.
I’m glad we got in in time to enjoy the masquerade. It’s not even half past eleven. Thirty minutes of driving my woman wild.
“Oh my god.”
I look around, trying to see it with fresh eyes.
If the basement of the Vesper House is set up like a night club, the first floor of the Wyvern House is an all-boys club. And no wonder; until Dez, they never had a female resident. Leather seats, wood paneling, soft lighting, a fully equipped bar at the back, this one manned by Cynthia, not Luke.
Cynthia is an excellent bartender. She’s also happy to do her job wearing a tiny, glittery string bikini, and making the tassels under the cups of her breasts jiggle with every move.
When they’re not throwing a party, there’s a billiard table at the center. It’s currently replaced by a pole, around which a male and a female dancer are slowly gyrating to the sound of slow, low beats.
Around it, a flock of guests dance, laugh, fuck, and tease, every single one of them wearing masks in every shape and color—some obvious slasher fan masks, others, Venetian, the more modern neons like ours.
To me, this is the wyvern den. I’m used to it.
I lean closer to Claire to ask her, “How do you like it?”
“Hate the room. Ours is much better. Love the masks.”
Ours .
I grin. “Yes, the wyverns are definitely an old boys’ club. You should hear what most of them do their senior year.”
Even as the words escape me, I decide it’s best Claire does in fact not hear about how they spend their senior year. I’m slowly integrating her into my world, and the details about the wyvern or the Raventhorn ways would be the equivalent of chucking her in the deep end before teaching her to swim.
Instead, I slide my hand behind her back and bring her with me to the throng of the crowd, passing a throuple fucking each other in a line—one guy behind, another in the middle, with his cock in the girl at the front. They manage to keep up with the rhythm of the music pretty well, all things considered. As we circle them, the girl reaches out to another girl, her hand in her partner’s pants, tapping her shoulder. She casually lowers her top to give her access, and the girl with a cock in her pussy bends down to lick her tits.
Once we’re in the middle, anonymous in all this, I bring my hands to Claire’s hips and turns her so she faces away from me, sliding her dress up her thighs slowly as we move.
I didn’t get a chance to see what she’s wearing; not properly, in the darkness of the theater.
“You can dance,” she notes.
I snort. She’s right, I can, but I’m not going to the effort. “You call this dancing?”
“No, but the way you’re moving, I can tell you actually know how to move your body.”
Oh, yeah. I do.
“I’ll take you dancing one day. This is something else.”
To prove my point, I take the hem of the fabric a little higher, past her waist, baring her to all eyes behind their masks. I tie it into a knot at her midsection, and next, lower her straps down her arms, exposing her top, too.
There are more than one pair of eyes watching her, given what she’s wearing. Even more so when I undo the clasp of her bra, peel it from her arms, and toss it away, cupping her breasts.
Spotting someone getting a little too close, I take the tape I slid into my pocket in the car, prepared for this, and tear off a tiny strip with my teeth.
It’s not about where I put the tape. It’s the fact that it’s red, signifying an immediate stop sign. I place it across her nipple, cutting a second strip to make a cross, and do the same to the right tit.
Look all you want. Hands off.
“What’s this?”
“A message,” I reply.
I can tell she’d ask a lot more questions if I let her, but we have only about fifteen minutes until we’re removing masks, and there are far more entertaining things to do.
“Keep your clothes exactly as they are, unless you want to be punished. Count to ten,” I whisper. “Then come find me.”
She sucks in air, turning to ask what I mean, but I’m already stepping away, watching her, cunt bared in that lace harness, tits out, her wild hair as out of control as ever.
I retreat from the crowd, eyes never leaving her for one instant as I exit the room through the east door, practically racing to the west, in order to watch her again.
It’s not a test as such, because I know what she’ll do, but I’m curious. She turns, lost, uncertain—even if I can’t see her face, it’s obvious in the way she looks here and there, desperate.
Someone approaches, likely talking to her. She takes a step back, shaking her head.
Hell no, she won’t accept help half naked. Good girl.
Claire’s hands move to the knot at her waist, but she talks herself out of it, obeying my order, as she keeps turning and turning, walking through the half-naked crowd, snapping at anyone who dares come too close.
I grin. In truth, not too many people here would hit on her. Her hair’s recognizable enough, and I marked her as unavailable. I only know a couple of dicks who’d cross that line. People are approaching her because she looks lost, and they want to help. But given that they all have their cocks or pussies out as well masks over their faces, she runs.
Literally. She’s racing to the doors, panicking. And remaining just as bare as I left her.
Very good girl.
“Nine! Eight! Seven!” Cynthia starts to count down into a microphone.
The energy changes a little, people desperate to be just where they intended to be at midnight. Couples leave their lovers to find their real partners, flirting pairs start to take it to the next level, most crotches still covered get stripped. Including mine.
At five, I race to my prey.
I grab her around the neck from behind, and she immediately starts to fight back, kicking out, arms flaying. “Let me go!”
“Three, two?—”
Before she can turn, I shove my cock right at her entrance and push in, though she’s as dry as I’ve ever found her, and still trying to flee.
“One! Masks off!”
I remove mine, and thrust in again. “You heard her. Mask off, little ghost.”
“What?” she snaps. “Oh my god, Keller!”
It’s a wonder how her tight vise instantly floods with warmth.
“You’re the fucking worst!” she grunts between pants as I laugh, lifting her leg up.
Her hands fly to the wall, keeping her balanced. She hasn’t had a chance to remove her mask yet, and I rather like that, so I don’t tell her off.
“How did you like playing hide and seek?” I ask, grinning.
Her pussy’s giving me all the answer I need.
“I hated it.”
“Mmhmm.”
Seriously, she’s strangling my cock, already moments away from losing it.
“You could have been anyone!” she whines.
“Would I let anyone else fuck this delicious cunt of yours?”
Between the fact that I teased her all day and most of the night, and the fact that her blood is singing with both fear and anger, I’m not surprised when she starts to shake, and clench around my cock so much she immediately triggers my own orgasms. Fuck, I used to last much longer. I know myself around Claire, however. I’ll be hard again in five minutes, tops.
As she practically collapses against the wall, I remove her mask, tucking it under my arm. “Fancy a drink, little ghost?”
“Fuck you, Keller,” she manages between deep breaths.
“You just did, love.”