Chapter 19 #2
Jack’s breath is still uneven inside the mask, the rise and fall of his chest pressing against my cheek where he still holds me to him. The taste of him coats my tongue, warm and heavy, and my legs squeeze against the need building between them.
“Mhmm, you looked so fucking beautiful choking on my cock,” he rasps. Then he drags his cock from my mouth and tucks himself away. “It almost felt like you were enjoying yourself. Did you like having me in your mouth?”
“Y-yes,” I admit, too worked up to lie.
With a low growl, he tightens his grip on my hair and tilts my head back so I have to look up at the black lenses staring down at me. The mask hides him, but I can feel the heat radiating from him.
Movement at the edge of my vision draws my attention. The other Grooms are peeling their masks off, faces flushed and satisfied. Jack reaches for the strap at the side of his head.
“Don’t,” I blurt, sharper than I mean to.
“Don’t?” His hand pauses, which makes my lips twitch. Not because it’s funny, but because he listened to me.
“Keep it on.” My voice is lower now, almost a plea. I don’t want Jack. I want the monster. The one who claimed me first. The one whose face I never saw.
A slow, knowing hum vibrates through the filter, and his fingers leave the strap. Then he tilts his head to the side, looking as though he’s dissecting every layer of my demand. “Why?”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. How am I supposed to admit that I’m wetter for the masked man than the husband who just came down my throat?
“Mhmm, you like the mask,” he murmurs, smugness a low rumble through the filter. His fingers leave the strap and trail down my jaw instead, claiming the victory without needing my confession.
“Yes.” I nod while licking my lips.
His thumb drags slowly along my jaw, catching the faint trace of spit still clinging there. “You’ve got the crowd worked up,” he murmurs through the filter, his voice still rough from coming. “And you’re shaking like you’re ready to be fucked in front of every last one of them.”
My breath hitches. The thought sends my need spiking higher, but it’s not just the audience. It’s the mask. The black lenses. The way the filter turns him into something inhuman.
“Please…” My voice is small, frayed.
“Please what, wife?” The words are a taunt, each one measured like he’s trying to make me squirm. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
“Touch me,” I breathe.
“Where?” He moves his hand to my throat, squeezing. “Your throat? Your tits? Or maybe that pretty little cunt you’ve been clenching since I pulled my cock out of you?”
The last word leaves me trembling. “Yes. Oh, God. Yes, please play with my pussy.” I take a deep, shuddering breath. “Make me come. Please, I want to come so badly.”
Jack chuckles low, the sound vibrating through the filter. “Greedy little thing.” He hauls me up, my knees trembling from the ache and the aftermath of the competition. “Come on,” he orders, steering me toward the wings.
We pass the other couples—masks off now, flushed and basking in the crowd’s approval. He keeps me moving until we reach a narrow stretch of curtain and shadow between two stages.
The audience is still close enough to hear us if we make a sound, and from certain angles they can see us. Jack drives me back into cold scaffolding, body crowding mine, the hard ridge of his cock digging into my hip.
“You want me to keep it on?” he asks, as if we didn’t already settle this. The lenses of his mask catch the stage lights as he tilts his head.
“Yes.”
“Say please.”
“Please,” I breathe, pressing my thighs together.
He grips my jaw, tilting my head up until my throat stretches. “Keep your eyes on the mask. Don’t look anywhere else. Or I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” I challenge .
“Stop,” he finishes while dragging his other hand up my thigh, slipping under the slit of my dress until his knuckles press into the soaked lace covering me. “Say it so I know you understand.”
“I won’t look anywhere else,” I rasp.
“Mhmm, you’re drenched,” he says, almost to himself, the words vibrating dark through the filter.
“Jack,” I moan.
“Were you imagining this while you were on your knees? Thinking about me fucking you with the mask on?”
“Yes,” I pant as my breath hitches, hips rocking forward into his touch.
“Shhh,” he warns when I start to speak. “You want my fingers? You take what I’m giving you. How I’m giving it to you.”
He hooks the lace aside and pushes two fingers into me, knuckles deep on the first thrust. The heel of his palm grinds into my clit as he fucks me slow, deliberate, each curl of his fingers hitting that soft, brutal place that makes my knees shake.
His free hand stays at my throat, applying just enough pressure to make my head spin, the filter of the mask pulling his breaths into a slow, predatory rhythm that makes my clit pulse.
“Moan my name again.”
A burst of laughter and applause from the other stage filters through the curtain, and my cheeks burn at the thought of my own noises joining theirs—at the thought of them seeing Jack finger fuck me. But the awareness isn’t enough to stop me.
“Jack.” I gyrate my hips, desperate now. “Fuck me harder with your fingers.”
His pace quickens, thumb circling my clit with cruel precision while he grinds the thick ridge of his cock against me. “You want my hard cock in your pussy, don’t you?” he taunts. “Do you want me to bend you over and let them see the masked man split you open?”
Fuck… yes, I do want that.
“Y-yes,” I cry. “I want your cock inside me.”
He lets out a cruel chuckle. “Too bad you haven’t earned more than my fingers yet, Dr. Death.”
I open my mouth, a bout to say… something, anything. But my body betrays me, fluttering tight around his fingers, chasing every curl like my pussy’s trying to keep him inside.
My nipples ache against the thin fabric, and when he releases my throat to pinch one through the dress, the sharp pull rips a gasp so loud I’m sure the crowd hears.
“Come for me,” he orders, voice low and inhuman. “Come on my fingers, Dr. Death, or I’ll make you do it out there where every last one of them can see your face when you break.”
The orgasm tears through me, sharp and merciless, wringing a ragged cry from my throat. My legs clamp around his wrist as the aftershocks wring me out, each spasm milking his fingers.
Jack doesn’t let me recover. He pulls his fingers free and lifts them to my lips. “Clean me.” I take them in without hesitation, sucking until his hand gleams wet with my saliva. “You’re such a good wife.” He wipes his hand on my thigh, tugs my dress back into place.
Then, he takes a step back and reaches for the mask. His movements are slow, like he’s making sure I see him remove it. When it’s gone, his piercing green eyes bore into mine, his lips curving up at the side.
“You keep surprising me, Eve.”
I can’t help smiling back at him. “Likewise, husband.”
Together, we walk back onto the now-empty stage. I scan the crowd for Shelby, hoping to catch her for a word, but she’s already gone with her Groom.
“Looking for someone?” Jack asks.
At the same time, I voice a question of my own. “Why did you do it?”
“Do what?”
Sighing, I explain, “Use Shelby to get to me.”
He stops walking, frowning as his hand drags over the rough line of his jaw. “She and her brother owed me a debt. I was simply collecting.”
The way he says it sends my blood boiling. And yeah, part of it’s because I’m pissed I didn’t even know Shelby had a brother—but I still lay into him.
“So what? You can’t just go around using people , Jack.”
“Of course I can.”
I scoff. “No wonder you’re all alone in that big fucking house. You’re an asshole.”
Jack’s smile is slow, deliberate, the kind that never reaches his eyes. “Takes one to know one, wife. And I don’t see anyone coming to your rescue.”