Chapter 1 Fallon #3
Is that a fucking lemon drop? I side-eye Quinn who is stifling laughter behind her own drink. “I'm actually done drinking for the night, but thanks.” I make no moves toward the glass, letting him stew in the awkwardness.
“One of these days, Ice Queen, you’re going to give me a shot. I don’t give up.” He winks as if that is something to be proud of. It’s a fine line between charming tenacity and the creep factor.
“Sorry, Clay. I don't date co-workers.” He starts to speak, but I cut him off, “I don’t fuck them either.” I give him a deadpan stare. Quinn is dying trying to hold in her laughter, but Clay pretends not to notice.
“Wounded Fallon. I am wounded.” Just as he starts speaking, I see him over Clay's shoulder. In the dark hallway, stands a man dressed in all black, with a leather jacket and a skull mask. Again, it’s a completely different mask on the stranger. His head tilts to the side.
Like a gnat in my ear, Clay never stops his self-righteous monologue. “Tough break with Rogers, huh? I bet it’s frustrating when you know you’re right about something but your dad doesn’t listen.” Normally that would get under my skin, but I’m distracted.
“Mmhmm. You would know all about that.” My eyes stay on the masked man while Quinn pivots to speak to someone entering the VIP area, clearly preferring that to Clay’s company .
The man in the mask nods his head to the hallway – an area he shouldn’t have access to – and I feel a pull as if summoned by a demon.
“Fallon I…”
“Sorry Clay, I have to go… do… something.” I catch his jaw clench, and his eyes tighten in irritation. His knuckles turn white around the glass holding amber liquid. I ignore him and make a beeline for the back hallway.
I trail one hand along the black wall to my right as I approach. Great idea, Fallon. Following strangers into dim hallways. Are you trying to die? Maybe I’ve mistaken fear for excitement. Or maybe I don't care because it’s making me feel alive.
I move into the darkness, then follow the only corridor as it turns a corner. My breath quickens as I draw closer to him.
“Hello, Fallon.” That smooth voice goes straight to my core. The blackened jaws of the mask move subtly with his words.
“How do you know my name?” Now close enough to touch, I gaze up into dark eyes.
His gloved hand touches my shoulder, turning me to face away from him. He closes in behind me, and the scent of leather and something sweet envelops me.
“Who are you?” I find myself leaning into him as the same gloved hand draws my long black curls over one shoulder. His other hand slowly moves down my arm. Fuck, he’s barely touching me and I’m clenching my thighs together, craving friction. My eyes drift closed.
“You will know soon enough.” His hand grasps the front of my throat, just enough to give a thrill of pressure. “The real question is, what can you do for me, for us?”
Anything.
Another set of hands trail up my thighs.
I gasp in surprise at the sudden appearance of the second masked man kneeling to my left.
I was so entranced by the man I followed that I missed the approach of this one, whose finger continues up, toying with the strip of skin showing between my top and pants.
I shiver. His other hand slowly slides up the inside of my thigh, so close to where I want it but too far away to enjoy.
I grind back into the man behind me. My body heat rises with each moment that their hands are on me.
Footsteps sound at the entrance of the hallway, drawing my gaze to the final masked man’s approach.
The small horns protruding from his mask indicate that this is the one from the dance floor and a smile spreads across my face at the thought of him joining the party.
He strides toward us and then his body is pinning mine against the man behind me.
His fingers slide into my hair, pulling the thick locks into his fist and forcing my head back as his masked face hovers a breath away from my own.
A low moan escapes my throat as I relish every touch.
“Do you want more, Fallon?” The man kneeling, slides one hand under the hem of my shirt.
“Yes,” I rasp as his other hand moves between me and the man in front of me, pressing against my clit through the material of my leather leggings. His touch sends sparks through my body.
The hum of approval from the man in front of me has me grinding harder between the two bodies. I feel like I’m going to combust. I close my eyes as sensations overtake me.
The man behind me leans closer, his mouth hovering near my ear and his breath hot on my neck. “We’ll be watching.”
All contact suddenly disappears as their fiery touches are replaced by cool air. I hear the distinct sound of the fire escape door opening and closing behind me.
Before I can open my eyes, I know they’re gone. Exhilaration and disappointment are at war inside of me. I brace one hand on the wall to steady myself, the rush of the encounter making me dizzy. I walk back through the darkness toward the lounge.
Once back at the balcony, I head straight for Quinn. Seeing me, she gives the nod. I know it well; it's time to go.
She falls into step beside me. “Let's get out of here. I need mozzarella sticks and pizza rolls.”
“This is why I love you.”
I have to say, as best friends go, this one is a gem.
I follow Quinn outside to the Uber that will take us back to my apartment building. Glancing up before climbing in, I freeze.
There standing in the shadows is the same man from the dance floor. I’m locked in place as time seems to freeze. The man takes a step toward the street… Toward me.
A car flies between us, and suddenly he’s not there. My alcohol buzz is definitely gone at this point but it’s replaced with a buzz of intrigue. What the fuck? No. Nope. Not unpacking that right now. I ignore my racing thoughts and slide into the Uber.
Eyes sparkling, Quinn hands me her phone with a nod toward the driver. On the screen I see “SMASH”.
I snicker, but as the car starts toward home, my mind is on three smashable masked strangers.