Chapter 13 #2
Ash sounds oddly British when he says that, dark hair mussed, sweatpants too low on his hips. They all wear their lounge pants like that because they’re aware of how hot they are and they’re trying to torture me. I’m convinced.
“Alright, Ash. You have a higher body count than I’d normally allow in a man. Put that to good use.” I try to pull away from him. Instead, he tightens his arms even more.
“Two is a high body count?” he asks, and I shrug.
“Two is already one too many. However, if I remember the BJ incident correctly: your body count is three. That’s triple the recommended value of a quality, high-grade fuckboy.” I poke him in the chest. The effect is limited since we’re standing too close together. I can barely move my arm.
“Ouch.” Ash’s lips twitch. He’s looking at my mouth. Fucking kiss me, please. His arms tighten even more as he leans down, nuzzling the side of my neck. He slicks across my carotid with his hot tongue and my pulse leaps.
“Just want to say,” I pant, “that I must really trust you. Pretending to fuck strippers. Pretending to fuck Emma Jean. Telling me you know shit about orgies but never participated. Mr. Force, you’re crazy.” I bite him on the collarbone, leaving teeth marks. “If you’re lying, you’re dead.”
“Aspen and his friends got drunk and shared his favorite maid. Cody was there. So was Ernest’s son, Bryson.
I was in the closet, watching. Maybe if I have a good time in that same way, then I can forget that I ever saw the first incident?
” Ash doesn’t sound upset, just contemplative.
He’s got his lower lip pushed out. It’s enticing.
“I shouldn’t have made the joke, huh?” I’m not actually apologetic.
“Alexei would have a body count of two then, wouldn’t he?” Bohnes asks, speaking up to ensure as many people as possible are offended. He’s so good at it, too. I love it. “So only the Prescott boys are pure and virginal enough for a wedding. Should Widow and I wear white?”
One tattooed arm is slung casually behind his head while the other is stretched beneath the sheets, doing God only knows what under there. Nothing appropriate, I hope.
“However the math is mathing, Scarlett has the highest body count.” Widow literally cannot help himself.
“But I’m not a fuckboy,” I respond, all smiles. Explanation enough. Queens get a boost in rep with each asshole on a leash.
Alexei picks up one of the wooden masks that Bohnes stole from Jonas’ mansion. They’re lying on top of one of the dressers like decorations, dusted every single day because someone in this family has major OCD.
“You can wear white, Kellin. I have no problem wearing black.” Alexei’s voice drops low, preparatory.
He sets the mask back down, rolling his shoulders, the muscles in his back moving. There’s only one lamp on in the room, the one on Bohnes’ side. Everything is dim. Edged. Alexei looks like a god in that light, pale and princely and so shamelessly arrogant that it’s impossible not to want him.
“Nobody ever accused me of having a problem wearing black.” Bohnes kicks the sheets down, showing off his impressive body and making my skin feel uncomfortable all of a sudden.
He’s so mind-numbingly handsome, this sun-starved god of the underworld.
His skin is pearl and his eyes are a strange sapphire in the unusual lighting.
“Ash.” Widow has his arms crossed over his bare chest. He looks very serious, cocky and languid. His eyes are the only parts of him that are raging. A rabid wolf. “Teach.”
The tension twists and tangles.
“Teach us, you whore,” I repeat, my own voice dropping.
“Get naked.” Ash’s words hit like thunder, distant and booming.
I move back, and this time, he opens his arms to release me.
The black silk nightgown comes off like a shed cocoon, pooling at my feet like ink.
All four of the boys do this odd allover freeze thing at the sight of me naked. The heat kicks up. It’s a violent heat. I like it. They’ll try to out-fuck each other like they tried to out-race each other.
I put on a show for them, flipping my braid over my shoulder and taking out the hair tie at the end of it. I untangle it all and fluff it up with my fingers. Raven strands cascade around my body. Curvy. Inked. Belly pierced. Pussy waxed.
My fingers glide over my navel, pausing just before touching my clit. My skin is on fire with all of them looking at me. I feel like a circus master, four hot freaks on leashes. Fuck. I cup myself and groan, winding the crank on the tension and making it painful.
“That mask you just picked up, Alexei, put it on.” Ash strips his pants and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, balancing back on his palms. His black eyes are wild things.
The jealousy and the gratitude are equal.
I can still see the boy that put a gun to Alexei’s head while we were fucking.
I can also see the lover I’ve chosen to devote myself to.
“We’ll all wear one. We’ll turn off the lights. ”
If you consider how Ash found the inspiration for this roleplay, it’s straight-up disturbing.
In the context of our marriage, it’s all fun and games.
“Let’s see if Scarlett can tell us apart by touch alone.
” Ash accepts a black fox mask from Alexei and holds it up to his face.
It’s an eerie design, like it was meant to be a horror movie prop.
Looks old though. Probably worth a lot of money.
There’s definitely a reason Bohnes chose to steal these masks out of everything in that house.
Ash sets the fox mask aside, removing his sword. He puts it down and then looks over his shoulder at me, perfect ass in view. Taut but not flat. A nice curve. Smooth skin. I can’t even believe how smooth it is. My girls would kill to know his skincare secrets.
His face is painted with fervor.
“Will it be hard though?” Bohnes laughs, like he’s genuinely amused.
Usually, only homicide can get him this excited.
He rakes a psychotic hand through his white hair, causing it to stick up in all directions.
Quick swipe of his tongue across his lips.
“Scarlett could guess based on dick-size alone.”
The last image I see is of Bohnes’ face, eyes zeroed in on me with unrestrained obsession. He flicks the small switch by the bed and all the lights go off.
Total darkness.
I can hear the clanking of the masks as Alexei finishes passing them out.
Someone takes my wrist, and I start searching for clues right away. Size of the hand. Length of the fingers. Temperature of the skin. The smell. Whoever it is, they slip one of Alexei’s latex gloves over my hand. Same with the other.
“No talking.” This is Ash, pulling me down to sit beside him after putting the gloves on for me. A pair of earplugs is pressed into my palm. He has trouble sleeping; they’re probably his. “No listening either. Ganbatte ne.”
These last two Japanese words are drawled out with a surprising dash of arrogance, considering how wounded this guy is.
“You think I need any of that? Please, bitch.” I stick the earplugs in, sitting in the dark and waiting for glimpses of those strange masks in the shadows. There’s a reason I’m not wearing a blindfold. This is part of the game.
It’s dead silent. They’re all good at creeping in the dark, and the earplugs really do the trick of blocking any stray sounds.
A palm lands on my chest, pushing me backwards onto the bed. I’m lying horizontally across the mattress, my legs dangling over the edge and my feet not quite touching the floor.
Hands wrap in my hair, gathering it together and twisting it up. Out of the way. Whoever it is, they climb over me, parking a knee on either side of my head. I put a gloved hand on the man’s ass, wondering which fuckboy this is.
I don’t know yet.
It’s exciting, feeling those strong thighs on either side of me without knowing who they belong to.
Tasting a bit of salty pre-cum as the tip of his cock bumps into my lips.
He’s using his hand to trace my mouth with his dick, teasing me.
I grab onto his shaft, finding it slippery with lube.
The glove slicks satisfyingly against him.
Somebody else is running their warm hands up the insides of my legs.
No gloves. So not Alexei? Or did Alexei take his gloves off after it went dark, just to throw me off?
This man uses his thumb to edge my clit, causing me to gasp and buck my hips into him.
My lips brush across the head of the first guy, causing him to shudder.
I squeeze my hand harder and lift my head a little, taking another inch or so of that warm cock into my mouth.
I’m tasting his excitement all over my tongue, and it doesn’t taste good.
It never does. But fuck, I love it. I love that he’s so worked up he can’t help himself.
Making himself slick at the tip, so it’s easier to breach me.
A hot thumb strokes down the wet slit between my thighs.
Slippery. The mystery man glides it around, hungry for more contact.
The fingertip hits my opening and then presses.
Doesn’t quite go in though. I moan and swallow around the dick in my mouth.
The guy adjusts his hips, pushing his shaft as deep into my throat as I’ll let him.
I’ve got my fist at the base of him, and I can handle the rest.
My right hand is lifted, my fingers curled around another hot, hard dick. I grab onto it, wishing I didn’t have earplugs in. The sounds are my favorite part of sex. Like, Widow? He’s a screamer. He hasn’t screamed around the other guys, but I’ll bet I could get him there.
The man straddling my head, he starts to fuck my mouth, humping like he’s in my pussy. I’m underneath him, head pressed into the mattress. Loving it. Trapped between his thighs while another guy is trapped between mine. I swirl my thumb over the slippery head of the cock on my right.
The fuckboy that’s on my left leans forward, denting the mattress by my head.