Epilogue
EPILOGUE
THE MASK
Orion
One and a half years later
Sliding the balaclava down over my face, I adjust it and wait in the shadows of the apartment. It’s late, and the only light coming in through the large windows is the light from Downtown Crestwood. The ding of the elevator sounds through the quiet apartment, and just as Layla steps out of the elevator, my breath hitches in my chest.
She sets her bag down on the table and kicks off her boots, rolling her ankles a few times before she cracks her neck. Rummaging around her bag for her phone, she glances down at it. I see the minute she digests the words on her screen—the words I’d sent only a minute ago.
Starboy1997
Ten seconds.
Her head pops up and she looks around the dark apartment, and her hand comes to her neck as she slowly scans the atmosphere.
I count down in my head.
10 …
9 …
8 …
7 …
6 …
She walks farther into the room, unintentionally getting closer to me. She’s facing away, looking around as if she can find me, but she won’t. Not in the next five seconds, at least.
5 …
4 …
3 …
2 …
1 …
Her breathing turns ragged when I move from behind her, lunging forward and pulling her roughly against my chest. One of my hands flies over her mouth, and she bites down on the leather of my gloves.
“Ah, ah, Little Dancer,” I growl, keeping my voice low. “That’s not very nice.” She fights against me, but I don’t relent. I hold her close as she thrashes. “You remember what we had planned, don’t you?”
She whimpers.
I want one night with Starboy, and I don’t want it to feel consensual.
It took over a year for her to admit that little fantasy to me—to confess that her ultimate, deep, dark secret involved being ambushed and forced.
It was her way of working through her trauma, of giving herself power over what happened.
“You remember your safe word, both the verbal and nonverbal one. Use it.” I reach into my hoodie pocket and pull out my keys. “And since you’ll be restrained, here are my keys. Drop them if you need to get my attention.”
She kicks backward, but her hands clasp around the heavy key ring.
“Good girl.” I walk her over to the nearby couch, bending her over the back of it. When I drop my hand from her mouth, she hisses.
“Who are you? And what do you want?”
I smirk at the way she’s playing along. “I’m your worst nightmare, darling.”
Holding her hands together behind her back with one hand, I use my other hand to pull her sweatpants down to her ankles. Then I kick her feet apart.
Her hands grip the keys, and I know I have several safety measures in place now.
“That’s not an answer,” she grumbles, attempting to pull out of my grip.
I smack her ass, and she arches her back. “ You decide how much this will hurt. Is that understood?”
“How did you get in here, anyway? My boyfriend will be back any second.”
“Too bad for him, because I don’t share.”
I use my teeth to pull the glove off the hand not restraining her. Running that hand down her ass crack until I meet her overeager core, I push into her tight cunt with my middle finger.
“Fuck you,” she says on a gasp, pulling against where I have her restrained.
“Trust me. I plan to.”
Layla
“Let me go.” I grind against Starboy’s hand, rolling my hips and trying not to smile.
“Not a chance.”
He pushes another finger inside me, and I groan, hands curling around the keys.
“Stop,” I whimper, pulling away from him.
“You don’t really want me to stop, do you? Be a good little cumslut and take it. ” He growls the last two words, shoving his fingers so deep into me that I see stars.
My God.
Just as I open my mouth to scream, he removes his fingers. The sound of a zipper reverberates through the dark apartment. I gasp when something warm presses against my opening, and in my peripheral, I see the second glove fall to the floor.
“Beg for it.”
“No,” I yell, thrashing.
His other hand grabs my hair and yanks my head back. “I said, beg for it. ”
I release a sob, but it doesn’t feel genuine to me. It’s better than laughing or moaning. Because right now? I’m so fucking turned on.
He slides his cock along my seam, coating the head of his shaft in my wetness.
“Do you feel how wet you are for me? My little whore loves this, don’t you?”
My chest heaves. “No.”
He trusts me to use my safe word, and I have more than enough ways to tell him to stop. My fingers curl around the keys, and he’s left my mouth unbound.
For now.
“Are you going to behave? Or do I have to spank you again? Perhaps I can have you lick my shoes, or perhaps I could spit into your mouth? What do you think, Little Dancer?”
“No, please?—”
“Then beg me for my cock.”
I release a sharp breath, pulling away from him as much as possible. “Make me.”
He goes rigid, and a thrill works through me. I open my mouth to snark some more, but he knocks my knees farther apart and pistons right into me.
I scream, and he groans.
I’m too wet for it to hurt, and my eyes roll back as he shudders behind me.
“I knew you’d have a tight little fuckhole,” he murmurs, pulling out and driving back into me. “I bet your asshole is just as tight, too. So wound up. So innocent. I plan to ravage you. Break you. Ruin you.”
A whimper escapes my lips, and he chuckles behind me. “Mmm. I think you like this,” he says, voice hoarse. “I think you enjoy being fucked against a couch by a stranger like a whore.”
I inhale sharply as he thrusts into me— hard.
“You’re so wet. Your greedy cunt is begging me for more, isn’t it?”
I groan as he pulls out slowly and punches into me again, harder than last time.
A smack against my ass has me seeing stars, and I can feel my arousal gathering inside me, making every muscle tense and pull tight.
He spanks me again—on the other cheek this time.
“Ow! That hurt,” I say, letting the pain slide through me.
“Good.”
He spanks the other cheek, and I keen.
“You have a perfect little cunt,” he says, fisting my hair.
My eyes roll back as he fucks me, as he takes whatever he needs from me.
As he uses me.
“You are mine,” he growls, and I nod out of instinct.
I’m close, and it’s hard not to know it’s Orion fucking me from behind.
Orion, who fulfilled this years-long fantasy.
Orion, who always keeps me on my toes.
“Do you understand? Mine. ”
I arch my back and meet his thrusts with my hips. I’m not even trying to hide my impending climax.
He yanks on my hair, and the stinging sensation causes white-hot heat to flare through me.
It’s unstoppable—like a dam breaking. The maelstrom of heat doesn’t relent, and my eyes roll back as a sudden, strong orgasm rocks through me. Despite the scene, he mutters something affectionate into my ear, but I don’t hear it. I can’t.
Just as I start to come down, he pulls out of me.
“I didn’t say you could come.”
Twisting me around, he pulls me close and lifts one of my legs, wrapping it around his hips. I stare up at his masked face, still in a post-orgasm daze, and my mouth drops open as he pushes his cock into me.
His eyes don’t leave my face as he slowly fucks me.
It’s a different pace from earlier, and one of his hands comes to my neck. His thumb brushes against my throat.
He’s still wearing the mask, but the scene feels over. His touches are different—lighter, gentler. Even the way he’s fucking me feels personal.
I reach for his mask and pull it off, admiring the messy hair and tortured look on his face.
“Orion,” I whisper, pleasure coiling inside me again as his cock slides in and out of me with a delicious friction.
“Layla,” he hisses. “Fuck, I want to feel you come again.”
I nod eagerly, and the hand on my throat moves down between us. Using two fingers, he slides them along the sides of my piercing, pulling the skin and causing me to jerk away from the pain.
“Good, I felt that?—”
He tugs on the metal jewelry. Gently—so gently—but it’s enough.
I squeeze my eyes shut as my stomach muscles contract, and then I shatter.
“Fuck, Layla.” His cock thickens, stretching me as he empties inside me, warmth flooding my core. We stare at each other as we come. My lips part as his mouth drops open, and neither of us looks away. Neither of us can look away—it’s intense and wonderful all at once.
I could watch him fall apart like this all damn day.
When I stop jerking, he pulls out, and I go limp against him.
He helps me lower my leg, pulling my pants back on as we disentangle ourselves from the intense scene. That mixed with my performance tonight means I’m exhausted, and Orion must notice.
“To bed,” he says, pointing in the direction of his bedroom.
“But—”
“I made soup.”
My lips twitch. “Soup.”
“Yes. I’m trying out a new recipe for the restaurant.”
“Soup sounds delicious.”
The restaurant.
Orion has been talking about opening it for over a year, always sketching out plans, dreaming out loud when he thought no one was really listening. But it was only recently—just a few weeks ago—that everything finally started falling into place. He’s poured his heart into it, and the grand opening is just around the corner. Next week, in fact. He’s been testing recipes nonstop, refining every detail. The Orion of a few years ago would’ve been too caught up in the whirlwind of life to commit to something like this, but now ... now he’s different. Calmer, more focused.
The kind of man who tells me to go to bed and then makes me soup, apparently.
He cocks his head and nods toward the hallway. “Don’t make me ask you twice.”
“I can help you?—”
He steps forward and places his hands on my shoulders. “Go. I’ll be right there. Let me take care of you.”
I lean closer and give him a peck on the lips. “Fine.”
“I love you, Little Dancer.”
Those words. He first told me a week after I moved in, and they were the best words to hear. I never tire of hearing them.
“I love you too,” I say. “Always.”
As I walk into the bedroom and settle onto the bed, the sounds of him moving around the kitchen filter through the hallway, and I realize just how much this moment, this simple gesture, means to me. It’s not just about the soup or the restaurant. It’s about him showing me that he’s changed, that he’s capable of being the person I need him to be.
I take a deep breath, sinking into the pillows, and let the warmth of the moment wash over me. It’s like everything is finally coming together, for both of us.
Especially since I’m in the process of opening my own dance studio for teenagers.
As much as I love performing, it won’t last forever, and I want to have something lined up for when that day comes.
I hear Orion humming softly to himself in the kitchen, and I can’t help but grin as I pull my Kindle off my bedside table, opening another dark romance book and settling into the cozy bedding.
Sparrow hops up beside me, purring as he falls asleep against my ribs.
This—with the sounds of my boyfriend making me food in the kitchen, a smutty book on my Kindle, and a cat purring at my side—is everything I ever could’ve wanted. It’s the kind of peace and contentment I never thought I’d have, the quiet, perfect moments I used to dream about when I was alone. It’s the feeling of being right where I’m meant to be.
Orion
Is it normal to watch your girlfriend sleep? I’m not sure. All I know is I’ve gotten a lot less sleep since we started dating. I find that I’d rather watch her than dream of whatever my mind cooks up. I’d rather trace a finger along her spine and watch her skin pebble. I’d rather watch the steady rise and fall of her chest, or play with her copper hair, or place my lips on her neck and inhale her delicious scent.
Maybe it’s not normal for a girlfriend, but for a fiancée? Perhaps.
I suppose I should find out because I’m finally ready to give her the ring.
Never in a million years did I think I’d actually get the chance to give it to her.
Never in a million years did I think she’d ever be in a position to say yes.
Three years ago, I walked by it and purchased it on the spot. It was always hers, and it will always be hers.
I planned it all out. Afternoon flight to Paris. Early morning arrival the next day. Phantom of the Opera , lots of fancy Parisian sex, and then I would be taking her on a road trip to Chateau de Sourches, home of the Conservatoire de la Pivoine—a privately owned chateau outside of Le Mans, France. Over 3,000 varieties of peonies are planted in the deep moat at Sourches, making it one of the largest peony collections in the world.
It’s there that I plan to drop to one knee.
I would ask her to marry me with the ring she’s already seen, the one that kick-started our entire relationship.
After that… I have no idea.
We haven’t really talked about marriage or children, other than knowing we want to get married and that we might want kids in about ten years. Neither of us is in any rush to reproduce, though I will have fun trying.
I gently kiss her forehead and place my mouth against her temple.
“Thank you for choosing me,” I whisper.
At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what happens as long as she’s the one standing next to me.
I’d never needed anything but her—and yes, it was unhealthy, and I was perhaps a little bit problematic and possessive at times. Things like my job and my family brought me joy, but Layla?
She’s my center, the constant in a world of change.
She always has been—ever since the day I met her.
Every moment without her over the last decade felt like a fragment of a life I couldn’t fully live.
Not until she was back in it.
She keeps the brute in me steady and grounded.
She’s the reason I find meaning in every day.
She is the axis around which my universe spins, and I would never apologize for that.
Not when her love is the one thing I’ll always crave and cherish.
Thank you so much for reading Layla and Orion’s story! Are you ready to get a glimpse into what Malakai’s life is like with both Julian and Sophie? ;)