6. Casper #2
A quick shower later, and I’m digging my phone out of my pocket, waiting at my seat in the locker room for the other two idiots to get done since we all rode together.
I find a text from Serena about tomorrow.
Serena: We’re heading to The Schrader House tonight to start decorating. A team of about fifteen people. Does seven o’clock still work? Or does that interfere with anything else?
In the midst of every waking thought being consumed by Mona, I absolutely spaced the fact that I offered The Schrader House for Serena’s venue for the Bound-to-Be Halloween matchmaking party tomorrow night. Costumes required.
After getting clarification from Clara that seven o’clock is good, I let Serena know. I wonder if we’re going to get stuck helping decorate. Regardless, I still need a costume, and given the fact that neither Bates nor Kol has mentioned costume shopping recently, I imagine they do too.
Ransom pulls me from my thoughts as he strides over and stops a few feet in front of me, out of his gear and in black sweats and a Sinners crewneck. “What are you guys doing after this?”
Ledger wanders over, typing aggressively on his phone. I think most things Ledger does comes with a beat of aggression though, so I can’t tell if he’s pissed off at someone or if he’s texting a family member about dinner plans.
“We’ve got to go get costumes or figure out whatever the hell we’re wearing to this party Bates’s girl is throwing tomorrow,” I tell them, an idea sparking in my mind. “You guys should come. It’s going to be fun.”
They glance at each other, and the humor that dances in their gazes reminds me of all the times in school when I met Kol’s or Bates’s stare and had to try not to laugh or when I knew they were thinking some ridiculous thing, same as me.
There’s a weight in their stares, giving me a feeling that they share some kind of looming past experience of a party or of Halloween.
Or a good one ... Ledger’s and Ransom’s lips twitch, and I’m wondering if maybe they have some secret stories of their own like us three do. I’m sure, given their childhood friendship, they could tell a story or two.
At the same time, they turn to me and answer drastically differently.
“We’d love that.” Ransom smiles.
“Absolutely not.” Ledger shakes his head.
Their necks nearly break when they look back at one another, a silent conversation seemingly happening in their stares.
“We don’t mix well with parties,” Ledger mutters, barely audible enough for me to catch it.
Ransom boops his nose, and Ledger’s eyes slam shut in annoyance.
“You don’t mix well with parties. But that’s why you have me. Come on, bro. It’s basically a welcome party for us.”
Ledger rolls his eyes, shaking his head slowly side to side. “This is a bad idea.”
“What is? I love a bad idea.” Bates enters the conversation, Kol on his heels.
Standing to my feet, I nod toward the newbies. “I invited these two to Serena’s party tomorrow. Ledger’s chickening out.”
Bates cracks his knuckles and blows out an exhausted breath. “You know what that calls for?” He snaps his fingers. “Peer pressure.”
Bates ushers the two out of the locker room, throwing his arms around their shoulders as we head to the parking garage.
“Think of it as team bonding. You guys want to win another ring. We want to win … well, for the first time. We can’t do it without you.
This will bring us all closer. Do you not care about building relationships with your teammates? ”
Ransom practically giggles, and I can see Ledger relax his shoulders beneath Bates’s arm, gradually giving in.
“I think you guys might be a horrible influence on us.” Ledger scoffs.
Kol laughs. “Yeah, right. I heard about Worship Night.” A beat of silence, and an unknown look passes between them. “You two were fucked up long before you got here.”
“All right, fine.” Ledger peers back to Kol, a devilish smirk on his lips. “Going to get costumes now then?”
Ransom rubs his hands together. “I have the best ideas.”
“I’ll send the details over,” I announce, opening a new text. “What’re your numbers?”
They give them over as we reach the parking garage, Bates releasing them from his arms. I add them in, but Kol stops me before I type into the text box.
“Throw us all in there. A new group chat.”
“Same group name?” I ask, referring to the one Bates, Kol, and I have had for years.
He shakes his head, a devious smile tipping up the corners of his mouth. “Nah, how about a new name—Code of Sinners?”
Mona’s curled up in bed, and having to lie in these cold sheets without her warmth has to be the definition of torture. She’s meant to be curled into my side, her palm flattened on my bare chest. It’s what fucking dreams are made of.
Soon enough, I keep telling myself because that’s the only way I’m going to hold on to my restraint.
I’m not ready to remove the mask, not until she’s one hundred percent committed to me. I know the irony of wanting her name tattooed on my body when I haven’t even told her mine.
To be honest, I think a part of me is scared for when the mask comes off. There’s never been someone in my life, aside from my best friends, who has loved me for me. There’s always a catch, a favor, a wanted invite, money request. It’s an inevitability.
For the people I love and who have good, pure intentions at heart, I will always lend a hand.
I would drain my bank account dry for Bates and Kol if they truly needed it.
But that’s because I know where I stand in their minds and hearts.
I just want the same security with Mona before I lay my soul on the line.
I type out a quick text, feeling like a schoolboy asking a girl to prom.
Got any plans tomorrow night? Say seven o’clock?
She perks up as the notification appears on her screen, rolling onto her stomach and bending her knees, feet kicking back and forth.
Typing a message out, she nibbles on her bottom lip, and I wish I could tell her how cute she looks right now, especially in her oversize shirt and little shorts that are now in full view with the blanket shifted off her legs.
But I stop myself, not wanting to reveal that secret just yet.
Evidently, I like keeping some things close to my chest.
Scaredy-Cat: Hmm, depends who’s asking
That depends on which version of me you want
Scaredy-Cat: Maybe the one who had me pinned down by my neck, dick grinding against me. I liked him
Oh, so you just want a booty call, huh?
Scaredy-Cat: For sure. I want nothing more than to see all of you…
I knew you were just using me for my body
Scaredy-Cat: You can use me for mine.
Scaredy-Cat: Go ahead and tell me all the dirty things you want to do to helpless ol’ me ;)
Are you sure about that? It might scare you away
Scaredy-Cat: I wouldn’t be worried
Scaredy-Cat: You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine
Scaredy-Cat: Every filthy, dripping detail
I knew from the start that you weren’t innocent
Scaredy-Cat: What gave it away? My sunshiny personality? My bitchiness? Or my tattoos?
I personally don’t judge someone from their appearance
Scaredy-Cat: Shut up. Now, please, tell me how you fantasize about me
I intend to, especially because you said please
But first things first
Reach into that nightstand and get the toy I bought and snuck in there for you
Scaredy-Cat: The vibrator? In the black box with the cute card? Oh, baby, I’ve already broken that bad boy in. Over and over, picturing your mask hovering above me as you pumped yourself inside me from base to tip
Scaredy-Cat: Imagining you storming into my room, bending me over my bed, and taking me until you got your fill, making me come too many times, until I couldn’t handle it
Scaredy-Cat: Imagining you running the blade of a knife down my spine and pinning it to my throat as you pounded into me from behind
Scaredy-Cat: Or picturing you hoisting me up, my arms around your neck, my legs over your arms as you lowered me and lifted. Up and down, up and down. I know you’d be strong enough.
Wetness brushes the tip of my dick, the arousal dripping into my boxers. I need to make a list because we’re doing all of that.
Holy mother of God.
Obsessed, possessive—those words aren’t strong enough to describe the things I feel for her.
And of course she already used the toy because she has to rebel, even when she isn’t aware she’s doing it. I’m going to have to find that footage and watch it until it burns itself into my eyeballs, playing when my lids drift shut.
Reading her dirty words is drawing the masked side of me out, the side with darker desires who wants to see tears roll down her cheeks when she takes me down her throat, gasping and gagging for air, only breathing when I let her.
I need to hear her voice, not imagine it from the messages she’s sending. I press Call, and she watches her phone ring. Once. Twice. Then she answers on the third, staying nervously quiet.
“My dirty fucking girl. I miss you.” I groan, sliding my hand into the waistband of my pants and over my throbbing cock. “Do you have the toy out?”
I already know the answer, seeing the drawer open and her hand in her shorts, the end of the toy lifting the fabric.
“Yes.”
She’s shier on the call than she is in text. Good. I like pushing her out of her comfort zone.
“What’s … up?”
I chuckle. “Where’d that sass and confidence go, huh?”
She huffs, the attitude returning tenfold. “I didn’t want to make you come in your pants again. I thought I’d give you time to at least take it out.”
“What a lady. So thoughtful.” Setting the phone on my chest, on speaker, I push my joggers and boxers down, gripping my warm length and brushing my thumb over the moistened tip. “It’s out. Your move.”
She giggles, and I see her bite down on her bottom lip. “Prove it.”
“Prove it?” I exhale, taken aback by the spitfire’s request.
I have no shame in my dick game. It’s the perfect balance between length and girth. Opening the camera in our texts, I pump myself base to tip a few times, filming a video for her, just like she described, and hit Send.