17. Chapter 17 #2
"Found you, Gorgeous.” The voice crackles, like he’s laughing.
Leaning my full weight backwards, I feel the scrape of plastic against the top of my head.
I already figured he was wearing the mask, but peeking through my curls which are a wild mess on my forehead, I see the glint of white.
Even though I don’t want him here, my body is having a Pavlovian response.
I feel my muscles physically relax, melting into his larger embrace.
He blankets my back, the crackling noise happening again.
“Ah, you did miss me.” I hear the voice in person and on live. We’re still on live.
Looking down at my feet, my phone is discarded in the dirt, vibrating up grains into small wisps. The screen is dark, but each noise he rips out of me can be heard loud and clear.
“You shouldn’t be here.” I grind my back teeth, becoming increasingly pissed off at myself for leaning on him.
I’m not even fighting his hold, which is loose, like the first time outside of Grace's window. I’m always just fucking submitting.
Huffing, I rest my head back and it fits perfectly into the dip in his shoulder. “I’m annoyed at you.”
The phone vibrates like crazy on the floor.
“Oh my baby boy, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about my short comings, or?”
I frown, thinking that’s a weird word to describe breaking into my house, filming me without my knowledge whilst deep throating my dick and following me on a getaway with my…
friend? Other lover? Not boyfriend, Miles doesn’t want that.
What is this guy to me? My head swims and I lift my arm to rest against his arm, clutching it whilst I feel incredibly heavy.
“No.” I sound defeated.
My masked stranger’s arm tenses around me before his other lifts to stroke my shoulder in a soothing motion. “Let me say sorry and make you feel better.”
I grumble, feeling annoyed, overwhelmed, sour and pissy. My mood is shifting from berating myself to focusing on him, the stupid man. He makes that distorted noise again and I huff. “You better not be laughing at me.”
His chest shakes behind me and I hit back with my butt, but his arm snakes down and grasps one of my cheeks firmly through my jeans.
I wince, but the sting spreads into a delicious bite that has me falling even further into his waiting arms. I’m battling feeling like a gross piece of shit for giving into this, when Miles is looking for me in the maze, and giving in to what my body is screaming it needs.
I don’t understand how I can have such a magnetic pull towards an actual stranger.
Connecting like this doesn’t just happen for me, my failed relationship with Grace is proof of that.
How have I gone from begging my brain to calm down around one person, to feeling deeply for two?
No. I feel deeply for one and the other is just sex.
Like he can sense my turmoil, his fingers pressing comforting circles through my jacket and he leans in, whispering so even with the distorted voice, the live doesn’t pick up what he’s saying.
“Shh, just focus on us. This,” He digs his thumbs into my shoulder blades and I bite down on my lip to keep in a groan.
It feels good. “If you want, we can stop. Just say the word. Do you want me to take off the mask?”
I furiously shake my head because I don’t think I could handle having to deal with who is under the plastic mask.
My stranger doesn’t exist in this reality.
Not one where I take off on mini getaways with friends and a man who showers me in affection, seasonal fun and has changed my life.
Fuck, both of them have awakened something in me.
Leaning back into him, one arm grips his forearm firmly and I wrap the other behind his neck, feeling the black fabric of his mask, but I don't touch it.
“Let me make you feel good.” Yourghostboy whispers, again just for me.
Swallowing thickly, I nod, but also verbalise my want. “Please.” The phone goes wild, vibrating below.
This entire time we've been playing these games, I've not admitted to myself how much I want it.
I do, I love it. He shows up when I don't want him to, forces my hand, pushes my limits in the best fucking way.
It's heady, consuming, depraved and makes me delirious with need.
I want him, which is what scares me most because he could be anyone.
He soothes me again, threading our fingers together on my chest and leaves them there.
They feel right, slotted together. His other hand slowly creeps over my hip, once down the front of my jeans and even though it's distorted, I understand his appreciative hum.
I'm painfully hard, threatening to rip out of my trousers like some weird here's Johnny dick-version.
Dragging his nails over my crotch, he pops my jeans button like it's the easiest motion his fingers could make, slowly lowering my zipper. “Are you going to scream for our followers, Baby?” Ours. He's claiming me online for the second time, entwining these online personas we've created together.
“Fuck you.” I choke out, just as he slips his hot hand into my boxers and grabs my dick by the base.
I moan loudly, unable to help myself and he wastes no time pumping me.
His touch might as well be burning because it scorches my nerve endings, my brain now an empty vessel for him to plant himself in there.
My feet kick out in the dirt and his strong arm keeps me steady, forcing me to completely rely on him to keep standing.
“That's my fucking good boy, give me all your noises.” His hand works my length and at some point he's gotten it out of my jeans.
I'm standing in a corn maze with my dick out, already feeling an intense pressure building in my lower body and gasping like a bitch in heat.
I'm a fucking corn slut. The thought has me clawing at the back of his neck.
“Yes I am.” I moan, trying to hold off coming but it's impossible.
“Thats right. Tell them you're my good boy.” He rotates his palm over the head of my cock, getting it wet with my precum that is a constant stream from my tip. I can't stop watching him do it, biting down hard on my bottom lip until he grips the top part of my shaft and pumps.
Through ragged breathing, I wet my lips and focus on anything other than the buzzing in my ears, the desire pulsing down my spine. “I'm such a fucking good boy.” I say and he rewards me with a distorted growl.
“God I love your accent when you're being filthy.” He says low, the modulator crackling but the live doesn't pick it up.
I'm beyond caring that anyone can hear me, they can't see me and it's driving me towards my release.
“Come for me now Cass.” He hisses right into my ear.
For a brief second I expected him to say Cassie and I detonate.
My orgasm rushes forward, spraying out of me onto the closest corn wall.
Absolute babble leaves my mouth, cursing, thanking, praying, gibberish that won't stop.
As the overwhelming sparks in my blood subside, suddenly he releases me and my back is cold.
The loss slams reality back into me and I scramble to tuck my dick into my pants, fastening my jeans.
Stumbling around, the maze rustles but I'm staring at empty air.
My stranger is gone and for the first time, I wonder if I should have asked him to remove the mask.
Maybe it's post-nut clarity, but it's time I stop living out my fantasy blind.
I'm giving so much of myself to someone hiding their identity from me.
Swallowing thickly, my eyes snap down to my phone.
The live has ended, the screen back on my social media home page.
It's still softly vibrating and when I lean down to pick it up, I think about staying here because how the hell am I going to get out of this maze?
I might actually be lost. Checking my notifications, I have so many new followers and lots of comments on each post. I don't even want to check my private messages–I never do, only using that part of my page to interact with Yourghostboy. He's offline now.
Sighing, I straighten myself out and continue to grumble as I try to remember my way back to the beginning.
God knows how long it takes me to find the entrance, but I glare at the bubbly families as I leave the maze behind through the entrance. I send out a text in the group chat to figure out where everyone is, but when I walk towards the vendor tents, I immediately spot a tall blonde.
Miles is heading towards me, carrying a paper bag full of what smells like sugar coated donuts. He's eating one too, eyes bright. Fully wrapped up in his autumn gear, he's also now sporting a woolen hat with a pumpkin embroidered on the front.
My mood is fully in the toilet.
“There you are! Did you get lost?” He’s smirking, holding out the bag to me in some sort of surrender.
Taking it, I grunt and bite into one of the donuts. “Yeah.” Is all I can muster, not blaming him for not finding me. I think it's best that he didn't.
“My love, why are you pouting? I'm sorry I didn't find you. You're way better at hiding than I thought you would be.” Miles laughs, stroking my bicep and leaving it on my shoulder.
Giving him a tight smile, I eat another donut and pass the bag back.
They're not sitting in my stomach well, not when he's smiling at me like that, his blue eyes sparkling like we're having the best time in the world.
I was, but now everything is cast under a shadow.
I feel grey, if that's even a way to feel.
A cold grey, wobbling with unease, ready to fall into a darker shade.