Page 25 of Your Masked Haunting

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.

“Oh, yeah, we can work with that,” she hums, angling the vibrator and gasping.

A shudder runs down my spine, and my eyes roll into the back of my head at the airy sound of her moan. The hottest thing I’ve ever heard.

Her voice is breathy now, her breathing shallow. “Tell me,” she inhales. “Tell me what you want to do to me. Don’t hold back.”

“Don’t hold back.” That could be a scary request if she doesn’t want the same depraved things I do. But there’s only one way to find out.

“I’m taking your mouth first. Pushing you to your knees, parting those lips with my thumb, and slipping my tip into your mouth while you look up at me with a widened stare.” With firm pressure, I stroke myself, watching her back arch off the bed. “Fuck, baby. I want tears in those pretty green eyes, your lungs burning, thighs clenched. I want you to want my cock in your mouth more than you want to breathe.”

I use my words, working her closer and closer until she starts to writhe in the sheets.

“Oh my God,” she whimpers, her head tipping back. “I’m gonna come.”

“Give it to me. And don’t lift the fucking toy. You press it to your clit until I tell you that you can stop. I don’t care how many times it makes you come. Do you understand?”

I’m rock hard, throbbing, my heart beat pulsing in the veins of my shaft, squeezed beneath my palm.

“Yes, yes, yes!” she cries out, her body tightening and combusting all at once. “Oh my Godddd.” The words seethe through her teeth.

Watching her come undone is nearly enough to do me in, especially if I wasn’t already fighting my own release.

“Keep it there, Mona,” I order her. “Imagine me sneaking in your room late one night, waking you up with my tongue buried in your pussy, my knife pressed into your thigh.” My voice grows ragged as I continue, getting rougher and rougher as my restraint is moments away from snapping and launching me into ecstasy. “I want you to shove me away and run as fast as you can in the opposite direction. Then I’ll chase you, fucking you wherever I catch you. Against a wall. Bent over a table. In the crunchy leaves on the cold ground outside. I’m going to take you every fucking way I want to. Over and over until I’m drained and empty and you’re painted with my fucking obsession.”

“Oh fuuuck,” she cries out, her body writhing as her orgasm explodes again, rolling through her in intense waves.

I tell her every single thing I want to do with her. Have her ride my face. Tie her up. Pin her down. Explore every hole of her body. Within a couple minutes, she’s soaring into the clouds again. She bends her neck and back into the sharpest arch as she melts and falls apart, and I’m right there with her, spilling onto my stomach with each pump of my fist.

The only sounds that fill the phone are our heavy breathing as we come down from our highs. Her shyness returns as I watch her stow the toy in the nightstand and cover herself with her blanket, her face red as a candy apple.

I break the silence. “Tomorrow. Costume party at The Schrader House. Seven p.m.”

“I-I don’t have a costume,” she stammers, and I suddenly have a desire to buy out Spirit Halloween so she never feels that panic again.

“I’ll have something new delivered. Tell me what you want.” I grab my T-shirt, which I took off earlier, from the floor and clean myself up, sitting up in bed afterward, a hand behind my head against the headboard.

I still have her on speaker so I can watch her on the hidden cameras, and I can practically see the wheels spinning in her mind.

“Umm, I want to be scary.”

“Impossible. You’re tiny, and you couldn’t hurt a fly,” I immediately counter.

“You wanna bet?” she snarks. “Actually, I know what I want to be for the costume party. You, a cliché masked man, but complete with a Ghostface mask.”

I chuckle. “Cliché? Really? I find that offensive. My mask is incredibly original and unique.”

She giggles. “You look like the sexy version of the purple devil emoji.”