Total pages in book: 175
Estimated words: 164346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
She opens another door and quickly looks away, mumbling, “Sorry,” to whoever she just witnessed fucking inside by the way her cheeks redden.
I smile.
Stumbling, she places her hand on the wall to keep herself from falling into it. Looking into the next room, she steps inside, and I do the same. What are the odds? It’s my room.
Closing the door behind me, I flip on the light.
CHAPTER NINE
BLAKELY
“SARAH …” I SPIN around, expecting her to have followed me, but I freeze when I see one of those mask-covered men standing in the room with me. “Oh, uh ...” My eyes go to the door as I take a step back, stumbling into the footboard.
He steps into me, and I suck in a breath when he lifts his hands to push my hair back. I watch wide-eyed and half-paralyzed as he lowers his hand down over my shirt, pressing the material softly to my chest. He gets to my breasts and tilts his head to the side. The pressure of my bra rubbing on my nipple makes it harden.
I gasp when he rips off my name tag. He wads it up in his hand and tosses it to the floor, landing at our feet.
“Matt …?” I swallow, my tongue heavy.
The figure shakes his head, and I whimper. Why do I believe it’s not him? And why don’t I care? “I’m sorry …” I lick my numb lips. “I shouldn’t have … I’ll leave.” I stumble over my words as I go to walk around him.
But his hand comes out, wrapping around my waist and pulling my back to the front of his body. My breath rushes out of my lungs. “I’d rather you not,” he whispers roughly into my ear.
I try to think if I’ve heard his voice before, but the song “Killing Me Slowly” by Bad Wolves is too loud, and my mind is foggy.
A chill runs up my back, making me shiver. Without permission, his free hand yanks my shirt up, and then his warm hand lands on my stomach. My heart races when his hand starts making its way up my rib cage and to my bra.
I swallow nervously, and my thighs tighten when he slides his hand under the material and up over my sensitive breasts. I should be embarrassed for two reasons. One, he’s a stranger, and two, my chest is wet from the alcohol spilled on it. But that’s not the case. As I lean my head back on his chest, a moan escapes my numb lips. I lick them just in case I’m drooling. I’ve imagined what it would feel like to be touched. To know what it’s like to be sexually wanted for so long. I wish I wasn’t so drunk, so I could really take it in.
“I was watching you earlier,” he admits shamelessly into my ear. “He’s over you. Let me help you get over him.”
His words once again tell me it’s not Matt. But he saw us? Was that why I felt like I was being watched before I found Matt with that girl? It was him? “I …”
“Shh.” His hand around my waist lowers to my jeans. His fingers softly run back and forth along the top of the material, making my body break out in goose bumps. “Will you let me help you?”
My head is swimming, the room tilting. My heart is racing, my body on fire. All of a sudden, everything is hot. Getting undressed sounds like an amazing idea. I nod and breathe, “Yeah.” Why not? I’m single now. Matt has someone. Why can’t I? It’s not like I loved him. It’s the fact that he was fucking cheating on me when he wouldn’t even fuck me.
“Stay right where you are,” he orders. “Understand?”
Swallowing the lingering taste of vodka from that last drink, I answer, “Yes.”
He lets go, and I watch him walk out from behind me and over to the door. He locks it, then turns to face me.
I look up at him. He’s got an all-white mask on. It’s got black lines through it in various places to make it look like it’s cracked. The eyes have black circles around them, and the lips are filled in the same color. For some reason, it’s not as frightening as it should be. Maybe that’s the alcohol talking. I’ve never done something so bold before. So reckless. Something that is a hundred percent my decision.
My mother would throw a fit if she knew I was drunk at this party, let alone locked in a room with a stranger who hasn’t shown me his face.
Stepping into me, he lifts his right hand and once again runs it down my face and neck, pausing on my pulse. It’s racing. My breathing ragged. I feel like I might pass out soon. Dropping his hand, he walks behind me again, and I hear a drawer open and close. Then darkness covers my eyes.