I curse myself when I realize I can’t fuck her. She’ll know it’s me. Maybe I should just tell her and get it over with. Why hide who I am now? It’ll just prove my point that she’s mine. Has been before she ever even knew it.
Looking over at her bathroom door, I watch her exit, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped underneath her arms. She’s got her hair up in a messy bun on top of her head. Her once pretty ice-blue eyes are bloodshot, her face puffy and wet from tears. Has she been crying this entire time?
Stepping toward her, she notices me. Her legs come to a stop, and I watch her break out into tears almost immediately. She runs to me, throws her arms around my neck, and hugs me tightly. Her body shakes against mine while she sobs.
I pick her up, my gloved hands gripping her thighs, and she wraps her legs around my waist. The towel drops to the floor, and I carry her to the bed. Lying down, she curls herself into me. It’s like last night all over again, but it’s not the real me. It’s someone I’ve made up—mask, gloves, hoodie, and contacts. She’s come to need him more than anyone else in her life because I allowed it. Pulling her face out of my chest, she looks up at me, and my body tenses when I look closer at the perfectly placed handprint on her cheek. “Who hit you?” I don’t have to hide my voice because I don’t recognize myself. Rage like I’ve never felt before is making my skin tingle and my heart race.
“Doesn’t … matter.” She hiccups.
Did she fuck David today? Maybe they got rough, and he slapped her around. The thought makes me want to rip off my mask, hold her down, and fuck her ass to remind her she’s mine. If anyone is going to mark her, it should be me.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I tilt my head to the side, confused by her words.
“For saving me,” she whispers, and I feel my chest tighten, the rage turning into guilt because I know exactly what she means. That’s why she’s attached to this version of me. The realization hits me that I might have to play two roles longer than I wanted to.
I tighten my arms around her. She closes her eyes, and I watch fresh tears run down her cheeks, more confused than I’ve ever been before.
This was supposed to be easy. I no longer have to hide who I am. Not with her. So why can’t I remove my mask and let her see who I am?
She won’t trust you.
Not like I want her to. Sin, she’s known since we were kids—the guy she’s always had a harmless crush on, and she let me use her for one night. But the mask—he’s her savior. She’s emotionally attached to him. And no amount of orgasms Sin can give her will break that bond.
ELLINGTON
THIRTEEN YEARS OLD
I SIT OUTSIDEmy mother’s office on the fourth floor. I’ve got a pop in one hand and a Snickers bar in the other. It’s summer, so I get to spend my days sitting outside listening to her sessions.
Today is a man who has a fetish for role play. He likes to pretend his girlfriend is a stranger. They go to a bar separately. And then he walks over to her, buys her a drink, and ends up fucking her in the bathroom stall while his wife is at home with their children.
I’m taking a bite of my candy bar when I hear the elevator ding, signaling it’s about to open.
My heart races as I jump to my feet. I’m about to run, but it’s too late. The door slides open and out steps my mother’s new husband.
His blue eyes meet mine. “Elli, what are you doing up here?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.
My mother’s voice comes from the closed door behind me while she talks to her patient. He sighs heavily, walking over to me.
I hold my breath, tears already stinging my eyes. I’m going to be in so much trouble.
“Elli.” He places his hand on his knees, leaning over to be eye level with me, talking softly. “Are you listening to your mother’s sessions?”
I can’t answer. My throat closes up on me. I suddenly can’t catch my breath, and I drop my candy bar.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He takes my hand and pulls me over to the waiting room area my mother designed to make her patients feel more at ease when they come to our home. “You’re not in trouble, Elli.”
“I’m not?” I manage to ask through a deep breath.
“No.” His eyes shoot to my mother’s office door and then back to mine. “How about we keep this our little secret?” He reaches up and runs his hand through my dark hair.
I bite my bottom lip, tasting my tears. I manage a nod.
He gives me a soft smile. “That’s a good girl.” His hand drops from my hair to my leg, and I jump. “It’s okay, Elli. If you keep my secret, I’ll keep yours, deal?”
I don’t know his secret. So I just stare at him, confused by what he means but too afraid to ask.