Page 8 of Masked Instincts

“Chase, it’s fine. It was an accident,” she whispers to him. So, his name is Chase. I lock that note into my brain to remember. He reaches his arm out, pulling on Luna’s to bring her closer. My vision turns red, making it hard for me to see, and my eyes squint behind the mask at him.

“What do you say we dance?” I tilt my head, shoving away that simmering rage.

“You’re just a rando-” Chase begins to speak, but I cut him off. My patience is wearing thin real fast.

“Everyone here is random. Look around you. It was an accident that I bumped into her, but it won’t be when-” I bark out but stop myself short. “Forget it. I’m overstepping,” I hold my hands up in surrender.

“I’d like to dance,” Luna says with a smirk. My heart stops beating or maybe it starts beating too fast. I’m not sure I heard her right. I blink over and over as she stares up at me expectantly. The smirk turned into a wide, bright smile across her face.

I just want to wrap my fist around her hair, stare into those crystal eyes as I give her the best night of her fucking life. A night she won’t ever forget. I just want to tear her apart and make her sore in hopes she’ll think of me for weeks to come. Months even. I want her to remember this as if I were going to drop dead tomorrow.

As I take her hand, Chase lets out a grunt. I lead her outside, needing to be away from him. As we step into the courtyard of bright lights, they shine on her. Those damn eyes, I could stare into them forever and get lost. I want to see and taste every part of her. Everything that she has to offer me, I want it. I want the taste of her blood, sweat, tears, and come all over my tongue because I can only imagine how fucking delectable it’d be.

I know that once I get a single taste, it will be over for me. I will never look at another woman the same.

Running With The Devil by Lil Revive is playing on the speakers now. We move off to the side, away from the lights, and she begins to dance, swaying her hips just right, slow and sensual, to the beat of the song. Her ass moves against my groin and he grows alive once more, needing her, needing to sink into the slickness of her.

Song after song goes by as we grind against one another, living in our own bubble. Everyone else has faded away. It’s just her and I here. She moves her body around, craning her neck to look up at me. That same smile living on her face. Her cheeks are a little flush against her pale skin. Sliding my hands to her waist, I squeeze just a little as her arms move around my neck.

“I’m having fun,” she giggles and my dick twitches at the sound.

“Me too. What’s your name?” I ask like I don’t already know it.

“I’m Luna. What’s yours?” She leans into me, lying her head on my chest. The witch hat on her head pokes out to the side. I remove it from her head, leaning back to take her beauty in full. She stares at me as she waits to hear my name.

I contemplate lying to her, but I don’t.

“Jax,” I grumble. “Do you want to play a game?” I speak softly.

It's a dangerous game, but one I hope she’s willing to play.

“What kind of game?”

“I want you to run. Run and hide. If I find you, I have my way with you,” I whisper against her lips. She sucks in a sharp breath as we share the air between us. Her eyes dilate, chest rising and falling faster with my words. There’s an excitement lingering inside of her. I see it. I feel it. It mirrors the one inside of myself.

“Will you take off your mask?”

I stare at her through the eyes of said mask, shaking my head. She brings a finger to her chin as she contemplates if she should free herself for a night. If she wants to stray away from being the smart, nerdy girl she lives to be. The girl who has a routine and rollerblades everywhere.

“What do you say, Luna? Do you want to have some fun? A night you won’t forget,” I push, ignoring just how desperate I sound.

“I don’t know if Chase would like that,” she says. My fingers tightened around her waist in a silent way of telling her I didn’t like that. A small whimper falls from her lips and it makes me crave to hear more of it.

The urge to take my knife and go stab him so she doesn’t need to worry about what he’ll think is very, very real.

“He your boyfriend?” I ask.

“No,” she laughs. “Just my friend. I’m not quite his type,” she winks.

“Then who gives a shit what he thinks? Text him and tell him you’re off for the night,” I demand, impatience prominent in my tone.

“You know what? Fuck it. Why not?”

I could melt all over. She said yes. She fucking said yes.

I watch her as she takes her phone from her little purse that’s been living on her shoulder, and shoots a text off to Fuck-Face.

This night is about to get a whole lot better.