Masquerade

Chapter Two ~Maddox~

The roar of my motorcycle helps block out my thoughts as I cruise to the shitty hotel where I told Bee I’d meet her. It’s not often I take a woman somewhere for the night. After dealing with Mom and taking care of my sister, Laney, for the past four years, I stay the hell away from woman drama.

Not that I really do shit for Mom.

But I owe Laney. She’s the only person in this world I give a shit about, but she doesn’t really need me anymore either. She’s living in our old apartment with her boyfriend, Adrian, who I still don’t know if I like. If he fucks with her, I’ll fuck with him and he knows it. They’ve been together a while and started college together this month. He’s good to her. Not that I admit that to her.

The tatted-up blonde was too hot to walk away from, though, and it’s not like I have anything else to do. I haven’t talked to Mom since her last suicide attempt in January, work can’t last forever, and I just lost the only other thing I gave a shit about besides my sister—tattooing.

I take a right turn before pulling into the parking lot. Three lights are out in the VACANCY sign.

The bike rumbles underneath me and my body is all jacked up, knowing it’ll soon be with a woman. It’s probably been eight months since the last time I met someone here. It wasn’t long after Laney and I moved to Brenton.

“Don’t let your dick get you into trouble,” Dad told me when I was thirteen before he tossed me a box of condoms. “It’s your own business, so I don’t want to know if you need them yet—just make sure you use them when you do.”

I wonder why he didn’t take his own advice about trouble. Was it his dick that betrayed him, making him need some chick on the side, or did the greed come first—the money and gambling that led to her? If he’d been stronger, he wouldn’t be in prison right now for getting drunk and ru

And I wouldn’t be sitting here lying to myself because it’s really me who could have been stronger. I could have told my mother and sister about the affair before things went too far.

“You coming?” Bee’s silky voice says over the sound of my bike. I didn’t even hear her walk up.

Pulling the helmet off my head, I turn to her. “Eager?” Standing under the streetlight makes it so she can see my wink.

“I’m ready to go in or go home. Decide quickly before I do it for you.” She crosses her arms and there’s no doubt in my mind this girl will walk away. She’s tough. One look at her tells me that and I respect it. I don’t have room in my life for dealing with anyone else’s shit.

I turn off the engine, slide the kickstand into place, and climb off my silver and black bike. It’s old and needs some work, but it’s mine.

“Come on.” I nod toward the building and start walking.

“Why here?” she asks.

“You’re the one who said a hotel.”

“And you just happened to know the perfect place close by.”

I shrug, not willing to sugarcoat anything for her. “Anonymous works for me. If that’s not what you want, say so right now.”

“I wouldn’t have said a hotel in the first place if it wasn’t what I needed.”

I don’t call her on the use of the word need instead of want. Not my business.

Gripping the handle, I pull open the glass door and signal for her to go inside. She walks right up to the counter, with me behind her. Less than three minutes later, we’re using a key to open the door to room 57. As soon as we’re inside, I hit the lights.

“Condoms?” she asks.

“Obviously.”

“You don’t have to be a jerk. I just wanted to see if you had them or if I needed to grab mine.” Bee tosses her purse onto the chair.

For some reason, the side of my mouth almost tilts up into a half-smile. This girl doesn’t fuck around and I like that.

Pulling my wallet out, I grab a foil package from inside and toss it on the bed. Bee stands there, a little flicker of something I can’t read in her eyes. My mind stumbles on it, making me pause.

“We doing this or not?” she asks.

The words are what I need to keep me on track. “Oh yeah. We’re doing this.” These are the nights that are only about me—well, and whoever I’m with, but I don’t let any of the shit from my life bleed in.

Bee grins and a mixture of need and maybe a little bit of what almost looks like selfishness and then she’s on me.

Her lips come down hard on mine, my hand cups her ass. I pull her against me, push down the back of her pants, and slightly lift her off the ground. The curve of her ass fits perfectly in my hand, but it’s not enough. I need more.

Jerking away, I grab the bottom of her shirt and pull it over her head, giving me a better view of the tats on her shoulders.

She’s breathing hard, her chest heaving. My hand moves toward her, my finger tracing the edge of her bra as I study her—the ring in her belly button, the edges of what I think are more stars going up her side, close to her back.

I’ve never been with a woman with so many tats. She’s not covered in them, but enough decorate her skin. I get the closest I ever come to any kind of pillow talk when I grit out, “Fuck, you’re hot.”

“You don’t have to sweet-talk me. I’m already here.”

“I don’t sweet-talk.”

“You next or what?” She quirks a brow at me and damned if I don’t almost smile again. Before I get the chance, her hands are on me, shoving my shirt up. They stop on my chest and I help her by pulling off the material covering me.

I don’t have as much ink as her. I can see her looking at the few pieces I have and it’s like she’s dissecting them.

This strange sort of fear spikes inside me because of the way her eyes are eating me up. Yeah it’s only sexual, but I need to make sure it stays that way.

“We have way too many clothes on.” I push the button on my pants through the hole, unzip, and kick out of them.

Bee’s crawling onto the bed and I’m right behind her. “These have to go.” I get rid of her pants just as quickly, getting a brief look at a sunflower on her calf as she lies beneath me in nothing but a purple pair of panties and a bra. She’s sexy as hell, all that creamy skin with bursts of colorful artwork.

Her nails are painted black, I notice, as she pushes my boxer-briefs down, my erection springing free.

Her hand wraps around me and I groan, trying to focus enough to get her panties down. When I do, she slips free of them.

She’s stroking as I push the cups of her bra down so her breasts spill over.

“This is going to be over before it starts if you don’t stop with that,” I tell her.

Bee lets go, for the first time letting out a real laugh that turns into a loud moan when I drop my mouth to one peak.

My moves are scripted, my body on autopilot as I get her ready—fingers and mouth teasing each mound. I grind against her, feel her wetness, wait for her little gasps and moans to increase before I’m rolling the condom down and pushing inside her—taking my quick, anonymous pleasure and hoping I’m giving her what she’s looking for too.

It’s not long before her nails are digging into my back and sounds fall from her lips quicker and louder. When she tenses under me, her body shaking in aftershocks, I give in. My release immediately follows, and then I’m rolling off her, our sweat-slicked bodies side by side.

“Wow…” she pants between breaths.

I take that as a compliment, not sure she gives many of them out. “No shit.” For now, all the tension is gone from my body.

“I should go,” she says, and I don’t argue. It’s exactly what I need it to be. We both got what we were looking for.