The Man Behind The Mask

Jules~

A short laugh shoots out of me.

“Run? Oh, sir, you’re mistaken. I’m just in awe of you. I have no plan of running. None. Whatsoever. I’m here to stay.”

Jules you can shut the fuck up any moment now?

His gaze feels heavier, almost invasive. I get the feeling that he’s studying me. I try to not let it get to me as I take a few measured steps up to him. “So,” I say, letting my voice drop a few notes. I’m not entirely sure I’m allowed to touch him yet, so I keep a safe distance and flash him the eyes. “What will it be for tonight, alpha?”

He leans back into the couch, and I immediately notice the flex of his arm muscles, and the easy brutality in his movements. My eyes are drawn to his hands and I get a very vivid image of those hands manhandling me into any position he sees fit.

Fuck.

“Shouldn’t we talk about your price, pretty boy?” He asks, and my stomach does a flip at that nickname.

I hate when people call me that. I mean, I know it’s true. But I hate it nonetheless.

Yet with this man, this man whose name I don’t even know yet, I want to hear him call me that again.

“It depends on what you want,” I reply with a slow smile. “Do you want a spicy lap dance? Or do you want me to listen to your woes and worries and pretend to be interested for all of…two hours? Or would you prefer to get down to business and pound me till morning?”

He cocks a dark, bushy brow. “Till morning?”

Ah. There it is. Hook. Line. Fucking sinker.

“It was a joke,” I laugh.

“How much for that?”

My smile freezes on my face. “Huh?” The sound, undignified, is out before I can gather my senses. I clear my throat and try again. “What?” Still not good! “I mean? What did you just say?”

“Did I stutter?”

“N-no! Not at all. I mean…”

I lick my lips. This is weird, very fucking weird. For whatever reason, my heart won’t stop racing. I’m sure if I looked into a mirror right now my face would rival a cherry in terms of redness.

“Name your price.” The man says, his head tilting slightly to the right. A few strands of dark hair fall over his eyes and I get a whiff of his pheromones again.

My mouth waters.

“Ten grand.” This time, I’m fully aware of what I say.

His expression doesn’t change at first. Then, his lips twitch and he balks a laugh. “Ten fucking grand? You can’t be worth that much.”

“How can you say what if you’ve never had a taste?” I take a bolder step closer to him till I’m standing in his personal space.

I make the mistake of inhaling. My knees go rubbery and my eyes flutter. He smells incredible too. Warm smoke, expensive cologne and that streak of alpha pheromones that makes me want to drop to my knees and present myself to him. The front of my pants grow unbearably tight, and I can feel myself leaking.

Jules, please don’t do that. Control yourself. The last thing I needed was for some pheromones to fuck up my night. I open my eyes to see him staring at me, his gaze predatory.

“Your day job, do they know how much of a slut you are?” He asks, arching a brow.

My heart dives into my stomach. I scramble to cover my shock with a smile. “We don’t talk about day jobs here, Alpha.”

Just as I lift my hand to touch him, he grabs my wrist and forcefully yanks me down. The sheer strength alone. Fuck. I fall gracelessly into his lap, my eyes going wide. Everything happened in seconds.

“Answer me.” He demands, his voice leaving no room for arguments or disobedience.

I try to pull my wrist back and fail. It’s like trying to uproot a mountain. I try harder, and his grip tightens just enough to warn me, any more and my wrist will shatter.

A thrill of fear zaps through my body. I hate how delicious and terrifying it feels.

Slowly, I turn my head so I’m staring up at him. The size difference between us makes me feel like a rag doll in his hold.

This close, I can taste the smoke on his breath. I can see the hints of silver in his dark gaze. My heart lurches to my throat.

“They don’t.” I say at last. “And I’d like to keep it that way. Look, alpha, if you want to just talk then let me know. That too, is on the table.”

“If I wanted to fucking talk I’d book a shrink.”

I loop my free arm around his neck and lean closer to him. My gaze drops to his mouth and I feel an irresistible urge to kiss him. “I’m glad we’re on the same page then, alpha. So what do you say? Ten grand or not?”

I’m being bold. Hell, cheeky even.

On a normal day, I’d be insane to try it. But ten grand is a lot of fucking money. It’ll get those stupid sharks off my neck for a solid month or two. Plus, this man looks like he’s fucking loaded.

I make the move of readjusting myself when in fact I just want to test how hard he is. To my dismay, he’s not. Not even a little bit hard.

Disappointment filters into my mind. Damn it. Am I losing my spark or what?

“Here’s the thing, pretty boy,” he suddenly says and lets go of my wrist to grab my chin instead, forcing my eyes on his. “If I’m spending ten grand on your ass, it better be worth my fucking time or I’ll pass you around to my men till I get my moneys worth.”

That delicious thrill of fear shoots down my spine again and I grin. “How many men are we talking about? I just might be into that.”

I am not into that!

But what he doesn’t know won’t kill him. His eyes scan my face closely, and the corner of his mouth tips up. “You’re a crazy one,” he chuckles, amusement dancing behind his eyes. “What do they call you on the rink?”

Suddenly, I feel like I’ve been doused with a bucket of ice water. My mouth opens and closes but I can’t form any words. My heart kicks up, and the thrill of fear turns cold and suffocating, like a hand gripping my throat.

His fingertips dig into my chin. “Pretty boy, when I ask a question, I demand an answer.”

I push him away but that only makes him snake an arm around my waist, holding me firmly in place. “H-how did you know?”

“Your hands.” He says simply.

“Liar. My hands aren’t enough to—”

Fuck.

I walked straight into that one.

“Are you aware of what happens when an omega is caught in a sport not meant for him?” His grip on my chin eases into a slow, torturous glide of his fingertips over my skin.

What was the fucker trying to do?

“Of course I fucking know it! Stay out of my business, really. And what even is your problem? Are you here to fuck or what?”

My palms turn cold and I hate the slideshow of horror images playing in my mind. Like hell I didn’t know if I got caught, it's over. What else was I supposed to do? I love hockey. I’m good at it. It helps with the bills too. It wasn’t my fault I was born an omega but I’d be damned if I let that stop me from anything.

The man doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even move, aside from the circles he’s rubbing into my chin. The only sound between us is my ragged breathing and the sensual music picking up in the background.

“Fine,” he says after a while. His touch vanishes from my chin and he shoves me off him. I catch myself before I face plant into the ground. When I face him, he’s leaning back on the couch, his arms spread over the edge of it, long legs stretched out in front of him.

“F-fine?” I echo, rubbing my chin to ease some of the soreness there. The fear slowly dissolves into something that burns low and hot in my belly.

He waves down his body. “Suck my cock, Jules. If you can get me hard, I’ll give you the ten grand. If not, you owe me ten grand, pretty boy.”