Glitter Force Rascal Without Mask Novels & Stories

It was, before I went and ruined it, leading him on a wild goose chase across the roguelands. I pull the mask from the box. It looks like a piece of costume jewelry, like something I’d wear to a masquerade ball. Without my powers coursing through it, it looks and feels… cheap. Empty, and cold. ‘Carefully, Princess,’ Ryatt hisses into my mind. I put the mask on as fireworks crash overhead, turning the sky a vibrant, electric blue. Poppy was right about the celebration being a perfect distraction from what’s about to take place.

“Mine.” Riccardo lifts one styled like a sleek Venetian phantom. “Mine.” Vincenzo holds a dark, angular one that looks like something a sinfully handsome villain would wear. “And mine.” I almost laugh. “You’re really doing this?” “We’re not being recognized,” Riccardo reminds me. “And you?” Nico asks, stepping closer. “You’ll go without a mask.” “Yeah yeah, I know. Because you want everyone to see who I belong to,” I say, mimicking them.

in Luna Lust Club. I spun again, arching my back and letting my silver mask catch the flickering neon lights. The mask was my armor, hiding my identity in this pool of greed and desire. My long, silvery-blonde hair cascaded down my back, brushing against my bare skin as I bent low, teasing the front row and almost making my boobs visible but I swayed back immediately. My black stilettos clacked against the polished stage as I twirled once more, the hem of my glittering outfit glimmering like broken stars.

My eyes started to wander around. Suddenly, it stopped at the sight a man dressed as Zee described. Tall, slender stature, a gold watch, the silver brooch and everything... it was Rafael, I was certain. He only stood there eyes locking with mine, hands tucked in his pocket, that slim diamond neck chain that drove attention to his open chest. On his face was a black Venetian mask with gold designs on it, covering half his face just like mine, but unlike his mine had feathers.

6’5 ft, easy broad shoulders that block out the light. I remember how they felt pinning me down, unyielding. The scent hits harder now sandalwood and leather, twisting my gut with a cocktail of hate and something sharper, unwanted, that coils low in my belly. He reaches again, insistent, fingers hooking under the lace. "I paid for the full show, Raven. Mask off." I let him pull it halfway, just enough to expose one eye, my gray one, hidden behind the hazel contact, but close enough to risk it.

The blue-masked woman moved behind, her hands sliding up my back, unfastening my gown to let it fall, exposing my breasts to the cool air, her mouth descending to suck a nipple hard, teeth grazing the sensitive peak. “Oh god,” I whimpered, the combined assault overwhelming, and the gold-masked leader chuckled, stepping closer, her hands cupping my face, kissing me deeply, her tongue dominating mine. The silver-masked woman increased the vibrator’s speed, the hum intensifying, while the purple-masked woman added a third finger, thrusting deep into my wet cunt, stretching me further. The red-masked woman’s tongue delved deeper, her hands spreading my thighs wider, and I rocked against her face

“You better not.” “Whimp.” Anthrose huffs, drawing our attention toward him. “Why are you even here?” Giddeon snaps in annoyance. “Can’t you see you’re scaring all the beautiful women with that angry face of yours?” Rolling my eyes, I turn my gaze from the two men and back to Rosalie, who wears a long white shirt over her bikini. Although Chanel tried to get her to remove it, she wouldn't, and I was certain it was because she didn’t want others to see the scar that mars her skin.

He was only doing it because of the respect he had for Nikolai. "Get out," she said coldly, flicking her manicured fingers toward the door. Mark lowered his gaze, his eyes ice cold as he hurried out, afraid he might not hold himself back if he stayed. The remaining attendants worked faster, afraid of meeting the same fate as their boss. Rosa leaned back in her chair, admiring herself once the makeup was finished. "Finally," she whispered, tilting her head slightly. "Now I look like his queen." Her red dress glittered as she stood: silk hugging every curve, the slit at her thigh daring enough to command attention. She reached for her diamond mask, tracing a finger along its edge, a faint smil

Her eyes fidgeted between him and her target before laughing nervously. "I-- w-who are you?" she asked before gulping, waiting for the target to fall to the ground. He chuckled lightly, keeping his gaze on hers. He raised his right hand and removed the masquerade mask he was wearing. "The mafia boss who's hosting this event," he introduced. Her eyes shifted back to him, having a clear view of his face despite being in a dimmed room. He had bright blue eyes, a defined nose and jawline, arched brows, and seducing pink lips. "S-say that again?" Keisha was flabbergasted.

"Cranberry glitter glue. The holy grail of preschool warfare." An eyebrow twitched. Barely. But it was more reaction than she'd gotten yesterday. "I thought maybe we could do a little art therapy. Or just glue random objects to the scary wolves outside. Whatever works." No laugh. No smile. But the silence had shifted. The chair beside her scraped back. Not the angel. The other one. The always brooding demon of vengeance in black. Of course. He appeared like smoke—unannounced, uninvited, carrying gravity in his wake. He didn't speak at first. Just looked between them with a sharpness that felt like being dissected. His gaze dropped to the toast between them. Then to the glitter glue tube in h