Page 36 of With This Mask
Who the hell am I?
I nearly pass out when I look down and see Alec’s cum drip down my leg before swirling the drain.
Fuck. I’m already sore.
I wash my hair and then reluctantly my body. I turn off the water when I’m finished, and find a towel on the rack. I wrap up in it, and eagerly walk into the bedroom to find Alec.
I stop dead in my tracks when I walk into the bedroom, and find two lights set up, casting the room in a dramatic red glow.
Alec crosses the room wearing only gray sweatpants. His face is already painted black. There’s a predators look in his eyes, one I like, very much.
As he eyes me up and down in nothing but a towel, he extends something out to me.
It’s a mask.
It’s nothing like his own. As I take in the details, I realize it’s a butterfly, created with the most intricate details. Yet it matches the same coloring as his skull mask, the white and the black.
"Thought you deserved your own," Alec says with temptation in his every word.
"Wow." I turn the mask over in my hands, tracing the delicate swirls and patterns. A thrill runs through me at the weight of his gesture. "Alec, this is beautiful."
"Try it on,” he encourages, watching me with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine.
A thrill flips through my stomach, and I can’t help but smile as I lift it to my face. Slipping it on, I feel a surge of excitement at the secret identity it affords me. "How do I look?"
"Like a goddess in disguise." His words are a growl that vibrates through me, lighting up my nerves.
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Vanderholt."
"Good to know, Winters. I was thinking Mariposa for your username."
Spanish for butterfly. “I actually love it.”
“Good. I’ll set up the account.”
He steps away, setting up a camera on a tripod. My brows draw together in confusion. "Why are you all prepped to put on your mask?"
“I thought we could make something together,” he says as he looks over his shoulder at me with that devilish gaze. “Something new for the fans.”
I blink. Hard. "Are you serious?" The words tumble out before I can stop them. "That's way off brand for you. I mean, you’re Vice. The whole point is making everyone think they have a shot. It’s the fantasy. You can’t put me in one of your videos."
"I can, and you have no idea how fucking bad I want to,” he says as he stalks toward me. He’s holding a black bodysuit in one hand. “I’ve been dreaming this up for a week now, Salem.”
"Your followers will lose their shit," I point out, even as I'm drawn to the idea like a moth to flame. The thought of Vice touching me, claiming me, for his millions of viewers? Me. I can hardly breathe at the thought.
"Let 'em," he shrugs nonchalantly. "It's about time they see a piece of the real me."
"Risky move." I can't keep the admiration from creeping into my tone.
"Life's no fun without a little risk," he shoots back with a smirk.
"I’m learning that, thanks to you." And suddenly, I'm eager to start filming, to step into this new role he's offering me—a chance to be part of his world, yet on my own terms.
"Ready?" he asks, extending the bodysuit to me.
"Always."
My heart hammers against my ribcage, loud in the quiet of the spacious cabin. Alec’s fingers fly over the laptop, editing with a focus I can't help but admire. He's always had this intensity about him, like everything he touches turns to gold—and right now, he's turning us into art.