Beyond The Mask (The Beyond Book 1)

by Hunter, Aubrianna

  He waited a moment and when Jade failed to respond, he pinched the tips a little harder. The added pressure pulled a soft little moan from her lips before she gasped out, "Yes."

  Satisfied by her acquiescence, he loosened his grip to move his hands down to her waist. Popping the button and pulling the zipper, he shoved both pants and panties down to the floor.

  His movements were rough and jerky, even he could tell, but he just didn't care.

  His day had gone from sweet to shit in the space of an e-mail. The resulting anger was pushed to rage by her behavior. Her. His desire. His muse.

  Yet she chose to flaunt herself to others?

  At the sight of her bare ass, round and firm, bouncing gently as he stripped off her clothes, his already engorged cock gave a little jump of anticipation.

  Ripping his fly open with one hand, he slapped her ass with the other.

  "Do you know what else is mine?"

  She whimpered, shaking her head.

  He slipped a hand between her legs, separating her folds, he thrust two fingers directly into her pussy. He was not too surprised to find her already wet.

  "This is mine. All of it. To touch, to kiss... to fuck. To do anything I want with."

  He felt her tremble, pressing back against his hand even as she opened her mouth to argue.

  "Go to hell, Derek. I can do what I want... I don't belong to you."

  "Is that so?"

  * * * * *

  The only warning Jade had was the deep growl of his tone. He may have asked her a question, but there was no time for her response before he thrust his cock straight into her waiting sheath.

  She no longer knew if this was real or fantasy, and quite frankly she didn't give a damn. Whatever it was it was raw and primal and she reveled in it.

  He fucked her hard, his thrusts forcing her forward until her hip bones pounded into the shelves she was tied to. The little bites of pain told her she'd be bruised tomorrow, but for now they merely intensified the experience.

  He needed something from her right now. She didn't know exactly what, but she was more than willing to let him take it.

  He bent his knees, changing the angle of his thrusts, he finally hit that elusive bundle of nerves, dragging a little moan out of her.

  His thrusts were deeper, harder, laced with an underlying edge of violence. When he grabbed her braid, wrapping it around his wrist and pulling her head and neck back, she heard his groan against her neck.

  "You're mine Jade. My reality. Always."

  When his teeth sank into her shoulder, the first waves of her orgasm began to pulse deep inside her belly. The warmth pushed outward, fighting off the shivers of cold, blooming into full-fledged heat as she started to convulse against the man inside her.

  She felt the walls of her pussy gripping him, trying to hold him deep within her as she rode out her pleasure. When she felt his movements still, his grip on her hair pulling her neck even further back, she knew he had found the release he'd come searching for.

  They stayed like that for only a moment, the chill creeping in and forcing them to movement. He yanked the knot on her shirt, freeing her hands as he pulled up his own jeans.

  She turned, attempting to hook her bra and fix her T-shirt, while waiting for some kind of explanation.

  None was forthcoming.

  He reached forward, gently brushing her cheek with the back of his hand before he turned on his heel and walked out of the cooler.

  She finished pulling her clothes together, brushing the stray hairs back into place with her hands, as she headed back out to the bar. By the time she made it, Derek was nowhere to be seen.

  Smiling to herself, Jade returned to work, flirting with the customers and mixing drinks.

  * * * * *

  Still burdened, but overcome with the euphoria that followed the passionate encounter, Derek strode from the cooler. Still adjusting his clothes as he exited it, he made eye contact with the man at the bar and smirked at him maniacally before pulling up his hood. Without pausing he made for the door.

  Shoving the thing open he nodded to Scott whom he had ignored in his haste and fear earlier.

  “Hey, Scott. Books comin’ along. Thanks for askin’.” Nothing more.

  He took the steps up to the street two at a time and, reaching their crest, he collided with a man rounding the corner of the building from which he emerged. Excusing himself halfheartedly, more or less grumbling, he skirted around the man, who flashed angry blue eyes at him with blonde hair that screamed yuppie. Derek hoped the pale man tripped down the stairs, but this amusing thought came not to fruition.

  Though his day had been a rollercoaster ride of emotion that had not yet relinquished him, Derek decided to end the day with a visit to the only man he really called friend. He knew it would likely not be easy to locate Gunny, being he moved around so much, but they shared the same favorite hang outs, and as such Derek set himself to a course and began walking the dark streets.

  More than two hours later, after walking to both the bus stop and the park, Derek arrived at what he decided would be the last place he'd look. Rounding a brick wall that paralleled the street, he cautiously entered the grounds to the train station and spied a man sitting alone upon a bench near the edge of the light cast by one of the few lamp posts within the courtyard.

  He appeared haggard with mismatched clothes and unkempt hair and beard. A whiskey bottle sat beside him, nearly empty, and a cluttered shopping cart sat within an arm’s reach. Derek knew the man to be homeless, but also knew that the whiskey was untouched.

  The man’s eyes were too keen, too sharp. They lacked the gloss that came with consumption of alcohol. Also, the shopping cart that was apparently filled with trash was a diversion. Yet another piece of the disguise. Within it, a loaded assault rifle rested at the ready in case the man needed it. Derek knew these things as he neared, just as he knew the man was not really a man. The man was a sheep. They were all sheep. At least, that’s what Gunny believed. Derek approached his friend, and they clasped hands briefly, each of them smiling.

  Gunny was homeless, but by choice. Like Derek he did not want to be found by people. He had been a Marine once and fought battles of someone else’s choosing. In those battles he had managed to lose a leg. Lucky for Gunny, they had found him a leg, but Gunny was certain the leg belonged to someone else. The color was different. It was hard, and it did not fit quite right. He had told Derek that it was most likely a mix up, and eventually he hoped to find the man that was wearing his leg. Then they could switch.

  Derek liked Gunny because he was vastly different than anyone he had ever met. He spoke his mind freely, without hiding his thoughts, and saw truths in the world that others missed. Derek could see some of them too, though not as many as Gunny. They chose not to judge each other and from that they had built a bond over the last several years. Often, when Derek needed interaction (because all sheep needed interaction), he would seek out Gunny and together they would discuss deep things and watch people to see their secret truths.

  “How ya been, man?” Gunny asked, his voice harsh and raspy.

  “Different…” Derek replied, pausing before he continued. “I have been different.”

  “Different good or different bad?”

  “I caught up to my deadline,” Derek replied, careful not to speak too loud as the two of them sat down upon the bench.

  “Then different good. Is it still with her? Only with her?” Gunny questioned. He knew. He understood.

  “Yeah. Without her I can’t find them. I know they're in there, I hear their whispers sometimes like I’m getting close but…” Derek trailed off.

  “Close only works with RPGs, grenades, and air strikes. Which one do you think she is?”

  “I’m not sure,” Derek responded with a grin. “Probably all three.”

  The pair sat in silence a moment, reliving the brief conversation. Though only a handful of words had been exchanged, volumes had been spoken betwee
n them that others would never hear. Distantly, above the buzz of the city, a train careened down the tracks towards them. Even now, still miles away, it created vibrations that could be felt within the brick-paved courtyard.

  “It’s good you’ll be getting some money then,” Gunny said referring to the book progress.

  “No, not yet.”

  Gunny felt the anguish in Derek’s reply, though he had masked it perfectly, and instantly Derek knew Gunny had felt it as his friend reached into the pocket of his camouflage jacket.

  “I got a hundred bucks today, man,” Gunny rasped. “You can have it, I don’t need it.”

  He was being honest. He didn’t need it. Derek knew it to be true.

  “How’d you get a hundred bucks?”

  “Gave a guy a blowjob on third.”

  Derek’s face scrunched up as he turned to face Gunny more squarely.

  “What? That ain’t right.” Derek replied, sickened by the thought.

  “I’m just kiddin’, man, here take it,” Gunny replied, pressing the folded bill into Derek’s hand. His fingers closed over it.

  “Yeah, actually it was two guys and a transvestite.”

  “That’s just wrong.”

  “Funny shit though, right?” Gunny asked, smirking. “Really, some guy on the 7:30 gave it to me.”

  “I figured.”

  They sat in silence again, for many long moments listening to the rapid approach of the train. It squealed now, a low trumpeting tone that came as the brakes were applied to slowly bring it to a stop. They each listened intently, mentally marking the progress of the train as it approached. It would be on time, but just barely so. The conductor had applied the brakes too early and would end up creeping into the station.

  The moment they awaited neared and both of them could feel the excitement in the other rising to the surface. Only a few minutes more and the game would begin. They always played when they were together. Anticipation was building as the train finally slid into the station, crawling along until it finally stopped. Three passenger cars, the rest were cargo. They waited.

  Minutes later and the first passenger exited from the building across the courtyard from them. She was a big woman, nearly as wide as the door she pushed aside as she waddled through. Her skin was dark as milk chocolate and she wore skintight cotton pants that gathered into every roll and crevice of her dimpled body. Atop that she donned a faded Tommy t-shirt that had gone out of style decades ago, yet her hair appeared flawlessly done in an up-do that made her head look entirely too small, and her overly long fingernails gleamed even in the poor lighting.

  “What do you see?” Gunny asked, his raspy voice barely a whisper.

  “She went into Monroe to get a makeover but the results are questionable,” Derek replied.

  “No shit, man, look deeper.”

  “She is hurting, not just her cankles, but her heart hurts. She has lost. She eats to hide the pain.”

  “Close. She got her makeover to look good for her mother’s funeral tomorrow. She does hurt, but she eats because she is hungry, apparently a lot,” Gunny assured him.

  Derek focused and waited for the next passenger to exit. Only seconds passed before a man in his mid-thirties exited the building wearing a three piece suit, dragging a small suitcase behind him on wheels.

  “Business man, over his head in both debt and stress. The people he deals with are more intelligent than he is and it puts him at a disadvantage. He has only lasted because of his looks,” Derek announced quietly.

  “Hmm. I agree, but you are missing something.”

  Derek looked again, closer, and saw the pale white strip of flesh around the man’s finger.

  “This trip was more for pleasure than business,” he said, with a smirk. The thought was intriguing.

  “Both actually, his lover is a client who has money from a life insurance claim. She lost her husband sixteen months ago. This guy handled the papers and has been taking advantage of the mourning widow,” Gunny nodded to himself silently as he spoke.

  Derek looked to his friend questioningly, wondering how he could see so much. Gunny saw him looking and answered the unspoken question.

  “I’ve seen death. I’ve tasted it and felt it.”

  Derek understood his meaning, could feel the death upon his friend. Perhaps it was this veil of death that Gunny had walked through, that Derek had not, which made the amputee’s vision so keen.

  They played the game until the passengers ran out and waited again for yet another train to arrive, which it did a couple hours later. Using the personal appearance and physical clues, mannerisms, and attitude of those who exited the train, they spent their time looking into the lives, or perhaps the souls, of those they watched. It were as if their lies and secrets lay exposed upon their flesh. Late into the night, perhaps early morning, Derek rose from the bench to part ways with his friend.

  “Get her something nice, man, but don’t spend it all. You’ll need some Friday.”

  Derek didn’t question how his friend knew he planned to get Jade a gift and decided immediately to set some aside for later in the week. Standing and adjusting his sweatshirt, Derek reached out and clasped hands with Gunny once more.

  “Be safe, man, and keep away from them soulless bastards. They ain’t right.”

  “I’ll try,” Derek replied and turned to make the hour walk back home. The night was quiet, its streets vacant. If you knew how to listen, you could hear the city breathing and feel her pulse slow as the darkest hours came.

  Derek arrived home before Jade and deciding to wait up for her, he undressed and crawled into their meager bed. Propping himself up on their pillows, he picked up a book from his bedside and began reading chapter three.

  * * * * *

  Sex was a great equalizer, regardless of how hard and fast it happened. She felt relaxed yet energized from all the terrific endorphins rushing through her blood. Much better than Prozac. With a quick swipe of her tongue, Jade wet her kiss-swollen lips, using the moisture to replace the gloss that Derek had recently removed for her.

  Smiling at the elegant, fifty-something gentleman, she made sure to give him a little wink as she delivered his drink order.

  As the hour grew later, the volume grew louder, both from the music and the din of conversation. The atmosphere here was elegance with an edge. The surrounding was lush, the furnishing expensive, the music choices... different than that of your more traditional clubs. The people that frequented The Beyond really were beyond. They clearly had money, a higher social class than Jade would ever be a part of. With that money, that class, came power and with that power, a mild feeling of surrealism. You could step inside and be lost forever. That was what Jade loved about this place.

  That and the music. Lana Del Rey's soulful voice wailed out a melody that spoke to her soul. She took another order, mixing the gin and tonic on autopilot, her head lost to the lyrics of Born to Die.

  Over the noise, the ever increasing hum of the crowd, through the fog in her head, she was startled at the clarity with which she heard the voice.

  "Excuse me, miss. I'd like to order."

  She spun on the heel of her boot, the quick movement almost landing her square on her ass as she slipped in a puddle of melted ice.

  Balance restored, she looked at the gentleman, plastering on her standard flirtatious grin.

  "Sure, hun. What can I get you?"

  She took in his appearance: white blonde hair, kind of a shaggy short style, slicked back yet mussed, as if he'd styled it only to run his hands through it repeatedly. Dressed in a classically elegant style, he looked much like every other patron in the club tonight: black slacks, a charcoal gray dress shirt, the sleeves casually rolled up his forearms. While he was handsome, there was something...off... about his appearance.

  He had ordered a scotch on the rocks, simple enough, allowing her time to contemplate her unusual reaction to this man. Had she met him somewhere before?

  Brushing aside her
errant thoughts, she delivered his drink, rang up his bill, and returned the appropriate change to him.

  Upon hearing another request, she turned and took the lady’s drink order. By the time she had completed the Cosmopolitan, she still had that vague sense of unease. Risking a quick glance over to where the blonde had been standing, she noticed him walking away from the bar. Another quick glance showed the rather large tip he'd left her was resting atop a white piece of paper.

  Pocketing the tip, Jade prepared to crush and toss away what she expected to be a phone number written on a bar napkin. Before she could crumble it in her hand, her subconscious noted that the paper didn't feel right.

  She looked down, trying to see precisely what she had in her hands. It definitely wasn't a phone number. In fact, it was an invitation. An invitation to a masquerade ball being held a couple weeks from now.

  Lifting her head Jade scanned the crowd trying to find the white blonde hair among the throng of people sitting, standing, and generally milling about.

  He was gone.

  In the mere moments it took her to read the invitation, the man was gone.

  Is this intended for me?

  Not possible. A quick shake of her head to clear the cobwebs and Jade felt a sense of normalcy beginning to reassert itself. Surely the man had merely left it on the bar by accident. She would ask the manager later if he knew who the man was. And if not, then she would hold onto it. The clientele here was quite exclusive, an invitation-only kind of place. He would most certainly be back and she could return the paper.

  Taking just a moment to shove the invite into her coat pocket, Jade happily returned to her duties, wiping the bar and restacking the glasses. As the song changed to the more upbeat tones of Ellie Goulding, Jade's mood lifted as well.

  Making a mental note to avoid Lana Del Rey and strange men in concert with one another, she laughed at her own flight of fancy.