Chapter 363 Behind The Mask

• The music thumped through the walls, a pounding bass that rattled the cheap plastic cups and the sticky floors of the frat house. The air smelled of beer and sweat and candy-sweet vodka, of fog machines and the faint singe of a carved pumpkin burning too long.
• Shelly knew she was being stared at. She’d wanted that.
• Her devil horns glowed faintly red in the party lights, tilted just enough to look sinful. The corset crushed her waist, pushing her tits up so high they spilled from the low cut. The vinyl skirt clung to her hips and ended far too soon—just below the curve of her ass. When she bent even a little, the fishnets flashed and so did the red straps of her garter. Her black heels clicked against the sticky floor, daring anyone to say something. The choker on her neck felt like a leash she secretly wanted tugged.