Awareness made the hairs rise on my skin, and I felt so dizzy all of a sudden. My voice barely registered above a whisper. “I can walk now.”
He still didn’t put me down, though. Instead, he hefted me up so my legs circled his waist, and the realization that the man in my arms wasn’t Will washed over me in a panic so savory it sank down low in my belly, warming every inch of my body.
He carried me, his steps perfectly paced and heavy, echoing in the hallway like they were coming for me and knew exactly where I was hiding.
This wasn’t Will.
I knew it even before I slipped my fingers into the back of his hair and felt the same little scars I’d come across years ago.
But in this moment, in the dark where I was someone else and he was someone else, I didn’t pull away.
Why wasn’t I pulling away?
God, he felt good.
In my arms. I’d almost forgotten.
For just a few minutes, he was my ghost back in the house.
Taunting me.
Playing with me.
Making me feel things I wanted to feel.
I’d missed this so much.
I locked my ankles behind his back and held my head in front of his, quiet and calm on the outside but every emotion I’d ever had raging on the inside. I wasn’t sure if he could see where he was walking, but it seemed like we both were on auto-pilot.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked him quietly.
But he just kept silent.
His heart beat against my chest, and I matched my breathing to his, fear and fantasy taking me over as the foggy air soaked into my skin and the sounds of the haunted carnival outside waged on without us. Heat pooled between my legs, and I barely noticed when an actor jumped out at us, trying to scare me.
They dug their fingers into my back, screeching, but I just kept holding on to him, wanting to stay like this, because this scared me more and I liked the fear.
What was he going to do to me?
We trailed down a long hall, another actor grabbing at us, but I just clutched him tighter, my forehead against the forehead of his mask as my fangs dug into my bottom lip and my pussy throbbed.
“Will you say anything?” I whispered.
Where was he taking me? Where were my friends?
But really, I didn’t care. I just felt like I should.
He wasn’t my enemy in here. He was my secret shame.
Marilyn Manson’s “Cry Little Sister” played through the speakers outside, and he hefted me up again, his stomach pressed between my legs. I whimpered as his hands gripped my ass.
Oh, God.
My lips hovered over the mouth of his mask, and I dug my fingers into the back of his neck, aching with need and groaning under my breath.
The next thing I knew, we were through another door and then another, and I let him carry me into a quiet room that smelled of wet straw and flannel. He pulled me off him, sending me falling onto a pile of hay, and I sucked in a breath, a scream lodged in my throat and instinct kicking in as I scurried backward to get away from him.
The slow, gentleness from him a moment ago was now gone.
I crawled backward, hearing the noise and music outside, but he caught my ankle and pulled me back to him. My stomach somersaulted as he flipped me over, knocking the air out of me as he hauled me up on my knees.
My chest pumped with shallow breaths, and my fight kicked in as I scrambled to my feet and bolted.
But he caught me from behind, wrapping an arm around my waist and picking me up. My head fell back against his shoulder as he reached between us and undid the belt fastening Alex’s bondage bra that I wore.
His rough hands, the partygoers outside on the other side of the wall, his silence, my costume, his mask…everything turned me on, and in this little room, we took hold of our little world where only the two of us lived and dared to sink deep, if only for a few minutes where no one would know.
Air hit my nipples as the bra fell away, and in the next moment, I was on my feet again, his hands pawing my breasts.
I gasped, my eyes closing at the pleasure of being touched there, but then I heard something hit the ground, and his teeth came in, sinking into my neck.
I cried out, unable to control the roll of my hips, because I needed him inside me as my legs nearly gave out under me. The heat of his mouth poured over my skin like hot syrup, and the pain was just enough to bring every other inch of my skin to full awareness. Everywhere he touched was sensitive, feeling like a flaming torch over my body. I couldn’t think. I didn’t want anything else.
I reached back, touching his face, now free of the mask, and he left my neck, gripping my hair and yanking my head back. I was completely immobile as he chewed at my lips, kneaded my breasts, and flicked one of my fangs with his tongue.
His breath almost sounded like a growl as he seethed, as completely lost as me.
Picking me up, he spun me around, bringing us both down onto the ground. I landed on my hands and knees, and tried to rise, but he pushed me back down.
I heard the jingle of his belt and then his zipper, and my arms shook under me, and I couldn’t breathe. I’d never done it this way.
He knocked my knees wider, gripped my hips, and yanked me back to him, the hard flesh of his cock pressing into me.
A moan escaped me, and I could already feel how wet I was.
He grabbed hold of my panties and ripped them away, the fabric stretching and tearing off my body. He took hold of himself, crowned me, and before I could say anything, he slid inside me, burying himself deep and filling me so good my knees quaked.
“Ah,” I whimpered, going rigid for a moment to adjust.
The spot he hit deep inside sent a wave of pleasure to the rest of my body, everything tingling and buzzing, and I heard his labored breaths behind me as he gave into it, too.
He didn’t wait long, though. Squeezing my hips where they met my thighs, he started pumping, hard and fast, and I fumbled my hands on the hay-covered floor to keep myself on my knees.
All I could do was try not to fall as he thrust into me in short, quick attacks, filling me up with his size and warmth, and then pulling back out to do it again.
God, he felt so good. My body jerked, and he panted and grunted as he fucked me harder and harder, and I licked my parched lips, tasting the clown makeup I still wore.
After a moment, his hoodie was gone, and I wanted to turn around to feel him. To feel his chest against mine, but the deeper he hit, the stronger my orgasm built, and after less than a minute, my stomach started shaking, fireworks started to spark deep inside me, and I held my breath, letting the orgasm explode all over my body. I felt the skin of my nipples tighten and harden, and I cried out, but kept it under my breath, because I didn’t know where we were or how secluded this place was.
Lost in a daze, I felt him grip my hair and pull my head back up, forcing my back to arch more and my ass to stick out farther for him. He drove violently, pumping me hard and fast until he, too, started to grunt, growing more strained as he started to come.
He jerked into me several more times, and then one final thrust as he spilled, breathing so loud and so spent, I was sure he might fall down on top of me.
But he didn’t.
He stayed there, buried inside me for another minute, tightening and untightening his fist in my hair and calming his body. My scalp burned from where he pulled my hair, but I didn’t even care, I was so tired.
And in the minute as things calmed and my desire and every other overwhelming emotion I’d just felt left, I couldn’t help but think one thing.
I’d let it happen. Again.
With all the men in the world, why did I hate myself so much that he was the only one, in the heat of the moment, I wanted?
Pulling away from him, unwelcome cool air now filling where he’d just been, I scooted away and pulled a piece of the tulle off the inside of my skirt, trying to clean up best I could.
Tears stung the back of my throat, feeling the heat of his cum seeping out of me. I needed a bathroom.
I heard him move and refasten his jeans and belt and then the lid of a lighter opening and closing as he lit a cigarette.
“You came inside me,” I told him.