Chapter 5
INTO DARKNESS
Seraphina
I run through the patch, my boots silent on the soft earth as I navigate between the glowing jack-o'-lanterns.
This section feels different from where we were before—the pumpkins here are larger, their carved faces more menacing than the others.
The fog is thicker too, swirling around my legs and making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.
There has to be a way out.
But I'm starting to doubt myself. Every path I take seems to curve back on itself, leading me in circles through the field of tangled vines and pumpkins.
Every time I think I've found a route toward the forest, it dead-ends in a cluster of particularly terrifying jack-o'-lanterns or curves back toward the center where he tasted me.
Behind me, I can hear him moving through the field. He's not rushing this time, showing me he’s not feeling desperate. Instead, he's stalking me with the confidence of an apex predator.
I change direction, heading toward what I think is the perimeter of the field. The fog is so thick here that the jack-o'-lanterns seem to float in empty space, their glowing faces appearing and disappearing like something out of a nightmare.
Focus. You need to focus and find a way out of here.
But it's hard to focus when my body is still buzzing from his touch. I can still feel his hands on my skin, his tongue on my clit. The memory makes the ache return between my thighs, and I hate myself for it.
What is wrong with me? He kidnapped me.
But I know it's more complicated than that. Because I didn't fight him, not really. And when he made me come— twice —I didn't just endure it. I participated. I arched into his touch and moaned and begged for more with my body if not my words.
Stop thinking about it. Just focus on getting out of here.
I round another pumpkin and find myself face-to-face with a dead end—three enormous jack-o'-lanterns arranged in a semicircle, their carved faces grinning at me in the fog. And they're blocking the only path forward.
Damn it.
I turn to backtrack and freeze. He's standing at the mouth of the pathway, silhouetted against the glow of the jack-o'-lanterns behind him. Even in the fog, I can see the victory in his posture, the way he's watching me like I'm exactly where he wanted me to be.
"Such a clever girl," he says, his voice carrying clearly through the still air. A wolf howls in the distance behind him. "But not clever enough to escape me."
I back against the carved pumpkins, their rough leaves and vines catching on my costume. "Please," I whisper the plea. "I don't understand why I’m here."
"I want you to stop hiding from who you are," he says, and there’s a hint of frustration in his voice now. "I want you to stop fighting what you clearly want."
"I don't want this," I protest, but my voice shakes with uncertainty. “This is crazy.”
"Your mouth keeps saying that," he murmurs, reaching me and pressing one hand against the pumpkin beside my head. "But your body is begging to be touched." He leans in, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body. “To be tasted.” His voice dips with his head. “To be fucked .”
My pulse is racing, and the ache between my thighs gets worse. It’s almost painful now. Fuck , I'm getting turned on again.
This can't be normal. This isn’t how normal people react to being kidnapped.
"Look at you," he says, his free hand tracing the line of my throat.
"Everything about your body is screaming for me.
" His fingers trail lower, drifting over my stomach.
"The way you press your thighs together to relieve the ache.
The way you hold your head back, exposing your throat to me.
They way I know your pussy is already dripping for me again. "
Oh god.
"You don’t know anything about me," I whisper, holding his heated gaze.
"Mmm,” he looks me up and down, biting at his bottom lip. “Let's find out."
This time I don't even pretend to fight when his hands slide up my thighs, hiking my skirt over my hips and out of the way.
"Fuck," he breathes when his fingers find me. "I knew you’d be soaked."
The word makes me whimper, and I hate that sound almost as much as I hate how right he is. I am soaked—wetter than before, if that's even possible. My body is betraying me completely, responding to him with an eagerness that makes no sense.
"Please," I whisper again, and this time I know I'm not asking him to stop.
"Please what, night monster?" His fingers trace along my inner thighs, purposefully avoiding where I need him to touch me. "Tell me what you want."
I can't. I can't say it out loud.
"I can't," I gasp when he slides one finger inside me, moving it in slow, lazy motions.
"Can't what? Can't tell me you want this?" He adds a second finger, sinking all the way inside me. I instantly arch against the pumpkin, my body instinctively trying to open wider for him. "Can't admit that you want to be absolutely ruined by a masked man in a pumpkin patch?"
Yes . The word echoes in my head, but I refuse to say it.
"Your body is already giving you away," he murmurs, his thumb finding my clit and making me cry out. "You're so tight around my fingers. So desperate. So fucking greedy."
His other hand rips my corset open and squeezes my breast, and the combination of sensations makes my knees tremble. Everything he's doing feels too good, like he knows exactly how and where I want to be touched. Like he knows me.
"You're close already, aren't you?" His voice is rough with arousal now, and I can feel the hard length of him pressed against my hip. "I can feel how you're tightening around me."
I am close—embarrassingly, desperately close. It's like my body is hyperaware of his touch, responding to even the lightest pressure.
"Are you going to come for me again, night monster?" he whispers against my ear. "Show me how greedy that tight cunt is."
His fingers curl inside me at the same time his other hand pinches my nipple, and I break. The orgasm rips through me, stars dancing in my vision amongst the glowing pumpkins.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, smiling down at me with his fingers still inside me, milking out every last drop of my orgasm. "You're so fucking beautiful when you come."
"This time," he says, withdrawing his fingers and making me whimper at the loss. "I want to see how beautiful you are when you come on my cock."
I watch through half-lidded eyes as he reaches for his belt, his movements smooth and unhurried. The sound of leather sliding through his pant loops makes my spine tingle, almost to the point of making me shiver.
He sees something on my face that makes him hesitate, and his hand comes up to cup my face, thumb stroking across my cheek. "You want this, night monster. You want me. I can see it in your eyes."
I do . The realization hits me so hard it would knock me back on my feet if I wasn’t pressed against this giant pumpkin. I want him. I want this dangerous, mysterious masked man to fuck me until I can’t see straight.
"I hate that I want this," I whisper, the words torn from deep inside me. "I hate that my body responds to you. I hate that I don’t even want to escape you."
His lips spread across his face slowly, revealing a devilishly handsome smile. "Finally. A little honesty."
I stare back at him, scanning his features. He looks so familiar, but I can’t place him.
"I'm going to fuck you now," he says, his voice deepening. "Right here, against these jack-o'-lanterns, with the fog swirling around us and the moon watching from above." His thumbs stroke across my cheekbones. "And you're going to let me, because you want it just as much as I do."
Yes .
"Yes," I whisper, and it feels like stepping off a cliff into free fall.
His smile turns wicked. "Good girl."
He kisses me then, claiming my mouth with his. I kiss him back, desperate and needy and so fucking willing to melt into him.
I know I’ve lost my mind.
But I don't care anymore. I don't care about anything except the way he's touching me, the way he's making me feel like I'm burning alive with want.
When he finally breaks the kiss, we're both breathing hard. "Turn around," he commands, his voice demanding.
I turn around. There is no hesitation. Because the truth is, I want him to fuck me. To bury his cock so fucking deep inside me I can’t think about anything other than the building pressure in my lower stomach.
His hands are on me immediately, pulling my hips out as he frees his dick from his pants. He grunts a few times as he strokes himself, and then lines himself up at my entrance.
A whimper climbs up my throat as he presses into me. I try to suppress it, but it’s no use.
My body wants him as badly as he wants me.
He slaps his hand over my ass, making me cry out and arch deeper as the sound echoes through the pumpkin patch.
“Oh god,” I breathe when he slides the head of his dick through my folds.
He slides into me gradually, giving me time to adjust to his size, and oh fuck, he's huge. Bigger than I’ve ever experienced, stretching me until I don’t think I can take any more. I brace my hands against the pumpkin in front of me, trying to stay upright as he fills me completely.
"Fuck," he groans, his voice strained. "You feel so fucking good."
He does too. He feels like everything I've been missing, like a piece of myself I didn't know was gone. The thought should scare me, but instead it makes me push back against him, taking him even deeper.
"That's it," he murmurs, his hands gripping my hips. "Let that greedy little pussy swallow my cock."
He starts to move in and out of me, and each thrust makes it impossible to cage the sounds escaping my lips—desperate whimpers and gasps that echo through the fog.
"Fuck," he hisses against my neck, his thrusts increasing in pace and brutality. "I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk, and then you’ll crawl to me on your knees while you beg for my cock to fill you one more time."
His words make me clench around him, and he groans in response, his grip on my hips tightening. The carved faces of the jack-o'-lanterns are all watching us in my peripheral vision, witnesses to my complete surrender to this madness.
But all I feel is pleasure, building and building with each stroke until I can barely breathe.
Thinking becomes impossible when he reaches around and finds my clit with his fingers, rubbing it in tight circles with his thrusts. I’m spiraling toward another orgasm.
"Come on my cock," he commands, his voice rough with his own approaching climax. "Let me feel you fall apart around me."
I do. God help me, I do. I cry out, nearly screaming as I come, meeting each of his brutal thrusts half-way.
“Fuck,” I sob, my entire body trembling.
He pounds into me faster, harder as he follows me over the edge, his hips stuttering as he finds his own release, roaring into the night.