Chapter Four
Many
WHAT HAS COME OVER me? Sure, I’ve fantasized about messing with Denis, but never like this .
Even more baffling, he’s actually responding.
I know when a guy wants me, and every ounce of Denis screams “want.” His eyes are unfocused, and not simply because I took his glasses so I could get a better look at those pretty green eyes.
His mouth hangs open, his breath gusting hot past parted lips.
A flush his makeup can’t hide lingers in his cheeks and burns up his throat, and fuck me, all I want to do is lick my way up it.
I came here to get answers, but this is somehow even more confusing than when this guy was simply an overzealous jerk with a hate boner for Halloween.
I’ve been telling myself this is all part of the game, part of the fun of messing with his head, but then I stepped closer and everything changed.
It was like something pushed me toward him.
I could almost feel the ghostly hand against my back, shoving me nearer to the man I’m crowding against a wall in a secluded hall.
He has me by the wrist, his other hand against my chest as though he either wants to push me away or yank me closer, and I doubt either of us know which.
“Halloween is demonic,” he says in a hushed whisper better suited to filthy promises than zealous denouncements.
“I wasn’t talking about Halloween.”
His breath hitches. I’m so close I can hear it.
That spectral hand at my back definitely gives me a shove this time, I’m absolutely sure of it, or perhaps I’m simply more determined to explain away my actions.
I chase that breath like he’s taking the last sip of air in the universe and I mean to steal it back for myself.
When I meet his lips, I taste his shock first, then melt into the sweetness of him, the softness of his startled mouth.
His hand curls, finally clinging to my crop top and tugging me closer.
His other hand tightens around my wrist as though I might run away, but I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
Something is pushing me toward him, shoving me into him until I’m gathering him in my arms and crushing him against me.
He whimpers, and I answer with a groan as that sweet, plaintive plea shivers down my throat.
Something howls in my ears, perhaps a distant scream somewhere in the haunted house behind us.
We’re separated from it here in this hall, but I suppose the shouts and sound effects can still reach us because I could swear something starts positively braying when I stick my tongue in Denis’s mouth.
I break away gasping, keeping a hold on him, scared he’ll run. A guy like this might give in to a kiss, but I need more, and I don’t know what I’ll do if he freaks out now.
His hand twitches, almost like he’s moving unconsciously, and he grips my crop top more tightly. Encouraged, I barrel forward through this mad, improbable adventure.
“I want to bend you over,” I say, leaning close and rasping the words against his ear. “I want to put you on your knees. I want to get my tongue in you until you’re crying for me to stop.”
He gasps, hips betraying his desire, but again it’s like something else moves his body, like it happens without any input from Denis himself. Instinct or a spectral hand presses his need against me.
“I’ve never done any of that,” he says, some part of the real Denis breaking through the otherworldly, surreal haze of this sudden lust.
“That’s fine,” I say. It’s not like I expected him to be experienced, quite the opposite. I’d be shocked if he’s held hands, let alone given in to desires he likely sees as sinful.
“No, I mean, I haven’t even kissed anyone,” he says. “I…I’ve never done any of this, nothing at all. Ever. With anyone.”
He gazes up at me, plaintive and pleading, scared and wanting all at once.
I thumb over his parted lips, and they fall open wider.
It’s so obvious how badly he wants this, but something still holds him back.
I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but I want desperately to tear down that barrier and taste him, take him, keep him.
I want to strip off not just his clothes, but also all of his self-righteous armor.
There’s a soft, warm, needy human underneath, a human like any other, with desires and dirty thoughts and a beating heart.
“I don’t care,” I say. “I want you. I want to take you apart right here against the fucking wall, want you moaning so loud the whole house can hear us. Say yes, Denis. Let go.”
He’s still clinging to my shirt and wrist, holding me close. Our hips meet, bodies slowly grinding, need plain through the layers of fabric between us. He wants me, and for some damn reason I want him, but it takes one final push before he gives in.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear something out there gives us that push. Physically.
He throws his arms around my neck, squeaking with surprise like he isn’t in control of his own body, like the movement startles him as much as it startles me. The moment his arms are around me, he pulls me close, nearly to his lips.
“Yes,” he says, the word brushing against my mouth. “Take me apart.”