The Blue Rose

15. Aster

FIFTEEN

ASTER

I walk her back into the first house, taking her to the center of the maze-like structure. Kissing her with hurried steps, shredding her clothes, throwing them to the sides, leaving just the stockings, as I back her into the rusty, bloody door.

Reaching into my back pocket, I take the blindfold I grabbed before our date, dangling it in front of her eyes. “Do you trust me?” Breathlessly she nods her head, her plump lip trapped between her teeth. My cock jumps at her submission, a smirk lifting my lip as I place the blindfold over her eyes, making her world go dark.

Her chest heaves as I grab both of her hands. One hand holding tight to her wrist, and the other undoing the belt on my pants, slipping it free and kicking off my jeans and black boxer briefs. I wrap the belt around her wrist, placing her arms above her head, securing the black leather on the hook nailed to the door.

Pressing her back into the door, my erection pressing into her stomach, I kiss her cheek, and reach up to grab the knife that is stabbed into the door. It looks like a prop to anyone who looks at it, but it is far from fake and will make you bleed. I like placing real weapons around the houses, not ones that I personally use. It can cause chaos if one of the actors were to grab one of the real knives or axes, to chase their prey with it. No real damage has been done, yet. A guy can dream. The large clip point hunting knife catches the dim, red light in the house as I look at my reflection.

I place the flat part of the knife against her cheek, making her jump as I slide it down. “What is that?” She breathes, her body trembling.

“You’ll find out soon enough, little lamb.”

Her nipples are hard and taunt, from the cool breeze drifting through the door, tempting me to bend and take one in my mouth. Her moan makes me bite down hard enough, I taste crimson falling into my mouth. She isn’t screaming, which is what I expect, no she’s moaning even louder, arching into me as she silently begs for more. I remove my mouth from her bleeding nipple, kissing up her body until I reach her lips so she can taste herself on my tongue.

“Do you taste that, little lamb?”

“Yes,” she says breathlessly

“Do you know what it is?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“Blood,” she gasps.

Her answer has me backing up and removing my shirt, dropping it to the ground. “Are you scared?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes,” she begs, pulling against her restraints as she tries to get closer to me.

I kiss her stomach, sucking the spot just below her belly button as shivers tumble through her.

Bending down, I take the knife and slice a bigger hole into her stockings. My lips kiss her pussy, slipping my tongue through the folds, and lapping at her sensitive bud.

“Fuck. Aster!” She moans.

“Keep moaning my name, little lamb.”

I spread her legs apart, throwing them over my shoulders, gaining easier access to suffocate in her folds.

My breath washing over her, I look up at her, “You taste even sweeter than last time.”

A small smile forms on her lips. “Pineapple,” she says, and I go back to lapping at her clit and drowning in her juices. I always thought the pineapple theory was a myth. Knowing it isn't, I'm going to be stocking up on that fruit.

She writhes above me, legs shaking, close to exploding. I shove two fingers inside her wet opening, she moans even more begging me for my cock. “Please, Aster. I need to feel you inside me. Fuck me.”

Her core clenches around me as she teeters on the edge, about to erupt around my face, which makes me quicken my speed. I lick just below her swollen clit, pressing against her most sensitive spot, pushing her over the edge as she comes all over my face.

She gasps, coming down from her orgasm. I refuse to let her recover, shoving the handle of the knife into her, making her walls clench around it. My hand holds the blade, tightening with each thrust, making blood drip down my arm.

“That isn’t your cock.”

“No, it isn't.” I move the handle slowly in and out of her, rubbing against her sensitive walls.

“What is it?” she says in labored breaths.

“Do you want to see?”

She nods her head, I stand, reaching behind her head with the hand not fucking her with the knife and untie her blindfold, letting it fall to the ground. Her eyes widen at the sight of my hand covered in blood, the knife going lazily in and out of her.

She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t look disgusted. Oh, my naughty little lamb. She looks intrigued by the sight, her arousal heightening as I feel her pussy grip the knife. Most people would be disgusted, or scared by the sight. My little lamb continues to surprise me with how she reacts to the things I do to her.

Watching her eyes darkening, I bring the knife up to my mouth sucking her juices off the handle, trailing my tongue up the blade, licking the blood off, my eyes never straying from hers. The taste of her mixed with my blood is a strange, but delicious mix, that has me moaning my approval. Her eyebrows shoot up, and tongue pokes out, mindlessly licking her bottom lip. “Untie me,” She demands, and I find myself doing as she commands. She grabs my bloodied hand with hers, lowering the knife back down towards her entrance. My hand circles the blade once more, her grip forcing my fingers deeper onto the sharp metal. She watches as the handle penetrates her again. Her eyes flutter, fighting the control of wanting to watch, but the deeper the shaft of the blade pushes inside, the harder it becomes. Her breathing becomes more erratic, her eyes glazing over as she watches my blood drip down my arm.

“Beautiful,” she whispers, her breath fanning over my face. I lose myself in the moment, getting lost in her awe as I continue to push in and out. “Can I try?” Her question has me stopping my movement, looking into her darkened eyes, I hand her the knife, she hisses from the sting of the blade as she grips it, watching the blood spill down her arm. Her eyes never leaving mine, she pumps faster, looking possessed, like she doesn’t even realize what she is doing, and I can’t seem to look away. The little moans she makes, the combination of her cum spilling down the blade, mixing with the blood from her hand, it’s mesmerizing.

She grabs my hand, breaking the spell I was under, placing my hand over hers. “I. Need. More.” She begs, placing her other hand and squeezing it over mine, making more of her blood drip down the knife and splatter on the floor.

I’m so turned on at our blood mixing together, at the darkness I see in her eyes, at the pain she inflicts upon us, my cock weeps for her. Desperate to feel her heat. I stop pumping our hands, she looks at me eyebrows drawn together, “Why did you stop?”

“This knife can't make you scream the way I can.” I take the knife from her hand, grab the handle, and throw it across the room. I don’t give her time to react, I slam into her, hard enough it throws her body back against the door and this time she screams, the beast inside of me growls with pleasure. “Those are the screams I’ve been dying to hear.”

“Aster!”

“That’s right, little lamb, scream my name.” I place my hands around her ass, my blood leaving the perfect handprints, lifting her up to go deeper. In and out I thrust, the feeling of rightness, of home, settling over me. She grips my hair, getting her blood matted in it.“So. Fucking. Tight.” I growl into her ear. I pound into her over and over again, her walls clenching around me so tight I feel as though I’ll never escape, until she comes for the second time tonight.

Her explosion triggers my own, and I settle deep inside her, not giving a fuck that I don’t have a condom or caring that I didn’t check if she was on birth control. None of that matters, she feels too fucking good to care.

I place her down in front of me, her legs shaking so hard she almost falls, but I catch her. She places her bloody hand in mine interlacing our fingers once more. She lifts our hands, her eyes blaze as she looks at them, mesmerized at the sight. Me too, little lamb . She brings our hands to her lips and kisses them. The sight goes straight to my groin, my dick swelling once more.

“You look so beautiful, covered in our blood.”

I wish I could capture this moment forever.

She has a dark side to her, and I’m more curious than ever to let the devil in her out.

She lets our hands drop, and I bring my mouth to hers, tasting the blood on her lips. She opens her mouth and all I taste is our blood mixed together perfectly. It isn’t copper I taste, no the way our blood mixes together is a sinful taste, one hard to describe. It shouldn’t taste this sweet, but it does and we both find ourselves wanting more.

She bites my lip hard, making it bleed. I return the favor, savagely nipping at the lip that has been driving me wild all night. We pull back, breathless, lips bruised, and bleeding, wiry smiles mirrored on our faces. I tuck her hair behind her ear. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Serena.” She kisses my lips softly once more, her eyes holding an emotion I don’t dare name.“You continue to surprise me.”

“As do you, Aster.”

“When you told me you were taking me on a date, I wasn’t expecting the haunted house, you to be the owner, or you fucking me with a knife.”

“Did I scare you?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “You excite me. I want to know more. I need to know more about you, Aster Graves.”

“I don’t know why, Serena, but you’re breathing life back to things in me I thought were long dead. You are special, and,” I pause, hardly believing the tornado of emotions rushing through me. “I can’t seem to get enough of you.”

“I can’t get enough of you either.”

The emotions we are both feeling bring out a fear I never thought I would have. My little lamb made my heart, I didn’t know I had, start beating. These feelings are unknown to me, scare me, and need to go away, but I don’t want to lose this feeling, yet.

I grab her hand. “Let's get you back home and washed up.”

She nods her head, her eyes clouding. I grab two drapes hanging over the windows, wrapping one around her shoulders and the other over mine. I rip two pieces of the fabric off, take her hand in mine, and wrap the cut. She grabs the one I’m about to wrap around mine, and repeats the action for me. I watch her finger trace the line the blade left behind, before securing the cloth around my hand and tying it. She brings my hand to her lips and I watch, my heart beating faster as she kisses it. “Kisses make everything better,” She says with a small smile, “That’s what my mom used to tell me.” Her cheeks start to heat, which makes her drop our hands and turns away shyly.

“I know you’re the owner, but don’t they need these for next week?” She says fiddling with the wrap around her hand.

“Like you said, next week, which gives me a week to replace them.” Her steps falter as we walk across the grounds, her eyes burning into me. “Don’t worry, I’ll give them back tomorrow.”

She slaps me on the chest, leaving cakey blood in its place “Don’t you dare give these back, they’re covered in our blood.”

“I promise I won't, I’ll put them in a special place.” I kiss her forehead, grabbing her hand and we walk to my car, unable to go more than a few moments without touching her.

The drive to her house is the exact opposite of the drive to the grounds, Serena stares out the window in silence, not even messing with the radio. We just had an amazing night, why does it look like she wants to forget what happened? I reach over and grab her hand startling her “Penny for your thoughts?” I ask, rubbing my thumb against her skin.

“Just wondering what you have done to me,” she murmurs, still staring out the window.

“I corrupted you, little lamb.”

“Yes, you have, but I don’t regret a single thing.”

I bring her hand to my lips, placing a delicate kiss on her knuckles. “Me either.”

She rolls down the window, letting the cold air hit her face, her hair billowing around her. She looks enchanting with the moon shining on her, blood covering her face.

When we get to her house, we both walk in and up the stairs, fingers linked together. We go to her bathroom and I turn on her shower. It’s a walk-in shower with dark blue distressed subway tiles. The floor is a simple white tile, the small hexagons contrasting nicely with the blue. She catches me looking at her and drops the cloth draped around her with a devilish smirk on her lips. Seeing her clearly in the light, no longer hidden by the darkness of “The Dancing Clowns,” decorated in blood, makes my cock instantly grow. I drop my own, matching her bravado as we stare at each other's naked bodies.

One after the other, we step into the shower. I watch as the blood drips down the contours of her body, her eyes closed as she runs her fingers through her hair. I grab her, spinning her around, and press my cock in her waiting cunt. I bend her over, taking her once again, until we’re both drained and satisfied.

Our limbs feel like jelly as we dry off and wrap ourselves in towels. Stepping out of the bathroom, she walks to her closet, and grabs an oversized t-shirt for herself and me.

“Sorry, this is all I have,” she says, handing it to me.

“It’s okay, it’ll work for tonight.” The shirt is a Slipknot concert tee. S he has good taste in music. I'll have to ask her about it later. I slip the tee over my head, it fits tight, enhancing the muscles underneath and making my biceps bulge. The shirt she chose for herself sits like a dress on her 5’2 frame, making her look delectable.

“Good.” She grabs my hand and pulls me into the bed, laying her head on my chest as she settles in my arms. She looks up at me, a question in her eyes.

I smile at her. “Is there something you want to ask me?” She nods her head.

“Okay.” Here we go. She’s probably going to ask about how I came to own the number one haunted house in the country.

“Why Graves? Why haunted houses?” she asks with such curious eyes, biting her lip, and I find myself wanting to tell her a little bit about my story. I never want to talk to or get close to anyone, unless absolutely needed. Not even my little lambs get to know me, they know the mask I put on and the killer who ends them. Serena, I want her to know it all, and that thought scares me.

I hum, realizing I was right. “The inheritance I told you about from my parents death...” She’s quiet, not saying sorry for my loss like people usually say once they hear my parents are dead. I am grateful, I can’t handle the meaningless platitudes and the looks that come after. “Well, I used a small portion of it to create Graves.” I pause, memories flashing through my mind as I think of how much I’m willing to tell the woman in my eyes. “When I was younger, my mother and I would watch scary movies. All of them.” I smile. “The good ones, and the bad ones, every Friday night, that was our thing. I came to love scary movies, and learned a lot from them.”

She remains silent, staring up with more care than I’m used to, taking it all in.

“Every Halloween, she would make my costume, fashioning hers and my fathers after whatever I chose. After they passed, I wanted to remember them in the best way I could. Bringing our love for horror to everyone, made sense to me. I knew they’d love it, so every year I create the most realistic haunted houses I can, each one different and new from the previous year. It’s the reason tickets sell out as soon as they drop, people love to be scared, they’re eager for it, and I love being the reason for their fear.”

“Wow.” she breathes, both of us falling into a comfortable silence.

“Well, now I know the mystery behind Graves. I wonder how much media outlets would give me if I tell them the inside scoop about the owner of Graves.”

“Oh, really now?” I tickle her, forcing her under me until she begs me to stop,

“I’m about to pee! I can't take it anymore.” I stop tickling her, laughing as I watch her waddle across the room.

When she comes back, she lays in my arms again, and looks up at me. “Aster, I want you to know I would never tell anyone any of your secrets.”

I kiss her forehead, holding her close, we fall asleep in each other's arms. For some reason, I believe her. I believe she would never tell anyone any of my secrets.

I’m safe with her.