Chapter 43
Kieran
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Q: How the fuck do I not blow a load when she looks like that?
I’ve been sporting a hard-on since the moment Layla stepped out of the dressing room in…that. It takes everything in me not to bite my fist because I need to fucking bite something—preferably her.
I’m in all black, a fitted sleeveless shirt with jeans and of course the Ghostface mask. I’m plain, boring, simple, and I wouldn’t have it any other way because that means Layla shines.
She’s wearing a tight-fitted black corset, along with something I think Bella called fishnets, as well as those garter belts and black boots that make her usually short frame a bit taller.
The corset pushes her tits up so high it’s hard to know where to look.
With the matching Ghostface mask covering her face, I can’t look in her eyes.
But I’m also wearing a mask, hiding my gaze, and that’s why I’m acting like a dog and memorizing every inch of her.
I swear she knows, though. The second my eyes linger on the swell of her breasts, she shivers, as if she can feel my gaze like a physical caress.
The difference in our costumes is hilarious. Grayson and Bella have dressed up as the characters from Ratatouille. I laughed my ass off when Grayson appeared in a chef’s outfit, only for Bella to round the corner in a skimpy rat costume.
Don’t even get me started on how hard Grayson and I laughed to see Cindy and O’Connor step out of their car as Fred and Daphne from Scooby-Doo. It wasn’t the costumes, though, it was the fact Cindy managed to get O’Connor to carry around a Scooby-Doo teddy under his arm.
Although that man would do anything for her. Always has and always will.
Whereas Layla and I look like we’ve stepped out of one of her dark romance books, and I could tell the second I said yes to the costume that this is something she has fantasized about before.
Standing in line for the haunted house, as Grayson dips to capture Bella’s lips and O’Connor looks like he’s two seconds away from devouring Cindy, Layla turns to me, cocking her hip along with her head. I can just picture the fire igniting behind her eyes, the way they only flare for me.
“Yes, my sunshine?” I drawl.
“Do I look like sunshine incarnate right now?”
Leaning against the wall, I cross my arms over my chest, ignoring everyone else in the line. Even I can hear the smirk in my voice as I purr, “I don’t know what you are right now, but I’ll take it all the same.”
She tsks. “Always a flirt.”
“Always a tease.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“Exactly, so I’m giving you a chance to rectify the situation.”
“I believe the last time I rectified a situation I had you on my lap begging to be fucked.”
Her sharp intake of breath has my lips twitching.
This is the first time we’ve spoken about that night and fuck if I wasn’t dreaming about being able to see the way her eyes are no doubt on fire right now.
She steps into my space, and even with the heeled boots, she still has to tip her head back.
“And if I remember correctly, you were moaning into my mouth.”
“Not ashamed about it. I’d happily do it again.
” Stepping forward, I spin her by her shoulders as the line moves forward, pulling her flush against my back.
We’re up. In this position, I let her know just how much she’s affecting me.
“Also not ashamed to admit that I’ve been this painfully hard since the moment you slid that costume on. ”
Once we get to the attendant, I’m grinning behind my mask, as Layla’s so flustered she can’t speak. I lift my chin in the direction of Bella, Grayson, Cindy, and O’Connor, who are stepping into the House of Terror. “We’re with them,” I say.
Grayson, it seems, is loving his part of the plan. I’m pretty sure he roped O’Connor in on it, too.
Distract the girls. Let me get a chance to be alone with Layla in the house.
The attendant steps aside. “Go on ahead. You’re the last of the group for this session.”
Layla’s walk isn’t as assured as it was before. I bend down to whisper, “Hear that? There’s no one behind us. Careful, sunshine, or I might just start hunting you.”
We walk through the black and red paint smeared door to find we’re utterly alone and that it’s pitch black.
Bending low, I can’t help but tease again, “What do you say, sunshine? Want to play?”
The lights above our heads flicker, illuminating a hallway full of mirrors, all at tilted angles, giving me the perfect view of her beautiful breasts as they rise and fall with her rapid breathing. I know she’s turned on.
The last time she was like this, she was on my lap.
A scream comes from somewhere ahead of us, and before Layla can respond to me, a chainsaw revs behind us. Peering over my shoulder I watch as an actor steps around the corner with a chainsaw, blood dripping down it and his body, their mask sinister.
Layla slides her hand in mine and screams, “Run!”
Not needing to be told twice, we take off down the hall, the actor following us as we come up to a dead end. I’m about to go left when Layla pulls me right, ducking my head I keep my hold on her firm as we run through a door and into a room that looks like a cemetery.
Layla’s scream is loud as one of the bodies half popping out of the dirt of a grave jumps up with a knife and grabs her ankle. They’re wearing a terrifying nun costume.
“Fuck!”
Instinct kicks in and I bend, throwing Layla over my shoulder and taking off through the cemetery. We dodge actors left and right as they all jump out from different gravesites with various weapons.
“Kieran!” Layla screeches, whacking my back. “Put me down!”
“Fuck no! What the fuck kind of haunted house is this?”
“An interactive one, so let me be interacted with. Put me the hell down!”
Kicking down a door I find in the back corner, I step inside, slamming the door shut behind me right as an actor tries to charge into it. I put my shoulder against it, Layla sliding down my body, loving the way her figure feels against mine.
She huffs, pointing an accusatory finger in my face. “What the hell was that?”
“Protection. A thank you would be nice.”
Her lips part, but she’s suddenly cut off by a dark chuckle. We both turn slowly to face the room.
I’m not afraid of much, but my god, my heart utterly sinks at the large boiling pot in the middle of the room. Cages line the walls, filled with actors covered in wounds. A mad scientist drenched in blood walks toward us, cleaning a dirty knife.
The actors in the cages begin to scream, banging on their enclosures, pleading to be let out while blood pours from their mouths.
Fake or not, I’m fucking petrified.
“Layla.”
“Yeah?”
“Start running, sweetheart.”
“Oh, right.”
The second the words leave her mouth, the scientist pounces. Layla and I both scream.
“What the fuck, dude?” His hand wraps around the back of my shirt as I try to run, and I quelch every instinct I have to pummel the guy. “Take your hands off me or I swear to god I’ll break your fucking fingers.”
“Kieran!”
“I’m a little indisposed, sweetheart.”
Her little frustrated groan is adorable until she lets out a petrified scream. I remove the scientist’s hands from me in an instant, not sorry at all for the way I go about it. That’s my girl screaming.
I take off, then immediately come to a screeching halt, nearly slipping on fake blood. A woman is bent upside down, running on her hands and feet in a bridge position straight for us.
“No! Fuck no! That is not normal!”
Layla’s hands are at my back, urging me to go.
“Stop shaming her and hurry up and get us out of here!” she calls over the shrieks of the actors in the cages.
“That can’t be natural! She’s like a fucking pretzel!”
“She’s about to turn us into a pretzel if we don’t go!”
I ignore Layla and throw her over my shoulder again before taking off down the hallway opposite the crazy Ring lady. She keeps whacking my back, relentless, until I let her down.
“You have got to stop picking—” Layla doesn’t finish her sentence before the door behind us slams shut, the lock clicking. “Who the hell just closed the door?”
“Uh, Layla?” I murmur, my eyes never leaving the room we entered.
Her Ghostface mask tips up as she no doubt glares at me behind it. “Yes, Kieran?”
Oh, she’s definitely glaring at me with the amount of sass she just gave me. “You might want to turn around.”
Spinning so fast she almost topples over, I clasp her shoulders to steady her as she faces what can only be described as hell.
The room is lit lowly, with only a few burning candles here and there, but it’s not the dark that scares me, though.
It’s what’s in the middle of the room. There’s a round wooden table with a black cloth thrown over it, the old wicker chairs surrounding it rocking back and forth.
A Ouija board sits in the middle of the table, the planchette moving.
“No way,” she whispers.
A cackle of laughter echoes throughout the room, followed by a squeaking sound that draws both our gazes to the corner of the room. There, we find a rocking chair moving on its own, occupied by an Annabelle doll.
“Kieran?”
“Yeah, sunshine?”
“Feel free to do that carrying thing again.”
Throwing Layla over my shoulder, something grabs the back of my neck at the same time I try and take off, the long nails scraping my skin under the mask. Layla screams as she pushes herself up.
“What is it?” I call out, running through the room and away from the hand with creepy nails as objects starts to fly around us.
“It’s a fucking moving Annabelle doll!” she screams at the top of her lungs. “Fucking run!”
“I got you, baby, I got it,” I heave while silently swearing to never fucking do a haunted house again. I knew they were interactive, but an Annabelle doll that has creepy-ass nails that grab your neck? How the hell did they pull this off?
I should tell Coach to set up a haunted house on the ice. That will get our asses moving.