Chapter 3
The gravel cracked under my tires as I pulled into the Hardings’ drive. The fucking fence was so high it reeked of the money spent on it. Xanthy’s family was the elite rich assholes of Normal, Alabama.
They owned the biggest plantation I’d ever seen, especially coming from the rest of the town, which looked like areas of land full of tumbleweeds by comparison.
I had not been here before, though she’d begged me for months.
I stayed at the university in Kentucky, and my clinical studies were more important.
It was the one thing I had to do to keep my mind from… wandering.
Fuck me. It’s so much later than I promised her. She will have my balls for this.
There was no hiding from the masses. Thousands of fucking cars were parked along the outskirts of the plains, right up to the mansion.
It was getting hard to drive without running over all the idiots covered in fake blood and lame costumes.
I wanted to kill my girlfriend for signing me up for this shit.
Am I seriously supposed to chase people in a maze and pretend to kill them?
I guess it would be fun to play a character. An opportunity to let my own mask fall for the night.
But what if it was too hard to put back up the facade when it was over?
Nervous energy flooded me, and I reached into my pocket and squeezed my pain stimulation toy.
It was hardly a release, but I needed to get this damn edge off.
Usually, only two things got me off the edge when I was like this, sex…
and killing. I couldn’t go hunting right now.
If I cancelled on Xanthy, I’d be the fish on the spike.
I rolled down my window and squinted past the harsh floodlights shining in my face. A guard of little words grunted when I said my name.
“I’m Shiloh Anderson. Xanthy Harding is my girlfriend. She signed me up as one of the stupid masked men.”
Another grunt.
“I know I’m late, but my girl will put my balls in a vice if I don’t make it there quickly. Help me out here, friend?”
Caveman speak was apparently all I was getting from this man. I couldn’t see shit past the light anyway, so I was surprised when the plastered-on charm had the smaller version of the hunt’s gates opening wide for my SUV.
“Thank you. Have a great night.”
Would a man so quiet stay that still when a blade dissected his liver?
Sprayed paint guided me to a spot with my name, and I killed the engine. Chest tight, I rehearsed excuses I knew Xanthy wouldn’t buy, but would forgive anyway.
She always did.
That was the problem.
Her forgiveness was instant, too easy, like I hadn’t let her down at all. A simple kiss that left her breathless, and more empty promises I never met would be the bandage she needed to repeat the cycle.
Being here, in her own territory, would be harder.
I didn’t know this ground. I hated not knowing my environment.
Maybe I could use anonymity to my advantage and snoop around the maze to better understand the area.
There were clearly fucking cameras everywhere I looked, but there had to be blind spots, didn’t there?
The corn maze loomed in the dark beyond the mansion in front of me, lit in patches by strings of orange bulbs sagging between poles. Men and women alike screamed somewhere deep inside the rows, and laughter pitched high enough to confuse the sound with real fear.
My stomach knotted at the sound.
Fear was too potent.
Why must I act like a fucking addict and line my eyeline with nothing but the dealer’s best poisons?I shouldn’t have come.
But Xanthy wanted me here, and when she wanted something, I caved, every time. Not because I loved her. I didn’t know how to love. Sure, the sex was good enough, and her presence kept things interesting.
But the real reason I had to be on my best behavior was that Xanthy was the epitome of a good girl. The rich socialite‘s daughter, who oozed perfection and normalcy, I needed her to keep me hidden in plain sight.
I needed her mundane wants, her elaborate ideals, and the kind of vanilla bullshit sex that I was already afraid to push too far.
Xanthy was safe because she embodied the very mask I hid behind so I didn’t slip into what was truly underneath.
I spotted her leaning against the side of the mansion, arms crossed, her black, silky hair catching the light. When her gaze landed on me, I braced for the sharp tongue lashing she had waiting.
But it didn’t come.
She pushed off the wall, her beautiful smile lighting up the area. She was walking away from a space that reminded me of some form of costume-changing station.
There were chairs, mirrors, costumes, buckets of fake blood, masks, and lines of people in all forms of scary, drinking beer, cramming food in their mouths, and glaring at me as I walked from my vehicle.
This was a drama nerd’s wet dream.
Xanthy wasn’t glaring, though. She was grinning, her relief outweighing her irritation at my fuck up.
“You’re late,” she said, tugging me down for a kiss before I could respond.
“I know. Sorry. I was—”
“Shut up.” She didn’t want excuses.
Her deep red painted lips pressed to mine again, harder this time, hungry. The shift in her body instantly made me hard in the stupid leather pants I was told to wear.
“Don’t say a word, Shi,” she ordered, pressing into my erection with those tantalizing hips she knew how to work so well. I groaned in her mouth, keeping my words to myself.
By the time she dragged me toward the side door, taking us into a parlor area, my pulse had already betrayed me, racing under her touch.
She didn’t stop moving until we were inside, half-hidden in the shadows, and her hands were under my shirt, her nails already scraping lines across my chest, pulling urgently on the hem of my pants.
“Missed you, asshole,” she murmured against my jaw, letting her hot tongue drag along my skin.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I pushed her against the wall, my body falling into the familiar script she loved. My mouth claimed hers, my hands slid to her hips, gripping just tight enough to make her groan.
I lifted her easily as she wrapped her legs around me.
She gasped, biting my lip, and moaning like she wanted the whole maze to hear us. That wasn’t possible. Maybe the masked actors in the next room, but nothing could blur the shrills and shrieks outside.
“I need you, Shiloh. Don’t make me wait another second.”
I gave her what she asked for. Or at least, the version of me I could give her without slipping too far into uncontrolled territory.
My hips rolled into her, steady and controlled, each thrust met with her cries, egging her moans higher. But inside me, there was a voice that always snarled louder.
Harder. Rougher. Make her scream until she breaks. Make her beg to take you.
I caged the voice inside, as always.
Muted the fucker with my groans.
Smoothed it out so all she felt was the rhythm, and none of the restraint.
Xanthy never noticed. She thought I was measured, thoughtful. Hell, she touted my sexual prowess in all her text messages about how giving and perfect I was. She didn’t know I was holding myself back, locking the darker pieces behind my soul so I wouldn’t ruin her.
The fucking screams outside got louder, the massive gate allowing more morons to run into the maze and haunted houses.
Shut up. Screams…mmm. Shut the fuck up.
“Oh, fuck yes. More, Shiloh. More.”
Xanthy was needy tonight. Maybe the leather outfit and fake handcuffs on my belt made her horny.
I smiled against her neck, reaching forward and ripping her white corset shirt down the middle.
Her gasp was swallowed by my mouth, my hands gripping her tits and anchoring her to the wall.
“Shhh,” I instructed, my voice ragged with how hard I needed to hold back tonight. The charged sensations and the screams in the backdrop made me vibrate against her. “I thought you didn’t want words, Alexandra.”
Her squeak was cute. It made me want to squeeze her harder.
Keeping her anchored by her tits on the wall, I reached down and pulled the plastic handcuffs off my belt loop, wrapping her wrists inside and slamming her cuffed hands above her head.
“Oh! Shiloh, what’s gotten into you? Don’t stop.”
Her voice was shaky, the slightest bit of fear lingering there. I couldn’t help myself. I latched onto the sound like a lifeline, bit her neck a little too hard, and heard her sharp gasp turn into a whimper of pleasure and pain.
She had a mask resting on her head, a bunny with fake blood, and a stellar smile. Having a smile of my own, I pulled her mask off her head, being gentle not to pull her hair.
She stared at me, eyes bewildered, confirming my earlier notion that she definitely had a mask kink. Placing the mask over my face, I pulled my dick out of my pants and shoved her to her knees by the cuffs.
Now you can’t see me. You won’t know that my moans aren’t from your pleasure, but the pain you’re in from me.
“Mmm. I will get you wet, Baby. So wet, so you can fuck me. I missed you so much, Shi—”
I didn’t let her finish her sentence. I slammed her mouth onto my cock so hard she smashed her face into my stomach. The way she gagged and struggled for air made me harder. My hands were wrapped in her blonde hair, my boot on the middle of the cuffs, keeping her from pushing off of me.
You need to stop, Shiloh. Let her breathe. This is too far.
But I couldn’t, I was enthralled with the way she struggled, the warmth of her mouth, the saliva dripping down her face, melding with her tears and smeared makeup.
“Fuck!” I barked, nearly coming as I ripped her off my dick and tried to catch my breath as she struggled for her own.
“Shiloh? Holy fuck. You can’t just hold my face on you like that. I couldn’t breathe.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My cock bounced with the rapid inhales of her breathing, and I shook my head. The fake apologies spilling freely like the thick saliva coating her face.
“I’m so sorry, Baby. I missed you so much. I am so sorry.”
I kissed her, pulling off the mask, chucking it aside, and holding her in my arms. She forgave me. Every caress, every whispered plea, she submitted to me. I had her back on her knees, my hands pressed against my ass, using the wall to keep them locked away.
Xanthy was good with her mouth. It was always enough to make me come. Even if those orgasms were a muted comparison to the one I stopped myself from having. I watched her head bob up and down as her slurping sounds grew louder. I leaned my head back against the wall, allowing my eyes to close.
Then everything shifted.
The air thickened. A cold crept along the back of my neck, leaving a pinprick feeling in its wake. I didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t sense any movement, or hear the parlor door opening. But I felt the presence.
I opened my eyes, and he was there—Xanthy’s brother.
Carrington Harding.
He was leaning in the parlor’s doorway, casual as hell, like he’d been waiting.
His clothes were spattered with something dark, and I didn’t have to guess what it was.
Everyone whispered about him, but whispers weren’t the same as seeing him stand there like death dressed in leather.
His face was a blank, calm and detached, but his eyes were sharp… watching.
Watching me.
My body stuttered. My hips faltered against Xanthy’s mouth. She didn’t notice, too lost in the frenzy she’d pulled me into. But I noticed.
Carrington didn’t look away from us. Didn’t even flinch. No apologies for standing there like some shadow cut out of the darkness. His gaze stayed on me, dissecting every inch of the way I moved against his sister’s mouth.
It wasn’t disgust.
It wasn’t a shock.
It was…curiosity.
Like he’d figured out, I was holding something back. Like he could smell the restraint bleeding out of me, taste it in the way my breath hitched and stuttered from the pressure on my caged hands.
And fuck…I hated the way my skin prickled under his stare.
Because he is right.
How could he see through me in seconds?
I wanted to snarl, to shove him out, to cover myself, anything—but I couldn’t. I was locked in place, my body still moving against Xanthy, my dick still pulsing, and thrusting into her mouth repeatedly, even though my mind had shifted entirely to him.
She didn’t see her brother standing there. She was turned toward me and the wall. She didn’t feel the dark aura around us like I did. I hadn’t met Carrington.
Only knew of his rebel past and whispered rumors from my college mates.
Looking at him now, he fit every single word said about him. His dark hair looked just as sexed up as mine, hanging in unruly waves around his face, his body pretty par to my own if not a bit more muscular.
It was obvious why women seemed to flock around him.
He gave off the vibe of a bad emo boy ready to destroy you, even when he wasn’t saying a damn word.
Carrington’s mouth twitched, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, not kind, not mocking. Something even colder was lying dormant there. Like he’d already catalogued me, slid me into some dark drawer in his head, saving the information for a better purpose when it suited him best.
My breath caught. My rhythm broke. And in that slip, I felt something raw and rough pulse through me, spilling out from the unsettling way Carrington’s eyes looked through me like glass.
His cold eyes, the color of fucking hazy corn, narrowed as if he’d seen it happen. My shift. The crack in my charade before I placed my figurative mask back into place.
He pushed off the doorframe, turning back to the other room, and leaving without a word.
But the damage was done.
Because when I closed my eyes, all I could see was him watching me. Seeing me for the darkness I hid behind. It was terrifying, and that fear made me fucking feral.
I was intrigued by his response.
I wasn’t into dudes.
I definitely didn’t want my girlfriend’s brother watching me fuck her mouth. I was always afraid of being seen for what I was…
So why was I coming down her throat, thinking about those haunting eyes looking right through me?