Chapter Eighteen
Eighteen
Caine
This is the sort of thing that could make a man believe in miracles.
Over the seasons at the haunt, I’ve picked up a few signals that Margot might be into masks, but that isn’t unusual.
Tons of people like to have some sexy-scary fun with masks.
Not as many people are able to outline detailed fear play and consensual non-consent scenarios they’d like to try off the top of their heads.
Margot can, and it was all I could do not to grin like a fool as I read through them.
While things could change once play begins, her interests and mine seem like they’re about to complement the hell out of each other.
There are several things on her list that have been private fantasies of mine, but due to their intensity, I’ve been fully prepared to keep them in my head.
Never did I think that Margot would be up for them, let alone come up with them herself and spell it out to the letter.
I can’t wait to help her try every interest she has, but I don’t want to rush it.
We have the rest of our lives—I’d rather build a foundation now, learn to read each other, and make sure our communication is solid.
Though I’ve dabbled in kink enough to feel comfortable with most of the activities on her list, I’m by no means a professional, so I’m going to be doing some research.
I’d envisioned us going back to the house, continuing our conversation, and letting things progress into a fairly vanilla sexual encounter.
Margot wants to play now, though. Looking at her flushed cheeks, teeth nibbling on her bottom lip as she asked, “Could we try something? Since we’re here?
” I was a goner. Now Gremlin is tucked safely in the office with a kids’ show playing on Margot’s phone for her.
Per request, I turned off the overhead lights in the haunt.
With only the glow of the emergency lights, the rooms and corridors feel endless, giving my imagination plenty of room to run wild.
Soft red light illuminates her face enough to see she’s contemplating.
It’s my job to make sure she doesn’t worry herself out of a good time or take too big a bite her first time out.
“Whatcha thinking?”
Indecision flickers across her face. Margot’s on the ledge of what is, debating if she should fling herself off the cliff and into what could be.
I can see the gears in her brain turning as she weighs risk and reward.
She’s calculating the trajectory of the fall, determining how hard she might hit the ground, and if she’ll survive the landing.
You will, I want to say. I swear, I will catch you.
Instead, I go with, “Stop thinking. Start talking. Whatever’s in your head; whatever sounds fun. ”
“Are you sure?”
“Please.” It comes out too hungry.
“Scare me.” Barely louder than a whisper, her words send a lightning bolt of adrenaline racing through me.
“Gorgeous.” It’s almost a growl as I try to hold myself together in the face of her request. “I’ve been trying to do that for years. If it turns out all I had to do this whole time was whip out my monster cock to terrify you, I’m retiring.” Pleasure fills me as she snorts a laugh.
“You can’t call it a monster cock; only other people can.”
I move behind her, grinding against her ass. Clearing my throat pointedly, I wait.
She’s trembling with barely restrained laughter. “Did you put that severed arm in your pants or are you happy to see me?”
Groaning, I bury my face in her hair. Just one little sniff.
“Okay, moving on. I saw your list of hard nos. Is there anything you can think of that you’re not in the mood for this time, even if it isn’t a hard no on the list?”
She slips from my hold, walking farther into the dark. “What if you chase me, and I’ll try to get away. Then we see what happens?”
What I foresee happening is me coming in my pants, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. This also sounds like the primal play attempt she didn’t enjoy, so I need to be sure. “Do you want a predator-and-prey dynamic?”
“Yes, I think I’d like it with you.” Full of ideas, she adds, “Oh, and what if you try to scare me so bad I tap out?”
My cock loves the idea; common sense warns that it’s asking for trouble. “We’re going for a scary, sexy good time here, woman, not a new trauma.”
Humming a thoughtful sound, she glances over her shoulder at me. “Let’s add on to our bet, then. Make me scream, and you can have a kiss before we get to haunt season—but only one.”
I’m getting harder by the sentence, but there’s still enough blood flow to my brain for me to ask, “From fear? Or because you’re coming so hard you can’t help it?”
“I’ll accept either.” She’s standing in the near middle of the entryway now, arms outstretched, as if she can embrace the darkness.
“We can do that.” I stalk toward her. Margot pivots, facing me, shoulders back, chin up.
This is not the body language of a runner.
This is the body language of a fighter. I stop in front of her, close but not touching.
The energy radiating from her is so intense, I wouldn’t be surprised if she shocked me.
She studies me, that adorable thinking wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows.
I wait. Resisting the urge to grab her and kiss every inch she’ll let me requires so much focus that it takes a moment for her next words to sink in.
“Do you remember the Little Red Riding Hood scene we did the first year I helped with the haunt?”
Instead of saying, It changed me on a cellular level, I nod.
“I want it to feel like that.”
My mouth goes dry. Replaying that scene in my head is effortless, but I want to clarify one thing. “That was pretty…” I struggle to find a word other than predatory. “Intense.”
“I liked it.” Her voice is almost a squeak. “But if you didn’t—”
“I did.” Fuck it. I give in to my need. Yanking her to me, I wrap my arms tight around her torso, pinning hers to her sides. She melts into me like a cat winding around a chair leg. “But I’m serious about not doing anything that isn’t 100 percent fun for you—scary in the good way.”
“I know.” The certainty in her voice feels like a hug. “That’s why I want to do this with you.”
My ego—and cock—nearly double in size. “If it’s a little much, but you want to keep playing, say yellow. If you want to stop, say red, okay?”
Margot’s thoughtful. “I need something for if I’m having a good time, but need a slight modification.”
“What type of modification are you thinking?”
“I’m very particular. Say you’re pulling my hair, and one hair is pulled too tight and distracting me too much to come. I need a way to be able to tell you to change your grip, and you know I’m serious without completely derailing the moment.”
I think a beat. “What if we say real before anything that’s serious?” As soon as I say it, I like the idea.
She nods. “That would work. What if my mouth’s full?” The question rings with faux innocence.
Holy shit. She’s torturing me and knows it.
“This time your mouth will not be full.” Mine sounds like it’s full of gravel.
“In the future, four taps, blinks, or muffled screams in a row, and we stop completely. Three will be to pause and regroup.” My cock is throbbing, straining against the front of my jeans.
Truly it’s a miracle I haven’t come all over myself from the conversation. “Any more questions?”
Margot laughs—fucking laughs—at me. It only makes me harder.
“Is it finally time for you to start scaring me?”
“You’re going to regret that,” I rasp. “You get one minute.”
She’s already starting down the corridor. My voice echoes through the dark behind her. “Run while you can, Little Red Riding Whore. You’ll be crawling once I’m done with you.”