Chapter Thirty-Seven #3
Loosening my tie, I fight the urge to discard the offensive accessory altogether.
I regret my decision to dress to impress the local news crew that stopped by earlier today to film a short piece on the haunt.
Right now, I’m watching the love of my life on the security camera monitor.
She’s made it through eleven of the twelve rooms in this year’s extreme haunt.
With each room, my heart’s sunk a little further.
I love Margot’s bravery, but just this once, I wish she would give in.
I really thought this year would be the one.
Our tap-out percentage is higher than every other year I’ve worked here.
Patrons have experienced pitch-black tunnels, electric shocks, flocks of killer clowns, and, the simulation I’m particularly proud of, an activity that mimics being buried alive.
Margot rode out all of it. This final room will be a breeze.
The floor shakes, and there’s an assortment of zombies running around, but nothing that will faze her.
Sure enough, she makes it to the halfway point in record time.
I’ve completely given up hope when she freezes, staring straight into the camera.
I grin even though she can’t see me. Despite how desperately I want that kiss, I do like seeing her get a little cocky.
I’m sure she’s about to gloat, probably flip me off.
Eyes still staring straight into mine, she holds up her left wrist. The glow-in-the-dark electronic wristband patrons wear to indicate whether they want to continue the extreme haunt glows fluorescent green.
“What are you doing?” I murmur to her image.
She fiddles with it, the band switching to the bright, pulsing red that indicates a patron is requesting removal from the experience. Each room has several team members whose only job is to watch for red bands and guide patrons from the haunt. Snatching my walkie-talkie, I shove back from the desk.
“Nobody touch the red band in room eleven.” The instruction comes out rabid. “She’s mine.”
“What is happening?” someone asks.
Another voice answers, “Margot’s tapping out.”
“Caine’s losing his shit,” a third person joins in.
I ignore them all, racing through the corridors at breakneck speed. Careening into the final room like a bat out of hell, I startle a few participants, who scream. I don’t slow down. Along the far wall, a red band glows.
Margot’s giggle reaches my ears a second before I’m on her. Her laughter turns into a shriek as I grab her, flinging her up and over my shoulder.
“This is not Abattoir protocol,” she yelps, but it doesn’t matter. We’re out of room eleven, moving through one of the rarely used hallways.
“It is today.” I spank her ass. It’s inches from my face, tempting me mercilessly.
Then we’re in a storage closet, the door slamming behind us.
I hit the light, my fingers unable to lock the door as fast as I’d like.
The instant it clicks, I’m setting her on her feet, driving her backward until her ass bumps the wall.
Overhead, the dimming bulb flickers, then dies.
It doesn’t matter. I’ve been fantasizing about kissing her lips for so long that nothing could keep me from them.
“Somebody’s eager.” Margot’s taunting me but sounds pretty damn ready herself. “You didn’t even give me a chance to congratulate you on your win—”
My lips finally cover hers, and I swallow her words.
Oh my god. Heaven’s real. It tastes like strawberry ChapStick and smells like rosemary shampoo.
Sounds like her shaky gasp when I cradle her jaw, kissing her deeper.
Teasing her tongue with mine, I try not to groan as she presses her body against me.
I fail. The noise brings Margot to life.
One hand fisting my shirt, the other already undoing my jeans, she pants into my mouth. “Get inside me.”
Gladly.
She frees my cock. I grab one of her legs, hiking it up around my hip. I don’t know when she stripped her leggings; my brain is unable to focus on anything beyond her mouth moving with mine. She angles her hips, and I thrust.
I stand corrected: this is heaven. Her tongue in my mouth.
My cock sinking into her warmth, so hot she may burn me down where I stand.
Running my thumb along her cheek, I try to savor her, but I can’t.
She was meant to be devoured in huge, hungry bites.
From the way she’s rocking her hips, pulling me closer and closer, she’s as ravenous for me.
She releases my hip to slide a hand between us, her pussy gripping me tighter as she works her clit.
Usually, this is the point where I’d say something filthy, taunt her, or wind her up so I can feel her convulse around me even as she gives me hell right back.
The feeling of her body responding to my words even as her lips protest is a kind of depraved power I never imagined craving.
She isn’t the only one who’s expanded her sexual horizons.
But anything that requires me to stop kissing her right now is an immediate no.
Driving into her harder and harder, I’m aware of the shelving unit on the wall beside us rattling.
Margot gasps, body bucking as I fuck her like I’m trying to put her through the wall.
She’s coming and I’m about to join her. Bottles of window cleaner and rolls of paper towels hit the ground.
Moaning, she tries to turn her head, to cry out somewhere other than my mouth.
Not a chance. Gripping her jaw, I devour every single sound she gives me.
Shattering, she claws at my back. Two more vicious thrusts, and I follow.
More cleaning supplies come tumbling down, but I can’t stop kissing her.
On the floor, my headset crackles with words I don’t even try to make out.
A UFO can land in the parking lot. The killer clowns can go off script.
Let the whole world crumble if it wants to; nothing can ruin this.