25. Casper
I’m watching the cameras on my phone, tucked away in the shadowed entrance of the corn maze, waiting for the next move as I jump through camera feeds.
And then I find her, booking it out of the front door of the house, her hair swooshing violently, her arms pumping at her sides as she flies down the stoop.
A shriek tears through the air, and I would be worried about neighbors calling the cops if I hadn’t already covered that base, giving them a heads-up about the scary movie that’s being filmed here tonight and a generous tip for any distress it might cause.
Three Ghostfaces burst out of the house behind her, and it’s quite a sight as number four joins the ranks at the bottom of the stairs, all of them guiding her right toward me.
“Shit, shit, shit, not the maze.” Her voice echoes in my ear like a warning, but I don’t make a move yet. She may just need a second to work through it.
She starts to zigzag, but the guys keep her on the path, not getting too close to her, just enough to stop her from running in the opposite direction.
“Where are you?” she gasps, at full sprint, quickly closing the distance between us, only about forty feet remaining. “You’re in there, aren’t you?” A tremor of terror breaks her voice.
“Don’t stop now, baby. I have so many things I want to do to you …
” I step forward, standing directly below the wooden arch entrance and lit sign.
But the corn extends past it a few feet, offering me a bit of cover.
“Come on, Scaredy-Cat. You’re past the scary third act.
This is the happy, pleasure-filled resolve. ”
Her steps start to slow as she nears, and I tuck my phone in my pocket, not wanting a distraction in sight when she turns and runs straight into me. Which is exactly what she does. One of them steals her attention, and she looks back just long enough so she doesn’t see me strike.
But I don’t go for her neck. I want to up the ante. This is all about giving her this fantasy in a controlled and comfortable environment that simply edges the boundaries, not breaks them. And triggering her assault by grabbing her throat is certainly not going to help that.
“Gotcha,” I murmur.
Her head whips around as I secure her shoulders in my hands, her eyes wide with fear. She doesn’t need or want me to treat her like she’s breakable. Instead, I give her time, a few moments to adjust, to process, and to catch her breath.
Tipping my head up, I nod at the other guys, and they turn and walk off, fist-bumping each other as they go, whispering among themselves—probably about how great they did. Pssh, the egos on those fucks.
“Does it count as a chase if you’re not the one chasing?” Her question is chock-full of attitude, and I think she’s baiting me. Maybe just to be a brat or to lure me out of the maze because she doesn’t want to take another step inside.
“You want to be chased again?” I ask her, my voice calm.
Vulnerability glazes her eyes as they flick into the darkness behind me, then back up at me.
Slowly, she nods, her whisper barely audible. “I’m sorry—”
“No,” I cut her off the split second I realized what she’s saying. “Don’t you dare apologize, baby. This is your fantasy.”
“Trauma exposure sex therapy.” She mutters the words like some wild mantra, and I cock my head to the side. “Never mind.”
“This is your pace, mixed with a bit of mine, but regardless, it’s a safe space.”
I take a step toward her, and she backs up, a smirk forming on her lips. She’s back in. We’re just going into the crop, and that’s perfectly fine by me.
“Five-second head start.”
“Five.” I start the countdown, and she immediately takes off, turning and sprinting back toward the house.
“Four.” Maybe I pushed her too far, too soon, but that doesn’t mean we can’t salvage the night.
I don’t plan on letting her leave until my cum is dripping between her thighs.
“Three.” Until her pussy is sore from my cock.
“Two.” I want my name haunting the halls of the house, her screaming it over and over. “One.”
I step out of the arch, walking in the path she left behind, and I take off, racing after her at full speed. She’s not going to get super far. I’m a hell of a lot faster than her. But I let her gain a little distance, flying up the stairs and into the house.
I’m forty feet behind her, and I can see her, clear as day, running up the stairs toward the second floor.
Thirty feet. I lose my sightline, but when I stomp up the stoop and slam the front door closed behind me, she squeals.
I could easily check the cameras, and I will if I can’t find her.
I could probably sniff her out from her scent alone.
“Scaredy-Caaaat,” I sing up through the stairs, my hand trailing along the railing as I take the steps two or three at a time. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
The giggle can’t help but escape her, and mine nearly betrays me, as I’m overjoyed to hear the happiness in her sounds.
I don’t want her scared or actually frightened.
On edge? Yeah. Her nerves outstretched, waiting for me to strike?
One thousand percent. I’m heightening her senses, not shutting them down.
I continue up the stairs, quickly searching through the second floor before coming up empty. So, she went up to the third—
Click.
I hear it, the unmistakable sound of her door clicking open, one I’ve heard countlessly since our relationship began.
Giving her a moment to hide or change her mind, I rustle around for a few seconds before climbing the last set of stairs. My boots ascend each step, and before I reach the top, I still as I see her tiptoeing back down the hallway toward her room to the left, confused, as she was already there.
What’re you doing?
Silently, I reach the landing and follow behind her, amused in the way her body is leaning at the waist, her elbows bent and head swiveling, like she’s expecting me to jump out.
She reaches the end of the hall and turns ninety-degrees to her left.
I watch the redness drain from her cheeks as she spots me out of the corner of her eye.
Slowly, she turns to me, her lips parting.
Then I swear she vanishes into the room like a goddamn roadrunner, throwing the door back behind her. It thumps, bouncing off the mechanism.
“You can’t run from me, Mona,” I warn her, quickly closing the distance to the secret door. “Why’d you double back?”
I push the door open, and the vision before me answers the question. The candlesticks she used to use to light the room are all lit, casting a warm yellow glow over everything. A lighter’s on the floor by the door, the reason for her side quest.
She jumps out at me from behind the door, her fingers curled and shouting, “Ahh! Gotcha!”
But I don’t scream or run and hide.
No, I grab her waist, lift her up, and haul her over my shoulder. “Oh, Mona.” I smack her ass, kicking the door shut behind me. “When are you going to learn that I’m the one in control?”
It’s taking everything in me not to chuckle as I replay the image of her jumping out all proudly in my mind, a memory I’m sure I’ll revisit time and time again. But first, we have a few more memories to make.
Digging into my pocket, I retrieve the cuffs. She stiffens in my arms when she hears the metal unfurling. But I know this is yet another fantasy of hers, one we're fulfilling tonight.
“It’s time for our little game.”
I ease her to the bed, her body sliding down my front and sending bolts of pleasure straight to my dick.
My stare’s locked on hers as I reach behind her and cuff her hands together, separated only from a couple inches of cold metal.
Her eyes are hooded, pupils shot with lust, and she’s practically panting.
“All it took was some cuffs to get that mouth to behave? Could’ve broken these out a long time ago.”
“These smart lips can still move if you keep that up,” she snarks, and I laugh darkly.
“Tell me, are you only using your lips for sass tonight, or are you going to get on your knees and remind me what else that pretty mouth can do?”
“Actually—”
My hand closes over her lips, and the other sinks into her hair.
“Shh, shh, shh. Let’s fill that mouth with something useful. And I have a better idea than you on your knees, something a little more uncomfortable.”
I guide her down onto the bed, the cuffs and her arms behind her back as she leans against them, her head hanging off the edge of the bed.
Once I’ve got her right where I want her, I release my hold on her and shove my pants and boxers to my ankles, fisting my cock and pumping the length base to tip.
She seals her mouth closed, looking up at me with defiance. Which means she wants one thing—me to be rougher.
Message received.
“Open your fucking mouth, Mona,” I growl, bending down and grabbing her jaw. “If I have to ask you again, I’m edging you until you cry.”
And just like that, she obeys, parting her lips and granting me access. Stepping forward, I crouch, then drop to one knee, realizing that’ll give me the perfect height to drill my dick down her throat.
My tip swirls the entrance of her mouth, and her tongue darts out, practically begging for it.
“You want a taste?”
She nods, being a good girl, no snarkiness in the big, upturned eyes or wiggling hips.
I step forward, pulling her oversize T-shirt, long enough to cover her ass and a few inches of her thighs, up her body. She squeezes her knees together, so I smack the side of her thigh, sinking my fingers into her pliable flesh.
“Are you going to open your legs, or should I do it for you?”
On command, like the greediest girl, they part, and I find her center, fisting the lace tights and ripping them wide open. Her panties are soaked, her thighs glistening in the candlelight.
“Jesus Christ.” I drag two fingers through her core, stroking over her clit and making her back arch sharply.
Leaning back, I plunge them into her mouth, and she sucks eagerly. Fuck. I snap, unable to wait another second to feel her.