Chapter 9 I Will Survive #2
My heart banged in my chest as I strolled through the library, trying to act like I belonged.
Each step I took tugged me closer to the release that I’d desired for years.
It felt like fate was leading me to him.
I skimmed my eyes over a tall man with broad shoulders in a carnival mask.
Not him. I scanned each room, looking beyond masks and costumes.
I’d know which monster he was when I saw him.
I’ll wipe that smugness off his fucking face when I pin him down.
I dreamt of shooting Thaddeus with such precision he’d never get the chance to open his cocky mouth before I stood over his body.
I felt like one of those assassins in an action movie. Swinging in and out of shadows, every last one of my senses on alert for a single target.
A dark, hooded pair of eyes, muscles impossibly large, and a smirk.
My thirst for revenge powered me across the house’s sprawling floor plan.
But soon, I ran into a problem: a huge, gaping hole in my plan.
Looking around the dark room with everyone in costume, I realized it would take me forever to find this man.
I’d know when it was him. I had to. The man had ruined my life.
We were connected in the darkest of ways.
I poured myself another glass of punch and took a sip. It burned going down.
Yuck.
This one tasted different. Whoever mixed it deserved to be fired.
I took small sips and fought the urge to gag.
I continued my search, frustration bubbling inside me with each minute of failing to find him.
Thirty minutes later, I was on my third glass of punch, and the dark room seemed to be spinning.
The pistol in my purse felt heavier than when I’d arrived.
The plan was failing. Maybe Thaddeus skipped his own party.
Or perhaps his costume was so good that I couldn’t recognize him.
I left the dance floor and headed to one of the downstairs bathrooms to splash water on my neck, afraid a single drop on my face would reveal my identity too soon.
A long line flowed from each. My head throbbed. What is in that punch? I felt dizzy, warm. My brain was foggy. Shit, the punch was spiked. It was stronger than before, hitting me harder than alcohol had ever done.
Ugh, this house has plenty of other bathrooms upstairs. Cursing under my breath, I climbed up the sprawling staircase and headed into the first restroom before locking myself inside.
“Ah,” I breathed. The cool stream of water on my neck felt like heaven.
I splashed myself some more, wiping away the sweat from my skin, then turned off the tap to look at my reflection in the mirror.
I had to admit I hardly looked like a killer.
Sweat blurred the black eye paint into the white until it looked like I was crying, my tears running dark.
A strange sensation swirled inside me. I felt off. The punch was the only logical explanation. We weren’t in high school anymore, so why would somebody spike it? I moved slowly as I left the bathroom. My knees and ankles weakened, and I stumbled. My brain wasn’t working right.
Where was I?
I knew I was somewhere familiar, but I couldn’t quite grasp where I was.
My sneakers dragged against the carpet more slowly than usual.
I opened a door. In the dimly lit room, a man was changing.
I began to mumble an apology but couldn’t look away.
Swaying forward, I blinked, trying to get a better visual.
All I could focus on was his chest, a lot of it.
Hard. A six-pack. He hadn’t noticed me yet.
I couldn’t stop myself. I reached out and touched him. God, he felt good.
“Who are you? Why are you up here?” a rough voice asked.
When I finally tore my gaze off his chest, I lifted my eyes to his face.
Any man with a chest like that had to be handsome.
I sighed in disappointment. He had painted his face black, with sharp white lines contouring his bone structure to make him look skeletal.
I’m at a costume party, I remembered through clouded thoughts.
I wanted to touch him again, and I trailed my hand down his arm. Music thumped below us. The shirtless skeleton god placed his hand on my hip. I couldn’t speak. My breath caught in my throat. He stumbled backward and let go. My skin felt cool where his touch had been.
For a second, he stared at me.
“Oh, you decided to come after all? Thought you said it was childish—” he started. His mouth contorted into a smirk.
I didn’t know what that meant. Did we know each other? Why would he think I wouldn’t come to a party?
I began to protest, but he lurched forward, taking my painted face in his hands.
He pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was desperate, messy, deep.
I lost all ability to think beyond this man’s body.
I ran my hands everywhere I could, pulling at his jeans as he pulled at my skirt.
His lips never left mine. His eager, panting breaths filled me with heat.
My shirt came off over my head. Then, off came my bra.
I pressed myself against his chest, and he moaned into my mouth.
My hand found his dick, hard against his boxers, dying to be freed.
I moved my hand up and down as heat pooled inside me.
He dragged me to the bed and pulled me down on top of him, his cock pressing against my panties.
When did I take my pants off? I slipped my hand inside his waistband and wrapped it around his thick cock.
When he moaned, I felt wetness pool at my center. Oh God, please!
As though he’d heard my internal plea, he slipped his boxers down and pulled my panties to the side before slamming his length into me.
I pushed myself further against him, and then moved slowly, savoring each moment.
What felt like minutes later, he rolled me onto my hands and knees.
His hand found my clit, and his finger rubbed me in small circles.
I felt the orgasm build as he pressed my head into the bed.
He bucked against me and tensed, and then started to move slowly again.
His fingers circled faster and faster. As I erupted around him, the orgasm overtook my entire body in shuddering waves.
I collapsed into the bed, exhausted but satisfied.
As sleep dragged me down, I was vaguely aware of the stranger pulling me back against his naked body. Just before I drifted away, a small part of me remembered . . .
There was something I was supposed to be doing.
I awoke to the room spinning and bucking like a fun house.
I felt like an icepick had been driven into my skull.
The punch. What the fuck had I done? I rolled over, knowing that I wasn’t alone.
The damp patch in my panties told me that.
Damn, he was ripped. He turned away from me, his wide, muscular shoulders on display.
I rarely had one-night stands, but who cared if I did?
Why shouldn’t I have some fun every once in a while? As long as I was responsible . . .
I shot up in bed. Shit, we did use a condom, didn’t we? I barely remembered anything from last night. My mind was a fog, and thinking too hard caused the icepick to sink deeper.
Pressing my eyes shut against the pain, I tried to recall anything that might’ve put me in a disastrous position. The memories flowed in faintly, enough to offer a general picture but unhelpful for the specifics. I remembered riding him and then coming as he pressed my face into the bed.
My heart slammed against my ribcage. There was a good chance I’d had unprotected sex with a stranger.
Something I’d never done before. I was always, always careful.
I scanned the room. Gray walls, a framed A Nightmare on Elm Street poster.
Another man who was obsessed with that movie.
At least there was no knife collection. A blazer with a familiar-looking logo hung over the door.
I squinted to see it all the way over from the bed.
Just then, the guy stirred. Good, I had a few questions for him. A gnawing feeling made me glance back at the jacket.
Why did that logo look familiar?
I held the sheet against my chest to cover myself as I reached over and yanked the man’s shoulder. I needed to see his face.
“You’re up earlier than usual,” he groaned, rolling to face me.
“Shit!” This can’t be happening. This cannot be happening.
Thaddeus bolted upright beside me. “What are you fucking doing here?” The raspiness of his voice chilled me to my core. It’s been years since I’ve heard that morning voice.
Horror washed over me as I grappled to understand the situation. Thaddeus’s tired yet cold, narrowed eyes sliced through me like knives.
There’s no way this is happening. Of all the life-changing choices I could have made last night—like putting a freaking bullet in his body as I’d promised myself I would do, I ended up fucking him.
A soap opera couldn’t create a twist of events this maddening. I watched, frozen from shock, as he jumped from the bed and ran his hand through his disheveled hair. His face paint was mostly gone, smeared across his face from sleep. So was mine.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” My eyes roved around the contours of his abs. He was fully naked. Packed with muscle. The dick that had been inside me last night hung between his legs. My mouth filled with saliva.
Jesus, Summer, pull yourself together!
I tore my eyes away and began searching for my clothes.
The color had drained from his face, and his now-sharp voice was edged with shock and disbelief. “Wait, I fucked you last night? I thought it was Mimi.” He remained in position, not moving, not covering himself. The twist of his lips told me he was trying to piece together what had happened.
Sourness grew in my mouth. “I think someone spiked your fucking punch. Do you think I wanted to fuck you? Get over yourself. I was drunk.”
He frowned. “I drank the same thing, and you didn’t seem drunk.”
“I need to go.”
Thaddeus grabbed my arm. “Answer the damn question! Why the fuck are you in my house and room?”
The strength of his grip made me flinch. His cool, dark gaze pinned me to the spot. I stood there, helpless and exposed beneath his towering body.
Training my eyes not to stray downwards for too long, I said, “I needed to use the bathroom, and well, I guess I went to the one I remembered clearly. Obviously, it was a mistake.” Irritation ripped through me.
I kept my eyes where they belonged, refusing to look at the cock hanging inches away, but Thaddeus had no problem letting his eyes drop to my chest. I hugged my breasts defensively with my free arm, while I forced the arm he held captive loose. Fuck, he’s strong.
I needed to leave this place quickly and forget the night had ever happened. I pulled on my costume, which now seemed completely comical and a little humiliating under the circumstances.
I’d strutted into his house the previous night dressed as the Joker and would leave as just a joke.
Desperate to get away, I yanked my bag from the nightstand.
When I heard a metal object clunk to the ground, I didn’t need to look to see what it was.
By the sound and Thaddeus’s face, I knew what had fallen out of my purse.
“You normally walk around with a gun?”
The growl in his tone made the hair on my neck rise. Shit, I should’ve been more careful.
“That’s none of your business,” I hurled and tried to retrieve my gun.
Thaddeus bent down and picked up the pistol. It looked tiny in his hand.
“Give it to me,” I ordered.
He lifted it above his head, knowing I was too short to reach it.
He cocked his head to the side, studying the gun with a brow lifted in curiosity. “Wait a fucking minute. You came to my house with a gun, seduced me, and what . . . was the rest of the plan to kill me?” Thaddeus questioned; his mocking tone made my cheeks burn up.
Does this guy ever manage not to be totally smug and insufferable?
He broke out into uncontrollable laughter, standing there, buck naked, with my pistol.
I faced him, seething. If I ever got my hands back on that gun, I’d shoot him in a crowd full of people. Screw it.
When he doubled over and continued laughing, I was near my breaking point, but watching him wipe actual tears from his face pushed me over the edge.
“I wish you were dead, you fucking piece of shit!”
Thaddeus grinned, clearly happy I’d lost my cool. “Thanks for the fuck. I forgot just how good that pussy of yours is.”
My body stiffened at his words.
Just as I was about to tell him to go to hell, he lifted his phone, and I watched, confused.
“Yes, hello. I need the police.”
Wait. He wouldn’t. My eyes bulged.
“Yes, there’s an intruder with a gun in my house, and they’ve come to kill me.”
This damn man never stopped. I took deep, sharp breaths in disbelief.
“Well, I have the gun, and I’ve foiled her plot with my dick.”
Why the hell did he need to go into such detail?
“Yes, my cock stopped the attempt on my life,” Thaddeus explained, then winked at me.
“I wish I had killed you,” I hurled.
He dodged my raised foot aimed at his calf, set the gun on the bedside table, then grabbed both my arms with his free hand.
“You heard her. She still wants to kill me. Please hurry. Send someone over. I wouldn’t want to have to use my cock again to save my life.”
I. Wanted. To. Kill. Him.