Chapter 2
NOX
"Is that a boo basket?"
The air is colder than expected—unnaturally so; it feels more like a crypt than a candy shop.
A faint fog clings to the floor, curling around my ankles like it has a mind of its own.
The scent is a strange mix of sugar and cinnamon, but dulled, sealed in wax.
It’s definitely one of her witchy tricks, the kind she uses to make everything just a little too… spooky.
Her green eyes glow in the dim light—like twin emeralds cursed to shimmer in the dark.
A thin line of black eyeliner traces their shape with surgical precision.
Smoky eye shadow bleeds outward in bruised shades of violet and charcoal, giving the illusion of shadows creeping from the corners of her eye.
Her lashes flutter slowly—hypnotically—like the legs of something that should never crawl freely.
Those enchanting lashes, I desire looking up at me when she gives me a blowjob.
When her gaze falls on the basket, the shop itself seems to hold its breath.
And when she smiles… those wicked eyes do not soften; they sharpen.
"It is." I stop in front of her and let my eyes linger on her legs wrapped in black tights. A leather skirt clings to her hips like a second skin; it’s high-waisted and cut just above the knee. The subtle slit is a weapon itself, designed to distract, to tempt, to undo.
"For me?"
I set the orange basket next to her. Yes, for you.
Everything for you! I don’t say a word. I don’t have to.
She knows. Oh, how well she knows what I can do for her.
Cold and tiny fingers, that are impossibly light begin to trace my forearm.
They crawl as if searching for something beneath the surface.
I freeze, and the air thickens. Each touch sends a shiver racing up my spine.
Crawling. Clinging. Her neck is exposed, and the candlelight reveals its pale skin and pulse of life.
It’s so close, so vulnerable, but something holds me back.
It’s not mercy that stops me; it’s her hand in my pants.
She hops from the counter, pulling me after her.
Yes… she’s pulling out my cock while I follow her to the other side of the counter like a fucking dog.
She releases my cock and pulls down her leather skirt; Fuck me!
And removes her tights. Her black sweater covers her ass perfectly.
"Are you wearing lace for me, nightshade?"
"You’ll have to check."
I cradle her neck, use my thumbs to lift her chin, and I kiss her. Her fingers clutch the fabric that hangs over my ribs, anchoring me in the moment. Then the bell above the door rings—a sharp, metallic chime cuts through the heat like a blade. Rage engulfs me. Someone will die tonight.