Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Iimmediately start running, zipping my shirt and taking a sharp right at the first corner, then veering left. I don’t need to hear his footsteps behind me to know he’s following me. Prowling. Stalking his prey.
This game he set up should shock and horrify me. I didn’t consent to it, and he sure as hell didn’t ask my permission for this chase. And yet I did consent to everything that could happen within the maze. I already gave my agreement, and I’m not taking it back.
My heart beats erratically. Blood thunders in my ears. Everywhere I turn, there’s a flash of movement—a shadow, a person, a hunter.
In the distance, the dark outline of the mansion rises behind the maze, lit only by moonlight and illuminated windows.
My feet stumble as my eyes zoom in on a couple in one of the windows—on the woman getting fucked from behind while she faces the gardens.
Holy shit.
I hurry along, desperately trying to remember the route I’m taking in case I wind up in a dead end and have to turn back.
The spooky music plays on no matter which way I turn, as if it’s coming from everywhere. Only, the moans and whimpers are getting more intense by the second. Laughter turns into screams of pleasure, accompanied by the rustle of fabric and a rhythmic pounding.
“I’m gonna hunt you down, and when I catch you, you’re mine to play with.”
Reaper’s deep voice follows me in my mind even though I can’t see him now.
How did I ever think I could just walk through this maze without being affected by what’s happening here? The sounds alone are sending my body into overdrive, sharpening my senses, feeding the hunger in me.
My mind is scattered. I need to finish the job, and I need to do it before the end of the night so I can slip out unnoticed. And yet my body’s already starting to betray me.
The next turn I make leads to an abrupt halt.
A man is standing at the end of the path, right under an archway. His black clothes melt into the darkness, and if it weren’t for the mask covering his face, I wouldn’t have seen him.
It’s like Reaper’s mask, but this one seems more like a balaclava.
He’s one of them. One of Reaper’s friends.
And he’s coming straight at me.
“Fuck.”
Pulse pounding, I spin around and run in the opposite direction, back where I came from.
Wind whispers between the hedges like a sinful promise, the cold, damp air clinging to my exposed skin.
Adrenaline rushes through my veins, but I’m not afraid.
Not really. I’m exhilarated, even though I can’t let them catch me.
I never asked for this distraction. But while my mind screams at me to run like hell, I can’t ignore the flutter in my stomach or the liquid heat between my legs.
And I hate myself for it. But I hate Reaper even more for knowing how to push my buttons and challenge my boundaries.
The sound of a snapping branch around the next corner makes me stop short.
I’ve barely even caught my breath, let alone decided what to do next, when another man appears in front of me, also wearing a balaclava resembling Reaper’s skull mask.
When I turn around, strong arms grab me from behind, pulling me toward a hard body.
It’s not him. Not Reaper.
“I’ve brought some more friends with me tonight. Friends who like to hunt.”
Heat coils deep in my core, in desperate need of release, even if I fight it. Fight them.
I gulp back air as my second attacker towers over me. My heart explodes inside my chest when his gloved hands cup my waist in a determined grip.
Oh God . . . Am I dreaming? Is this really happening?
Moans erupt nearby. A woman’s whimpers. The deep growl of a man pounding into her.
I can’t see them, but the sounds they’re making are more than enough to harden my nipples. That and the two masked strangers, both closing in on me now—one in front, one behind me.
Reaper’s nowhere to be seen, but I’m sure he isn’t far. Not since he’s orchestrated all this. He’ll want to watch, just like last time.
I bite back a moan when fingers pull down my zipper, inch after inch, over my exposed skin. Then they push the material aside, exposing my bare breasts.
A hot mouth lands on my neck, kissing and sucking, another on my cleavage.
I should try to get free and run away, or at least use the safe word to make them stop. Instead I let my eyes fall shut, cursing myself for enjoying the feel of the stranger’s gloved hands, their lips and tongues on my heated skin.
The pounding gets louder and harder. Whoever is fucking just around the corner is close to climaxing, and they don’t care if anyone can see or hear them. Maybe they’re enjoying it.
Damn . . . Is this what Everthorne Hall is like?
Completely letting go with strangers? Feeling so secure and horny you just don’t care anymore but get off on other people watching?
On acting out your deepest, darkest fantasies?
Fantasies you’d normally hide from everyone, including your boyfriend, because they’re too dirty and deprived to vocalize?
Wet lips close around my nipple and start to suck. Hands roam over my body, massaging my other breast, grabbing my ass, then shoving my legs apart.
“Oh God . . . ”
I watch the masked stranger in front of me get down on his knees, while the other guy holds me captive, kissing my neck and teasing my nipples.
His hands wander over my thigh-high boots and onto my exposed skin, higher and higher, until his fingertips reach my panty line. Then he hooks his fingers under them and pulls them down my legs.
My mouth is suddenly dry. My pulse is thrumming everywhere, a frantic rhythm under my skin.
I don’t know these guys. I don’t know their names, nor their intentions. All I know is they’re friends of Reaper.
None of them utter a word, fully concentrating on prying out as much lust from my body as possible. When our eyes meet, the guy in front of me moves back in, his hands on my knees, his fingers on my inner thighs, and then . . .
“Fuck,” I pant as he starts playing with my clit.
His fingers are talented, rubbing me in circles then pushing into my pussy. I’m so wet he slips in easily, while his thumb continues fondling my clit.
My own moans blend in with those from the couple nearby, creating a crescendo of lust, desperate need, and startling bliss.
This was not what I planned when I drove to Everthorne Hall, but . . . fuck it. I’m not thinking anymore about who might hear me or see me like this. I don’t care. I need the release, and I need it now.
The whip I’ve been holding onto the whole time drops to the floor next to us.
The man behind me nips at my neck and cups my breasts with both hands. His hard cock presses against my lower back, while the other guy fingers me frantically, licking his lips like he wants a taste.
Oh, fuck, that’s so hot.
I’m almost there, but something’s missing . . . Or rather, someone.
When I lift my head, Reaper’s right there, standing a few feet away, his gaze locked on us with fierce intensity.
The second our eyes meet, my climax hits out of nowhere, as if my strung-tight body were just waiting for him to be there. Waiting for his approval.
My head falls back and I moan loudly, riding the wave until I can’t take it anymore.
The second their grips loosen on me, I ram my elbow into my captor’s ribs, shove the guy in front out of the way, and bolt, picking up my whip on the way and holding onto the fabric of my costume covering my breasts.
What on earth just happened? Did I really let them make me come like that? Was Reaper’s presence, his eyes watching me, really enough to get me off?
Fuck. I can’t think anymore.
When I take a quick look back, Reaper’s eyes are ablaze with fire.
“So you want to play?” I murmur. “Fine. Let’s play.”
Then I run like hell.