Chapter 7
Seven
Ikept it together until Luke dropped me off.
The alcohol may have dulled the thrill of getting eaten out in public, but nothing could fully extinguish the giddiness of his affection—except maybe the bile that rises in my throat the moment I step into the foyer.
Sprinting to the first-floor bathroom, I throw my bag against the tub before vomiting into the toilet. I’m thankful that Austin left the lid up for once. A groan escapes me, the burning acid in my esophagus intensifying as my stomach violently empties. I rub my abdomen to soothe myself, remembering how Dad did when I got food poisoning at some crappy restaurant on the way to Disneyland. Back when we lived in California.
I miss the sunshine.
And Dad. I would give anything to have him alive again.
After what feels like hours, I finally tear myself away from the toilet, flushing away the evidence of my weakness. As I stand up, the pain in my head makes me wince. Does alcohol get easier to handle with time? I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, noticing the smeared eyeliner that has settled into the dark circles under my eyes, and remind myself to buy a stronger concealer. To mask my sour breath, I brush my teeth and wash my face before leaving the bathroom.
I never considered that someone might have heard me vomiting until now. Quietly making my way down the hall and up the stairs, I feel self-conscious, not wanting to face any teasing from Austin. I sneak into my room and listen for any sounds. Hearing nothing but some kids playing outside, I heave a sigh of relief and flop on my bed. I barely manage to kick off my shoes and wiggle out of my jeans before my eyes slip closed.
Startling awake,I glance at the clock: 9:10 PM. I know that my quality of rest has been poor, and I need to be careful not to disrupt my sleep schedule further with a nap. I can’t afford to do that with work tomorrow, so I cast off the covers and blink the crust from my eyes.
I roll my neck to loosen the kinks and stretch before making my way downstairs. The house is quiet, except for the gentle hum of appliances. Turning on the light in the kitchen, I notice a note stuck to the fridge with Mom’s messy scrawl: Working the graveyard shift. Austin’s staying with friends for the night. Take care.
Of course—not even an ‘I love you.’ At least no one will see me in my underwear this evening.
My throat is scratchy, so I grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water from the faucet. I consider what to eat, but my mind wanders to thoughts of Luke. The memory of his tongue sliding into my pussy causes arousal to flutter in my belly and my heart to race. I squeeze my thighs together and flush with embarrassment. To distract myself, I focus on finding something to eat.
I choose cheesy macaroni, as well as a cheap frozen dinner with mixed veggies and something vaguely passable as chicken over the tempting bag of chips on the counter. However, I can’t help but notice how eerily quiet it is.
As I stir the macaroni, my mind wanders to the news report—and the mask. That fucking mask … Its soulless eyes creep me out. I imagine it looking down at me, staring at me while I sleep. I swallow, feeling my knees wobble.
The microwave beeps—and I yelp, nearly knocking over the pot. I consider calling Luke, but I don’t want to seem needy or clingy. Kyla is an option, but she’s likely busy with Briar. I glance at the trees casting shadows outside and take a deep breath.
I’m safe, I’m safe …
I carry my food to the living room and plop down on the couch, grabbing the remote to surf through the channels. It’s Saturday night, so there are plenty of reruns and movie marathons to choose from. As I flip past a channel showing The Evil Dead, a film Austin likes to put on repeat to torment me, the graphic practical effects make my imagination go wild. I decide to watch a romantic paranormal flick—Ghost—and begin picking at my bowl of mac.
By the time I finish my dinner, I’m fully engrossed in the movie. Although I’ve seen it before, it really resonates with me tonight. After the demons drag Willie’s soul to hell, we cut to commercials. I get up with the remnants of my food when the jarring sound of the phone ringing nearby sends my heart hammering. Who would call so late?
I ignore it and throw away the tray in the kitchen. The phone continues to ring a few more times before the answering machine kicks in. Mom’s recorded message plays, but the line goes silent. Probably just a wrong number. I start scrubbing my bowl and fork when the phone rings again. I sigh and dry my hands on a rag before answering.
“Hello?” I say into the handset.
Silence.
I hang up, but before I can take two steps back toward the kitchen, the phone rings again. Rolling my eyes, I double back and practically rip the cord out of the wall. “Hello?” I bite out, not bothering to hide my annoyance. “Listen, if this is some sort of prank call?—”
“Is this Grace Lawrence?”
It’s a male voice, deep and raspy. I don’t recognize it, and my patience thins as the movie comes back on. “Yes. Can I help you with something?”
“I don’t know,” the man replies. “Can you?”
I frown. “Did you just answer a question with a question?”
“Speak for yourself.”
“Touché.” Momentarily, I’m distracted by the TV. “Listen, if you’re not gonna tell me who you are, then I’m going to hang up.”
“But I just wanna ask you a question.”
His words are flirtatious, with a dangerous charm that causes butterflies to swirl in my stomach. I scold myself silently for finding a random caller attractive, especially considering the possibility that he could be a serial killer. Against my better judgment, I decide to speak. “And what is that?” My fingers come up to brush against the mark hidden by my choker.
“What are you wearing right now?” I can almost hear him grin. “An old band shirt, cute panties … Not much of anything else, right?”
I shiver, suddenly wishing I had kept my hoodie on. “You’re one of Austin’s friends, aren’t you?” I spit, trying to convince myself more than anyone else. “Stop being a little pervert and pranking people. Goodnight!”
I slam the handset down onto the cradle and lean against the wall, taking deep breaths. The final act of Ghost plays in the background, but I’m too freaked out to pay attention. What if that was the psycho-killer? Paranoia hits me full force, and I dash to the foyer to check the door. Locked. I go around the house and make sure every entrance is secure, including the windows.
I soon spiral into exhaustion, my limbs growing heavy. I shut off the TV and drag myself up the stairs. Being alone in this house is making me restless and more hyperaware, like I’m a child who jumps at every shadow. I need to relax or I’m going to go crazy. Entering my room, I hop into bed, hoping to get some much-needed rest.
I toss and turn,sleep coming in scattered waves. My mind churns endlessly, dark images pervading every corner of my dreams. Realizing I’ve slept less than two hours, I sigh and click on the bedside lamp. I search through my bag and pull out my journal, opening it on my lap and flipping through the pages. I pause on the hastily drawn picture of the mask, fear lurking on the edges of my thoughts, and I push it down fiercely.
I take out a pen from my bag and begin recording my day: meeting Luke at the diner, the trip to the movie theater—and I dwell on the events that transpired there. I lick my lips, my thighs parting subconsciously. Luke has a way about him I can’t explain, something that makes me feel important. Alive. My heartbeat quickens as I place the journal and pen aside. I switch off the light, eager to find relief.
I retrieve my toy from the bedside table drawer and settle back against my pillows. After removing my panties, I rest the shaft against my clit and turn it on. Vibrations shoot straight to my brain, and I cry out, my toes curling. I close my eyes and let the vibrator linger there for a few more moments before moving it to my slit. Luke’s face appears in my mind’s eye, and I slide the toy inside my pussy.
“Fuck,” I whimper as the shaft slowly opens me up, inch by inch. Luke’s smile sets my loins on fire, arousal pooling in my core. I whine, stuffed to the brim. “Luke, God … Luke …” Unable to stay quiet, I allow myself a moment to adjust and savor the sensation of being stretched.
“Looks like you could use a hand, Bunny.”
My eyes snap open, and I freeze. Looming in front of the closet is that freaky mask, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the gap in the curtains.
“Don’t stop on account of me,” he says coolly, amused.
Terror and embarrassment overwhelm me, and all I want to do is move, move, move—but shock paralyzes me. A blood-curdling scream escapes my lips before a hand clamps over my mouth and I flail wildly, almost falling off the bed. He coils an arm around me as I sob and thrash against his hold, but I’m unable to escape the vise-like grip that keeps me captive.
“Quiet, Bunny,” he chastises. “What will the neighbors think if you keep screaming like that?” I try to bite his fingers, but my teeth meet leather instead of flesh. He chuckles hollowly, the sound unnerving. “Will you be a good girl and stop screaming?”
Fear engulfs me, turning my veins to ice. He holds my life in his hands. What choice do I have? The hilt of his knife presses into my thigh, a constant reminder of my precarious situation. His erection is poking me in my bare backside, making me want to vomit. So I nod, swallowing thickly.
“Good girl,” he purrs, releasing me.
I loathe how his words of praise makes my legs clench together.
“Now get comfortable and pleasure yourself,” he instructs, making me once again very aware of my state of undress.
Picking up the vibrator from where I dropped it on the bed, I blush as it continues to buzz unattended. Propping myself up against the headboard with pillows, I spread my thighs to give him a good view of my most intimate area. He fixes his gaze on the space between my legs as I slide the shaft inside.
“Move it,” he orders, unzipping his pants. “Fuck that pretty cunt of yours.”
Inhaling deeply, I move the toy in and out. I think of Luke’s stormy blue eyes flashing with anger as he confronts my boss in the mall. His tongue running up and down my slit. I feel myself gush, the slickness making the insertion easier. The masked stranger strokes his length as I slap a hand over my mouth to prevent myself from vocalizing my pleasure.
“Look at you,” he groans, his tone startlingly affectionate. “Taking it so well …”
I’m soaked as I imagine Luke watching me instead. I thrust the toy inside, biting my knuckle to keep quiet. The moonlight only serves to highlight him in a spooky silhouette, the knife at his side gleaming like an unspoken threat. He’s a ghoul, a creature of darkness. I’m nothing but his plaything for the night. Maybe even his next victim.
For now, I can only placate him, do what he says—and pray that he doesn’t get bored with me.
My inner walls spasm, fear driving me deeper off the edge. I wonder if it’s the reason so many people watch horror movies on dates. My body shakes, tears threatening to spill over as I fail to contain my pleasured gasps.
“What’s wrong?” He tilts his head, the action made even more unsettling by that damn mask. “Going to come already, Bunny? How selfish.” He shakes his head disapprovingly. “Not so fast. First, you’re gonna help me out. Solve my little … problem.”
As he steps closer, a sobering realization crashes into me. I gulp and tentatively reach for him, but he gestures toward the vibrator. Determined to survive, I adjust my position and tuck my legs under my thighs. With the toy still snug inside, I wrap my hand around his girth and give it a gentle squeeze. A drop of precum glistens, beading at the tip, and I stare at it in morbid fascination.
A cold, metallic voice jolts me back to reality. “Choke on it.”
I shiver, my pussy fluttering as I open my mouth. I take in only the tip and circle my tongue around the sensitive skin. He moans, his hands tangling in my hair. Slowly, I draw more of him in—but the masked stranger is impatient. He jerks my head forward, his fingers tugging roughly at my strands, stinging my scalp. Tears fill my eyes as he sheathes himself entirely inside. I gag, unused to his size.
I screw my eyes shut and concentrate on the sensations from the vibrator as he fucks my mouth. He thrusts, dragging his silky length in and out in a controlled manner, like he wants to make me suffer. I slide a hand between my legs and stroke my throbbing clit, my mind wandering to Luke’s soft laugh, his broad build. Anything to escape this moment as this psycho holds my head in place and takes what he wants from me.
He breathes harder, his cock hitting the back of my throat, making my eyes water. With a curse, he uses a hand to cup my jaw, holding my head in place as he seeks his release. Greedily, he bucks his hips, the snap of it becoming uneven as he begins to lose control.
At last, this torture will end—and hopefully not with my death.
To get it over with faster, I hollow out my cheeks and swirl my tongue around his shaft, spit dribbling from the corners of my lips. He growls, slamming roughly into my mouth as hot, sticky cum shoots down my throat. A few more ragged thrusts later, he withdraws, his softening cock popping out from between my swollen lips.
Instead of fixing himself up, he runs his fingers through my tangled hair like some fucked up soothing gesture. It’s too intimate. “Come for me, Bunny.”
Sparks burst into my vision. The dam explodes, my release a ferocious tsunami. I collapse, tears streaming down my face.
Somewhere in the distance, I hear the bedroom door close.