Page 4 of Bite Me
“Chet and I are getting ready here, then heading to my folks’ before the party.” Mark made a face. “My mom asked us to. She wants to see our costumes.”
I knew the reason for the face he pulled was that Mark and his dad had had a pretty big falling out over him getting together with Chet, and it’d been tense between them ever since. He adored his mom, though. I reached into my impromptu pumpkin patch and picked out a pair, extending them to Mark and Chet. “You get pity pumpkins, too. Godspeed to you both.”
Mark chuckled and took the pumpkin. “Duly noted. Since you’re feeling sorry for us, maybe you could make that badass chili next week? I’ve had a craving for it for the last month.”
“Don’t push it, asshole. My sympathies have well-defined limits, and you’ve just reached them.”
“Uh-huh. Catch y’all at the party.”
“Nate just texted and said he’ll meet you there, and don’t forget you pulled scare duty,” Sam called out after them as they started toward Mark’s room. “He also says to check your goddamn texts.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mark groused.
“Nate’s not stopping by?” I asked once they disappeared down the hall. “I have a pumpkin for him, too.”
Sam mock-frowned at me. “So you’re saying everyone gets a pumpkin but me? The very same pumpkins you said were only for trick or treaters?”
“Ansel’s not getting one either.” He would be at practice for another half hour—which put him outside the window of my generosity—and had said he’d meet us all at the party. I didn’t know if he had pre-party plans with his track teammates or what, and he hadn’t volunteered further info, so whatever. I lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, playing it cool. “You don’t need a pumpkin anyway. You’re getting all the treats you need in about”—I pretended to check my nonexistent watch—“an hour and a half.”
“Are you sure it’s me getting the treat and not you?” He arched a brow and gave me a stern look, but the amusement dancing in his eyes said he knew the answer.
“Fine, you can have one. And then you can help me bag these babies up.”
“Deal.”
Two hours later,the house had gone quiet. Mark and Chet had gone to Mark’s parents’. Cam was working his shift. Ansel had come home after practice, showered, and then disappeared again to god knows where. And Sam and I had our own pre-party activities on tap. I was more excited about this scene than the Christmas when I was 13 and got my first chef’s knife.
I lay in the dark in my bed, pretending to be asleep. Growing up in a house bursting at the seams with kids, I’d had plenty of practice faking sleep in order to eke out another few seconds of peace before being forced to join the maelstrom of school prep in the mornings. There was an art to it. My chest rose and fell with measured breaths. My eyes were gently shut, and my ears tuned fervently toward the sounds coming from just outside my window as Sam lifted the sash. The roof of our small front porchwas conveniently right below and just wide enough for Sam to squat on as he opened it.
I drew in another somnolent breath, exhaled slowly, and shifted sleepily for the benefit of the two cameras we’d set up prior. I was shirtless and wearing thin, gray cotton sweatpants, the picture of an innocent twink as the window slid open. So far, we were right on target.
And then came an odd thunk, accompanied by a hissed curse when Sam stumbled while muscling his hulking mass through the window.
I barely checked a laugh and slit my eyes just enough to peek through and assess the situation. The urge to laugh died in my throat, and instead I nearly choked at the sight of him.
Obviously, I’d seen Sam in his outfit before we started. Hell, I’d picked it out. But in context, it was a whole different animal.
Black fitted cargos hugged his massive legs. His entire torso bulged around the four-sizes-too-small black tank I’d loaned him and instantly never wanted back again. His biceps looked like continents in a sea of black fabric. And then there was the mask. I swallowed back some drool as the stitched LED eyes and mouth glared menacingly in the darkness, embodying every Purge-themed thirst trap I’d ever come across on Instagram. Fuck me, I’d outdone myself this time. And I was also gonna be the one to pay. I was giddy and terrified all at once.
Sam composed himself and straightened, huge and implacable, a living shadow as he scanned my room, per our blocking, the mask fixed in its permanent deadpan glow and flashing with dangerous intent that filled the room with a neon gloom.
Anticipation fizzed up my spine and vibrated through me. I held my position, unmoving, and let the thick wall of menace he projected wash over me.
I could almost forget it was Sam behind the mask, could half convince myself it was a real villain at the foot of my bed. The way my body reacted to the idea probably should have been more concerning.
I closed my eyes again, listening to Sam as he moved around my room, unhurried and methodical. He opened drawers quietly and riffled through papers, checked my closet, pulled books from my bookcase and returned them.
I chanced another peek and caught him cocking his head left, then right, before he swung his gaze toward the bed, the lazy blink of those red and blue eyes locking on me.
Sam stalked closer, movements heavier and more forceful, rolling off the thick cut of his thighs. It was a total contrast to his usual retriever energy.
As he loomed over the bed, I snapped my eyes shut just in time, heart hammering in my chest, and my muscles going taut as the mattress shifted with his weight.
I curled my fingers tighter in the sheets, and I was honestly having trouble keeping my breathing steady when the mattress dipped. Trapped between me and the mattress, my cock gave a little throb as my exposed back pebbled with goosebumps. I felt his gaze roving over me like a calloused hand, stripping me naked.
Seconds passed and felt endless in the silence that followed. My pulse slapped against my ears. I could still see his neon sneer lit up behind my eyelids as I lay dead still, just the way we’d planned, and let anticipation settle warm through my gut.
I let my breathing hitch the tiniest bit and waited for Sam to make the first move. The only noise was the slow push of his breath through the mask, not even a telltale huff of laughter that usually slipped out when he was trying too hard to be serious. The synthetic glow of stitched eyes and mouth painted my closed eyelids in streaks of red and blue flashes.