Page 5

“Great,”

I muttered to myself, already hearing Malcolm’s bitching.

Something shifted in one of the mirrors, over my shoulder.

I spun to face it, taking an instinctive step backward.

It was Bane.

Surprise and relief mingled together, although I couldn’t deny a twinge of apprehension creeping in. Fresh blood dripped from the tip of his machete as he stepped onto the moving floor, closing the distance between us, one measured step at a time.

I honestly didn’t know whether I should be flattered that he kept showing up—or creeped out. Maybe both. Both was good. Both was the safe option. Because admitting I had a thing for the half-naked slasher in a mask was not something I was mentally prepared to explore.

“Are you going to show me the way out again?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he circled behind me like he had at the rib tent, one slow step at a time. Unlike before, I let him, especially since I could see what he was doing in a dozen different mirrors.

His dark gaze scanned every inch of me like a piece of meat he was getting ready to carve up. Even though he still had the mask on, I could hear him inhale at the nape of my neck, the nose of his mask brushing through the bottom of my blond hair. We looked like polar opposites in the mirror. His dark hair and dark eyes compared to my blond and blue. He definitely had more muscle than I did, but we were about the same height.

As he came to the front, he switched his machete from his right hand to his left. Lifting the right hand, he grabbed my jaw and pulled my face closer, his dark eyes glimmering again with the old-fashioned light bulbs ringing the room. It was mesmerizing. Like looking at the night sky.

His thumb slid over my lips, stroking them. I opened my mouth slightly, fully expecting him to shove it in. He didn’t. He kept running the pad of his thumb over them, back and forth, almost teasingly.

I didn’t know what he wanted. I mean, I had a pretty good idea and surprisingly, I wasn’t opposed. It felt like I’d been half-hard all night, every time I laid eyes on him. And despite the fact I knew we were in a very public place, where the other actors or terrified customers could burst in at any moment, it felt like we were totally alone.

For once in my fucking life, I made a decision and seized the opportunity in front of me. Bobbing my head forward, I sucked his thumb into my mouth.

His dark eyes widened and he inhaled sharply, his chest expanding with the sudden breath.

As soon as his skin made contact with my tongue, a familiar taste registered in my brain. Blood. Real blood. That metallic tang was unmistakable.

Or I was imagining it. I already knew I was tired. My brain had been playing tricks on me all night.

Spurred on by the hunger in his eyes, I swirled my tongue around his thumb and sucked it in earnest, offering a preview of what I could do for his other body parts.

Pulling his thumb free, he took a deliberate step back, palming the bulge in his black jeans. His dark gaze raked over me, even slower than before. Either he was undressing me mentally or trying to decide which part of me to hack off first.

While he decided, I reached for my dick, freezing when the machete jerked upright.

My pulse skyrocketed when he laid the bloody tip against the inside of my wrist. Keeping the blade flat, he flicked it to the side, batting my hand away from my groin.

“Oh, so you can touch yourself but I can’t?”

I quirked an eyebrow at him, relaxing once again.

The corners of his eyes tightened and he went back to his slow perusal, circling me once again like I was prey. Even without following his every move in the mirrors, I could feel him a hair’s breadth away. It wasn’t so much his body heat seeping through my clothing as it was the growing desperation for him to touch me again and put me out of my misery.

I spread my arms, affording him a better look, although I doubted he could see anything of interest with my clothes on.

He stopped directly behind me. Something tugged against my jacket collar a split second before I heard fabric rip. Light pressure glided down the center of my back.

I couldn’t see what he’d done until he took a step back. There, in the mirror, I realized he’d sliced my jacket in two. I should have been mad about it, but I couldn’t help the thrill that prickled down my spine in the wake of the blade.

Peeling one arm off and then the other, Bane threw my ruined jacket to the floor and reassessed me.

With one quick slash, so fast I hardly saw it, he sliced open the back of my t-shirt.

Gasping, I arched my back, away from potential pain and danger. I immediately looked in the mirror again, expecting to see a trail of blood on my skin. Thankfully, there wasn’t one.

Unperturbed by my wide-eyed look, he strolled to the frontside and did it again before I could so much as swivel my head in that direction. Without much weight keeping them in place, the two halves of my t-shirt slid off my bare arms and fluttered to the floor.

The flat of his bloody blade landed on my shoulder. Spine straight and throat tightening, I barely even breathed as the machete slid inward toward my neck.

Dragging the tip along my collarbone, it toed the line between a burning scratch and a cooling whisper of metal, threatening to slice through my flesh at any moment. He let the point linger in the hollow of my throat while my heart spasmed behind my ribcage. I risked a nervous swallow, unable to hold it back any longer.

Tilting his head, his dark eyes dropped to my chest a moment before the blade. It zigzagged over my torso, grazing one nipple and then the other, lazily making its way down to my navel.

My heart was already racing by the time he aimed the machete at my pelvis, but it kicked up another notch—or ten. I lifted my hands in surrender. Potentially getting cut on my torso was worth the risk, a price to pay for some kinky sex with a masked stranger at a carnival. Swinging a razor-sharp blade near my dick, however? Hard pass, no matter how horny I was. “I can take them off. If that’s… what you want.”

His dark eyes slid over my body again, stopping on my groin and the very obvious hard-on I was officially sporting. Using the machete, he motioned downward.

Swallowing thickly, I unbuckled my belt and unzipped my jeans. I paused for a moment, waiting to see if he was serious or not, to see if I was serious or not. I mean, stripping in front of a machete-wielding carnie in a funhouse? Taylor was right. I had lost it.

Bane lifted the machete again and made another sharp, downward movement. Taking a hint, I shoved my jeans down and peeled them off, stopping only to kick my boots off too.

Standing there in just my boxers and a pair of socks with a raging hard-on, I spread my hands, waiting for the next command. Since he still had a deadly weapon in his hands, I’d let him call the shots.

The machete clattered to the floor.

He stepped over it, over my discarded clothes, and grabbed two handfuls of my boxers. With one swift motion, he ripped them apart. The useless fabric slid down my legs in a mock caress while my cock jutted shamelessly between us.

I steadied myself against his blood-spattered chest, my fingers splayed over his pecs. “You could have asked,”

I said, my voice shaky. From nerves? Excitement? Fuck, I didn’t know anymore. Everything had gone topsy-turvy in this place. I figured my best bet now was to ride it out. Literally.

The corners of his eyes tightened again, an almost certain indication that he was smiling underneath that skeletal mask. If it was a glare, his dark brows would have dipped and they hadn’t. Not toward me. Thus far, he’d only shown bizarre infatuation.

“What about you?”

I asked, sliding one hand down the ridges of his stomach. My palm was sticky with the residual blood by the time I cupped the bulge straining against the black denim. Regardless, I worked my fingers over the stiff fabric, feeling his hardness from as many angles as I could.

Making no move to stop me, his chest rose and fell quicker, his breathing a little louder under the mask.

“Hmm? Are you going to undress too? You’re halfway there.”

I leaned forward, brushing my lips over his shoulder. Working my way across his chest, I left a trail of feathery kisses on his speckled skin. Beneath the salty, metallic scent, he smelled woody and dark, like moss on an ancient tree. Rich and earthen with a touch of smoke, just like what I had smelled earlier in the night and, thankfully, not at all like the other scare actors that had gotten close to me.

Flicking my tongue over his nipple, I tasted blood again. Sucking harder, ridding myself of the coppery taste, I focused on the saltiness of his skin instead. Not wanting the other side to feel left out, I brushed my thumb over the hard peak and pinched it, alternating between groping his pec and toying with the more sensitive spot.

I heard a quiet hiss as he slid his fingers into my hair, cupping the back of my skull. Without warning, they tightened into a fist and he shoved me down on my knees. I grabbed his hips for balance with no choice but to stare up at him since he hadn’t released his grip.

Still holding me by the hair, he stroked the arch of my throat with his other hand, gazing down at me with that predatory look of his that set my blood on fire. He let go of my hair only to wrap his fingers around my neck, pressing in against both jugulars. My head swam from the disrupted blood flow and I clung to his jeans pockets, gasping in each breath before he cut that off too. Like using a damn machete to slice off my clothes, the strangling walked a fine line between dangerous and erotic. My cock twitched, as conflicted as I was over the whole thing. Gripping my shaft, I stroked myself slowly, choosing to embrace the sexiness of the situation instead of worrying about whether or not some stranger was going to strangle me to death.

Releasing me at last with a crinkly-eyed smile, Bane straightened and tilted his head, waiting. I didn’t have to ask “For what?”

I licked my lips and plucked open the top button of his jeans. Glancing up, I pulled the zipper down one metal tooth at a time, drawing out the suspense for both of us. His cock sprang forward, unbound by his jeans or any sort of underwear. A shade darker than his skin, it was a delicious tan color, his shaft smooth and thick. The flushed head peeked out of his foreskin, already glistening in anticipation.

I swiped the tip of my finger over the slit, collecting the pre-cum and pulling it away slowly, watching a spidery strand form between the two. I sucked the tip of my finger clean, making sure I looked up at him as I did it. He tasted like… kettle corn? It was the only thing I could think of to describe it, other than sweet, salty, and absolutely addicting.

Instead of sucking his cock nice and slow, making a show of it for him, I devoured it. I couldn’t help it. As soon as the dusky head slid into my mouth, I swallowed as much as I could until it cut off my airway once again. Choking back a gag, I lapped along his length and massaged him with my tongue, stroking the base of his shaft with my hand to make up the difference.

A muffled moan escaped the mask. His hips tilted forward, flicking now and again to slide his cock that much deeper into my throat. I stretched my mouth open wide, doing what I could to accommodate him.

His taste, his cologne. His whole slasher character. He was like the poster child for everything I loved about Halloween. It was driving me wild. Except, the more I sucked his dick, the more I realized the dark, smokey scent wasn’t a cologne. It was him .

I groaned at the newfound knowledge and sucked more of him down, trying to bury my nose in the dark patch of hair above his cock.

Sliding his hands into my hair, he grasped either side of my head and held me in place as he pulled his hips back a bit. I did my best to relax my throat in preparation for what I hoped was coming.

Bane did not disappoint.

Taking control, he continued to hold on as his hips snapped, burying his cock in the back of my throat, again and again. I alternated between looking at his dark eyes and looking at the mirrors, assessing what anyone else would see if they walked in. There we were, in the middle of the slowly rotating platform, a muscular, tatted-up guy in a mask, face-fucking me to the point of drooling. It was so fucked up. Everything about this carnival was fucked up. Sucking a dude off in the middle of a funhouse was fucked up. But it was also hot as hell. The fact I couldn’t see much of his face made it even hotter. I didn’t need to, though. His eyes said everything I needed to hear.

As soon as he gave me back control over my head, I pulled off his cock and gasped in a couple of quick breaths, wiping the wayward spit away with the back of my hand. To make sure he knew I wasn’t losing interest, I stroked his shaft again, redistributing the saliva along his length. As soon as I regained my composure, I dove in again. I sucked at his balls while jerking him, taking them in my mouth one at a time and nibbling on the tightening sac. The rich, earthy scent was even more prominent there and I couldn’t get enough. I wanted to devour every inch of him.

“Why don’t you take the jeans off?”

I said suddenly, looking up at him. “It’ll be more comfortable.”

He tilted his head and blinked once. Brushing the hair off of my forehead, he trailed the tip of one finger from my temple, down the side of my face, like a question mark.

“I’ll make it worth your while,”

I said with a devilish smile. “Promise.”

Toeing off his unlaced combat boots, one by one, he kicked them to the side and reached for his jeans.

Unable to help myself, I grabbed the waistband and pulled them down for him, sliding the dark denim along his muscular thighs with an appreciative noise. The carnival must have been based somewhere with warm weather or he’d had one hell of a vacation if his golden skin was anything to go by.

“Turn around. Let me see that ass.”

He did, surprisingly, presenting me with the most perfect ass on the planet. It was as sculpted as the rest of him, round and firm, everything I figured it would be beneath those skin-tight pants.

I alternated between gently caressing the taut skin and squeezing handfuls of his asscheeks. As I massaged them, I let my fingers drift closer to his crease, waiting for some sort of response. When he didn’t react, I brushed the tip of my index finger over his hole, featherlight across the puckered skin. The muscles in his back tightened. It could have been a flinch or him shifting his weight.

Remembering I had the mirror to gauge some of his reaction, I did it again, adding a little more pressure as I circled his rim. His chest rose and fell and his face tipped skyward.

Popping my finger in my mouth, I got it nice and wet before rubbing the spit around his hole. Trailing the tip up and down his backside, from crease to sac, I stole another glance at the mirror. He’d closed his eyes, his face still turned upward. Spreading his cheeks apart with one hand, I held him open as I traced abstract designs from his hole to his taint and along his balls, throwing in a teasing stroke to his cock now and again.

Since he hadn’t objected to my hands, I decided to take it a step further. Burying my face between his cheeks, I dragged my tongue over his hole directly. Circling the furrowed skin, I flicked and swiped between broader, lapping strokes, savoring the sultry taste of him.

Another muffled moan came from the mask. I glanced at the mirror, pleased to see his dark eyes once again, watching me in return. Knowing he wouldn’t turn into a psycho killer for real, I concentrated on the task at hand, flicking his delicate skin with my tongue before probing past the tight ring.

He arched his back at the same time he grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling my face in deeper. I speared my tongue in as far as I could, groaning when his hole clenched around it. My fingers tightened on his asscheeks, keeping him open wide. Knowing that he was enjoying it as much as I was, I sucked and licked with abandon. Groaning against him, I laved my tongue around his hole as if he was my last meal, making as much of a mess of his ass as I had with his dick. I didn’t care. I don’t think he did, either.

My cock throbbed between my legs, rock hard and dripping so much pre-cum there was a little puddle on the worn floorboards beneath me. Reluctantly dropping a hand from his ass, I squeezed my head and stroked my shaft to take the edge off, but it wasn’t enough. My balls were so full, it was bordering on painful.

“I want to fuck you,”

I spat out, immediately looking at the mirror to see his eyes. They met mine in the antique glass, as lust-drunk as any I’d seen before. His dark lashes fluttered. Not a no, but not a yes, either.

“And then you can fuck me,”

I added quickly. My gaze dropped to his hand, drawn by the movement in the mirror. Another shot of desire coursed through me. He’d started jerking himself too, the tip of his cock swollen and shiny with need every time the foreskin slipped over it.

“I don’t have a condom, though.”

He must not have minded because the next thing I knew, he was on all fours in front of me, lowering his chest to the ground and arching his back.

The responsible part of my brain told me it was a terrible idea, no matter how hot he was. But the horny part didn’t give a shit.

“Goddamn,”

I murmured, getting into position behind him, caressing his asscheeks again. “Your ass is fucking perfect.”

Leaning down, I spread his cheeks apart and spat at his hole. I let the spit run for a moment, gliding over the puckered skin. Before it got too far, I rubbed it into his hole with the pad of my thumb. Dipping my thumb inside, past the tight ring, I spat again. Pushing more saliva into his hole, I worked my thumb in and out as I stroked my cock.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard,”

I sighed, already envisioning how amazing he was going to feel wrapped around my cock.

Unable to wait any longer, I added a fresh layer of spit to the end of my dick and slicked it over the head. In an ideal hookup, there would have been lube. An old funhouse floor in the middle of a creepy ass carnival was far from ideal. Besides, I had a feeling he was the type of guy who probably liked a little pain with his pleasure.

Holding my cock steady, I nudged it against his opening, gradually adding pressure instead of slamming it in like an asshole. The moment it pushed through, I moaned, watching his hole swallow my head, gripping it like a vise.

“Oh fuck. You’re so tight.”

I kept a guiding hand on my dick, making sure it didn’t pop out as I tried to slide in deeper, inch by inch. It was a slow, tortuous process of the best kind.

Every once in a while, the muscles in Bane’s back tightened before relaxing again. I could hear him breathing under the mask, sharp exhales and gasps as my cock pushed in deeper, stretching him open. While he clearly wasn’t opposed to bottoming, it was obvious he hadn’t done it in a long time.

Caressing his body with my free hand, I swept it along the curve of his hip and thigh, groaning when my cock sank in a little deeper.