Page 70 of Grave Possession (Grave #2)
Half a beat later, a sharp whine pierces the night.
Who the fuck is dumb enough to drive a street bike on these back roads?
A black and red crotch rocket rolls in, the lone rider’s head swaying from side to side.
For a fraction of a second it lands on us, hovering longer than I’m comfortable with, before he carries on to find his friend with the small dick and loud truck.
A screaming exhaust draws my attention back to the entrance.
How many of these douchebags are there? I’m blinded by the bright as fuck headlights, and the way the party strobes bounce off the chrome coated exterior.
The rev is a high wail before dropping to a low, aggressive roar as this motherfucker makes a show of pulling into my Haunt.
When his lights turn away, heading down the same parking lane as his buddies, I see this fucking beautiful supercar is pink.
A chrome wrapped, cherry blossom pink, Audi R8.
It’s a fucking travesty. It purrs through the lot as the driver rolls down the window, hanging his heavily tattooed arm out.
How they all manage to find a parking spot, I don’t know.
But shortly after their obnoxious engines cut off, three guys and a lady are crossing the grass to the entrance gate.
The rider hangs back with the driver of the pink monstrosity, as the woman and a guy dressed up as Crocodile Dundee approach the gate .
Tattoo arms flips helmet-head the bird, drapes a white sheet over his body, and takes off towards the woman making exaggerated ghostly “ oooooooooo ” sounds. “Hey Jessie! What do you call a ghost dick?”
She looks back over her shoulder, “I don’t know. What?”
“A booooo-ner!” he says, finishing the joke. She groans, trying to hide her laugh. His body collides with hers as he throws another sheet over the woman’s head, scooping her up as she squeals. Mr. Dundee rolls his eyes, but still there’s a smile plastered on his face.
The rider’s steps slow slightly as his gaze finds mine.
He lifts the visor, and a look of cold indifference passes over his face, his Neptune coloured eyes as frigid as the planet they remind me of.
He doesn’t see me as a threat. His stare lands on Mallory, but she’s too busy greeting the other three as they pass through the entrance to notice.
It lingers far too long, and I pull my knife from its sheath, ready to keep this fucker away from Mal at all costs.
“Have a wonderful fright!” My little siren giggles, welcoming the group.
“Thank you,” the woman replies. “This place is amazing.”
“It’s all his doing.” Mallory gestures to me, and I have to break my stare-off with biker-boy to be a proper host.
I force a smile as an Aussie accent breaks the tension. “That’s not a knoife , this is a knoife !” He holds up a huge plastic bowie knife, and I force myself to stay neutral. Does this motherfucker think I won’t stab him? Or his fucking friend?
Mallory and the woman double over laughing, as the one beneath the sheet groans at his friend’s terrible joke .
“Yours may be bigger, but mine’s real.” I mock, making a show of holding up my buck knife, running my thumb along the blade until a bead of blood appears.
“Message received, your highness,” the male ghost says, bowing like a dick. Fuck, I hate this crown.
Mallory, sensing the tension, waves them in, telling them to enjoy their night, and not to hesitate to find us if they need anything.
The four of them disappear into the crowd, and I hope the biker feels my eyes burning into his back the whole time.
I don’t know what it is about him, but I don’t like it.
My protective side has reared its murderous head, and it wants nothing more than to take Mallory back home to bury her in blankets.
He definitely doesn’t want her pretty cunt on display for the whole Haunt to see, especially the mofo with the crotch rocket.
Turning back to Viktor and Nixon, they’re nowhere to be seen.
They must have gotten sick of waiting for me.
I hope my knife display didn’t scare them off, or I’ll never be able to get Mallory into that house.
Maybe if I offer to do the job super cheap, they’ll agree to letting a freak like me into their house.
I make a mental note to find them before the night is over and apologize. Mal tugs on my arm, pulling me out of my thoughts and into the shadows. She snakes her arms around my neck and jumps, wrapping her legs around my waist. Ripping the mask from my head, her lips meet mine, hungry and demanding.
“What’s.” Kiss. “Gotten.” Kiss. “Into.” Kiss. “You?” Kiss.
“Like you don’t know,” she breathes against my skin, trailing kisses across my jaw and down my neck. I press her up against the nearest tree, a gasp slipping from her as I rub my growing erection into the junction of her thighs.
Confused, I lock my eyes on hers. “I honestly don’t know, but I’m not complaining.”
“I saw you get all dark and murdery.”
“Oh?”
“It’s hot.” A smile pulls at my lips as I slowly lean in, ghosting my lips over hers.
“Is that so…? How hot?” Mal drops her feet to the ground, grabbing my hand and placing it against her naked centre. My knees nearly buckle, she’s so slick and ready for me.
Without an ounce of hesitation, I push my fingers into her, capturing her lips with mine. “So fucking wet for me, little siren.” She whimpers in agreement as I slide through her slit at a pace that’s torturous for the both of us.
She starts to rock in time with my strokes, meeting my hand harder and harder every time I move into her. “Ghost…” she pants, threading her fingers into my hair, and yanking my mouth down to hers, wanting me to swallow the sounds of her undoing.
Suddenly, the music cuts off, and Greyson’s voice splits the abrupt silence.
“Welcome to the Henderson Haunt, our yearly debaucherous way to let our inhibitions run wild.” The crowd erupts into applause and whoops of elation and Grey patiently waits for it to die down before continuing.
“Now, it seems our new host has gone missing…”
A spotlight clicks on and sweeps over the crowd.
I pull my mouth away from the siren entrancing me, watching as the beam of light gets closer and closer to discovering us.
I rip my hand out from beneath her dress before anyone can witness the most intimate parts of her.
They’re meant only for me. “If any of you see a killer in a crown, direct him this way.” The music clicks back on as Grey does one more sweep over the area from the platform.
His eyes land on the darkness we are shrouded in.
I know he can’t see us, but he’s smart enough to know we’re probably hiding.
“Nox,” Mal whines, trying to pull my hand back to finish the job but I resist. “Hey, what’s the matter?” She cups my cheek, bringing my gaze from the stage back to her.
“I don’t want anyone to see you like that…” I confess.
“You realize you said you were going to fuck me on stage for everyone to see, right?”
My lips form a frown at the thought. I did want that, but now? I more than detest the very idea of it.