Page 5 of Haunted Games

Abby

“Stop looking at me like that.”

Julia shut her mouth and took a giant swig of her mimosa. Both of us had worked late every night this week, so our usual Friday drinks had turned into Saturday brunch. “I, um… I’m just shocked, Abs. Thrilled, don’t get me wrong, but shocked nonetheless.”

“It was stupid, Jules. I can’t believe I let it happen.”

She fanned her face dramatically. “Are you kidding me? I saw those masked men. Every one of them was straight out of a girl’s darkest fantasies.

They were not playing around when they hired for that role.

I cannot believe you! And I’m very jealous.

Maybe I could get Jason to dress up and take me back to the haunted house. ”

“I’m sure you could,” I said drolly. “You two love some good old-fashioned exhibitionism.”

“Oh, aren’t you a precious little pot calling the kettle black.”

I was regretting coming clean to Julia about what happened with the masked man, but I’d needed to talk to someone. Mostly because I could not stop thinking about it. It’d been the hottest experience of my life, hands down, zero competition.

And what I really needed her to do was talk me out of going back there tonight, looking for the same masked man like some obsessed stalker.

I’d spent all week remembering every single detail of our encounter.

The way this stranger had sensed I needed to escape from Michael.

The way he held me like he wanted to possess me.

The flexing of his biceps and the grooves of his abs.

The way his tongue felt between my legs.

The way he watched me from behind his mask as he made me climax with just his fingers.

Maybe I was losing my mind? The stress of work, of worrying about my mom, of dealing with Michael’s barrage of texts that continued to demand I make time to talk to him while he was in town—was all of it pushing me to escape reality, which I’d chosen to do by indulging in this ridiculous fantasy of letting a masked man chase me through a haunted house and then fuck my brains out?

I said as much to Julia.

“And what, pray tell, is wrong with that, Abby? You deserve this indulgence. You said he told you he’d be working again tonight, right? Sounds to me like he wants this as much as you do.”

“You don’t think this is stupid? Or dangerous?”

She shrugged. “He’s not really a masked stalker, babe.

He’s an actor on the payroll of a major event production company with what I’m sure is a robust insurance policy.

Obviously he’s coloring outside the lines of his job description, but you’re both consenting adults.

I vote you ride this train for the rest of the month because after Halloween, your fun is over. ”

And Michael’s arbitration would be over by then, too, so he would be long gone.

She was right. I should just scratch this itch. My brain was so addled now that I’d found myself noticing Galen’s strong hands and veiny forearms every time we met to discuss the project we were now working on together.

I had tall, muscular men with thick fingers on my mind, and Galen was inconveniently prancing around the office while being a giant with big hands and somehow even more fit than back when we were in school.

And he’d done a nice thing for me.

Trying to soften me up.

I didn’t know what his game was, but I’d find out.

Resolve hit me, and I shoved work and everything else to the back of my mind.

I was going back to the haunted house.

Nerves fluttered in my belly as I stepped under the black lights and into the fog. The clown at the door had seemed a little concerned I was braving this alone, but I assured him that it wasn’t my first time and I was just an everyday, run-of-the-mill adrenaline junkie.

I’d never second-guessed my outfit choice so much as I had standing in front of my mirror an hour ago. A skirt, you absolute trollop? And how are you going to run in that lacy little camisole with a joke of a bra built in?

But I reminded myself that I was here for a very specific thing, and I’d vowed not to be ashamed of that thing.

I made my way slowly through the rooms this time. A few jump scares got me, but otherwise everything was as it had been last weekend, so I was ready.

My pulse pounded in my throat as I approached the Seven Deadly Sins room. Would he be here? Was he waiting for me?

Screams sounded up ahead. Masculine laughter. I smashed myself up against the wall, and then I peered around the corner.

In the darkness of the Seven Deadly Sins room, lit only by the bright paint on the walls that glowed under the black light, three masked men waved fake weapons at the group of teenagers ahead of me.

There was the ax I remembered from last time.

One of them had a fake chainsaw, and the last one some kind of garrote thing.

Were these the same guys? Or did they have a stable of buff men on staff to rotate in?

The ax and the chainsaw guys chased the teens from the room. The one with the garrote made to follow, but then I stepped inside.

He turned slowly, ready do his job and menace the new arrival.

At the sight of me, he froze.

Taller than his compatriots, big shoulders, low-slung ripped jeans, dark hoodie with torn sleeves. It was him. I knew it without a doubt.

A growl ripped from his chest, distorted behind his mask. “You better run, sweetheart.”

A tidal wave of adrenaline smacked me, followed by the slow boil of lust. I bolted from the room, headed back the way I came.

I flew through the Satanic Ritual room, careened around a corner, and sprinted past a room filled with fake people pinned to the wall like hunting trophies. The heavy footfalls of combat boots thudded behind me, ratcheting my need higher and higher with every step.

I hit a fork in the path and skidded to a stop. Which way?

The footfalls slowed. He was hunting me.

I bolted to the right and found myself in the funhouse mirror maze.

Shit.

I crept along, trying to find my way through under the disorienting strobe lights. A few clowns popped out of dark corners, but I just hushed them and indicated I was trying to hide. One of them gave me a thumbs-up before disappearing again.

A dark figure stalked up ahead. I reversed course.

The same dark figure appeared, doubled in front of me.

Damn it. The mirrors were a mindfuck.

I turned around once more and sprinted down the only open path I could find.

Only to smack into a hard wall of muscle.

“Got you,” the deep, distorted voice growled.

I screamed, but his large hand came down over my mouth. He dragged me into an empty corner behind one of the mirrors, my back smashed against his front, trapped by unmovable arms.

He released my mouth and slid his painted hand down around my throat. His thumb caressed my pulse point, and I went slack in his arms.

He rumbled his approval. “Good girl. You say, ‘Stop,’ and this stops. You got it?”

I nodded.

“Good.” His other hand, the one not wrapped around my throat, dipped below the hem of my skirt and skated up the front of my sporty panties. (I didn’t own anything else). “Is this skirt for me?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He dipped his finger into my panties and found the mess waiting for him there. “Fuck. Is this for me too?”

“You know it is.”

“Perfect. Naughty, but perfect.”

His words were dopamine injected straight into my veins. “Please.”

“Please what, sweetheart?”

I swallowed roughly. “Please fuck me.”

With a snarl that sounded almost anguished, he released me from the cage of his arms. I stumbled, disoriented by the lights and mirrors, but then his hand was around mine, dragging me frantically through two rooms stuffed full of people (none of whom seemed at all shocked by the sight of a masked man dragging a girl off somewhere, because why would they be?).

He pulled me around a corner and shouldered his way into another small storage room. A few broken mirrors had been propped in the corner, and a crate of unsettling clown paraphernalia sat next to it.

The door had hardly shut behind us before he shoved me face-first against the wall. He flipped my skirt up over my hips before his rough hands dragged my panties to my ankles.

“You remember the rules,” his distorted voice growled from where he knelt at my feet. He grasped my ankle and lifted, and then he did the same to the other, helping me step out of my panties. He stood up again and crowded up against my back. “Face the wall. Say, ‘Stop’, and we stop.”

“I remember,” I rasped.

His hand ghosted over the globe of my ass, and then he squeezed me roughly. “Good girl.”

The crinkle of a condom wrapper was next, and a full body shudder overtook me.

“You came prepared,” I whispered.

He chuckled and tugged on the waistband of my skirt. “So did you.”

He had me there.

With no preamble, his thick fingers entered me. I moaned at the easy slide and the delicious pressure.

“You’re ready for me. You’ve been ready for me for a while, haven’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” I cried as he pumped his fingers harder. I dared a glance over my shoulder. “Please.”

His void eyes snapped up from where they’d been glued to his fingers moving in and out of me. He wrapped his free hand around my neck and turned me forcefully back to face the wall. “Stay,” he demanded.

“Okay,” I whispered.

He removed his fingers. I whimpered, and then the thick head of his cock pressed at my entrance.

I shifted my hips to push back against him.

Another chuckle. “So greedy.”

He plunged roughly inside me, and he didn’t stop until he bottomed out, his hips hitting my ass. I cried out at the intrusion.

Soft lips landed on my neck, and he kissed me there, then along my bare shoulder. He didn’t move his hips, and I realized each kiss along my dewy skin was a question he wasn’t going to ask out loud because he’d taken his mask off.

Which he’d done so he could kiss me.

“I’m okay,” I said. “It feels good. So good.”

He sank his teeth lightly into my shoulder and groaned.

And then he ruined me.

It was everything I wanted.

Brutal thrusts at a breakneck pace. It was the stuff of legends. He had the stamina of a warrior who carved through armies during the day and hammered away between the thighs of maidens at night.

Rough hands dug into my hips. I’d probably develop bruises, and I’d admire them until they faded.

I moaned and cried and swore like a sailor, and it only drove him harder. The pressure built in my core, making me desperate. I dropped a hand from the wall and reached between my legs.

He snarled and knocked it away, never breaking his pace as he reached between my legs himself and rubbed my clit with harsh, vigorous strokes.

I screamed as I detonated around him.

He groaned like he was dying. I was choking the life out of his dick with my climax.

“Fuck,” he said. The sound of his voice told me he’d put his mask back on. “Fuck, that’s good.”

His hips finally stuttered and slowed. He’d come, too, and I felt immensely satisfied by that fact.

He pulled out and slid my skirt back down over my ass, smoothing it a few times before he stepped away.

Without the press of his hard body against mine, a chill prickled against my exposed skin.

I turned around in time to catch him stepping away from wherever he’d disposed of the condom, those strong fingers zipping his dick back into his low-slung jeans. He prowled toward me, and my back hit the wall as he caged me in once more.

He stared down at me from behind the mask and cupped my cheek in that big hand. “Okay?”

I grinned at him, feeling lightheaded. “Never better.”

He studied me for a moment longer, and then he sighed. “Let’s get you out of here.”

His fingers threaded through mine like he was a doting boyfriend, he led me down a back hallway and out a side door used only by the staff. He shut the door and leaned against it, those carved, painted arms crossed over his chest as he watched me walk to my car.

I am… not wearing panties, I thought belatedly.

I made it a whole ten feet before I turned to look at him. “You work next Saturday?”

He nodded.

“Only Saturdays?”

Another nod.

“And Halloween is the last one?”

Nod.

I took one deep breath and then returned his nod. “Okay.”

Head held high, I strode back to my car.

Two Saturdays left, and then this was over.

Get a grip, Abby. This is just for fun. A much-needed distraction.

I repeated that mantra in my head the entire forty-minute drive back into the city, but I never managed to make it stick.