The screams are high pitched and echo eerily in the semi-darkness. Instinctively I reach for my friend, Lacey, and pull her back a step. She reaches for me, her fingers gripping mine as she looks down at a growing puddle of red ooze. I can't bring myself to look for more than a moment. The thick substance glows black under the low lighting. In all my life I've never seen anything that so closely resembles blood. A shiver runs down my spine as I carefully step around the widening circle of goo. Holding tightly to her hand, I stay as close as possible as we make our way down the narrow hallway.
Haunted Houses are so not on my Bucket List I think as we slowly make our way past closed doors. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for a door to swing open at any second. No doubt something hideous will be waiting for us. Silently I urge Lacey to move a little faster. No sense in holding up the dozen or so people following us down the spider web covered corridor. My silent urgings go unheeded as she carefully makes her way toward the end of the hall. She comes to a stop as she looks first to the left then to the right.
"Which way, m'ladies?" Lacey asks over her shoulder. In her emerald green gown and flowing red hair, she is the epitome of a Celtic Princess. Lacey pulls off the costume with a grace not many women could. She looks as elegant and beautiful as if she stepped from a fairy tale.
"Let's go right." The voice coming over my shoulder is surprising. Glancing back, I meet Sierra's dark gaze. Her almond shaped eyes are bright with excitement. With a slender hand she pushes back the riot of her curly hair. She is quite possibly the prettiest fairy ever. Her exotic beauty is enhanced by a form fitting green dress and gossamer wings. She looks otherworldly. It's almost believable that she had magical qualities.
"Only if going right gets us the hell out of here." I shoot back over my shoulder. Sierra gives me an impish smile as she lightly pushes my shoulder. Grudgingly, I continue along.
Lacey's gasp is lost in the pounding bass of heavy metal music blasting from recessed speakers. I stop just short of bumping into her. Peeking over her shoulder, I see what could only be described as a gateway to Hell. The black painted walls are splattered with more of the nauseating impromptu blood. Against the far wall is an old fashioned, white enamel autopsy table. A pale, waxy foot peeks from beneath a bloody sheet. No way in hell are we going to step in the room.
"Don't even think about it." I whisper to Lacey. Letting go of her hand, I move past the room. I stand just off to the side as Sierra looks inside.
"Oh, that's gross! Would you look at that?" Sierra's voice barely carries to me. The music is loud enough to rattle the walls.
Shaking my head slightly I yet again question our sanity. I'm not a fan of things that go bump in the night. The thought of ghosts and ghouls is enough to make me pull the blankets over my head and pray for daylight. The thought of dark, unknown creatures lurking in the shadows makes me feel flushed. Why did I agree to this? The only answer is insanity. I have totally lost my marbles. Certainly no other explanation makes sense.
Lacey gives me a slightly reproachful look as she turns away from the room. "Darling, how many times must I tell you, there is nothing to be afraid of? This is merely a grand production in a dreadful theater. These bits of plastic and fake blood can't hurt you."
The knowing gleam in her eye doesn't make me feel any better. Lacey is one tough cookie. Not much scares her. She's a woman in control of her own destiny.
"She's right. Everything is fake and you're practically jumping out of your skin." Sierra adds. As if I need to hear that. They're not saying anything I haven't told myself a hundred times since leaving home. However, it still doesn't make me feel better. I'm scared.
I give them what I hope is a hard look as we finally turn right down the hall. As soon as we take a step I'm momentarily blinded. A bright strobe light flickers, making it nearly impossible to see. Instinctively I move closer to the wall. Blinking hard, I try to the clear the star bursts clinging to my vision. Unable to see, I flatten myself against the wall. A group of giggling teenage girls push through, their blue and white cheerleader costumes reflecting the bright lights. Sucking in a deep breath I silently tell myself to get a grip. The only way out is forward and I'm getting out of here if it's the last thing I do.
Squinting slightly, I see Lacey and Sierra disappear into a room. A sharp, shriek echos from the room. Dread, hot and thick, takes root in my stomach. My imagination takes over, creating a terrifying scenario of what might have caused that eerie sound. Visions of zombies, dismembered corpses, every horror movie cliché flash through my brain in time with the strobe light. Swallowing hard I tell myself there's no reason to be afraid. It's not real.
I continue repeating this mantra as I force myself away from the wall. Nothing. Here. Is. Real. Taking a deep breath I force my feet to move. Looking down at my white heels, I move as quickly as I can. My balance is off, made worse by four inch tall Mary Janes. Why did I let myself be talked into this frilly angel costume? Why didn't I pick something practical, like a librarian? No, we agreed we would forget our usually demure clothing choices for something that would raise a few eyebrows. Next time, though... Shaking my head quickly, I remind myself there will not be a next time. Not in a million years.
Without looking up I pass the room Lacey and Sierra had entered. Not going in there. No way, no how. The only place I'm going is to the exit. They can spend the rest of eternity exploring every nook and cranny, if they want. I'll wait for them outside in the freezing Chicago night. I'd rather freeze my ass off than spend five more minutes in this place. Keeping that thought at the front of my mind, I move down the hall toward a black painted door with a glowing green arrow painted on it.
My steps slow slightly as I reach the door. Glancing to the right I see an open door. Instantly I wish I hadn't. The room is set like an old fashioned parlor; straight back chairs surround a circular coffee table. Everything is covered in dust and a thick coating of spider webs. No spiders for me, thank you very much. Just as I turn away I feel the impossible. Two heavily muscled arms wrap around my waist and pop me off my feet. A blood curdling scream wells up as I'm pulled backward. My hands cover the broad hands locked securely around me. My sharp nails dig into the supple skin. My panicked brain realizes I have failed to ask if this adventure is interactive. How stupid of me not to ask if I was taking a chance on being abducted by one of these horrid creatures!
A whimper escapes me as I'm hauled into the room on the left. My breath comes in soft pants. It's hard to breathe with those heavy arms locked around me. Equilibrium leaves me as I'm dropped to my feet. The shaking in my knees makes standing an effort. Pressing a hand against the wall, I try to support myself. I expect those arms to leave me at any moment. The thought of collapsing to the floor gives me the strength to stand.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here? A pretty little angel." The deep voice is close to my ear.
A shiver races down my spine. The voice is low and a soft, a decided contrast to the overload of sensory information. The thick Chicago accent is unmistakable. This isn't a creature from an unknown realm. This is a man. A very real, flesh and blood man.
"Let me go." My voice doesn't have the authority I wish it does. It's more of a whisper, easily lost in the bass pouring through the speakers.
"Why would I do that?" His warm breath fans across the side of my neck. "It's not every day an angel falls from Heaven."
"I said let me go." This time my voice is stronger. And a little louder.
A low laugh rumbles out of his chest. I feel the vibration moving along my spine.
"Seems that we're at a stale mate. You want me to let you go, right?" I nod in response. "I'm not inclined to do that."
A gasp leaves me as he nuzzles the curve of my shoulder, The soft rasp of his beard is an unexpected sensation. Surprise moves through me as I realize it's not an unpleasant feeling. My cheeks heat with a blush. Surely there must be something wrong with me. Why else would I not be totally repulsed?
His left arm slowly releases its grip. He trails his fingertips lightly down my arm. He stops when he reaches my hand. He traces over the back of each of my fingers before drawing his hand back up my arm. In his wake is a feeling of warmth. My skin tingles.
"How 'bout we make a deal?" He murmured as his hand buries in the blonde curls Sierra had artfully arranged at the top of my head. "A little tit for tat. A quid pro quo, if you will."
"What do you want?" My voice sounds breathless, as if I had run a mile.
He laughs softly. The sound, so deep and rich, makes my body heat. Pushing away the unfamiliar feeling, I shake my head. "Now that is the question, isn't it, my angel?"
He makes a sound in the back of his throat, part hum, part growl. The sound moves through me, making me aware of how tight my skin suddenly feels. "That all depends on what you're willing to give. How much is your freedom worth? How badly do you want it?"
His words make my breath catch in my throat. Surely he's teasing. He can't possibly be serious. He's trying to torture me; to take away the last bits of sanity. How quickly do I realize he was more than serious! His thumb begins to inch higher from my waist. He stops as it comes to rest between my breasts.
"Answer me. How badly do you want it?" Before I can answer, he steps away. The loss of his warmth is striking. He turns me to face him. I'm glad my eyes are still tightly closed. It's better if I don't put a face that voice. It was far better he remain a figment of my imagination.
Shaking my head slowly I force myself not to answer. I can't bring myself to speak a single word.
His touch is surprisingly gentle as he draws his fingers down my cheek. His thumb strokes across my bottom lip in a slow seep. He moves from my lips back to my cheek, pressing firmly as he goes.
"Open your eyes, little angel." He's even closer know. His lips brush against my forehead. I suck in a deep breath. His scent is incredible. It's dark and spicy; a mix of sandalwood and bergamot. It makes me think of hot summer nights. It's a scent I could get used to.
His thick fingers sink into my hair again, holding me in place. His lips move from my forehead down the bridge of my nose to my lips. He presses lightly, a teasing caress. My eyes flutter open as he draws away. Sucking in a sharp breath I look into the darkest, deepest, green eyes I've ever seen. They're wide set above a slightly crooked nose. One raven dark brow is arched as he studies me. My gaze moves upward to his forehead. Two horns protrude from the smooth skin; on either side of his widow's peak. This mystery man is dressed all in black; a devil come to life. The illusion is made more concrete by the swirling red lights. The effect paints ever changing flames on the midnight walls. His sharp jawline is more evident under the unearthly glow.
"How perfect." He murmurs as he looks at my eyes. "Such a beautiful blue." Once again he draws his fingers down my cheek. He grasps my chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tips my head back a little as he continues looking me over. "You're so beautiful."
Those lips are mesmerizing. They're an odd shade, dark pink and glistening. The thin ring of metal bisecting his bottom lip is fascinating. It shines under the low lighting. I've never seen a mouth like his before. As I watch, his lips draw into half smile. A dangerous warmth takes root in my loins.
"Who are you?" The question leaves me before I can rationally think.
A low, deep laugh rumbles out of him as he cocks his head to the side. "Me? I'm your fall from grace."
His lips brush over mine again. This time they're firm and insistent. Unable to resist, they part for him. He takes advantage of my moment of weakness, his tongue slipping inside to taste. He laps gently, exploring deep then retreating. Over and over he tastes me, toying with me, teasing before retreating. My breathing grows shallow as he traces over the edges of my teeth. When he pulls away I feel lost.
"Are you willing to trade, sweet angel?" He asks as he looks down at me. "A taste of temptation for your freedom?"
A helpless sound leaves me as his broad palm skims down the center of my body. As his hand reaches my stomach I feel butterflies take flight. Their frantic fluttering makes me feel so out of sorts. I feel like I've lost touch with gravity. I'm floating in an place where neither time or reality exist. Unknowingly I reach for him, my fingers wrap around his thick biceps. Electricity moves through me, setting off tiny explosions under my skin. I stare at the place where my hands meet his satiny flesh. The swirling network of tattoos is fascinating. The bright colors blend together, covering a living canvas of rock hard muscles and smooth flesh.
"Like what you see?" His question catches me off guard. My eyes flick up to meet his. His smile is utterly wicked. The flash of his straight, white teeth catch my attention. As I watch he licks his bottom lip, drawing the plump morsel between his teeth. After a moment he releases it. His lip ring is wet and glitters almost like a diamond. Unable to answer, I nod in agreement.
Without another word he reaches up to the buttons of his black shirt. The thin material is torn in several places. I watch in helpless wonder as he begins to free the buttons. When the last button gives way he shrugs out it. It catches on the wrist still wrapped tightly around my waist. With a quick motion he frees it from his body. My eyes can't look away from the tattoos stretching from his right shoulder to his left. The skull and snake stand out as much as the clusters of dark red flowers. It's an amazing creation that must have been unbelievably painful.
Without a word he lifts my hand and places it over his pounding heart. A sigh of relief leaves me. He might look like the very devil himself, but he's a man. A hot blooded, incredibly attractive man. My fingers curl against the hard muscles of his pecs. The feel of his heated skin under my palm is irresistible.
"That's right, angel, touch me."
My fingers move of their own accord; exploring the indentation down the center of his chest. I stop when I come to his belly button. Unsure of what to do, my eyes flick up to meet his. His eyes are serious as he looks down. His eyes stay locked with mine as his free hand skims downward from my hip. He gathers my skirt in his hand. Cool air moves over me, making me more aware of the heat simmering in my veins. Taking a step closer, he presses against me from shoulder to thigh. He leaves my skirt bunched between us. Without asking permission his hand slips between my thighs.
He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth as his fingers find my white, silk panties. The material is damp and clinging to my folds. Embarrassment washes through me. It's one thing to feel flushed and needy. It's another thing for my body to betray me.
"Is this for me?" His lips find mine before I can answer. Hooking his thumb at the side of my panties, he begins tugging them down. When his hand meets my bare flesh, a hungry growl rumbles up from deep in his chest. He explores me thoroughly, pressing through the slick wetness to find the heated flesh beneath. A startled cry leaves me as his thumb brushes over my swollen clitoris. My hips jerk in response as he does it again.
"Such a sensitive place, isn't it?" He questions as he presses firmly. "Just think of all the things I can do to you, just by touching you right here." The last two words are said in a slow drawl.
His thumb leaves its resting place, making me feel suddenly bereft. As impossible as it is to believe, I crave more. A whimper of protest escapes. However, the feeling is fleeting. His calloused fingers find my entrance and begin teasing. My body weeps as the craving transforms to need. I have no idea what to ask for. I crave something dark and unnameable. My thighs close around his hand, trapping him against me. His hand leaves my waist to tangle in my hair.
"Oh no, little angel. It's too late now. Open for me."
The command in his voice is unmistakable. My body obeys him instantly, my thighs relaxing to free his hand.
"That's a good girl." He murmurs as his fingers once again begin teasing my entrance.
Without warning his long finger slips inside. A keening cry is elicited as he presses deep then retreats. Soon, a second finger joins the first. He's taking his time, preparing me, working my tight channel with his calloused fingers. With a sure sweep, his thumb once again joins the torture. Something deep inside me is growing tighter and tighter. Each stroke of his thumb makes me whimper. It makes no sense but I want more. My hips arch into his touch, silently pleading for more.
"What a surprise you are!" The praise in his voice makes my blood heat even more. "You're so hot, so wet, so very eager."
All I can do is nod in agreement. There's no reason to deny what we both know. This dark, mysterious stranger is making me feel as I never have. He makes me feel so alive, so needy, so very much like a woman. With a soft groan his fingers leave me. Lifting his hand, he traces his fingers across my lips. I taste myself on his fingers, the salty sweet tang of my desire evident on his skin. My breath catches as he begins lapping at his fingers then moves to my lips. He kisses me deeply, sharing more of the taste of my arousal. He kisses me until I'm breathless and he's panting.
I'm surprised when he pulls me away from the wall. He gathers me against his chest, holding me tightly with his left arm. With his right hand he pushes down the straps of my dress. My unrestrained breasts sway as he pools the material at my waist. His hand captures one swollen nipple and tugs. Sparks shoot through me, licking along my spine before settling in my swollen folds. He toys with me, plucking at the distended peaks until they are rosy from the attention. Shock rolls through me as his head dips down to draw one into his mouth. The wet glide of his tongue over my sensitive nipple is intensified by the smooth metal of his tongue ring. It's unlike anything I've ever known. It's a peculiar torture, making me cling tightly to him.
Unaware that I've moved, I bury my fingers in his hair. I cradle his head as he moves from one breast to another then back again. My nipples ache from the attention he is lavishing. They're painfully swollen and more sensitive than ever. Just when I think I can not bear more, his sharp teeth graze over the tip. My knees weaken. It's too much and at the same time, so not enough. I whimper with need as he presses a kiss between my breasts.
"Brace yourself." His words are almost lost in the sound of his zipper as it lowers. With one hand he shoves the rough denim away, exposing his heavy cock. Unable to resist my eyes drop to his hips. A mewling sound leaves me as I drink in the sight of his arousal. The heavy length is impossibly thick; the crown is tight and flushed. As I watch a drop of milky pre-cum appears. It clings tenaciously before beginning a slow descent down the rigid tip.
"See what you've done, angel? You've made me weep." His voice is full of praise. Sliding his denim covered thigh between my parted legs, he opens me. He pushes closer, closing the scant distance that separates us. His hot length presses against my thigh before gliding upward. The first brush of his cock against my wet flesh turns me to jelly. He probes lightly, teasing, toying with me as he had before. Gathering both of my wrists in his huge palm, he pins the above my head. His gaze meets mine as he arches over me. A feral growl fills the room as he slams home.
Pleasure consumes me as he thrusts deeply then holds himself still. Sex has never been like this. The careful forays I've known before now have done nothing to prepare me. I'm stretched wide over his throbbing cock. Fear flashes through me as he pushes deeper. It's impossible that he'll fit. The pressure in my depths is incredible as he seats himself fully. Never in my life have I felt so full. I can feel the rhythmic pulse of blood pounding through his cock. I force myself to take a deep breath. The movement pulls him deeper.
A muffled curse drifts up to me as he buries his face in the crook of my shoulder. His sharp teeth sink into the curve where neck and shoulder meet. He locks on to me as he pulls back. The feeling of fullness vanishes. Instantly, I miss him. Before I can demand he return, he surges forward, going as deep as he'd been moments ago. He begins to move, setting a nearly frantic pace. His slim hips make a soft sound as they meet mine. The sound is glorious. But not half as much as the soft grunts so close to my ear. My slick channel clings tightly to him, suckling him, drawing him ever deeper. This is no gentle loving; no gentle expression of emotion. This is raw, needy. Hungry. I want him to fuck me harder, to pound into me until we are both spent and weak.
As if he senses my desires, his hand snakes between us. His thumb brushes through my silky blonde curls and to the throbbing nub below. His touch is determined as he begins stroking, igniting a fire deep inside that won't be extinguished. The combination of deep thrusts and endless stroking is driving me mad. My spine tingles as the burning pressure of orgasm flows throw me. My hips begin to move against him, taking him deeper. Silently, I plead for more. Unexpectedly he releases my hands. He drops them to his shoulders then wraps his arms around me. He picks me up as if weigh nothing and settles me over him. He doesn't have to tell me to wrap my legs around his slim hips. I do so automatically, pressing my body flush against his.
A growl of approval rumbles from him as he anchors me over him. He holds me in place, his long fingers digging into my skin. His thrusts turn greedy, taking everything I have. My pleasure catches us both both surprise. My body locks on him, sucking him deeper as my quivering sheath milks his glorious cock. My cries of pleasure fill the room, echoing off the black painted walls. My orgasm wells from deep inside; hotter, hungrier, more desperate than ever. He thrusts deeper and faster, taking me in a primal, consuming way. I feel his cock swell even more, stretching me to the limits as he nears his own pleasure. He hisses as his orgasm breaks free. He thrusts deep as he begins to come, emptying himself in scalding jets. My tight pussy milks him, drawing every drop of come. Even though he is drained, he thrusts hard one last time.
Weakly I collapse against him, my head dropping to rest on his shoulder. Unexpectedly, he kisses me. His kisses turn to nibbles as he licks my salty skin. I cling to him so tightly my muscles quiver. With a groan he releases his grip on my thighs. My legs drop uselessly; they are much too weak to support my weight. He holds me as my feet touch the floor. We stay exactly as we are, his softening cock buried in my core. I whimper as he frees himself from my body. An odd feeling comes over me as I feel a drop of his come on the inside of my thighs. It's a subtle declaration of what has transpired.
He kisses me once more then smooths my skirt back into place. He draws the straps back over my shoulders. His warm palm skims over my breasts before he pulls away. I should be embarrassed as he looks down at himself. Although softening, his cock is still impressive. It shimmers with the combination of our desires. If I expect him to wipe away the evidence of our passionate sex, I'm mistake. A truly devilish smile crossed his handsome face as he tucks his cock into his jeans and draws up the zipper. He gives me a rakish wink as he reaches for me.
"Happy Halloween, angel."
A blush overtakes me, staining my pale skin with a rosy color. I can't believe what I've done. I've allowed myself to be seduced on the most wicked night of the year. And by a man I don't know. For some reason I can't help but smile as I realize that I found a haunted house that, without a doubt, would definitely do again.