Page 4 of Ghosts of Halloween

“You’re wet, princess,” I say, coming closer. “You want this. Well, then. You know what to do.”

I leave her there, standing with her lips parted, hand balled into a fist. As I walk away, I don’t look back, because right now, one look from her will have me running back and begging at her feet, and I’ve humiliated myself enough as it is.

And Harlow doesn’t need a weakling. She needs a guy who’ll take care of her and let her be the weak one for a change. I know how tired she is of being strong.

And so I leave her and go home, doing my best not to wonder what she’ll do now. I’ll know in the evening. If she shows up in the haunted house at 12 Sycamore Street, I’ll let her big brother beat me up and then I’ll take her home and fuck her senseless like she deserves.

When I get to my place, I slam the door shut and strip on my way to the bathroom, because my balls seriously hurt. I walked home with a fucking hard-on, unable to stop thinking about how that kiss tasted and imagining what might happen tonight.

She wants me. She fucking said so.

Sometimes I wish you were serious.

God, the way she said that… It gives me hope and also makes me want to slam my thick head into the shower wall. I should have done this long ago. Who cares if Noah comes at me with a knife? He can’t kill me, cause then his little sister would cry. And what’s a scar or two if I get to have her?

She’s fucking worth it.

I turn on the water and huff when the cold spray hits my back. It warms slowly, but I don’t wait for the temperature to get comfortable. I’m alreadyworking my cock, gripping it so hard, the barbells in my piercings press into the shaft, and it’s not enough.

Nothing will ever be enough. Only Harlow and her sweet little cunt.

If she shows up tonight, I won’t stay long with the guys. I’ll let Noah vent and then take her with me, leaving them to celebrate the latest job alone. Silas and Caden always go off to fuck in one of the decrepit rooms, anyway, so no loss.

And even though it’s Halloween, I don’t even consider taking Harlow to the party. No, tonight, I want my princess all to myself, spread open on my bed, her prosthetic off.

“Fuck,” I grunt when my cock pulses.

Just seeing her in my mind, vulnerable, unbalanced, truly naked without that prop that helps her pretend she’s normal and unscarred, does me in. Harlow is so exquisite, and when her defenses drop, she’s at her best.

God, how I’ll fuck her. She has no idea. I will kiss her all over, stroking my hands down her throat, pushing my fingers in her mouth, biting her nipples just enough to make her cry out. Her voice will get breathy, and she’ll call my name in that half-shy, half-wanton voice I heard a year ago, when she got drunk in the haunted house and I turned her on with dirty, dirty words.

My cock pulses in my hand, hard, swollen, ready to spill, and I work my hips, imagining it’s not my hand but Harlow’s cunt I’m fucking. She’s tight and wet, and so warm, and when I bottom out, she cries out in pain and desire, and even though the barbells hurt her, she doesn’t tell me to stop, because it feels too fucking good…

I come with a grunt, and as the water washes my cum away, I pant hard, grinning to myself. It’s fucking tonight. I know she’ll come. She can’t resist me, and I’m done giving a shit about anyone but her. I have no doubts. She’ll be there.

So when the night falls, and Harlow doesn’t turn up, I’m fucking livid. I’m ready to eviscerate her shitty boyfriend myself, so shehas no choice but to be free of him. I drink and rage, and Caden laughs at what he calls my teenage crush… I’m all fired up and ready to drag her here myself.

But when the shit goes down and we stand over Noah’s body lying in a pool of blood, I can only think how fucking thankful I am.

Thankful she didn’t come and see her brother dying at my feet.

1

Harlow

I fake moan, bouncing on Ryan’s dick in the back of his car. I’m in his lap, riding him reverse cowgirl style so I don’t have to see his face. The windows are fogged with our labored breathing, and the car is filthy, burger wraps and empty cans littering the floor.

The music is just loud enough to hear over the rhythmic slap of our bodies, and I focus on that, waiting until he’s finished. This was a bad idea. I know I lost my spark quite some time ago, but I wanted to try one last time.

To get that high.

“Yeah, babe,” Ryan says, and I realize I’ve been quiet for too long. I give him another moan, and he squeezes my hips.

There.

I focus, closing my eyes, and thereissomething. A little bubble in my chest. The way he holds my hips seems to do the trick, and if he just did more with his hands…

“You fucking like this, bitch,” he wheezes out, bringing his hand to my left breast and squeezing.

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