Page 18 of Haunt

“I think you like them a bit more than that. I was waiting for you to start drooling over them. So you can do that now.” He releases me, staring at me expectantly, but I just…look at him.

“You want me to what?” I ask, stunned and not sure my brain is working right.

“I want you to show me just how much you like my boots. Do you need some help with that?” When I don’t answer or move, seeing as I’m too stunned andwaytoo confused about what he means, he reaches out to tangle his fingers in my hair. He gives me a second, then two, before suddenly he drags me down to the floor, shoving my face to his boot and holding me there. “Show me how much you like my boots, pretty girl,” Harrow purrs. “I think my meaning is pretty clear at this point, and you’re not stupid.”

I’m not. But this isn’t something I’ve ever considered being into, and it feels more than a little embarrassing. I feel like a fuckingdogbeing shoved to the floor for doing something bad, and I can’t help but writhe, my fingers pressing to the concrete floor as I start to push up against his hand again.

But he doesn’t let me. He shoves me back down until my nose is pressed to the smooth leather of his boot, hard enough to sting. “Okay!” I gasp. “I won’t try to get up?—”

“And I’ll let go once you know what to do.” His words cut me off smoothly, and he holds me in place, stuck to them.Fuck, this is humiliating. I can’t stop thinking about how Ravage is only a few feet away, watching me squirm on the floor with my face against Harrow’s boot.

I’m also not being given much of a choice about it, however. With a soft sound of protest I open my mouth, licking over the smooth surface of his boot with a shudder at the taste of dirty leather. I can’t let myself think about what he’s stood in, or howmuch blood he’s gotten on these. I can only focus on licking over the toe of his boot and hoping he’ll decide it’s good enough in the next few seconds.

“Don’t sit up. Not until I tell you that you’re done,” Harrow warns. He uncurls his fingers from my hair and stands up straight, hands in his pockets as he stares down at me. I’m too terrified of him to do anything other than what he tells me. So I continue to run my tongue over the leather with a shudder, one hand inching up to grip the back of his ankle as I lean forward to lap at the leather surrounding his ankle as well.

IswearI hear a soft murmur of approval from the man above me, but it’s hard to tell over Rav’s delighted groan from the armchair. “Now I wish I’d worn boots like yours,” he chuckles. “Fuck, I bet she looks so good from your angle, huh?”

Harrow doesn’t reply, making me wonder if it’s a rhetorical question. But a few seconds later he moves his foot back, giving me hope that I can sit the hell up and stop with this humiliation.

Until he shifts his other boot, placing it expectantly just under my face on the dirty cement. I don’t even look up at him. I can feel the embarrassment burning my face, and I know I’m probably red as hell as I give the same treatment to this boot.

Finally he reaches down again, dragging me up to my knees even though I can’t meet his eyes. “Don’t you have something to say to me?” Harrow asks patiently, his grip in my hair is firm and unyielding. When I look up at him, a baleful expression in my eyes, he chuckles. “I’ll help you out before you say something I’ll make you regret. This is where you thank me, little girl.”

“For what?” I snap before I can stop myself.

“For letting you lick my boots. Unless you want to do it again until you find a reason to be grateful.”

I definitely don’t want to do that. Not with the continued taste of leather lingering on my tongue and embarrassmentburning in my face. But thanking him is almost just as humiliating. “Thank you,” I whisper finally, not looking at him.

“Do better.” Harrow shakes me by the hair like a dog. “I know you can do better.”

“Thank you,” I hiss, glaring up at him. But the warning in his eyes makes me drop my shoulders, and I widen my eyes instead. “Thank you,” I murmur, reaching out to press a hand gently to his thigh. “For letting me appreciate your boots. I—You were right. I really like them, and they were super distracting earlier in the lobby.”

“Good girl. See?” He lets go of me, lifting one foot to shove me back onto my thighs. “I knew you could do it.”

Before I can even move, Ravage is there, dragging me up by my hoodie and across the floor amidst my shrieks of protest. He tosses me onto the mattress, following me down onto it a second later to cage me in.

“Oh, you can fight me all you want, princess,” he laughs, grabbing my wrists and slamming them to the mattress over my head as I go to grab him. “I like it. It’s sofunwhen you’re fiery.” He grips the hem of my hoodie in one hand, shoving it up my body.

“Stop!” I protest, lashing out at him and managing to knee him in the hip. “I don’t—” But he’s definitely not giving me a choice. In seconds, he wrestles my hoodie off of me, his grip shifting to pin me to the bed by my throat.

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” His other hand is bare and strokes down my chest, brushing over the swell of my breasts before pressing down against my hips. “So gorgeous that I don’t think I want to share you. Well…” He glances over his shoulder as Harrow drops to sit at the side of the mattress, watching carefully. “I’ll share you with him, but that’s only because we share everything. Anyone else, though?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think that would be okay, princess. You get it.”

“I really don’t.” I kick out at him again and both of them move. Harrow grabs my wrists and pins them as he slides behind me to pull me back against his chest. “What are you doing?” I sneer at him, though when helooksat me I shy away, dropping my gaze to his hands.

“At least you know who to be afraid of,” he chuckles, wrapping an arm around me to pin my arms at my sides.

Ravage kneels between my knees, not letting me press my thighs together. He reaches up to stroke his fingers down my thighs, moving to grab the heel of my sneaker in one hand and yanking it off. I fight him for the other, but soon enough it’s on the floor with the first, with Ravage’s fingers tangled in the fabric of my leggings.

“You’re going to fight me for them, huh?” he laughs. “You’re going to be such a bitch about me pulling them down, I just know it. But that’s okay.” He doesn’t try to pull them down. He reaches up to grip the waistband,yankingon it until I hear the fabric ripping down the seam.

And he makes it look so easy. Even though I’m writhing and fighting against Harrow’s hold, Ravage just rips my leggings apart like it’s one of the easiest things he’s done all day. As I watch, they’re reduced to stripes of fabric, and he easily yanks them off of my ankles to toss the ruined clothing somewhere else.

Leaving me only in my Ghostface mask underwear.

“Oh, now that is just adorable. Howprecious,” Ravage purrs. He trails his fingers up my thighs, hooking his fingers in my underwear and dragging them down as well. “Do we have a little horror lover? Are we making thisrealenough for you?”

“Fuck you,” I hiss, though there’s a lot less bite in my words than before as I try to press my thighs together to hide myself from him.

---