Page 48 of Lovers Fate

“What?”

I’ve never…

“Sit on my face,” he demands.

I sit on his face hoping he can breathe. His fingers spread my wet cunt. My arms tremble, keeping me from falling flat on the bed. He sucks my cunt fucking me vigorously with his tongue.

“Draco,” I scream his name, about to come. But he stops, and I want to cry from the pleasure of his torture.

“Give me this pussy,” he demands in a stern tone.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Your pussy—I want it.”

I laugh like he’s crazy. “You’re eating it.”

“You know exactly what I mean,” he barks.

What will you do for it?” I rub my pussy on his lips.

He licks it. “Anything.”

“That’s not good enough.”

Anything can be many things.

I pull away, standing up and adjusting my clothes as he sits up. He makes no attempt to wipe his face. My phone vibrates in my front pocket. It’s either Rose or Rachel, because no one else has my number.

“I have to go. My friends are looking for me.”

He abruptly stands up, and his sudden absence of warmth leaves me feeling cold. Without a word, he walks out of the room, guiding me to the exit like nothing happened.

I want to ask him when I will see him again or where I can find him but when I turn around after walking out of the house, he’s gone.

“Where were you?” Rose asks in a shaky voice behind me. “You disappeared for nearly an hour. I was worried something happened. I kept texting you.”

Shit. I didn’t check my phone. I turn around. “I’m fine,” I assure her. “I lost my way, but one of the actors assisted me.”

“So you don’t get lost in a maze of mirrors, but in a haunted house you do,” she points out playfully.

“Yeah,” I lie. I’m not sure what she would think if I told her what happened with Draco or if she even knew who the hell I was talking about.

We pass the section where there are booths lined with games. Distorted shadows dance on the pavement by the flickering lights. The air is thick with the smell of fair food as we pass thesigns promising prizes if you win. We stop at a game where there are glass bottles and stuffed animals from classic horror films.

“You want to try for a Freddy Krueger?” Rose asks, pointing at the stuffed animals.

“Where would I put it?”

“You could sleep with it on your bed.” She offers.

I snort. “That would be weird, but I like it.”

We step up to the booth with large stuffed animals, figurines, and costume props from 80s slasher flicks.

A carny dressed like a zombie with guts hanging from his neck walks up. He pauses and presses his finger against the microphone in his ear. He listens to whoever is talking to him and then places the payment tablet on a table behind him.

“Pick whatever you like,” the carny says, his voice scratchy like sandpaper.

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