Page 59 of The Trick

“Maddox,” Blair’s voice breaks into a surprised gasp as she releases her hand from where it is intertwined with mine. “Is that what I think it is?” she asks, already moving her legs across the open space of the cabin. Her enthusiastic stride continues toward the mantle that’s nestled between a wall of floor to ceiling built in bookcases, all filled with mementos from our years together. Every inch of this cabin has been meticulously curated with her in mind. From printouts of our old AIM conversations, to very candid and very revealing pictures I took of my little hellcat when I was heractualstalker, all line the shelves, with the most recent addition being the preserved skull that I worked on this evening before heading to Satan’s.

It’s become a tradition of mine to keep a memento from each of our kills just to memorialize the chaos that bonds us. One that I have kept a secret from her until this very moment when we could finally be together, in our new home, built on the same ground where our twisted story began. Every kill ranging from Ethan to Byron Campbell, to the prick at the grocery store who had the audacity to slap Blair’s ass as she walked past are scattered about on the shelves. I still have to add the poor delivery man I paid to surprise her with my anniversary letter that I wasn’t planning on her killing. But I’ll deal with that tomorrow. Tonight, is dedicated to doing everything in my power to make my little hellcat scream.

I want this to be a haven for our nightmares and a place to grow the dark desires that lurk within us. Until Blair, I’ve never met anyone who not only approves of killing but enjoys it as much as I do. Sure, it’s fucked up, but when you meet someone who makes your darkness feel celebrated and not condemned, you do whatever you can to maintain that.

As she continues to take in the morbid display of our love, I flick my wrist upward to confirm the time. It’s almost midnight. I told our guests to arrive at one a.m. instead of midnight, that way I have time for one more trick I have up my sleeve. Though I need to speed this up because I have a feeling this finalsurprisemay take us a while to get through.

A mischievous flutter attacks my heart, which begins to pick up tempo as I reach for the wrought iron handle behind where I stand, in front of the half-opened door. Thinking of what I still have planned for her, my pulse begins to ricochet throughout my body. Adrenaline pounds at my chest and floods my veins. It continues to mount as the hinges of the solid wood door grate at my ears, sealing us inside…alone.

With my back pressed against the door, I run my fingers up the three rows of locks I had installed. Each more intricate than the last and all of which will make it very difficult for her to escape. I’ve waited too long to bring her back here; I’m not leaving it to chance that she may change her mind. Whatever chase will inevitably ensue once she realizes what I’ve done will happen within these walls, where I can prove to her once and for all that there’s no way out.

The widefloorboards creak and groan with each step my booted feet take closer to where she stands admiring the preserved cranium of the reporter, she killed earlier this week.

“Madness,” she breathes in a sultry tone that sends blood rushing to my cock. I will never tire of hearing her call me that, because that’s exactly what I am,her madness. “I can’t believe you did all this.” Her voice faintly cracks and if I didn’t know any better, it almost sounds like my final girl is about to shed a tear.

My body now behind hers, I press my torso against her back, moving our connected stride to the mantle, pressing her body against it. Forcing the glass cloche with the newly preserved skull into our view, I run my hands down her sides, stopping at where the natural curvature of her hips widens. A soft sigh sounds from her full lips as my large palms squeeze her hips, savoring the delicate ecstasy of her skin trapped in my grip.

“Mad–” she begins to say my name but stops the moment my mouth lowers to her ear.

“Ssh,” I breathe, extending the torn muscle of my tongue so its split tips begin to tease the shell of her ear. Trailing hungry licks around her lobe, my tongue travels down the begging flesh of her neck. A throaty groan echoes my own, the more I tease her skin. “Tell me, whose head did I have to sever and preserve this time?” I murmur against her skin, still teasing it with my tongue.

Her lips parts, a subtle moan spills from them before she tries to collect herself to answer. “Is it the guy from earlier?” she asks.

My tongue curls back into my mouth and in its place my teeth begin to teasingly caress the delicate skin of her neck. “Baby, I’m good, but I’m no miracle worker. I’ll get to him tomorrow. Now think,” I say, as I sink my teeth into her neck, kneading her prickled skin in my mouth, reveling in the way her neck rolling back inadvertently intensifies the hold my bite has on her.

“Fuck,” she whimpers.

Moving the hand that’s been stationed at her side, my fingers slither towards her center. My fingers barely graze her pussy, and her wet warmth already radiates to my hand, making me want her even more than I always do. Leaning closer to her ear, I extend my tongue, teasing her with gentle strokes before I retract it to speak. “You want to come again, don’t you?

She nods but this time she arches her back, pushing her plump ass against where my cock is dying to unleash on her.

“Of course, you do.” My hand that hovers over her pussy raises. A whimper breaks from her lips the moment my hand lowers, spanking her aroused center.

“That’s right, I know how much you like it when it hurts,” I groan. “Pain and death, my little hellcat’s two biggest turn ons. Lucky for you, I can give you both,” I purr into her ear.

My words are met with another moan in place of a response but the pleasure that begins to seep through her body, stealing her ability to run that fresh fucking mouth of hers is all I need.

I smack my hand at her entrance once more, this time making sure that my ring is in line with her dampened slit. “You like it when daddy makes you a trophy to display on your death wall, don’t you?”

A throaty groan works its way to her lips but her ability to speak is robbed the moment my hand slips past the confines of her bodysuit. I can feel the aching need the moment my fingers curl themselves in her pussy.

“Mmm, that’s my good little morbid whore,” I groan, trailing my fingers to her clit. Beginning to rub my digits in slow intentional circles around her wet, aching bundle of nerves, I lick my lips to speak. “Answer the question, whose skull did I have to add to our collection now?”

A shattered gasp breaks as I pick up the tempo I am playing with her clit. “A-a re-porter,” she answers through a moan.

“Ooh, what a bad girl, killing a reporter. Why would you do that? What did he want from my final girl?” I ask, picking up the tempo, just enough to help her climb the slope of her impending release, but not so much that she can’t answer me. Of course, I already know the answer. In fact, I was the fucking prick who put in the anonymous tip that sent him her way but, she doesn’t know that. Which makes this all the more fun for me.

Her hips buck forward as my hand continues to press and rub her aching center. “The truth,” she squeals, my hand quickly dips into her pussy, gathering some of her arousal with my digits, I slide them upward, coating her clit with it as I now work her at a harsh pace.

I click my tongue at her ear, “Oh fuck, we don’t like the truth, do we baby?”

No,” she pants.

“That’s right, because the truth gets us in trouble, doesn’t it?” I press my hand harder against her clit for another swirl around before I retract my hand. Centering my middle finger to the pad of my thumb I release a harsh flick of my fingers to where I was just rubbing. “You did good, little hellcat. Fucking reporters and their big fucking mouths,” I say through a half grin, bracing myself for the anger that is about to be splashed all over her face when I remove my hand from her throbbing pussy. “You passed the first test,” I add.

“God damn it, Maddox!” a desperate throaty cry sounds from where I have now moved myself from her backside. “I’m all for a little edging, but I’m dying here,” she adds, frustration ripe on her beautiful face. Her chest rises and falls, I almost feel bad. I know she loves the games we play, but maybe I’m being a little much.

“Wait a second,” she begins, “you sent the reporter?” Anger overshadows the lingering need she just had to ride my hand to orgasm.

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