Page 21 of Scary In Love
I oiled them a few weeks ago, but I can still hear them creaking apart as I watch from the window. As soon as the gap is wide enough, she slips inside and hurries up the driveway.
It’s a mild day, but the leaves that cling to the trees are a riot of autumn reds and golds. In a dark skirt, and tight orange sweater, Jenna fits right in. Her legs are bare, but her lips are painted dark, and I can’t help but imagine them wrapped around my cock. Adjusting the front of my jeans, I bolt down the stairs, opening the door just before she rings the bell. At one time, there’d have been a member of staff to greet visitors, but I’m glad it’s just me now.
“Pumpkin spice latte?” she says, handing over a cup. “I actually don’t know your order.”
“It’s perfect, although I wasn’t really a fan until I started copying your order.”
Her smile widens, those cute cheeks turning pink. “You’re never beating those stalker accusations, Miller.”
“Truly, it’s all been a ruse to get you here alone.” That, and I wanted to know what her mouth tasted like. “Dare you enter my lair?”
“Oh, I dare,” she laughs, pushing me aside. “I can’t believe I’m getting to see this place in daylight. You know, when I was little, I used to ask if I could have my birthday party here?”
“That’s adorable.”
The noise she makes is part snort, part squeak. “Nobody thought it was adorable. I was a weird little creep. Other kids went to Disneyland, I wanted to play with ghosts in the spooky old house up the hill.”
“All weird little creeps are welcome here. You’re in good company.”
I close the door, cutting us off from the outside world. We’re still operating with old bulbs and whatever light seeps through the windows that haven’t been cleaned in years. There are over one hundred of them, and a specialist company quoted me thousands, so the job dropped right to the bottom of the list.
On her previous visits, Jenna would have moved through the building on our schedule, but now she takes her time to look around, studying the ceiling and lightly stroking the intricate details of the wooden panelling.
“So you wanted to talk to me about something?” she says. I can hear the curiosity in her voice, with a hint of trepidation underneath.
“I did.”
“Well, I’m here,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee. “And I’m all ears.”
“Follow me.”
Haunt guests get led into the East wing, but today I want to show Jenna the place where I made all of this happen. I open a door on the opposite side of the hall, but when I motion for her to head through, she freezes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I’ve never been on this side of the house.”
“Well, you’re a very special guest, remember?”
That earns me one of her gorgeous smiles, and with another tip of my head, she follows.
The first room we step into would once have been used to welcome visitors, but like many of the rooms, everything is covered in dust sheets.
“How very Dexter of you,” Jenna says, taking it all in.
“I swear it was like this when I arrived. I promise I won’t murder you.”
“Dexter only kills bad guys, and I’m a very good girl, so I think I’m safe.”
My head snaps in her direction, only to find her looking up at me. She throws me a wink, and I’m tempted to put her on her knees right here and get her to prove it.
This is how it feels to be around her. Ever since she twirled for me, I’ve had the overwhelming urge to tell her what to do. To take control of her body, shatter her into so many pieces that when I put her back together, she’ll never be the same again. I want her to feel things she’s never felt before, to fuck her into the deepest sleep of her life. Want her to wake up with a lingering ache from all the places I’ve grabbed and pinched and stretched her.
Want to give her a night she’ll look back on years from now and feel hot at the memory. And I think, desperately hope, she wants that too.
I fold my arms across my chest. She tilts her head, drawing me into another staring contest as we both refuse to look away. I could stand here flirting with her all day, but I don’t want things to go any further until we’ve had a proper conversation about it.
“Come on, we still have a way to go.”
