Page 48 of Scary In Love
“Green,” she sighs, and my cock throbs.
“That’s my girl.”
She takes slow, deep breaths, in through her nose, and out through her mouth. I’m proud of her for grounding herself, getting her nervous system under control so we can keep going.
These scenes are only fun if she’s genuinely enjoying herself, and if she were truly freaking out, we’d have stopped a long time ago.
I stroke her damp hair away from her face, waiting for her signal that we’re good to move on. She nuzzles against my palm and hums softly.
“Did I squirt?”
“You sure did.”
Her lips roll inward. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know I could do that. It never worked on my own.”
She has nothing to be sorry about. It gives me a twisted sense of pride knowing I did it first. I want to be the only person who ever makes her feel that way. Saying it out loud is too much. I’m very aware I could scare her off by telling her how fast my feelings are growing, but she smiles up at me, and I think she knows.
She shifts in the chair, sitting more upright even though her hands are still tied.
“Are you ever going to fuck me?”
“Soon,” I tell her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We have one room left. You think your legs can carry you there on your own?”
“I’ll try my best.”
I don’t doubt her for a second.
“Open your mouth.”
She’s so compliant now, wrung out and putty in my hands. I find the key for the next room in the chest pocket of my boilersuit, and tap it on her bottom lip.
“Bite down.”
The sound of her teeth on metal gives me a sick thrill. She breathes through her nose while I rip open the ties at her wrists. Even once she’s free, she stays still, because she’s the perfect plaything, just as I knew she would be.
“You’ll count to thirty, slowly. Only then can you take that out of your mouth. Do you understand me?”
Jenna nods, and I bolt for the stairs. There isn’t much time to get to her final scene, but I leave the door open so she’ll know where to go. There’s no need to make this next part harder after what she’s just been through.
Stripping out of my boilersuit, I stash it in an old basket so she won’t trip over anything, then pull off the t-shirt that’s soaked in sweat from chasing her. Fuck me, that was fun.
When I reach the room at the opposite end of the house, the clothes I left out for us are waiting by the door. I change quickly, checking my tie in the mottled old mirror, and smoothing my hair down. The outfit I’ve chosen for Jenna is so her, and I hope she likes it as much as I do.
Slipping between the double doors, I push them closed behind me and pause to take it all in.
The Miller family’s very own chapel never fails to take my breath away. Truthfully, I’ve wanted to fuck in here from the moment I first stepped inside, long before I even laid eyes on Jenna Laing. Who wouldn’t want to rattle some demons in a creepy old church? It’s kinky, and taboo, and if my ancestors are watching, I’m truly sorry for what they’re about to witness.
Wooden pews line either side of the aisle, leading to an altar I’ve covered in black roses and battery-operated candles. They’re not as good as the real thing, obviously, but the Miller house has survived hundreds of years of wear and tear. I refuse to be the fuck-up who accidentally burns it down because I was too busy thinking about my dick.
I take my place at the head of the aisle, my finger on the phone in my pocket, poised to press play the moment she arrives. When I hear the telltale creak of old wood, the spooky version ofThe Wedding Marchstrikes up. The doors open wide, and I swear my heart stops.
My gothic bride.
The gown I picked is long and low-cut, made of layers of sheer black fabric. In the candlelight, I can just make out her beautiful curves underneath. Her other clothes are gone, but the fishnets are still there. Well, what’s left of them. I love it all. Her full hips, heavy breasts, those shiny piercings that are burned into the back of my eyeballs.
Jenna bursts out laughing, then walks slowly, her bouquet held low, and long veil covering her face. When she reaches the top of the aisle, and takes her place opposite me, I lift it carefully over the back of her head.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…” the recording of my best church minister voice begins. She glances around us to make sure we’re definitely alone.
