Page 7 of Dead Woman Walking

I sway my hips, head dropping back. My pussy dripping with the idea of Ghostface taking me with the knife at my throat.Wasn’t that sick of me?

The crowd is thick with a sea of people, dancing and sweating all over each other. It is… kind of gross but oddly fun.

A scream cuts through the air, making me whirl around. A guy in a clown suit is right next to Blair. Her whole body looks stiff and frozen with fear as the clown rounds her, looking her up and down. He is dressed very gothic, despite the bright clown mask. Chains are all over his holey jeans and patches are stitched on his Jean jacket. His head drops when he is fully behind her, and he runs his mask against her neck.

“Hey!” I snap, pushing him away from her. “Fuck out of here, creep!”

He chuckles heavily, looking her up and down once more before walking away.

“Are you okay?” I ask her, rubbing her stiff shoulders.

Her hands fix her curls as she nods. “Fucker saw I was nervous around him, and he went for it. Asshole”

My eyes fall on her cheeks, reminding me of how hot my face got when Ghostface turned me on earlier. This wasn’t fear.

“I need a drink,” she mutters.

A laugh escapes me as I let her go. Did that experience do something for her in the same way the three masked men did something for me?

Then I feel someone’s heat against my back, and I almost stiffen, thinking it is fucking Thorin.

“Keep going, baby,” a heavy voice mutters in the shell of my ear.

Not my murderous men or Thorin. This voice is familiar, but I don’t know why.

The alcohol raging through my system doesn’t get me to stop. I would have stopped normally, but I’m feeling heady with nerves. My hips sway slowly, trying to fall back into rhythm.

I feel his hard dick against my back and his hands against my waist.

“Just like that, baby,” groans the voice, and I freeze.

It ishim, but not thehimI wanted it to be.

Whirling around, I look up at him, feeling a numbness wash over me. “I have to use the bathroom.”

His thin lips curl into a smirk.

Pushing from him, I squeeze through the crowd of sweaty bodies. The moment I break free, I feel like I can finally breathe. The air even feels colder. My head spins at the realization that I attracted the man that I was trying to not be appealing to. My sweaty body feels grosser from that thought instead of the sweat pool I just left. Walking around the kegs, I follow the guided signs to the bathroom building. Once there, I see a few couples leaning against it, making out. Well, practically fucking.

Ah yes, the public sex always was the peak of this party.

A hand wraps around my wrist, pulling me back and knocking me almost off balance. A gasp escapes me as I hit a hard chest.

I half expect it to be Ghostface, instead it is the guy I had danced with.

“Where are you going, baby? Not many women run from Oliver,” he coos, hands grabbing my ass.

Cringing at his use of third person, my hand pushes against his chest, trying to create some distance between us. “I have to piss. Can I piss really quickly?”

His other hand slides up my neck and tilts my head to look up at him. “You wouldn’t be rejecting me, would you?” His tone is laced with a hint of danger.

“Now, why would I do that?” I try to keep a poker face in front of him. “I can’t get wet, knowing I have to pee. That’s all I am trying to do.”

“Perfect, baby,” he smirks.

Oh, he is going to let me go alone? I didn’t expect that.

“It’s proper to get a goodbye kiss when you leave your man,” he hisses, leaning down and pressing his lips against mine. I try to pull back, but his hand grasps the back of my head. His hands are suddenly all over me, grabbing at my heavy breasts and ass. Finally, he pulls back with a dramatic pop. “You have five minutes.”

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