Page 68 of Caution Tape

I find the stairs. “Guess we’re doing them a favor.”

Halfway up, he snakes his arms around my waist and pulls me down, spinning me around and laying me on the carpeted stairs. The axe thumps quietly, and we both pause, listening for footsteps or muffled voices.

Nothing.

AlthoughI don’t think that would stop Nolan from shoving my skirt up and moving my panties aside again, his mouth wet and warm as he outlines my pussy with his tongue. I run my fingers through his dark hair while his gloved hands curl around my thighs, holding me firmly against his face. He groans, his erection jutting against his sweatpants.

My breathing hitches as a beautiful sensation begins to bubble in my stomach, until he looks up at me, smirking.

“Stay quiet, killer. Don’t get us caught.”

“You’re the one groaning because you get to taste me,” I counter.

He kisses the inside of my leg and then climbs past me, like we’re racing up the stairs.

“Stop edging me,” I snarl.

On the landing, he looks left and then right, before extending a hand and helping me to my feet. “Their bedroom is at the end of the hall.”

We approach it like giddy children trying to sneak downstairs for Christmas presents. The door is shut, the only sound in the house a gentle ticking coming from downstairs and the whir of a fan from inside the room.

Nolan grabs the door handle, but before he can open it, I push him against the frame, pressing my lips to his. I kiss him deeply, my hands around his waist as he drapes his arms over my shoulders and returns the kiss.What was once a simple peck has become a passionate exchange of… emotions?

My heart swells and the blood swishes in my ears. The moment his hand lightly cups my cheek, I pull away frantically, his arm falling to his side.

“Tie them down,” I whisper.

“I know, I know, shut the fuck up.”

I’m finding that Nolan alternates between affection and annoyance quickly and easily; sometimes he has a shocking warmth and other times he’s the biggest douchebag in the world.

But he’s here, dressed in face paint, willing to kill for me.

The Parker’s are curled around each other. She has her husband’s head cradled against her chest, and her hands buried in his curly hair as he clings to her like a little boy. The blankets are intertwined and tangled together. They clearly need a bigger bed; it looks like they’re sleeping on a queen. All their money went to knick-knacks and a dishwasher.

We are as quiet as a mouse. Nolan tosses the rope over them and has me kick the ends back under the bed so he can reach under and grab it. We do this several times, the red and black rope casting shadows over the passed-out couple. They sleep so peacefully.

He begins tightening the rope. Four strands, laid horizontally across their bodies. One at their ankles, one at their waist, one near their chest, and one for their throats. Nolan gathers the ropes in his hands.

“When I start tightening this,” he whispers, his eyes gleaming orbs of light against the dark face paint, “they might wake up. Be ready.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, fighting back his irritation with me.

The joy it brings me to get under his skin… it’s so rewarding.

Abruptly he begins tightening the rope. Pulling it, drawing it tighter and tighter, the rough edges of it rasping against the soft cotton of the Parker’s baby blue bed sheets. The rope is a boa constrictor, tightening around an innocent deer, ready to devour it.

The woman awakens when the rope digs into her throat. She says something to Colton, her voice thick with sleep, and he mumbles back, “Sleep paralysis. S’okay Lorie.”

Lorie tries to sit up, but can’t, then strains against the rope. Nolan works faster, placing one boot on the edge of the bed and straining the rope as tightly as he can.

“Colton,” she panics, trying to wake her oblivious husband until I retrieve a rag from my pocket and stuff it into her mouth. Lorie squirms against the ropes and screams into the fabric, except her cries are muffled and useless.

I turn on the light at their bedside table and stare down at Colton, waiting for him to awake from his deep slumber. He lets out a loud snore, slipping even deeper into unconsciousness.

“Yikes,” I mutter.

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