I open my mouth, but he thumps my head again before I can make a sound. “What did I just say? Not a single noise.”
I clamp my mouth shut, tightening my lips into a thin line. As if that’ll help. As if that’ll actually stop the moan resting in my throat, growing by the second.
His finger presses into the sensitive bundle of nerves, swirling around and sending intense pleasure throughout my entire body. I grind my pussy harder against his hand, frantic for the sensations he’s creating.
His finger circles faster against my clit. I struggle in his hold, desperately needing to breathe, but needing to come even more. His middle finger slides down to my opening and plunges deep inside me. I arch my back, and my eyes roll. His thumb continues the ministrations on my clit as he slips another finger inside me.
I’m fully gyrating into his hand now. My erratic movements cause the sharp talons on his fingers to dig into my throat. The sharp pinpricks heighten the agonizing bliss.
It takes a matter of moments for the coil in my stomach to snap and euphoria to render me boneless. I clamp my teeth down on my lips to keep quiet, squeezing my eyes shut tightly as I ride his hand, drawing out the orgasm crashing through me.
By the time I come down, Mortis has withdrawn his hand and I can breathe again. He keeps me upright now that my legs are jelly and useless against my weight. Small droplets of blood dot my dress, trailing from the tiny wounds on my neck, courtesy of Mortis’s talons. The sight brings a smile to my face.
It’s a wonder that he doesn’t cut up the inside of my pussy, but he’s always had perfect control of what he cuts.
Said talon pokes the underside of my chin, forcing my chin up until I’m looking into deep, soulful red eyes.
“You have the nose of a bloodhound. You’re not going to miss any demons that come through this house,” Mortis says, his tone a tad breathless, but stern.
I swallow and nod my head.
He kisses my lips softly, a stark contrast to his demeanor just minutes ago. Mortis may come off dry, but he’s capable of so much more emotion than even he realizes.
His tongue licks the seam of my lips, and I grant him access. He explores my mouth thoroughly for a moment before he wrenches himself away. His cock is pressing against my stomach, but we both know we don’t have time right now.
He has to get back to his post, and I need to keep an eye out for the demon.
Later. Later he will fuck me.
With one last kiss and a warning glance to stay calm, he walks away. Leaving me alone and breathless, but considerably calmer than before.
I smile, my heart filling with love and gratitude for my men. They know me better than I know myself most days.
I hear the front door open. My eyes focus and my spine snaps straight. Immediately, I make my way over to the peephole, pressing the entirety of my body against the wall.
A group of ten people stumble in, quickly pushing and shoving as they run to get away from the monsters. I breathe in deep but am disappointed when I don’t detect any rot among the group of friends.
I slump, pressing my forehead against the wooden wall, ignoring flakes of sharp wood pricking against my skin. But I listen to Mortis, and stay calm.
Only a minute goes by when I hear the door open again. I lift my head slowly, confused by why another group would be entering the house.
We’re at max capacity. The group hasn’t even made it halfway yet. No one should be coming into this house yet.
As soon as the breeze wafts in from the open door, I get a whiff of something dreadful. Narrowing my eyes, I inhale deeply. Rot filters through my senses. A slow smile begins to form on my face and I feel any lingering frustration bleed out of me, replaced by excitement.
Walking into the house is a single guy, his head swiveling left and right as if he’s searching for something. Or someone.
This naughty boy isn’t supposed to be in this house. Excitement drums in my pulse.
Could it be Gary? It has to be. Why else would some guy sneak into a haunted house if he didn’t have motive?
I cringe when I get a good look at the guy. God, he’s really ugly—inside and out. A mop of greasy brown hair that’s overgrown and curling past his bushy brows and ears. A dirty, threadbare hoodie hangs from his lanky body. I bet if I were to peek beneath the sleeves covering his arms, I’d find track marks and picked over scabs.
He’s high. His pupils are dilated and shifty. Not from fear, but from whatever drug is coursing through his bloodstream. His cheeks have been hollowed out from the foreign substances eating away at this body from the inside out.
I’ve no idea what the hell Jennifer sees in this guy. He’s so gross. And Jennifer is beautiful. With pretty, pin straight blonde hair, sky blue eyes and a radiating smile. How did someone like her end up with someone like him?
She must be fooled by the bad boy persona. Maybe she has a sad homelife, restricted from doing things that make her happy, so she’s trying to find life and a thrill in someone dangerous. If only it means she feels a little less dead inside.
My flower is beginning to wilt, and just like Mommy, she will be tainted with tar if she stays with her vile boyfriend.
Gary’s image flickers. I’m no longer staring at a greasy lowlife, but Daddy. Standing before me, looking straight into my eyes as if he can see me through the wall. A sinister smile growing on his portly face until all I can see, feel and hear is evil.
I gasp, jerking away as familiar terror claws through my bones.
