Halloween Fumble

by A. Winchester

I’d kill Jude if I couldn’t come in to fetch his dumb ass because I wasn’t dressed up like something stupid.

He had that wholesome, small-town boy look about him—the kind where you just knew no one had corrupted him. Yet. I had a particular thing for guys like him.

Making guys like that submit was my favorite game to play.

The Devil had a voice made for sex.

“Hold still, little wolf,” the Devil growled in my ear, “or I won’t let you come.”

“Tonight, you’re mine,” I told him. “You come from my hand only, not yours. Test me and see what happens.”

“Breathe, little wolf,”

One thought tumbled into another and another but none stuck enough to make me stop.

Fuck, it was so bright. Why did the sun have to be up so early?

Did he even realize how attractive he was? It was disarming in a way I couldn’t afford—

While this whole situation wasn’t life-damning, it sure as hell felt life-altering.

I plowed on ahead with the determination to at least be heard.