Haunt (Fair's Fair, #1)

by A.J. Merlin

He lifts a gloved hand and reaches out to tuck my black and orange hair back behind my ear. My stomach does a little flip, and I wonder how realistic it is to want to date a scare actor at an extreme haunt who’s hiding his face behind a mask.

“It’s part of the haunt, you baby,” whispering the words to myself,

“Are we? Are you sure that’s where you are?” He drags me closer, forcing me to stumble over my own feet until my body is only inches from his. “Or did you maybe end up somewhere you shouldn’t, in a game you weren’t invited to?” “But…” “Maybe it wasn’t your friends who were in the wrong place, Noa.” I can hear the excitement in his voice, along with something darker that fills me with dread. “Maybe you wandered somewhere that you shouldn’t have, and now you don’t get to wander back out.”

“Too damn bad, Noa. But I’ll tell you what. Give me the knife, and it’ll sway me into being a little nicer to you. Come on. Be my good fucking princess and give me the knife.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to play rough. I’ll give you what you want. All you had to do was ask.”

You’re such a feral little thing when you’re cornered, aren’t you?” His voice is soft, silky, and filled with sickly sweet kindness.

“Oh, very good girl.” He pauses, watching as I shift under him. “Do you like that, hmm? You like it when I call you my good girl?”

“Good girl.” He releases my throat just enough for me to take a breath, his other hand coming up to grip my hoodie, tugging it up until my stomach is vulnerable to the cool air of the warehouse.

“Aren’t you just so pretty?” His gloved hand strokes over my stomach, causing my muscles to tense up in desperate anticipation of the worst. “Especially all scared and breathless like this. Such a pretty Halloween present for me.”

“I love that fight of yours, princess. I wonder how long you can keep it. I wonder what it’ll take to have you begging for me, hmm?”

“Feels good, right?” Ravage laughs. “With your head spinning and my fingers in your pretty pussy? You take two so easy. Bet you could take three.”

“Good girl. Good girl,” Ravage snarls, scissoring his fingers inside of me. “Look at you so desperate for me.

“There you go. There it is, princess. You look like you feel so good. You wanna come for me?”

“Come on, come on, my pretty little princess. You’re so desperate, aren’t you?”

“Come for me, babe. Come on my fingers. Soak my glove in your cum, princess.”

“Promise I’ll make you feel so good. Promise you’ll enjoy everything…even if it hurts.”

“I can’t decide if I’m more irritated at being kicked in the stomach or turned on by how fucking feral you are, princess,” Ravage snorts, moving to prowl around me but not coming any closer.

“I’m not like Rav,” he murmurs. “I don’t get off on you fighting me and making me hurt. In fact”—his fingers flex in warning, tightening painfully on my jaw—“I suggest you do what I say, little girl. I won’t hesitate to discipline you if you need to be convinced to behave.”

Even though I’m fully aware that my hoodie being stuck is no longer my biggest problem. Harrow is.

I flinch when his fingers smooth over my hair, stroking my head like I’m his favorite pet.

But Harrow is different. He’s terrifying in a different way, and I’m so fucking scared of him that I can’t even bring myself to consider hurting him in the ways I’d hurt Ravage.

“Just relax, little girl.” His words are comforting murmurs, but they do nothing to stop the trembling in my thighs or the way I grasp desperately to his belt.

You’re going to swallow it like a good girl.” His fingers tighten in my hair, a blatant threat, and I close my eyes desperately, a whine of protest in my throat.

His hands are back a few seconds later, cradling my face between them sweetly. “What am I going to do with you?” he murmurs with a heavy sigh that sends a flicker of dread up my spine. “My sweet, stupid little girl.”

“You give me that gun right now”—he takes a step toward me—“and I’ll make sure Harrow is gentle with you. Sort of. I’ll even rein myself in a little when I fuck your pretty pussy.”

“There you go again, making bad choices,” he sighs softly with a tinge of disappointment in his tone.

“I’d watch what you say if I were you, princess. Harrow is a lot less playful and…forgiving than me. If you’d cut him with that knife and kicked him off that table, well…” He rolls his shoulders in a shrug. “He might not have seen it for the fun game it was.”

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous.”

“So gorgeous that I don’t think I want to share you. Well…” He glances over his shoulder as Harrow drops to sit at the side of the mattress, watching carefully. “I’ll share you with him, but that’s only because we share everything. Anyone else, though?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think that would be okay, princess. You get it.”

“You’re still loose for me,” he purrs in approval. “I knew it was worth it to finger your pretty pussy earlier. God.”

“She can take all of you.” Harrow’s fingers are suddenly gone, and I can’t help the whimper of frustration that sounds too loudly in the space between us.

“Just relax for me. Like I said, little girl, I’m not trying to hurt you.” I feel the brush of him against me, and it’s torture that I can’t see him as he slides his cock between my folds.

Ravage’s hand flexes in my hair. “Does her pussy feel as good as I’m dreaming it does?”

Sex has never been like this for me before. But then again, I’ve never been fucked by two murderers on a filthy mattress in a warehouse before. Maybe this is just my kink. A very problematic kink.

“I bet you’ll look so good with your pussy full of our cum,” he growls against my spine. “I bet we could keep you like this—full and needy and begging for more. You know…”

I like it when they talk about me. I like it even more when they talk to each other about me, like it’s not worth considering my opinion.

His grip tightens on my arm, eyes pinning mine. “I guess you’ll have to learn the hard way.”

I look like a victim of a crime. And, okay, I kind of am.

“And I’m hungry,” the auburn-haired man complains. “So what’ll it be, Noa?” He leans in and gently, so fucking gently, tilts my head up to his even as the black-haired man reaches out to tug my phone out of my grip. “Will you let us in to play?”