Scream For Us (Holiday Masked Men #1)(15)

But she is already drenched with her own juices.

I waste no time driving into her, as her pussy sucks at my cock with each thrust. She feels so good. Too fucking good. She’s my new obsession and she doesn’t have the slightest clue.

“Yes,” she whimpers, fisting the robe over my chest. “Yes, daddy, yes!”

As soon as daddy leaves her lips, I drill into her faster, locking my fingers around her throat. Taking her breath away. Fucking her without emotion. Without remorse.

Just deep, forceful strokes as her body stiffens beneath me.

Slamming into her, again and again, I fuck her violently, just as I had promised.

Withdrawing the knife from the sheath at the back of my pants, I press the tip to her throat. She gasps, squirming beneath me.

“Yes,” she encourages, and that’s all I need. “Please.”

Dragging the tip of the blade down her neck, I lightly nick her collarbone, and her body reacts with a shudder. Moaning for me, Quinn tilts her head to the side, exposing her throat. Sinking my cock inside of her slowly, I graze the blade to the sensitive flesh beneath her ear, smearing blood on her skin.

“Oh, God,” she cries, bucking her hips, matching my strokes. “Oh, God.”

“God isn’t here right now,” I confirm, nicking her skin again.

Again.

And again.

Suddenly, smoke pours into the room, and the smell of gasoline becomes overwhelming. Flames erupt around us, starting off small, and then growing larger. Quinn stares up at me with fear, unsettled, as I continue to fuck her mercilessly.

“Ghost,” she chokes out.

“You’re safe. Take off my mask, baby,” I instruct, and she listens. “That’s my good girl. Now put it on.”

And she obeys again, pulling the Ghostface mask over her head.

Halloween-themed music roars through the house, as the smoke thickens, and the bright light from the flames intensifies. Agonizing screams from the fear and pain of being trapped in the house and burned alive echo through the halls.

My body is thick with sweat from the intense heat. I make sure to keep my attention on the raging fire, which creeps its way across the ceiling, burning the wood structures. Slamming into her, I drop the knife, lifting her leg over my hip so she can take me deeper. And she comes for me, gripping my dick tight, her innocent little cries stifled from the mask.

“Fuck, baby,” I groan, entering her harder.

And I find my release with her, lungs burning, choking, and grunting with each stroke, now surrounded by a blanket of smoke.

Seeing nothing but black.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Scooping her into my arms, and holding her tight, I bolt through the doorway exiting the house. I carry her outside, where we can finally breathe, my dick still hanging out of my pants.

All that matters is her.

Her safety.

Michael and Jason race toward us, as I drop to my knees and lay her on the grass, the house bursting into flames behind us. Windows explode and glass shatters. Police and fire engine sirens roar in the distance. Yanking the mask over her head, my heart hammers against my ribcage at the thought of losing her.

“Quinn,” I urge, lightly smacking her face.

“Ouch,” she murmurs, and a smile plays at the corner of her lips. “What was that for?”

Sharply exhaling, I shake my head at her in disbelief.

“I’m okay, Ghost,” she whispers, gently cupping my face with her hand. The vulnerability that washes over me from her touch catches me completely off guard. “I’m safe with you.”

Yeah, you are, little Quinn.

More than you know.





Chapter 9





The night air sends a cold shiver through me. All I can make out is the sound of my teeth clattering together and I can see my own breath. The four of us enter the woods, and the flames from the haunted house are so bright, they somehow manage to light our way out. The sirens grow louder, coming from behind us, and people are shouting in distress.

Rubbing my arms, trying to warm myself, I realize it’s no use. Ghost removes the robe of his costume and pulls it over my head. Shrugging into the sleeves, I snuggle into the warmth, breathing in the heady, intoxicating scent of his cologne.

Mixed with musk, and copper.

Shivering from the icy breeze, I gaze apologetically into his eyes. “Aren’t you cold now?”

“I’m fine,” he counters.

“How?” I gasp, looking over his defined forearms.

And I finally notice the blood.

Yet, he says nothing, as he pulls up the hood, covering my head, protecting my numb ears from the harsh wind.

Scurrying to the excluded area where they parked their motorcycles, Ghost faces me, placing the helmet onto my head. He fastens the buckle beneath my jaw before straddling his bike, kicking back the stand.

Gripping his shoulder, ready to climb on behind him, he stops me.

“You’re riding with Michael, baby,” he announces.

And I frown, confusion washing over me. “Oh?”

“Better to be cautious, little Quinn,” Ghost explains, pulling on his blood-spattered mask.

“Hop on,” Michael instructs, offering his hand.

Placing my hand in his, I climb on behind him, locking my arms around his waist. He’s huge compared to me. His body is as hard as stone, and suddenly I wonder what it looks like beneath the jumpsuit of his costume.