Page 62 of Who The Hell Are You?

I’m not even slightly relieved if this is from Cass, because I’m pretty sure he wants me to be scared right now and that can’t be a good sign.

Closing the door and making sure I lock it, I walk back to the dining room table and don’t wait to open the box. I can’t, the suspense is damaging my nerve endings.

Inside to my surprise is a bunch of comfort items, all Halloween themed in some sense. There's a candle that smells like vanilla pumpkin, bath salts, a dark romance book which involves ghosts, a new ghost plushie and a bag of chocolates in the shape of vampire fangs. There's even a set of face cloths with black cats on them, and a face mask which apparently is made of witches brew. Another mug with whining ghosts is nestled in the middle, and a note sticks out.

You look scared to death, baby. Go take a bath.

I should not go upstairs. I’m screaming at myself with each slow step I take out of the kitchen, down the hallway and onto the staircase. Rose petals litter each step, right up to the landing where they trail off into the bathroom. I honestly don’t know why I’m clutching the vanilla pumpkin candle, but the smell kind of calms me, even if I might be walking into a trap. That's what it feels like; that I’m being lured to my death by my clearly very angry and betrayed boyfriend.

The lights aren’t on in the bathroom, so I quickly pull the cord. An empty room is revealed to me, not one petal in sight. Swivelling on the balls of my feet, I stare at my bedroom, a red light spilling out around the cracks of the closed door. I know he's in there, waiting for me. My footsteps can’t sound any louder on fucking carpet as I walk forward, turning the handle and pushing until the red glow casts onto me too. Everything seems to throw a shadow, but I can’t see any figures hiding, ready to pounce. I even look behind the door, but my room is empty.

My eyes notice the bed at last and my breath hitches. Rose petals are scattered on my dark sheets, but an unlocked and open phone sits in the middle of it all. It’s not mine–my phone is clutched in my hand, as well as the candle. Putting both down on my bedside table, I kneel on my bed, picking up the phone and stare down at what appears to be Inkedreaper’s profile on social media. It’s currently logged in, meaning this has to be Cassie’s phone.

There’s a new post uploaded minutes ago, after the terrifying demand that he was coming for me. Something is immediate and obviously different about this post, because it’s of the both of us, bright, unmasked and actually clothed. It’s a series of photos we’d both taken over the past two months, from coffee dates, cuddling at the cabin and shots that Harris took of us both up in the mist of the Abbey. There are photos of him cuddling all the plushies he bought me, me flexing at the gym and then a photo I didn’t even know he’d taken of me asleep on his chest. He’s reading my dark romance book that I’d fallen asleep to, which makes my heart swell. All the photos make me love him even fucking more, but what turns my blood molten is the video added to the series of photos, of me running my hands up his torso, but you can see my blonde head. It leaves nothing to the imagination but is risky enough to be on social media, along with all the other videos we’ve filmed equally as the thirst trap masked men. I can’t even explain why I did it, why I goaded him into making the account and joining me in harmless naked fun for billions of humans to see on the internet. Now I’m possessively angry that others get to see him look so gorgeous, but the thoughts float away when I see his caption.

My ghost boy.

Turning towards the door, the scream that tears out of me is guttural and I fall backwards, hitting my back forcefully against my headboard. Standing there in full black, is a figure wearing my ghostface mask. He doesn’t say anything and it’s not like I could hear if he did, my heartbeat is louder than the sawing breaths tearing out of my lungs.

Completely over this bullshit, I kneel crawl to the end of the bed where he’s standing, reach up but Cassie grabs my wrist. The pressure isn’t firm but I still anyway, eyes wide as I stare into the black pits of the mask’s eye sockets.

“Jesus the mask is so creepy, why the hell did you not tell me sooner!?” I chide, slapping at his chest with my free hand, but suddenly he’s gripping it too. I’m fully restrained and he presses my arms into me until I’m leaning a little painfully backwards, my legs underneath me. For a split second I worry this isn’t him, that Cass isn’t the one underneath the mask. I wonder if that’s what he thought each time I made him submit me to me, but my kinky boy didn’t even know who it was under there. “Cassie, this is terrifying.” I admit.

The distorted voice cackles and he pulls me closer, giving my back a break. The plastic mask is so close to my face, he brushes it against my nose tenderly. Fucking swoon. “Did you like your Halloween present?” He nods towards the bed, where his phone sits.

“It was perfect. You…you posted us on social media.” I wish the mask was off so I could read his expression, kiss him.

“I did. I know how much it means to you to be loved in the light.”

I swallow thickly. “It does, I–I love you very much. I thought…I’m so sorry…” I can’t finish that sentence. I can’t admit I thought I’d lost him.

He lets out a long sigh, before using my hands to push me back and crawls onto the bed with me. He looms above, my very own dark angel. I’m allowed to sit up and he swings his legs over, straddling me.

“Good, because I fucking love you Miley. But,” my heart lurches as he grabs both my wrists and pins them above my head. The distorted voice crackles and fuck, that is actually terrifying when you’re on the other end of it. He’s a stronger man than I am, but there is no part of me that wants him to stop. “You upset me by telling me over a masked thirst trap account, so now you need to be punished. I can forgive you for hiding yourself, but I’m still going to edge you till you cry, then you’re going to fuck me until I think you’ve apologised enough.” Grinding his hard dick down against my own thickening cock, I feel everything through my thin underwear. “Start fucking saying sorry, Baby.”

We’re naked, sweaty and tears stream down my face. I’m a mess, drool still coating my lips from how hard he fucked my throat with his thick shaft, pumping my own cock, but stopping once again when I felt the pending orgasm ready to explode out of me.

“P-please, Cassie, Oh god–I can’t.” I beg, sniffling as he bounces in my lap. My dick catches on his rim and I cry out. He told me I can’t come yet and my body is so scared of the consequences, it hasn’t let me even think about it. It’s there though, ready once he tells me I can.

Pounding down onto me, he’s still wearing the mask, but his breaths are so heavy that the voice-box inside makes it sound like one continuous growl. I think he’s shushing me, running his fingers through my damp hair, pushing my waves back off my forehead. “Just one more time. What am I forgiving you for?”

Slowing down his rhythm, he sits up, his thick thighs bracketing just above my hips and he rolls, working my tip. I see stars. I wonder if I look like a rabid racoon? Foaming at the mouth, eyes rolling into the back of my head. “I–I can’t.”

Cass tugs on my hair. “Say it. One more time and you can come.”

“I followed you–”

“Stalked.” He interrupts, massaging my scalp, making sure I know it’s ok.

“Stalked you online and in person. I found out where you lived, the second time and broke into your house to film the video. I stole your underwear and jacked off into it.”

He laughs, the noise choppy. “You’re a creep.”

“I am, for you. I’m not sorry about that though. I followed you to the gym and joined. I didn’t care if you’d broken up with Grace or not, I wanted you to be mine. When she touched you in the club I got so jealous, I broke into your house again. I filmed you without your consent, then I claimed you online because you commented back to some fucking woman.”

He laughs again, losing his composure and he exhales loudly as he picks up speed. I’m holding on for dear life, my hands clawing into his shoulder blades as he fucks me. He’s topping me, wildly and all I can do is beg him to have his way with me.

“I couldn’t help myself in the corn maze, I missed you.”