AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What are you doing?” I whispered once she released my mouth, voice harsh after my temporary burst of anxiety.
Instead of answering, Bex pressed me hard against the wall, her stomach flush against my chest until I couldn’t sense anything but the heat of her body and the feel of her hand making a slow trail down my torso. Her fingers sought out my peaked nipples, easy to find through the thin material of my bralette, and she pinched each in turn, gripping them tighter when I gasped.
“Bex, I -” I tried to beg for something more, anything, but my words were cut off with a moan as Bex’s fingers finally lowered, diving beneath the waistband of my leggings. She hissed at my lack of underwear, and I silently congratulated myself on thinking ahead. I’d hoped Bex would find out I wasn’t wearing underwear somehow - by the absence of panty lines, or when I told her outright if only to see her reaction - but I hadn’t expected this.
Finally reaching the trimmed hair between my legs, Bex pressed her lips against my neck. I felt her smile against my skin as her finger traced a line down my slit, finding the wetness that had been pooling at the slow torture of her closeness all night. Finding my clit easily, she tapped it with a fingertip, making me jolt against the wall. Laughing softly at my responsiveness, she continued her torment, circling my clit slowly before pumping a finger inside me. I tightened around her as she increased her pace, adding another finger as she brought me swiftly and steadily toward the edge.
I shivered as her tongue reached out to trace the shell of my ear, feeling her whisper before I heard it. “This time, you’ll say my name.”
Chapter16
Bex
It had been a few days,and Wren hadn’t mentioned my walking in on her, or the fact that I didn’t leave until after she came. Save for the short, accidental mention on our drive to my sparring session with Dev and her subsequent escape, Wren never referenced it. But her silence didn’t feel like a reprieve, it felt like she was planning on how best to use it against me. She’d become good at pressing my buttons in such a short time, with her flirty winks and her obsession with bucking every claim I made and command I gave. So I knew she’d find a way to use our encounter against me, but I didn’t know when, and the uncertainty kept me on my toes.
I planned on her coming out of her room in a scandalous outfit, but she was dressed normally: a pair of leggings with tennis shoes and a thick-knit orange sweater. But her normal outfit didn’t make me relax. Instead it primed me for the retaliation I was sure she planned to send my way. I had been on my toes for days, wondering what games she planned to play next and whether they’d interfere with the plans I’d already been making.
Ames’s talk had been the push I needed. I was going to take what I wanted, and I’d decided that was Wren. I spent the last two days planning, figuring out how to make Wren mine despite the way I’d treated her for months. I’d worn this fucking sweater, thinking the last time Wren saw so much of my skin - when I’d jumped in the pool on her unspoken dare - she’d been speechless the rest of the night. I’d planned a slow seduction throughout the course of the night and the next few days, finding excuses to get close to her, to show her I could be something other than the psychopath who’d been trying to break her for the past few weeks.
I hadn’t expected her retaliation to be caresses of fingers over my skin as she named each individual flower on my tattoo in the dim glow of her flashlight. I hadn’t expected it to be her tucking her small fingers into my belt loops when she got scared, as if I’d protect her. I hadn’t expected her to share her dreams of a house and ask if I’d visit, as if I didn’t plan to be living right fucking there next to her. I hadn’t expected her to tell me that my sick games and bullying turned her on, that she liked the way I treated her. I didn’t expect her to crumble every plan I’d been making, make me want nothing but the feel of her skin on mine, her gasps in my ear, the knowledge that I could break her in each and every way, just to make her mine.
I had been off-balance already, even more so since Ames admitted what Wren had said during their talk, the feeling only intensifying as I got a taste of what it would be like to be with Wren. My arm around her shoulder, her side pressed against mine, her hand wrapped in my fingers. If she wanted to play a game with her touches and her whispered admissions, I would show her just how well I could play back. Only this time, the goal wasn’t to scare her away, but to make her mine.
I hadn’t planned to make her mine in the haunted house. I knew Wren wouldn’t fully trust a sudden change in my demeanor or any sort of claim that I was done fucking with her. The way I’d treated her the past few months had been too brutal. Which meant I had to prove Wren was mine through my actions. Originally, one of those actions had been to keep my hands to myself as a show of patience and unspoken implication that I didn’t plan to fuck her and leave. Only Wren burned those plans when she admitted every depraved part of our fucked up games turned her on as much as they did me.
Which was how I found myself pressing Wren’s small body into the darkest corner of the haunted house, with my fingers buried inside her.
I was suddenly grateful that I’d bought tickets to this haunted house, one I was overly familiar with. My family - and then just Ames and I - had been coming here since I was a kid, and they tended to reuse certain elements in each of their houses. The bomb Wren dropped came at the perfect time, and I took advantage of being the last ones venturing down the path by pushing Wren into a dark corner of the maze, far away from the correct pathway where any actors would be hiding. They always kept to the end of the maze so as not to get lost themselves.
Wren gave no argument as I pressed my lips against the smooth curve of her skin, my fingers working to drive her closer to the edge. She didn’t even bother to look around for anyone watching, her head tipped back with her eyes closed the moment my fingers delved underneath her leggings. I smiled against her neck as I realized that my little bird was a bit of an exhibitionist. Not that I’d allow anyone to see Wren in this position; that was only for me. Luckily, I knew from experience that the hayride took a while to make its loop, so we had at least another ten minutes until the next group caught up to us.
So I took my time, whispering in Wren’s ear exactly what I wanted, what I’d been dreaming about for days. “This time, you’ll say my name.” It wasn’t a question, but a command, though Wren didn’t seem to hear it, too busy gasping out her pleasure as I ground the heel of my hand into her clit and pressed my fingers in and out of her.
Unhappy with her lack of response, I bit her neck to get her attention. Then I paused the movement of my fingers, pulling them out of her completely when Wren attempted to chase the feeling by rocking her hips. A soft mewl left her lips, her eyes opening to find my narrowed gaze on hers.
“You’ll say my name,” I growled, harder this time, rewarding her small gasp of agreement with kisses across her neck.
I pushed my fingers back inside her on a brutal thrust, making her raise up on her tiptoes from the sudden intrusion. But the roughness only made her wetter, her moans growing loud enough that I had to tuck her face against my collarbone to muffle her sounds. Sure, the actors might not venture down a dead end right at the start of the maze, but they might make their way over if Wren’s sounds carried.
I kept up a relentless pace, using my hips to put more force behind my fingers as I felt Wren get closer to the edge, her hips working to ride my fingers while keeping up with my tempo. After a few minutes, I felt Wren’s movements start to stutter, her pussy contracting around my fingers tight enough that I knew she was close. I pulled her face away from my chest, tilting her head back as I ghosted my lips across hers.
“Ready to say my name, little bird?”
She only nodded, eyes scrunched in concentration as she chased her orgasm, and when I reached down to pinch a nipple through her sweater with my free hand, she broke. Her back arched as she moaned my name on a long exhale, and I watched as all the fine muscles of her throat tensed as she came.
“So good, lovely,” I whispered in her ear as I worked her through her orgasm, slowly pumping into her until she shivered from oversensitivity.
Wren watched me pull my hand out of her leggings through half-lidded eyes, letting out a sound of surprise and arousal as I licked the taste of her off my fingers. She was still slumped against the wall, knees weak after her orgasm, and she furrowed her brows as I adjusted her leggings and sweater so she didn’t look as disheveled. I smoothed her hair down from where I’d gripped it and tugged her sweater down a bit so I could see the bruises that were beginning to bloom from my bites.
By the time I finished returning Wren to her pre-orgasm state, I heard the echoes of voices coming up the path leading to the haunted house. Perfect timing.
“Time to go.” I grabbed Wren’s hand, enjoying the feeling of her small hand so relaxed in mine. She’d been too tense most of the night, looking at our entwined hands as if thinking my palm would suddenly sting her. But she was tired now, hand warm and lax in mine. I made a mental note of how much more compliant she was after an orgasm and filed that information away for later.
I led her through the rest of the maze, her hazy post-orgasm attitude fading quickly when the first of the actors popped out. She startled at each “boo” uttered by an actor, small screams of surprise popping out of her throat. I kept her hand tucked firmly in mine, leading her out of the maze, along the narrow path - often having to restrain Wren from running off-path when an actor jumped out - and through a couple more mini haunted houses strewn through the forest, until we finally reached the bonfire marking the end.
Our old group was long gone, but we weren’t too far ahead of the group behind us, allowing us to blend in seamlessly. It was dark enough that no one recognized we weren’t originally in their group, and we climbed on without issue when the hayride showed up to take us back. Wren sat close to my side, her head on my shoulder, and I felt my lips kick up into a grin as we turned the last corner, flashlight beams from the guests visible in the distance as we got closer to the central area.
Just as we passed by a giant oak tree, a loud roaring started up right on cue, a masked man running at the tractor with his chainsaw held high. Wren, who must’ve dozed for a moment, woke with a start, scrambling onto my lap with a yelp as the actor ran his chain-less chainsaw against the edge of the tractor.
