Hollows Grove

A Holinight Novella
Lee Jacquot
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents, as well as resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2022 by Lee Jacquot

All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means,
including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author,
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover Design: Cat at TRCdesignsbycat

 A Quick Note From the Author

Hollows Grove is a standalone novella in the Holinights series. None of

these books need to be read in order.

It is a steamy & fun read (seriously, it’s just a good time) intended for
mature audiences of legal adulthood age. It should NOT be used as a guide
for kinks or a BDSM relationship.

The author is not liable for any attachments formed to the MCs nor the
sudden desire to have someone make you come more than you think
you can handle.

Reader discretion is advised.

To my readers looking for a good time, and a sexy twist on the best murder
mystery game out there.
H ow is it that best friends always find a way to rope you into shit that
makes you question your sanity? That makes you contemplate how
in the hell you’ve stayed friends for so long? 
Ciara knows I’m scared of literally everything. She knows I don’t do
spiders bigger than my thumb, I can’t look at a clown without almost
shitting my pants, and the last time I saw a scary movie, I was thirteen. And
I only watched it because I was tricked under the pretense that it was a
parody. 
These are never-changing facts that she’s been privy to since we met in
fifth grade. Yet, here I am, putting the finishing touches on my Halloween
outfit for her murder mystery party. 
One that I’m not only helping host but am also participating in. 
One where I could be the victim. 
Or even worse, chased. I could end up like all those clumsy, token
characters in the movies and fall down a flight of stairs or run smack-dab
into a tree. So many potential catastrophes, and all of which have my name
on them.
The only pro in the extremely long list of cons is that she’s having me
play the role of the maid. I consider it the singular upside because if I’m
going to be forced to run through a mansion and possibly fake murdered, I
might as well look sexy as fuck doing it. Plus, there’s always the off chance
I get lucky and am paired with one of her hot coworkers, where we do less
clue hunting and more body searches. 
I check the tulle under my skirt one last time, making sure it’s secure. I
wanted to add a little oomph to my store-bought hot maid uniform and had
to sew an extra layer of the itchy material into the waistband. But even
knowing how incredible my legs will look in the outfit, my internal dread
about the night doesn’t ebb in the slightest. 
I push out a heavy sigh. “I still can’t believe you convinced me that this
is a good idea. How the hell do I always let you talk me into stuff?” 
My best friend turns, pushing one of her passion twists from her
shoulder, and smirks. Her deep mauve lipstick is perfect for her role as Lady
Lavender and pairs well with her pastel purple blouse. “Because in the
almost twenty years we’ve known each other, there’s nothing we won’t do
for one another.” 
I shake my head, twirling a loose string hanging from the bodice around
my index finger and snap it off. “Yeah, but it’s never involved being hunted
down and murdered.”
Normally, when I’m pulled into one of Ciara’s shenanigans, it involves
a random trip to an island, deep diving into her latest fling’s social media,
or staying up until four in the morning watching movies so she isn’t lonely
while she’s doing her hair. 
It’s because of those same antics that I’m able to say I’ve seen a good
portion of the world, made it through a seven-year relationship that ended in
a failed engagement, and live in a spider-free townhouse. You know,
because she’s my own personal eight-legged arachnid eradicator. 
“You won’t be hunted down.” Ciara lets out an exasperated sigh as she
flips through the manila envelopes on the kitchen island for the third time.
“And I’m doing this because, with my new position at work, I really need to
do some team building with the staff.” 
“Yeah, and I have to go, why?” 
She huffs. “Because you’re my girl, and I need you there in case it
doesn’t go perfectly.” 
My eyes roll so hard that a sharp ache radiates through the back of
them. “Since when does anything you do not turn out perfectly?”
She blinks for a moment, looking as though she might actually be able
to recall a time when she didn’t obsess over every minute detail of
something until it was flawless. Then, of course, when the inevitable
happens and she comes back blank, she laughs. “You’re being dramatic,
Eve. The mansion is used for more than just Halloween events. Really, it’s
not even creepy.”
My mouth gapes open as I slap a hand on the counter. The sharp noise
echoes off the walls, and the pain shooting up my forearm makes me
acutely aware of how hard granite is. “My ass! I saw the photos. They go all
out for Halloween. That’s not even including the surrounding woods and
the cliff it’s next to. At night, that place is the epitome of terrifying, Ciara.”
“It’s a wedding venue,” she says a little too wearily as she slips the
envelopes inside a large bag. “I don’t get why you’re still so sca—”
“Because of your brother,” I hiss the obvious before she can finish.
“And wedding venue? The only people getting married in that house on the
hill are The Addams Family fanatics and ghost hunters.”
“Again, you’re being dramatic.”
I hop down from the barstool I’ve been warming for half an hour and
scoff as I stretch, “About which part? Your brother or the estate? Because I
have irrefutable facts, some of which are decades old, as to how I’m not.”
She narrows her eyes, but she knows she doesn’t have a good rebuttal
because the estate is so horrifying at night, it’s been used in horror movies.
Two of which were slashers where victims did, in fact, get run off the cliff. 
She’s also well aware that her brother is an asshole. At least, he is to
me. Has been since I moved here when I was ten. It was shortly after my
father decided staying together as a family wasn’t worth it anymore, and
split. 
Most small-town people know that remaining there following a failed
marriage is shit, which is why my mom and I moved to a new city in hopes
of a fresh start. 
Ciara and her family happened to be our next-door neighbors, and it
didn’t take more than a week of walking home from school together before
I was at her house every day. 
Soon after, the Davis family became part of mine. Mrs. Davis always
sent me home with dinner, and since my mom was a nurse and didn’t get
home till almost eight, it was always a nice treat. On the weekends, Mr.
Davis would help my mom with any issues around the house. Ciara’s
parents gave her the break she needed and peace of mind knowing I was
cared for when she was at work. 
 Everything was perfect. It made the ache of missing my parents together
seem almost nonexistent, and there was never a time when I longed for life
before the divorce. 
And it was all thanks to the Davis family. Well, three out of the four.
Ciara’s older brother was a complete dick. The worst person imaginable.
The splinter I could never get out. 
He’s three years older than Ciara and I, and man-oh-man, I wanted to
deck him in the face on more than a dozen occasions. 
At first glance, he’s fucking hot. Like unbearably beautiful, with a smile
that should be in every toothpaste commercial, and the personality of a
humble jock who is just as smart as he is talented. If you asked anyone
about him, they’d say he’s the sweetest young man they’ve ever met, and
how he wouldn’t hesitate to give a stranger the shirt off his back. 
But if you asked me? I’d say the complete opposite because, for some
reason I still don’t understand, he’s got a fascination with scaring me. 
It started with him putting fake bugs in my food and hiding around dark
corners when I would stay the night. He did any and everything he could to
get me to lose my shit.
When I asked him why, he said he enjoyed making me scream. He got
the biggest kick out of it, and no matter how mad I got, it only made him
want to do it more. Or do something worse. 
One time, he stood over me when I was sleeping and just stared at me
until I woke up and saw him hovering over me. After that, I don’t think I
got a good night’s sleep until he left for college. 
Hell, even then, I always double-checked doors and triple-checked
under my bed. 
I won’t lie, though. There were times—albeit brief and fleeting—when I
saw the guy everyone talked about. The sweetheart under the mask. There
was even a time I entertained the thought of seeing in what other ways he
could make me scream, but the idea vanished quicker than it came. 
Now, even knocking on thirty, he still fucks with me, which is why I
actively try to avoid him. Which leads me to my current dilemma; we’re
helping Ciara host the event. 
Together. 
Yes. Not only do I have to endure an evening full of what goes bump in
the night, but I’m doing it with the man who is the literal cause of my fear
of the dark. 
 I glance back at Ciara, waiting for her to try and tell me I’m
exaggerating about her brother or the estate.
After another moment, she purses her lips and moves them back and
forth, the challenge to prove me wrong evident in her bright brown irises.
But we both know the truth, and she rolls her eyes in defeat. 
“Exactly,” I chide, opening the refrigerator and taking out one of the
Canadian sparkling waters. I swear these things have some type of addictive
additive in them. “So now I have to ask, what did I do to deserve this
punishment you’re subjecting me to?”
“He’s gonna know you took one.” Ciara points, cleaning the rest of the
papers off the island and ignoring my question. 
“And? I think it’s safe to say he owes me a few.” I hold the drink up in a
faux toast, only to immediately have it swiped away. 
“Hey!” I whirl around, and I let out something that’s supposed to
resemble a gasp but ends up turning into a distorted snort when I see who it
is. 
Ciara’s brother, Dorian—the bane of my existence, the gray hair
standing out in my sea of brown waves, the itch I can’t reach—stands two
feet away from me and tips my water against his annoyingly perfect lips
with a wink. 
He’s dressed in black joggers and a plain white shirt, yet the fit looks
tailor-made, molding to a broad chest and narrow waist that meets muscular
thighs. I swear his picture should be hanging outside of an athletic store
window. 
Dorian’s dark eyes seem to shimmer under the kitchen light as he takes
another heavy gulp before nodding toward me. “Thanks, E. I was parched.”
“That was mine, you ass.” I narrow my gaze, contemplating whether or
not I should snatch it back. But he’s had his mouth on it, and knowing him,
he’ll turn it into some kind of innuendo that just stirs up more shit. Aside
from scaring me, he loves making me squirm because he knows I somehow
still find him attractive. 
It was probably that time I saw him save a cat from a tree outside his
house. I mean, who actually does that? In his prom tux, no less. Or it could
have been from the Halloween party five years ago. The one I’m still trying
to forget to this day…
Yeah. It was probably then.
 “Funny. I don’t remember you asking me if you could have one.” He
takes yet another sip, and I curse my traitorous eyes from watching his
throat roll with the action. 
Of course, he catches me, and the light brown skin at the corner of his
eyes wrinkles as he grants me a lopsided smirk. 
I ignore the way my stomach does some unwarranted jerk that could
easily be mistaken for gas and spin around, grabbing another bottle from the
fridge. “I don’t have to ask. Half the time, I’m the one who buys them when
I go grocery shopping with your sister.”
Dorian and Ciara live together in a townhouse four units down from me,
so I’m over more often than I’m not. Luckily, Dorian is usually out of town
scouting potential recruits for the university he coaches football for, so we
rarely cross paths. 
“Well, sunshine, you didn’t buy these.” He starts to reach for my glass,
but the look on my face gives him pause. After a second, he relents and
shrugs. “I spit in all of them anyway. Enjoy.”
My fingers tense around the top before I twist it off. When it doesn’t
crack from the safety seal separating, my internal debate over what I should
do begins. 
He’s trying to call my bluff—something he does regularly—and scare
me into bowing out. I don’t particularly believe him, but I also don’t really
want to chug his saliva either. 
Another moment passes, and I consider just letting him win this one, but
the smug look on his face is reason enough not to care. I tip the glass back
and take a heavy swig. The bubbles burn my throat on the way down, and
the minute drop in his smirk is enough to make swallowing whatever might
be in the bottle worth it. 
Naturally, my triumph is short-lived. 
“You like my spit in your mouth, sunshine?”
I almost choke on the water as Ciara makes a gagging sound that’s a
little too realistic. Slamming the glass on the island, I shoot him the bird.
“Fuck off, Dorian.”
He shrugs again, finishing his drink that’s meant to be savored, and
looks at his sister. “You regret this decision yet?”
“I did the moment I asked.” Ciara sighs, tossing her bag over her
shoulder as she shakes her head. “We leave in twenty, y’all, and for the love
of God, please, please, be nice tonight. It’s only like six hours of your entire
life.”
I throw a hand out. “It’s him you need to be talking to.”
Ciara is already halfway to the front door, but she stops to give me a
look that says the words before she does. “You’re just as petty, Eve. Do I
need to remind you of the time you put cayenne pepper in his underwear?”
“Ciara!” I whirl around to see Dorian’s mouth wide open. 
I’d never admitted I did it, and in the end, he had to make a doctor’s
appointment because he thought he’d caught something from one of his
hookups. I felt bad, but not bad enough to confess and face his wrath. 
Dorian doesn’t say anything for at least ten awkward seconds as his
eyes flit between me and her, before clamping his mouth shut. He nods
more to himself than to us and grabs his keys off the counter, brushing past
me without another glance. 
“Y’all meet me in the car when you’re ready.”
I exchange a look with my best friend, whose mouthed ‘sorry’ does
nothing to ease the flurry of anxiety testing out my heart muscle’s
dexterity. 
Well, shit.
T o say the ride to Hollows Grove Estate is one of excitement is a
complete and utter lie. 
The atmosphere is thick, almost unbearably so, as Dorian drives
us to the mansion. Every once in a while, the steering wheel creaks with the
pressure of his grip, and he keeps going an abnormal amount of time
without blinking, making it clear what he’s doing. 
Dorian Davis is planning my murder. 
It’s probably hypothetical, of course, but it’s coming, that much is
obvious, and now my fear about the evening’s event has escalated to
astronomical heights. 
See, I talk a big game, but Dorian knows how to pull emotions out of
me no one else can. He knows which fears cause the loudest screams and
the most visceral reactions. The notion he’s going to play on every single
one of them tonight has my palms slick, my stomach in knots, and my
throat painfully dry. 
Five Years Ago
“How did I let you talk me into this?” I tug on the edge of my pleather
shorts that feel as though they’re painted on my skin. They don’t budge.
Ciara gestures to said shorts and then up the broad cement steps of her
sorority house. “Because one, you look hot. Two, you needed to get out and
get your mind off that boyfriend of yours—”
“Ex,” I correct her, my eyes doing a quick survey over the many
variations of sexy professions as they enter the party. 
Ciara scoffs. “Yeah, well, I doubt this is permanent, considering you’ve
been together since high school. Plus, you know you love your safety net.”
Ouch. I want to roll my eyes or maybe even shrug her off, but she’s not
wrong. 
Brad and I have been seeing each other since our senior year, and he is
what she says—safe. 
He plans to join his father in engineering, which alludes to security. He
wants a picket fence around a quaint house in the suburbs, meaning
stability. And he gives me an orgasm almost every other time we have sex,
which I’d say is pretty decent, so there’s that. 
I think it’s also important to note we get along, which is a huge plus,
considering I’m sort of… opinionated at times. 
Still, the closer we get to cementing our relationship with a ring, the
more I worry if safe is what I want. After all, that’s what my mom thought
she had.
“Are we going in, or are you gonna let this little demon costume go to
waste?” Ciara lifts an arched brow, but I don’t think she realizes how much
her cat whiskers take away from her intimidation tactics. 
Still, I relent, pushing out a sigh that instantly causes her to perk up.
“Fine. But the first green and red sweater I see, I’m out.”
“Okay, okay. Promise.”
“And for your information, I’m a succubus,” I inform her as I follow
behind.
She smirks. “Even better.”

“I have to pee.” I lean into Ciara’s shoulder, hoping she hears me over the
deafening roar of the party. 
The DJ has been blaring Halloween songs at full blast, and my only
guess as to why the place hasn’t received a noise complaint yet is because
all the neighbors who could possibly complain are here. 
The sorority house is filled to the brim with the undead, the sexy, the
disgusting, and people that clearly need a job in Hollywood doing special
effects makeup. With the added orange glow from the pumpkin string lights
and smog machine that goes off every few minutes with the flashing orbs,
I’d say I’m doing fairly well mentally. I think I’ve only jumped once, and it
was because when a wolverine bent down to tie their shoe, its large nose
brushed against my skin. I hadn’t expected it to be wet. 
Ciara stops dancing and nods, pointing to the stairs, where a group of
zombified jocks chug a keg through a clear hose. “Go up to my room.”
“Oh, you’re magical. Thank you.” 
Quickly, I weave through the crowd, somehow able to make it to the
base of the steps without running into anyone too… clowny. 
Upstairs, it almost feels as though I’m in a different house. The music is
muted, muffled behind the closed door of Ciara’s room. It’s quiet enough
that my eyes linger on her bed longer than necessary, wondering if I could
get in a nap unnoticed. 
A twinge in my bladder prompts me otherwise, forcing my feet to her
en suite bathroom. After I’m done, I wash my hands and the spot on my
arm that is still gleaming with whatever residue the guy put on the end of
his nose. 
As I slip the hand towel from the bar, a weird tingle shoots across the
back of my neck, causing the fine hairs there to stand at attention. Without
looking up, I can almost guarantee someone is behind me, but fear cements
my feet in place, rendering my limbs damn near useless. My throat
squeezes tight, dread working through my core as my hands stop the motion
of drying.
Where’s the adrenaline? Isn’t that a thing? Shouldn’t my heart be
pounding so hard that I have quicker reflexes? 
Fight or flight?
Something?
The concept must only be true in the movies because my arms drop to
my sides as if they weigh two tons each, and my eyes drag way too slowly
up my frame in the mirror to the figure behind me. 
He’s tall, about a foot taller than me, and built with lean, defined
muscles, evident in the window of his open black button-up. The smooth
dips and ridges of his chest are familiar to me, having seen them on display
on more than a few occasions, but my body’s visceral reaction is not. 
Maybe it’s because my breath has become shallow, the lack of air
suffocating as I take in the reflective silver mask covering Dorian’s face,
but the strange tingle from my neck sinks down through my core, causing
my thighs to squeeze together. Because he’s been stored away, studying for
his finals for his master’s degree, I guess I hadn’t thought he’d be here.
Now, I feel dumb for not knowing better. 
Dorian remains perfectly still, his dark eyes roving over the small bits of
fabric covering my frame. Everywhere his eyes touch, he leaves a trail of
heat that melts into my skin and has me suddenly unbearably hot. 
His head tilts slightly. “That boyfriend of yours let you wander off all
alone?”
Thankfully, the comment gives me enough spark to find my voice. “Ex.
And I’m not a dog on a leash.”
I can almost swear a glimmer passes through his eyes, but with the
distance, I can’t be sure. “I didn’t say you were. Though I think you might
be sexy in a muzzle.”
A flare of anger and arousal blooms in my gut. That should not turn me
on in the slightest, but the way his voice dropped and the hungry look in his
eyes…well, it kinda does. Still, I bite back. “And I wonder if I threw a stick
if you’d go fetch it.”
He takes a step forward, and I stiffen, my nerves drawing tight. “That
depends. Since when aren’t you and the tool dating?”
One of my shoulders hitches up. It comes off as nonchalance, but really,
it’s the only thing my muscles are capable of. “A couple weeks.”
Another step. “Why?”
“I don’t know—”
“You don’t know why you broke up with a guy you’ve been with for
four years?”
Since when did it get so hot? My skin is fucking burning, and the
pleather outfit doesn’t make it any better. 
My lips thin, a hand finding my hip. “I don’t know why you think it’s
any of your business.”
His silver mask lifts slightly, and I imagine him smiling beneath it. I’ve
always liked that damn smile. “You are my business, sunshine.”
 My brows snap together, agitation flushing through me. There’s been a
few times I’ve overheard him referring to me as “just another little sister,”
and it infuriates me. Why? Maybe because it made the attraction I had
toward him feel weird, or perhaps it was the way I knew he viewed me as
nothing more than something to take care of. Either way, I hated the
insinuations. 
Finally, I will my body to whirl around, a retort tickling the edge of my
tongue, but when I do, Dorian has eaten up the remaining distance between
us and is one big breath away from our chests touching. 
I suck in a sharp breath, the close proximity and his deep aroma doing a
number on my libido, while the fear from seeing him in the intimidating
mask fades into an odd arousal. 
“I wonder…” He leans down, his eyes lowering to my throat, before
gliding back up. He reaches a hand behind him and flips off the bathroom
light, plunging us into complete darkness. 
Panic sweeps over me, my heart slamming into my chest as I grab onto
the front of his shirt. 
He chuckles, the rough side of his index finger hooking under my chin.
I can’t see him, but I can feel him, his warm breath coasting over my mouth
and sprouting goosebumps down my arm.
“Tell me, E. Are you scared?” He leans in, the cool feel of the plastic
running along my jaw making me shiver. “Or wet?”
I don’t get to answer. 
“EVE!” Five loud bangs ring out against the bedroom door, making me
nearly jump out of my skin. 
Dorian chuckles, dropping his hand, flipping on the light, and stepping
backward just as Ciara flings her door wide open. She steps in, pushing past
her brother as if he wasn’t two inches away from my face thirty seconds
ago, and snatches my hand. “They’re playing my song. I need a partner, and
none of my Soros knows how to do it right.”
Present
My leg bounces violently as I recall the Halloween party. 
Up until that moment, the undercurrent between him and I was just that
—an implication. Nothing too forward or obvious. But Dorian changed
something between us that night. Crossed a line we unknowingly drew the
day we met. 
 He also brought a fantasy I didn’t even know I had to the surface, and it
was damn near clawing at my chest to get out. 
When I tried to find him later, though, the flock of females he was
entertaining reminded me why I always went back to the safer option of my
ex. 
I didn’t think I’d regret getting back with Brad and letting Dorian be a
missed opportunity. But when Brad got down on one knee a few months
ago, and I saw brown eyes instead of his bright blue, I knew I couldn’t do
it. 
It wasn’t because I actually wanted to marry anyone else, but because I
didn’t want to marry him, and that wasn’t fair to either of us. I couldn’t
relive what my parents went through. 
I want someone I can have fun with. Someone I can argue with freely
without worrying I’ll hurt their feelings. I want to be pushed to my limits,
not encouraged to be content with complacency. 
I want the type of love that makes my heart feel like it’s going to leave
bruises on my ribcage from beating so hard. 
A familiar tingle radiates across the back of my neck, and I know
without looking that Dorian’s eyes are on me.
“A lright, we’re a little early, so we have plenty of time to set up.”
Ciara stretches out like a cat, arching her back and straightening
her legs as far as she can while Dorian pulls onto a private road
lined with trees. 
It only took half an hour to get here, but in just that short time, it seems
as though we’ve driven into a completely different state. 
The sun is still fairly high, illuminating the autumn hues creeping onto
the leaves. The lawn visible through the trees has been recently manicured,
the bright blades of grass standing at an even height, as though someone cut
it with a leveler and a pair of scissors. The long driveway is prettier than the
pictures depicted, and the loose-looking gravel feels like smooth concrete
under our wheels. 
The estate comes into view as he takes a slight curve up the incline, and
if I wasn’t already insanely nervous about the night’s events, I might be able
to appreciate the beauty even more than I surprisingly already do. 
It’s a two-story mansion with a face of bleached bricks so white they
almost look like slates of marble. Black window frames match the massive
iron doors, and the pops of color from pumpkins resting on the front steps
add the perfect accent. 
 Seeing it in person, not adorned with Halloween decorations seen in
horror movies, does make my pulse ease slightly. Even the hedges next to
the estate appear more romantic now, and I’m able to imagine some bride
walking through them to her husband, who’s waiting at the edge of the
beautiful cliff to sail into forever. 
But then, of course, Dorian pops my bubble. “Can you imagine being
chased through there? So worried about looking back, you slip over the
edge and plummet to your death?”
Why do I even bother trying to be positive? 
I cut my gaze to the rear-view mirror and catch his gaze already locked
on me. Suddenly, I wonder if the comment was less of an observation, and
more of an ominous threat. The corner of his eye crinkles as he smiles and
shoots me a wink. 
My stomach does an involuntary clench, but I mask it with an eye roll.
“Imagine doing the chasing and being so dense, you fall instead.”
He releases a low grumble of a chuckle that only makes the tightness in
my core worse, and I groan my annoyance. I fucking loathe the way no
matter how much I can’t stand him, I still really like that sound. It makes
me hate him more. 
I break the short-lived staring contest and peer out the window. “Make
sure after we set up, you keep your distance. I don’t have time to entertain
your theatrics tonight.”
Ciara clears her throat as we pull in front of the entrance. “About
that…”
My face snaps to glare holes in the back of her head, and as if she can
actually feel the burn, her shoulders slump. “You’ll be paired up tonight
during the game.”
Before I can register exactly what she said or even try to clarify, she
jerks the door handle open and nearly jumps out of the car, the murmured
confession leaving a trail of fire behind her. 
Dorian sighs, seemingly unbothered, almost as if he knew it was
coming, while my heart has taken up residence in my esophagus. “Did you
know she was going to do that?”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “I mean, it’s not a surprise considering we’re
dressed as a pair.”
The maid and the butler. 
 “So?” I bite, annoyed with myself I didn’t catch that not-so-subtle detail
before. “The maid wasn’t paired with the butler in the movie.”
He places a big hand on his own door handle. “Yeah, well, we’re also
helping her host the event, E.”
Irritation slithers up my spine. It leaves a nasty feeling too close to
trepidation clinging to the bone. If I thought looking over my shoulder all
night was less than ideal, having the trouble right next to me is even worse. 
I pinch the bridge of my nose while letting a defeated sigh pass my lips.
“Can we pause this little game of yours tonight? Just this once, please?”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “No.”
“Dammit, Dorian. Why?”
“Because it’s my favorite game to play.” His voice is smooth, coated in
something I can’t quite place, as though it’s the easiest question he’s ever
been asked.
With a lopsided grin, he exits the car, leaving me with an emotion I
don’t let myself acknowledge. What I do wonder, though, is if tonight’s
party will be like the last one we went to all those years ago.
If things will come to a head and we’ll finally put an end to the back
and forth once and for all.
After a few minutes of considering what tonight will be like, I
begrudgingly get out of the car, storm up the massive steps, and into the
mansion.
Unlike the outside, the interior is exactly what the pictures online
showcased. 
At first glance, it’s beautiful. Stark white walls, an overbearing
chandelier hanging low between two sets of stairs on either side of the
foyer. Straight ahead is a fireplace surrounded by dark stones resting
beneath a long, thick wood mantle. The marble floors and pristine furniture
fit with the modernness of the place, and for a moment, I can see why
people spend a pretty penny to use this place as a wedding venue. 
But then, in the blink of an eye, horror—or, more accurately, the long
strings of fake spider webs Ciara draws out of her bag—corrodes the
beautiful image. In an hour’s time, this house will look like Morticia
Addams’s getaway villa. 
As if on cue, Ciara nods behind me to her brother, who’s dumping the
rest of the bags from the trunk at the front door. “The owners said there’s a
ladder in the back, Dorian. It’ll help you reach those bars running along the
sides of the ceiling to set up the drapes.”
My eyes drift to the large lump of dark velvet sitting in a box next to the
table in the middle of the foyer. For an extra, and fairly unreasonable fee,
the owners decorate for the client, but to save a few grand, Ciara opted to
just rent some of it. Meaning it’s up to us three to bring her vision to life. 
Dorian disappears down one of the hallways she pointed at, taking the
strange heat that’s always surrounding him with him. 
“Why would you pair us up together?” I prop a hand on my hip and
narrow her with a what-the-hell-were-you-thinking gaze. 
She tries to shrug me off, but I lift my brows, silently demanding she
give me an honest answer. She has to have a good reason for pulling a stunt
like this.
Ciara throws her hands up before digging into a bag for more webbing.
“Because this is a team building exercise. My team needs to bond with the
people they’ll be working with every day.”
I purse my lips before rolling my eyes and grabbing some of the
webbing from her hand. I guess that makes sense. She was promoted last
month for her strong leadership qualities and then given a department that
can’t go more than two days without filing an HR complaint about the
smallest inconveniences. 
They hate each other, and because of that, it’s made Ciara miserable.
Our weekly girl’s night has become daily, and the amounts of wine and
relaxing baths she takes are borderline concerning. The wine because any
excess alcohol flares her eczema, and the baths because she’s taking trips to
Lush every week, which is two hours away, and it’s dipping into our Spa
Saturdays. 
I loop some of the webs around the banister and start pulling them out
to give it that eerie effect. “And that’s the only reason?”
It’s not a secret that, at one point, Ciara was hellbent on making me her
sister legally through the means of me marrying Dorian. Turns out, he’s an
ass and I’m a brat, and after many failed attempts at trying to help us to
even get along, she finally gave up. Well, it was probably my relationship
with Brad that finally ebbed her attempts, but now that he’s out of the
picture, I wouldn’t put it past her to try again. 
“Yes.” Her voice is an octave higher than a person telling the truth
would be.
 “Ciara,” I hiss through clenched teeth. 
She holds up her hands in mock surrender. “No, it’s not that. There may
or may not be a certain someone who’s coming, and I’d rather have my
brother a little preoccupied instead of focusing on me.”
“Someone? You haven’t had me deep dive into any socials lately. Also,
an employee? How scandalous of you,” I joke. 
She chews on her bottom lip and flips her twists from her face. “No, not
an employee. And yeah, I know. This one’s a little different because they
work in HR, and it feels like I’m invading their space by snooping.”
“Oh, the one you have to talk to almost every day? Jamie, right?”
Ciara nods. “Yup. I feel like something’s there, but I’m not sure, and I
wanted to use tonight to figure it out. But you know Dorian. He’s
protective, and I don’t need him snooping into something I’m serious
about.”
“Serious?”
She nods again, and I can’t help but relent in my anger over having to
keep him preoccupied. “Alright, but this totally adds to the hefty price you
already owe me.”
She lets out a light laugh. “Deal.”
“Hmm, what deals are we making, ladies?” Dorian glides back into the
foyer, holding a long ladder over his shoulder as though it’s nothing but a
sack of potatoes. 
The very uninvited image of me over his shoulder invades my mind, but
I quickly snuff it out.
Dorian clears his throat, and I realize Ciara is too busy thinking of a lie
he won’t sniff out, forcing me to speak for her. “The deal is that she’s
getting me hibachi for lunch if I promise not to murder you tonight.”
He huffs, setting the ladder up against the wall. “What do I get if I
behave, baby sis?”
Ciara busies herself with pulling a drape from the box and handing it to
him, causing me to yet again come to the rescue. “Your life. And twelve
Canadian sparkling waters.”
Dorian lets out a small chuckle before his lips pull down in the corner.
“Alright.”
Luckily he drops it, and over the next half hour, we throw up Halloween
decorations throughout the bottom floor. At some point, Ciara disappears to
hide the envelopes in each room, and since she’s convinced us to also play
the game, Dorian and I stay downstairs and set up the table. 
“I know for a fact your parents taught you where the salad fork goes,
Dorian. Stop putting it down wrong so I have to come behind you and fix
it.”
He smirks, ignoring me as he puts the name plates next to each setting.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The nastiest scowl I can muster paints my face as I move yet another
fork to the correct spot. On the last one, I notice a small brown string
sticking out from under the bottom of the plate. I tug it free only to find out
it’s not a string but the leg of a roach. 
A shrill scream escapes me as I throw the insect down and jump back at
least a yard, stomping my feet in case it tries to exact revenge on me for
dropping it. It only takes half a second, and a deep rumbling laugh, for me
to discover it’s fake. 
My heart hammers behind my sternum, the blood whooshing through
my ears so loudly I almost don’t hear him. 
“Fuck, I love that sound.”
My mouth pops open for a quick “fuck off,” but Ciara comes out of
nowhere, eyes wide with concern as she takes in the scene. 
She sighs and gives her brother a much tamer look than I do. “You said
you’d behave.”
He holds his hands up just like she did when we were setting up the
web. “I will when the guests get here. You didn’t say anything about
before.”
Ciara runs a hand over her face, clearly exasperated by her brother’s
antics as much as I am. “I’m going to pick up lunch for y’all and the dinner
for later. Please go outside and have the maze stuff done by the time I get
back. Put some space between y’all since I can’t supervise you.”
He flashes me a look I can’t quite discern before nodding. “Will do.”
It isn’t until she gives him another warning once over and a sympathetic
smile to me that she leaves us alone, and I find my voice. 
“Grow up,” I finally spit. “Seriously. This is getting old.”
He shrugs, seeming far too smug for my liking. “I’ll grow up when you
realize you’re twenty-eight and scared of bugs.”
“It’s a legitimate phobia.” I’m all but screaming now. 
 “Entomophobia,” he says lamely, pissing me off more. “Usually caused
by a traumatic experience with insects. Remind me again what happened to
you?”
I clutch the butter knife in my hand tightly and consider throwing it at
him in the hopes my adrenaline makes my throw strong enough to break
skin. “You. You’re what happened to me. You and your fake bugs, you ass.”
He whips around the corner in long, heavy strides, surprising me so
much I actually take a step back. He leans in way closer than my personal
bubble allows and lets his dark eyes roam over my face. 
Goose bumps sprout over my bare skin, and I become acutely aware of
how little clothing I have on. 
“You know what, sunshine? I think you like it when I scare you.”
My brows furrow in anger, but the air becomes thin, coated in his warm
scent, and my brain becomes too foggy to form a complete sentence. “W-
what?”
One side of his lips tilts up in a sinister smirk. “I think you love it when
I get that frigid heart of yours pumping and your chest heaving up and
down.”
Said chest rises and falls faster than it should as I try to capture a full
breath. “I—”
“You can fake like you don’t,” he says, glancing over my face one last
time before stepping back. “But I’ve proved it to you before. It’s in the way
those nipples of yours draw tight in your shirt. How your cheeks turn a
bright pink when you realize how wet you are. Most of all, I know you like
it because you’ve never told me to stop.”
Without another word, he turns and walks out, humming low and
leaving me with my second biggest case of “what the fuck just happened”
I’ve ever experienced.
L eaving Evelyn in the dining room with her face flushed with that
intoxicating mix of frustration and arousal has to be the hardest thing
I’ve ever done.
I’m not really sure what came over me back there. What led me to
finally snap. 
I could say it’s the poetic justice of being back at a Halloween party
with her finally single again and me just being the asshole I am. But I know
better. 
That woman has had me by the throat for too long, and up until now, my
only saving grace has been distance. Distance from her smile, her laugh, her
fucking thighs that I fantasize about squeezing around my head. 
Work has me gone most of the time, and when I’m home, she actively
avoids coming over, courtesy of the barrier I put into place a long time ago
—the annoying best friend’s older brother act. Up until two minutes ago,
it’s helped keep me from crossing that line. 
I mean, it’s true I scare her for those intense reactions she always has.
But when we were younger, it was because somewhere inside, I already
knew. I knew that if she gave me the time of day, I’d be a goner. 
She was too fucking perfect for her own good. Sweet, thoughtful, fiery,
and hard-headed, never bending for me or anyone else. When I’d overhear
her and Ciara talking, I couldn’t help but be drawn to her, to her opinions,
the passion in her voice whenever she spoke. 
When she joined the debate team in high school, she’d use me as
practice because Lord knows I don’t like to lose, and she loved a good
opponent. We’d go back and forth, and the light in her eyes acted like a
beacon for my fucking ship. 
I’d wanted to pluck my heart right out of my chest and give it to her,
telling her it was hers whenever she wanted it. 
I was head over heels for my baby sister’s best friend. A senior in love
with a freshman. No matter how right it felt, it was wrong, so I continued
my childish antics, annoying her any chance I got. 
I’d hoped that in college, the feelings and fascination I felt would fade,
that the longer stretches of time without being around her would help me
focus on other women. 
It worked… until it didn’t.
It seems after all these years, my ability to keep her at arm’s length has
finally disintegrated, and when I found out her douche guy was no longer in
the picture? She was mine. 
At least, she was supposed to be. But when I went to find her later, she
was gone, and a couple of days after that, she was back with her ex. 
I don’t plan on making that mistake again. Later tonight, I’m letting her
know this isn’t a game anymore. No more back and forth. Walking around
the obvious ends today. 
Still caught up in my head, it takes me longer than I’d like to admit to
navigate the tall hedges outside of the estate. From the description Ciara
gave me, it’s over six feet high so that during weddings, guests don’t see the
bride coming, and the long walk is meant for people to see signs and
pictures of the couple. “A walk to forever” is what the maze is called. 
Like the lawn, the bushes are fake, so they can take the constant wear
and tear of whatever people shove into them and are easy to fix if they get
damaged. Maybe that’s why I don’t think twice about how roughly I shove
the massive tarantulas into the bush. 
I don’t know what it is about being aggressive with inanimate objects,
but it does the job of relieving the tight knots in my shoulders. It even helps
ease the ache in my slacks that’s been there since I saw Evelyn putting
together that damn maid outfit. 
 Since she pretty much grew up with us, I’ve seen her in everything from
baggy shirts and tiny shorts to swimsuits that barely cover anything. Back
then, I always made sure to be respectful and look the other way. 
Now? I’ve never wanted to disrespect anyone more. 
I haven’t even seen her in it yet, and I want to rip that fucking dress to
shreds and use the pieces to smother her screams from her tenth orgasm. I
want to repurpose the tiny apron to tie her hands together so she can’t try
and stop me from giving her a dozen more. 
I want to show her how everything up until now was to pass the time
until I finally got my hands on her. 
Until she was mine.
Desire and the rare feeling of apprehension tangle in my chest as I finish
setting out the decorations my sister left for the maze. Ciara didn’t want her
employees to get lost, so the spiders serve as guides to the center, where
she’s hidden an envelope of clues. It’s a large, open space, commonly used
for ceremonies. 
I put down two dozen Styrofoam gravestones, jab decorative bones into
the ground, add in a fog machine, and position a statue of Death with his
scythe at the far end. 
Being Ciara’s brother, I know she’s picky as hell, so after scrutinizing
my own work and rearranging the props more than I want to, I send a quick
picture to make sure she’s happy. 
Ciara: Move the one in the far back over about six inches. Also, add
some webbing. Then it’s perfect. Thank you, Dorian. 
I give myself a pat on the back because for her to only make two
suggestions is like winning a hundred-dollar scratch-off—highly unlikely
and pretty fucking awesome. 
After moving the gravestone, I realize all the fake cobwebs are inside. I
do another quick once over to make sure everything looks good, then grab
my bag and make my way back through the maze toward the estate. It
connects to the side, which leads me down a long hall opening to the sitting
room. 
Evelyn’s hums flow down the hall like a siren’s call to a sailor, and I
can’t help but follow the sweet sound. 
Quietly, I set down the bag and move through the hall until I spot her.
Somehow, she’s positioned a chair on top of the hearth of the fireplace,
balancing on it as she sticks some plastic bats to the stones. 
 From this angle, she’s nothing but long legs and luscious curves that
undo my calm nature in a matter of two seconds. Her shirt lifts away from
her stockings, rising to show the smooth skin of her lower back. Blood
rushes through me, and my heart thuds violently in my chest as I stalk
closer to her, unable to resist such a perfect opportunity. 
She leans forward, rising on her tiptoes as she tries to put a bat up
higher than she should. One leg lifts from the chair, making it wobble
slightly, and even with one hand holding the mantel, I see it happen right
before it does. 
Her content hum morphs into a shriek as the chair tips, and she goes
with it, falling in what feels like slow motion. I’m there before she goes
down, wrapping my arms around her and balancing us both as the chair
clatters against the marble floor. 
Naturally, she lets out a more frightened scream when she feels me and
slaps my shoulder. “Goddamn it, Dorian.”
My eyes widen as I let out a scoff, my hands still firmly in place. “I
think a thank you is more appropriate in this context, E.” 
Her face hardens. “Something tells me if I wouldn’t have lost my
balance, you would have done something to make me fall.”
I smirk, loving the way her gaze flits down to my lips. “Maybe, maybe
not, but I still saved your ass from hitting the ground.”
She rolls her eyes, but I can’t help but notice she hasn’t moved from my
hold. In fact, both of her hands are not only braced on my biceps, but her
fingers are tensing around my muscles, making my cock twitch. 
“I’m not saying thank you.”
“Why?” My voice drops lower as I let myself actually feel her soft body
mold into mine. “You hate me that much?”
“Yes.” She says it too quickly—too arrogant—for it to be believable. 
“Say it,” I whisper, leaning an inch closer. “Tell me you hate me.”
She tenses beneath me, but her mouth remains pursed in a flat line. She
knows it’s a challenge, yet for some reason, she can’t bring herself to say
the words. Her lack of a response, as well as her not moving an inch, makes
it impossible not to push her more.
“They say if you hate someone, you should just fuck them,” I tell her.
“Get all that anger out in a more constructive way.”
Her pupils flare, and that bright pink blush I love returns to her cheeks.
She can say whatever she likes, but her body doesn’t lie, and I see the
consideration as soon as it passes over her honey-brown irises. Still, she
does her best to act annoyed. 
“Fuck off, Dorian.” She yanks herself from my arms, and it bothers me
how much I resent the emptiness. 
I smirk, brushing my hands over my shirt. “Hmm, I’d much rather get
you off.”
Evelyn’s mouth pops open, the subtle shock somehow making her even
sexier. After a beat, the expression disappears and she waves a dismissive
hand. “We both know that would take more time than either of us have.”
This makes me laugh. “Sunshine, you’d be on your fifth orgasm before I
even got my mouth on you.”
Eve throws her head back and lets out an obnoxiously loud cackle. If
the sound wasn’t goddamn addicting, I might be annoyed. “Fifth? Fifth,
Dorian? Get serious.”
She gingerly wipes under her eyes with her thumb, and I feel the nerve
in my jaw suddenly tic. “I’m unsure if it’s because you don’t think I’m
capable or if you think it’s impossible because you’ve never experienced
it.”
She quickly sobers at my words, and a balloon of satisfaction swells in
my chest. 
“Wait.” Her eyes rove over me to gauge my seriousness, and when she
realizes how dead serious I am, she takes a step back. “How the fuck would
you be able to give me five consecutive orgasms?”
I run a hand through my hair and tilt my head. “Try a dozen or two.”
“You’re fucking with me right now.” She tries to laugh, but it comes out
strained and forced. “That’s not possible.”
I shrug. “Then you’ve never been with someone like me.”
Turning on my heels, I leave the bait and head toward the foyer. I didn’t
plan on her finding out about my preferences this way, but hey, it works. 
My heart picks up its pace the more steps I walk without hers echoing
behind me, and for a good thirty seconds, I worry she won’t. But then, the
tap of her heels relieves tight muscles I didn’t even know were tense. 
“What do you mean, someone like you?”
Keeping my back to her, I go through the bags on the floor until I find
the one with the cobwebs. “Someone who gets gratification from giving as
many orgasms as possible.”
“I—You? How can—”
 I turn around, and she lets out a small squeak. I like when she gets
frazzled. It makes her fidgety, and I’ve always wanted to teach her how to
control it. “Words, E. Use your words. They’re important.”
She clamps her mouth shut and huffs, and I enjoy watching her mind try
to form a singular sentence. When she finally does, I fucking love how
breathy her voice is. “You get off on making someone come as much as you
can?”
I nod. 
Again, her lips part three times before she shakes her head, and her
familiar irritable demeanor takes over. “Well, good for your partners, but
I’ll have to pass.”
Internally, I deflate, but I keep an air of indifference. “Too bad.”
“What’s too bad?” My sister Ciara appears from the kitchen entrance off
to the side, her arms stacked with bags. 
Eve shifts to help her. “Nothing. Your brother’s up to his usual shit and
tricks.”
Ah. She thinks I’m fucking with her. 
Ciara shoots me a motherly gaze only a Davis woman is capable of.
“You promised.”
I hold up a hand as I walk backward toward the hall that leads out to the
maze. “She’s pissed that the man she can’t stand just saved her ass from
landing in the hospital. Let’s hope she’s not that clumsy tonight, or else
she’s probably gonna get murdered first.”
“Says the guy who was probably about to scare me, anyway.”
I give Evelyn a subtle wink before turning. “Another example of how I
know you won’t survive tonight.”
“Oh, screw you, Dorian,” she calls after me before saying something
indiscernible to my sister. 
If only, sunshine. 
F ive. A dozen? 
I’m still so caught up on what Dorian just said, I have to ask Ciara
to repeat herself twice before I understand the order of events after
dinner. Even then, though, I’m admittedly only half-listening.
There’s no way he was serious. It has to be another one of those mind
games he plays in between scaring me half to death. Like the time when I
swallowed gum, and he told me it would tear off pieces of my intestines on
its way out. 
I was twelve, and somehow the vehemence in his voice was enough to
convince me it was true no matter what the internet said. It was a horribly
effective trick that succeeded in freaking me the hell out until my mom
came home later that night and had a good laugh. 
He loves getting in my head, and I have to admit, he’s really good at it.
I’ve never been able to pinpoint why it’s only ever him who’s been able to
do it, but because of that, I’m positive this is one of his jokes. A prank born
from his boredom. Just another normal day where Dorian fucks with
Evelyn. 
I sigh to myself, a strange knot forming in my gut. If I’m being honest,
I’m not sure if I’m more exasperated at spending energy entertaining the
idea that he may have the ability to fuck me into oblivion or disappointed
it’s not actually true. 
After placing the soup on the stove to keep it warm, I begin preparing
the salads and placing them in the large walk-in refrigerator. Every few
minutes, fake thunder rumbles through the walls, and even though I know
it’s the rain soundtrack playing on the estate’s speakers, it makes me bristle
every single time. 
It’s not that I’m scared of storms. It’s the notion that at any moment,
Dorian might use the sound to hide his steps and time his antics to the drop
of thunder, and it has me on edge. Which was probably exactly what he
wanted. 
Fuck. Tonight is gonna suck. 
I try to hum an upbeat song as I finish up the salads, but I end up
looking over my shoulder so much, it takes way longer than it should to
finish. 
The doorbell has rung a good five or six times, and the tune has changed
to something low and ominous, making everything worse. 
Ugh. Why did I agree to this again?
“How’s it going in here, babe?” Ciara’s voice appears as I’m popping
pans of pasta into the oven. 
I close the door and turn around, doing my best to hide the dread I know
is etched on my face. “Fine. Almost done. How is everything out there?”
Being her best friend of almost twenty years, I should know she would
be able to sense something was up. Or maybe I just suck at masking how I
feel. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “I’m good.”
Ciara grumbles a curse to herself before pursing her lips. “Girl, what did
he do?”
A bitter laugh escapes my lips. “To be fair, it’s not just him. It’s this
place.”
I wave a hand around at nothing in particular. I feel like such a fucking
kid for being scared of a mansion adorned with basic Halloween
decorations. 
But that’s the thing about Ciara. She has never, not once, judged me for
being an adult scaredy-cat. Unlike my now ex-boyfriend, she’s always
reassured me that everyone has something they’re afraid of, and mine just
so happens to be things that go bump in the night. 
 Hell, back in school, she was down to slap someone if they laughed at
me for flipping out when a love-bug got too close. She watches Christmas
movies with me on Halloween and never mutters a word when I literally
sprint into the next room after turning off the lights. 
She’s the best… when she’s not asking me to basically throw myself in
immersion therapy. 
Ciara gives me one of her mother’s empathic smiles before nodding.
“How about this? Can you help Dorian pass out the food, then I’ll have an
Uber pick you up? Just stay in the kitchen and dining areas, and I’ll be the
one to walk you out.”
God, why have you forsaken me?
It only takes a second for me to make my decision. This woman has
been there for me through bugs, my parents’ horrific attempt at co-
parenting, and my own sloppy breakup. There’s no way I’m not sucking it
up and dealing for one evening. 
“No. You deserve to have a brother-free night and figure these things
out with Jamie.”
Ciara does a shit job at stifling the huge grin that splits across her face,
so she masks it by giving me a quick, appreciative hug. “Are you sure? We
both know he’s gonna fuck with you.”
This makes me scoff. “Oh, girl, what’s new? He actually already
started.”
Her head falls back with an exaggerated sigh. “Seriously?”
“Yep. He was talking shit earlier about giving women an insane amount
of orgasms.”
Ciara’s face twists like she’s tasted a lemon as she stirs the soup before
serving herself a small sample ramekin. “Well, it’s not a lie, but he
shouldn’t be teasing you about it.”
It takes her tasting the soup, making a satisfied sound of approval, and
her finishing the small bowl before I find the words to form a response. “He
wasn’t lying?”
She shakes her head.
A strange sensation moves low in my stomach. “He can give a woman a
dozen consecutive orgasms?”
“It’s a fact I absolutely despise knowing, but yep.”
“There’s no fucking way.”
 Ciara makes a grumbling noise as she rinses her dish and puts it in the
sink. “It definitely is, and I’m very disturbed that I not only know that about
my big brother but that you’re forcing me to think about it. I tucked that
trauma into the deepest part of my mind, hopeful it’d never resurface
again.”
“Wait.” I shake my head back and forth as if it will make invisible
puzzle pieces suddenly fall into place. “I have too many questions.”
“Well, you better settle on, like, two. I have to go entertain those people,
or they’ll be using napkins to file complaints with Jamie.”
With the way she talks about the employees, I don’t doubt it. Tugging
my bottom lip between my teeth, I rack through the million and one
questions I have and settle on the most important one.
“How did you find out?”
“Ugh. Okay. TMI story, but it was a while back when I went with him to
SoCal, when he was scouting. There was a party I really wanted to go to
with some of his old friends, and unfortunately, after a stop at a sketchy
taco shop, I was stuck in one of the private bathrooms for, like, an hour. At
some point, he must have brought someone up, and—” 
She stops, her entire body shuddering as she makes a retching noise.
“He didn’t stop ‘til she threw in the towel at like number fifteen, and I was
helplessly stuck on the toilet the entire twenty minutes.”
Fifteen times in twenty minutes? My jaw is nearly on the floor when she
laughs. It’s not a funny type of laugh, but a sad laugh so I’m not vomiting
all over the counter type of laugh. “Close your mouth before you catch a
fly. You didn’t have to live through it. I had to increase my therapy sessions
for like three months before I was able to look at him again. ”
“So he wasn’t done?” I don’t bother trying to smother the shock in my
voice. To me, coming twice is like finding a damn unicorn. Fifteen sounds
made up. 
Ciara shakes her head. “Pleasure Doms are scary, Eve. They want their
partner to be a pile of mush on the floor. Also, can we please change the
subject? I’m getting nauseous.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Back up. You’re telling me your brother is a pleasure
Dom?” 
I’ve heard the term before—albeit, it was only a vague discussion once
back in college— but I’d honestly chalked it up to being… what’s more
impossible than finding a unicorn? Yeah, whatever that is. 
 “Girl, stay with me. Yes.” She takes a new ramekin and fills it up.
“Also, even sick to my stomach, I can’t stop eating this. I’m either really
hungry or this soup is hella good.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s good.”
“Hmmm,” she hums around the dish. “Anything else? I gotta get out
there. Please say no.”
I want to tell her yes, but suddenly, I can’t even think of one word. I’m
too busy considering taking her brother up on his offer of a hate fuck. 
No. I can’t do that. 
Well, maybe. 
It would just be one time. One and done. 
Get all the pent-up anger out and move on. 
It’s not like I haven’t thought about it before. A lot. 
No. 
I go back and forth as she rinses out the second ramekin. “Alright, well,
if you change your mind about leaving, just let me know. I’m sure there’s
someone else I can pair him up with.”
As if on cue, Dorian appears in the tall doorway. 
He’s dressed in his butler costume, and I’m pretty sure he bought it
from the sexy adult section, two end-caps away from where I got mine. His
tailcoat is snug, clinging to the lean muscles he earned from eight years of
being a wide receiver. The front is buttoned up three-quarters of the way,
and the top of his chest is slightly hidden by his loose-fitting tie where
there’s a glint of a small silver chain around his neck. 
Yeah, maybe just once. If it turns out it’s not true, I’ll have ammunition
for the next two years at least. 
“They’re looking for you, sis. Someone named Jamie says everyone is
here.”
“Oh.” Ciara perks up, brushing off her slacks. “I’ll get everyone seated,
and y’all can bring out the waters.”
I nod, but when my eyes shift from her back to Dorian, I realize he’s
livid. There’s an aura of fury radiating off him, and my defenses go on high
alert. The fine hairs on my neck rise, and my heart starts pumping faster. 
Why do I kind of like that look?
When Ciara disappears through the door, I immediately address it. It
probably means he’s finally about to come at me about the cayenne pepper,
and I don’t have time for more shit piled on top of everything else. “What’s
your deal?”
His dark eyes scan over my frame twice before he gestures behind him.
“What was she talking about?”
The air becomes thinner with the drop in his tone. I’ve never heard him
so…commanding. “First off, mind your business. Second, I’m not leaving,
if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Oh, I know you’re not.”
My head jerks back, surprise mixing with another emotion I can’t quite
place. “But if I wanted to—”
“But you’re not.” His cockiness makes me want to punch a hole in the
wall. 
“Yeah, that’s already been established, but the offer is there if I want it.”
Dorian takes a heavy step toward me, and I suck in a breath. He stops
and shakes his head with a smirk. “Why is it an option, E?”
I shrug, giving him my back as I grab the empty pitchers and begin
filling them with ice. “Because she knows you’re probably going to give me
a heart attack before the night’s over.”
Though I can no longer see him, I can feel the heat of his gaze. Before,
it was always annoying, but now, it’s somehow electrifying. My skin tingles
as he moves closer, and by the time I feel his warm breath coast along my
shoulder, I’m damn near vibrating. 
“How about this, sunshine?” His deep voice rumbles down my spine,
sending a wave of shivers through me. “I promise to only do what you ask
me to. If you don’t want me to scare you, I won’t. If you don’t want me to
trick or tease you, I won’t.”
Though no part of him touches me, I somehow feel him move closer,
just like the night of the Halloween party. And just like then, I want him to,
even if it’s just the briefest contact. I need to know if this is adrenaline or
something more. Something so knotted and tight from years of back and
forth that only one thing could relieve it. 
“But if there’s something you’d like me to do, I can.”
“Like what, Dorian?” Unlike him, my voice is much softer, the slight
crack giving away my nerves. I clear my throat, pouring water into one of
the glasses and regaining some of my composure. “What could you
possibly do for me?”
 He chuckles low before slipping his calloused fingers over mine and
tipping my hand too far, causing the glass to overflow. “Show you what
you’re capable of.”
Then, without a single word, he slips away, leaving me with a mess on
the counter and between my thighs.
S omething tells me I’m about to bite off more than I can chew if I say
yes to whatever Dorian just offered. 
If I wanted to be hypothetical and take having to clean up a mess
he caused as any indication of what tonight will be like, I’m already
annoyed. But if I look past it and consider his words… well, for some
unknown reason, it has me wanting things I normally wouldn’t think twice
about. 
Show you what you’re capable of. 
Now knowing what he enjoys, I’m sure he meant how many orgasms he
can wring out of me, and that thought alone is making my skin feel as if it’s
on fire. 
I shouldn’t want to experience anything with this man. The very same
man who is literally the reason for ninety percent of my fears as an adult.
But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered it more than a couple of times.
I mean, who hasn’t wanted to bang their best friend’s older brother? I’m
pretty sure it’s a thing.
Am I really considering this? 
I mean… what’s one night? I doubt he’ll be able to do anything drastic
anyway, since we’re playing Ciara’s game and can be interrupted at any
moment. Still, the temptation to give in, even if just this once, is too
enticing not to consider. 
Letting my teeth sink into my bottom lip, I tray up the waters and
saunter into the dining area. 
When I enter the room, I immediately feel the shift in the air. It’s
stifling. If not for Dorian standing stock still in the corner, it’s the guests
glaring at each other as if they’d love nothing more than to commit a very
real crime tonight. 
The low light of the chandelier illuminates the table and its occupants in
an eerie glow, further highlighting the anger etched in their scowls. It’s clear
from the stiff shoulders and sideway glances that whoever their ‘work
friend’ is isn’t sitting next to them. 
The only thing going for the group is the clear dedication to whatever
character they’ve been assigned. I’m more than positive it’s so they can
one-up each other, but I have to admit, I’m impressed. 
Ciara, of course, had to switch up the character names since they have
more than the six from the movie, but also didn’t want anyone complaining
they weren’t one of the original cast. So, we stayed up one night and crafted
new ones. It was a little tedious at first since she wanted to give them
personalities as well, but after a while, it was kind of fun coming up with
profiles. 
Now, seeing them in all their glory makes the long night worth it. 
I decide to over-concentrate on each of the characters in front of me as I
pass out their waters. If not to see my hard work come to fruition, it’s so I
can avoid eye contact with Dorian, whose gaze is burning the side of my
face. 
Ciara and Jamie get their glasses first. Lady Lavender and Detective
Danube. Jamie’s blond hair is slicked back, contrasting well against the
misty blue suit. 
Next are Mistress Mint, Colonel Cream, and Sir Saffron. Yeah, the
names are definitely unnecessary and ridiculous, but they’re meant to be
fun, which this group clearly needs a little more of in their lives.
Mint has on a gorgeous spaghetti-strap gown that clings to her like a
second skin. Cream is in a three-piece off-white suit, and judging from the
dark roots in his ash-tinted hair, also must’ve done a little temporary spray
to bring it all together. Saffron went a little more subtle with the color
combo, opting for a pair of rusted-colored slacks and suspenders over a
button-down. He’s handsome. His jaw is sharp, the stubble decorating it
stops just under his high cheekbones, while his dark hair is mussed as
though he’s run his hands through it a few times, and—
“Let me help you with that.” Dorian’s sudden appearance next to me
makes me jolt slightly. 
When I lift a questioning brow, he shoots me a gaze similar to the one
he did in the kitchen when he thought I might be leaving. Only this one is a
little different. There’s a bit more fire lightning up his irises. 
Jealousy?
I internally scoff as I walk around the table, letting him unload the tray
and pass out the drinks. There’s no way Dorian Davis would be jealous of
anyone. The man is as self-assured and cocky as they come. No. It’s more
probable he was impatient with how slow I was going. 
We make our rounds quickly, and only Mrs. Magenta and Professor
Periwinkle utter a thanks. 
“I’ll be right back with the salads,” I say to no one in particular before
retreating to the kitchen. 
“Tough crowd.” Dorian’s close voice informs me he’s decided to follow
me. 
Rather than throw some smartass remark back at him, my shoulders
relax a little. “It wasn’t just me, right?”
He shakes his head. “No. If I had to go to work and deal with that every
day, I wouldn’t make it a week.”
“Well, that’s because you’re used to yelling at people for a living,” I
point out, opening the refrigerator and drawing out the prepared salads. 
“I do the opposite, actually. I’m a scouter, not a coach. My job is to
make players feel comfortable in taking a leap of faith.”
Even though he’s talking about football, I can’t help but apply it to what
I’m already considering doing with him. “And what if it’s the wrong
choice?”
Dorian steps closer, the heat from his body enveloping me, warming my
core despite the fridge’s cool air. “I’m never the wrong choice, sunshine.”
A wave of tingles shoots down my arms before settling low in my belly.
I want to question when the hell Dorian became so… alluring, but the
answer becomes obvious with little thought.
Ever since that Halloween, he’s never come on to me. Never laid on the
Davis charm I’ve heard so much about. He’s kept me at arm’s length—
which wasn’t hard, considering I got back with my safety net of an ex—and
never pushed the envelope past a flirty comment here or there. 
Now? Something’s changed, or perhaps finally been set free, and I’m
not gonna lie, I’m really considering taking the bait. 
“How do you know no one’s ever regretted it?” My question comes out
with an appropriate amount of sass, but I’m sure if he listens hard enough,
he can hear my heart hammering in my rib cage. 
Dorian moves closer, lifting his hand slowly to run the pad of his thumb
along my jaw. A shiver racks through me, even though I try to narrow my
eyes in indignation. 
The corner of his lips curl up as he removes his hand, grabbing a salad
from behind me. “Because I deliver exactly what I tell them I will.”
That statement shouldn’t make my blood rush to my clit, but it does,
and I squirm—actually squirm—beside him. It makes the opinionated
goddess in my head turn around and dig her feet into the ground. 
I grab two salad bowls and dip beneath his raised arm to my tray.
“Words are just that, Dorian. Words. They mean shit when it comes to
proving anything and usually only set people up for disappointment. So, if I
were you, I’d tone it down.”
Unlike the smart remark I expect from him, he grants me a lopsided grin
and shrugs. “No truer words have even been spoken. I hope they taste good
when I jam them down your pretty little throat later.”
Something between a huff and laugh falls from my very open mouth as
I stand cemented to the kitchen floor. 
I’m one thousand percent sure that’s not supposed to turn me on, but
holy shit, my entire pussy is now throbbing. 
Shit. 
My libido is doing a number on my ability to think properly, and if I
don’t put some damn space between him and me, I know my horny ass is
going to give in. At this point, I think I’m more scared of actually enjoying
it and wanting it to continue than I am about some awkward aftermath. 
My mind flirts with different ideas as I turn my back and finish stacking
a few salads on the tray. Maybe I could make it interesting and solve my
dilemma of having to decide myself with a simple game. We both know he
won’t be able to say no to that. 
I nod to myself as I lift the tray and turn around, but I find Dorian
already gone. The odd sensation of missing his presence is what makes me
question myself all over again. 
I need a drink.
T his time, when she walks into the dining area, I stay out of sight in the
hallway adjacent to the table. I told myself I’d go all out with this, but
in doing so, I’m forcing my own walls to drop, and parts of myself
she’s never seen are flooding out faster than I can reel them in. 
First, it was the dick jealousy move when she was passing out water. It
wasn’t my place to step in like that, but fuck, it took everything in my soul
not to take away orange-pant guy’s ability to see after the way he was eye-
fucking her. When she reciprocated a little bit of that visual flirting, my
damn vision went red. It reminded me of all the times I had to refrain from
saying or doing anything because of that tool she was with all those years. 
Then, there was touching her in the kitchen. The impulse was so strong
I couldn’t stop myself no matter how much my mind screamed I was doing
too much, too fast. But the warm, smooth feel of her skin under my thumb
was enough to eliminate every doubt in my mind. Every thought that said
this shouldn’t be happening. 
She’s not just my kid sister’s friend anymore. Nor is she the forbidden
fruit. 
No, she’s the exact opposite now. She’s a grown-ass woman I want
beneath me. Who I want writhing and screaming and so fucking lost, the
only thing she can remember is the three syllables needed to say my name. 
 My gaze follows Eve as she passes out the salads. Every time she
reaches her hand up to grab a plate from the tray, her skirt lifts the inch
needed to showcase the tops of her thighs poking out from her thigh highs. I
want to sink my fucking teeth into the flesh and mark it so the orange pants
guy knows she’s unavailable. 
Actually, so every man knows she’s not available. 
Because I already know one night with her won’t be enough. It will
open up something that’s long overdue, and I know me and my greed. 
Once I have her, I’m not letting go, and I fully intended to show her
why she should belong to me. Why it was always supposed to end with us. 
I continue to watch her set down the dishes, and when Ciara gives E a
look that’s heavy code for help me, she responds with an empathic smile,
and I have to stifle a laugh. 
I love my baby sister, and I’ve always tried to encourage her in every
aspect of her life, but I really, really wanna hit her with an I-told-ya-so.
When she first asked for my thoughts on this whole “team building”
exercise, I flat-out told her it’d be a disaster. Not because I didn’t think she
was capable of hosting a bad-ass party, but because the complaints she’s
had me read in her email are downright nasty. 
These people hate each other, and not in a way that could lead to hate
sex, but in a vile, put-sugar-in-your-gas-tank type way. They don’t stop
bickering. The pettiness is the kind of shit you’d expect in high school, and
the comments they throw at each other are the ones I hear on the line of
scrimmage before players smash their bodies into each other. 
Still, as I move down the hall and back into the kitchen, I can’t help but
consider how I could make tonight better for her. Part of me hopes these
people actually have fun because, honestly, once E and I are alone, I don’t
think I’ll be able to come up for air until she’s tapped out. 
I lean my hip into the counter, next to the soup as Evelyn reenters the
kitchen. Her brows are turned up, exasperation clear in her delicate features.
She’s so fucking beautiful, I swear there’s an aura around her. That’s where
she gets her nickname, sunshine. The woman glows even when she’s not
trying. 
When she looks up and notices me, she’s quick about trying to conceal
the sudden tenseness in her shoulders and the uptick in her breathing. 
But I notice it. I notice everything about her. 
 She tries to ignore my presence and moves next to me, ladling soup into
bowls. 
“Make yourself useful and pass these out.” She shoves the first one into
my chest, but not hard enough to cause it to slosh over the sides. 
Even in her periphery, I know she sees the wide smirk painting my face.
“I can make myself plenty useful, E. Just tell me what you want me to do.”
She scoffs, filling another bowl. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
“What do you mean?”
She chews on her bottom lip but doesn’t give in to any temptation she
might have about looking at me. She’s known me too long and knows
exactly what I’m doing. 
Evelyn has always been an easy read. It’s why she dropped her dreams
of being a lawyer. She’s well aware the second she gives me those honey
eyes, I’ll call her bluff—she’s not annoyed by my presence, she wants it. I’d
even go so far as to say she craves it. 
After another second, she takes a calming breath, but from the way a
nerve tics in her jaw, I’m positive it had the opposite effect. She’s so close
to me, I’m sure my scent is in every particle of the air she took in. 
“You’re playing a game I have no intention of joining.”
“Hmmm.” My low rumble fills the small space between us as I take the
bowl from her hand. “And what gives you the impression this is some kind
of game?”
Again, she has to fight the urge to look at me, though her eyes do flash
over briefly, and her grip tightens around the ladle as she scoops. “Dorian,
let’s be real for a second.”
I hold my hand out to accept the next bowl. “Let’s.”
She scrunches up her nose at my response before rolling her eyes.
“Since when does having hate sex with your baby sister’s best friend sound
appealing?”
This makes me chuckle. I thought she was gorgeous when we were kids,
but a three-year age gap back then was a big deal. I had to force my
seventeen-year-old mind to see her fourteen-year-old self as nothing more
than cute. 
When I came home from college my junior year and realized she was
making college plans over the summer? Well, there were more than a few
nights where images in my head were of her. Still, I was able to keep my
distance and respect her relationship, no matter how much I hated the guy. 
 Finding ways to continue respecting it only got harder when we all
graduated, and she bought the townhouse a few units down. She was over
all the damn time, and every petty argument we had ended with me wanting
to turn her over my knee and finger fuck her through at least eight orgasms. 
I remember the worst argument that had me so heated I almost risked it
all. It was the day I pushed her over the edge and debated her on the merits
of who should have won a bake-off show until her whole body was a deep
shade of red. She was so damn mad, her body was shaking, and all I wanted
to do was bury my face in her cunt and see if she was as wet as I was hard. 
“It was the day you threw the remote at my face.”
Her arched brows cinch together briefly before it clicks. Then, her face
morphs into something mixed with shock and pride. She likes knowing I
wanted her even when she chucked a piece of plastic at me. “You wanted to
fuck me then?”
I nod, filling the tray with the last bowl that will fit. “I wanted to do a
lot more than that, sunshine.”
Eve’s breath catches, and I decide fighting the temptation to kiss her
isn’t worth it anymore. Lifting one hand, I reach for her jaw, but she tilts it
slightly, causing my fingers to brush against her neck. 
Her eyes flare, and my cock pulses, but when I lean down to finally
claim her perfect mouth, a sudden rumble of thunder shakes the kitchen
speakers. The unexpected sound makes her jerk, spilling some of the soup I
hadn’t realized she was holding. 
She hisses out as it drips over her hand and onto the floor between our
feet. When my eyes connect with hers, desire licks at my spine as I take in
her hooded gaze. 
Without thinking, I lift her hand, take the bowl, then watch her reaction
as I suck her two soiled fingers into my mouth. The fucking gasp she lets
out is enough to make my dick weep. 
The slightly sweet, creamy taste of the soup is nothing compared to her
reaction. The pure need radiating off of her as she watches me with fixed
eyes as I clean her digits. 
My tongue whirls around them, diving between her knuckles and
around the rings circling her fingers. When I suck my way up, her lashes
flutter closed, a soft moan escaping her. 
I’m two seconds away from saying fuck the dinner, but the click of
incoming heels jolts us from the bubble we’ve found ourselves in. 
 Ciara appears in the entryway, a look of despair wrinkling the corner of
her eyes. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”
Eve is the first to move, and it takes more restraint than I care to admit
not to wrap my hand around her waist and draw her back to me. 
“It’s gonna be fine. Once the game starts, they’ll be so excited to one-up
each other, they won’t give you any trouble.” I lift the first tray and nod to
her. “I promise it’ll work out.”
Ciara mumbles a quick, “I hope so,” after me as I disappear back into
the dining area to serve the soup. When I come back for the second tray,
Evelyn’s little wall is back in place. 
“Took you long enough. Take this one so I can start plating the pasta.”
I roll my eyes playfully and release a small chuckle when she tries to
give me a stern look. How is she even cuter when she thinks she’s scolding
me? “Do you think these people are vacuums? Give them a minute to finish
the soup first.”
She shakes her head, pushing the tray into my hands. “Ciara gave me a
schedule. She said if they always have something in front of them, there’s
no room for them to get bored and start arguing.”
It makes sense in theory, but part of me is under the distinct impression
Eve’s trying to make sure we aren’t alone together for longer than a few
seconds. 
Her futile attempt to prolong the inevitable is short-lived, though,
because after serving the soup and then following behind quickly with the
main dish, the only thing standing in the way of me finally having her is the
damn lights going out.
W hen the lights go out, my entire body becomes a lump of lead. Fight
or flight has completely left the building, and instead, fear has
tightened around my nerves and locked me in place. 
The tender muscle in my ribcage beats out of control, while every
breath I take is no longer sufficient enough to fill my lungs. 
I knew this was going to happen. Ciara made sure to tell me down to the
second when Dorian would be cutting out the lights. But now, stuck in the
thick darkness like a prehistoric animal in tar, I’m made acutely aware of
how little I was ready for it. 
To make matters exponentially worse, the fine hairs on the back of my
neck rise when I realize I’m no longer the only one occupying the kitchen.
As if I’m one of those idiot characters in the movies, I call out, basically
beckoning the other party to move closer to me.
“Ciara?”
No answer. My nerves begin to tingle as I feel the heavy presence move
closer. 
“Dorian, this isn’t funny. The lights were only supposed to be off for
thirty seconds.”
Again, no response. 
 My chest starts to move faster, the air even thinner than it was a moment
ago. What if it’s one of those grumpy-ass employees looking to expel a
little pent-up anger?
Shit. 
The idea is enough to spur me into action, but the second my foot lifts
from the ground, a familiar touch glides up the outside of my thigh. 
I suck in a sharp breath, a scream tickling the edge of my tongue, but
before the sound comes out, a strong hand clamps down on top of my
mouth, hard. 
My blood whooshes through my ears, Dorian’s warm, woodsy smell
doing wild things to my body while the sheer panic of the dark does a
number on everything else. 
“Shhh,” he teases. “I don’t want you screaming just yet.”
The double meaning behind his words slinks right down to my core. 
“Tell me, E. Have you ever laid in bed, looking off into the dark, scared
of what might be lurking out of sight?”
I swallow hard, my breath even harder to catch now. When I nod, I can
practically feel the smile split across his face. 
“And have you ever spread these legs with thoughts of me being there?
Waiting for you in that darkness?”
My thighs clench together, heat flaring through my body, making me
grateful he can’t see me. 
I can’t answer that. To tell him the truth would be admitting things I
haven’t even admitted to myself. 
My head shakes slightly, and he laughs. “I never took you for a liar,
sunshine.”
Suddenly, the idle hand next to my thigh moves and slides across to the
inside. I shudder beneath the faint touch, my body moving closer to him of
its own accord. He’s so close to the aching throb, I couldn’t care less about
the muffled voices growing louder outside of the kitchen as people start
moving around. 
“Have you ever touched yourself while imagining me, Evelyn?”
The way his tongue curls around the letters of my name is all I need to
push whatever little indecision I had left to the wayside. Now, it’s replaced
with the incessant need to hear him say my name like that, over and over
again. 
“Have you ever circled this clit and wished it was me?”
 I nod, too far gone to lie anymore, and he rewards my honesty by
flicking a finger out, brushing against the spot I need him most. The
sensation of the connection spears through my nerves, coaxing out a needy
whimper I don’t bother trying to stop. 
His fingers tense around my mouth as he leans in, skimming his nose
along the side of my jaw, all the way back to my ear. I shiver against him,
pressing myself closer. 
“Good.” His hand disappears from my mouth and grips my jaw, turning
it to the side to give him full access to the column of my neck. My nerves
vibrate as I wait for him to do something—anything—but in the next
second, he’s gone. 
You have got to be shitting me. 
“Dorian,” I whisper-shout through the dark space, fear and excitement
now mixing with the classic annoyance he always causes. Not a game, my
ass. 
I bite down on the inside of my cheek so hard, a tangy copper taste
coats my tongue. I can’t believe I fell for his stupid-ass trick. 
There’s no way I shouldn’t have seen it coming. It was way too random
not to see the red flags. 
A tightness pinches across my chest, and I rub at the foreign ache. This
is exactly why I’ve kept my distance from him in the first place. He’s good
with words, both when he’s trying to scare me and in the occasional
instances where he’s actually thoughtful, and I took his bait without a
second thought. Because for once, I thought maybe the underlying
attraction wasn’t one-sided, that I didn’t have to feel stupid for it. 
I grumble to myself as I grip the kitchen counter behind me and wait.
Finally, the lights flicker on, and only a second passes before a shrill scream
echoes throughout the hall. 
It’s so loud and unbelievably authentic that goose bumps rise along my
arms, and I actually wince while running out, finding everyone in the grand
room with the fireplace. 
All the employees are standing in a loose circle, their eyes glued to the
floor where Jamie is lying post-mortem. Obvious fake blood splatter has
been strategically placed, only touching the detective’s uniform and none of
the very expensive furniture. 
Ciara stands with her hand covering her mouth, theatrical-level fear
etched in her features. “There’s been a murder!” 
 Her employees all exchange looks, and for the first time since they’ve
arrived, a majority of them look slightly entertained. The buzz fuels Ciara
as she takes a handkerchief from between her breasts and makes a show of
wiping under her eyes. 
“No one can leave until we inform the authorities,” she announces,
adopting a sudden Southern accent. At least, I think it’s sudden, as I’ve
been so wrapped up in Dorian that I haven’t heard her address anyone
before now.
“We can’t.” Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. The man himself
appears from a back hallway, holding up his cell phone. “The storm must
have taken down a tower because there’s no reception.”
“So what will we do?” she goes on, looking around until her eyes land
on me. 
That’s my cue. 
I perk up, dusting my maid skirt before adopting a soft-spoken tone.
“The killer must be one of them. You must find out who they are before
they kill again, Lady Lavender.”
Ciara nods, snapping at her brother. “Yes. We must work together to
find out who would commit such a heinous crime and stop them before they
kill anyone else.”
On cue, Dorian passes out slips of paper to each participant, including
myself. I avoid his gaze, but when our fingers brush against one another, the
tingle is hard to ignore. 
“Alright. Now that you all have your recording sheets, let me explain
how the game will proceed.”
Ciara goes on to explain that everyone will be paired up, and, authentic
to the movie, will all draw straws to determine who is partnered with
whom. After that, they will be assigned to a room, where they have fifteen
minutes to search for clues, which are hidden in a manila envelope
somewhere inside. If they find it, they’ll need to go through it, mark any
notes on their sheets, and put the envelope back exactly where they found
it. 
When the fifteen minutes are up, they’ll hear a rumble of thunder and a
crack of lightning, indicating it’s time to rotate to the next room. On the
back of the recording paper, there’s a small map which directs them to the
next room. 
 It’s simple enough, and honestly, if a plethora of different emotions
weren’t currently battling it out in my stomach like gladiators, I’d be way
more excited. 
She asks if anyone has any questions, and only one person raises their
hand. It’s a stout gentleman in a pea-green suit with a face that reminds me
of the grumpy cat meme. “Is there a chance we may be paired up with the
killer?”
Ciara nods. “Yes, but I decided to do things differently than the
instructions for this. Instead of telling the killer who they are, I want them
to figure it out along with their partner. It makes it a tad more suspenseful.
If the killer discovers they, themselves, are the murderer, they can kill their
partner.”
She puts air quotes around the word kill, but I see a few smirks that pass
over some of her employees.
Geesh, I feel bad for her. 
“And if the partner figures it out first, they have to find me before being
killed. Everyone got it?”
A small round of murmured yeses echo in the space before she holds
out a hand for Jamie, who conveniently rises from the dead. “For obvious
reasons, I will be paired with Jamie, and we’ll be walking around,
overseeing the game, ensuring each of you are playing by the rules. No
sharing of information under any circumstances.”
Again, they all agree before lining up and drawing straws. The vast
majority of pairs are clearly pissed about their partner but, after a little
reassurance, go to their first assigned room. 
When no one is left but Dorian and me, Ciara tells us to start in room
eight. 
I look at the map, and when I realize where room eight is, panic sweeps
over me. “That’s the attic.”
Ciara nods, already trying to move into the hallway. “Yep.”
“Ciara—”
“Let’s go, sunshine.” Dorian swoops his arm around my back and
ushers me toward the stairs. 
I hit his arm, moving to the side. “Don’t touch me, ass.”
He smirks, pocketing his hand and winking at me. Winking. “Funny. I
don’t remember you saying that in the kitchen. In fact, I think it was the
opposi—”
 “What?” Ciara tilts her head, a gleam too damn jolly for my liking
passing through her eyes. 
Lord knows I don’t need her thinking the long-lost dream of us being
sisters is still a possibility, so I wave her off and tug Dorian’s sleeve in the
direction of the stairs. “Nothing. He’s doing what he does best.”
“Which is?” Dorian asks from behind me.
“Being an asshole,” I huff before starting the climb. “Now come on,
before I accidentally break a rule and kill you prematurely.”
I think everyone has toxic traits. Characteristics about themselves they
know are borderline petty and unnecessary but make them feel better. 
Mine just so happens to be passive aggressiveness. It’s a skill I
picked up from my mother, but definitely perfected it when I met Dorian.
Don’t get me wrong, verbal sparring with him is pleasant, but there’s
something about consuming the last one of his favorite drinks or parking
behind his car, knowing he has to leave for work, that brings me so much
joy.
Right now? Well, I’m walking up a narrow flight of stairs, my skirt
bouncing from the intense sway of my hips, and I’m one thousand percent
sure that with my height from the heels, he’s getting a good show. 
The show being my ass with red lace fabric covering my cunt. 
He wants to be a tease? I can definitely play that game just as well. If
not better.
I’m so distracted with making sure I seem unbothered, I don’t notice the
flurry of butterflies in my stomach until we actually make it to the attic
door. 
My hands turn clammy as I reach for the handle, and my heart has once
again found a home in the base of my throat. 
Shit, I should’ve let him go first. 
 No. My inner warrior goddess turns her head again. I shouldn’t have.
He needs to be punished for that stunt in the kitchen, and what better way
than showing him what he missed out on? 
With a grunt too sensual to be mistaken as anything other than a soft
moan, I hoist the door open. It flings forward a little too quickly, and I
stumble, causing Dorian to step up and jerk me back into him. 
Oh. Oh. 
His massive bulge pressing into my ass lets me know just how much my
pettiness affected him. At least, that’s what I tell myself, until I look up and
see a life-sized clown brandishing a blade coated in something red. 
A scream rips from my throat, but Dorian’s hand clamps over my
mouth, muffling the burning noise tearing up my esophagus. “It’s not real,
E. Calm down.”
Adrenaline and dread wind together tight in my abdomen, threatening to
send me into cardiac arrest. I shake him off, quickly moving around the
statue. “Why is this up here?”
“All the stuff Ciara could have rented is up here. But since she was
going for the mystery party, she didn’t need any of it.”
I huff, my eyes bouncing over the boxes of gore. Some are full of
bloody bones, other assortments of masks, furry eight-legged spiders, and
so much more I could’ve spent the night not seeing. 
I dodge a string of what I suspect is real cobwebs and nearly scream all
over again when I look up and see my reflection staring back at me. 
“Shit.” My heart hammers, slapping against my ribcage painfully as
Dorian appears behind me.
“Let me ask you something.” His eyes are trained on me through the
reflective glass, his gaze hooded and angry, and something so close to pure
hunger, my core tenses all over again. “Did you think that was cute, E?”
His voice rumbles against the curve of my neck, sprouting goose bumps
over my arms. Still, I manage to feign ignorance. “No idea what you mean.”
I try to take a step forward, but he wraps his arm around my waist,
locking me in place. “Parading up those stairs and shoving that pretty little
pussy in my face.”
His fingers grip the top of my skirt before he makes a fist, bunching the
already short fabric up, exposing my entire thigh. As soon as I figure out
what’s happening, it’s too late. 
 Dorian’s free hand comes down on my ass hard, making me yelp and
jerk in his hold. 
The sharp pain is very short-lived, though, melting into an intoxicating
pleasure that doesn’t even seem real. When he rubs at the tender skin, he
asks again, “Do you think it’s fun to tease me?”
I swallow, the response I had ready fizzles into ash, making my mouth
dry. How can his voice be so… delicious? It’s stern and commanding, yet
soft and sensual.
I start to open my mouth, but the sharp pain rings out again as his hand
comes down for a second blow. 
“Fuck.” Why does that feel so good? 
“I asked you a question, sunshine. Do you enjoy teasing me?”
“Yes,” I breathe honestly, my chest heaving. 
“Hmm.” His low treble vibrates my back, the sound sinking into my
bloodstream. 
“You did it first,” I point out, barely able to see him from the narrow
slits my eyes have become. 
He lowers his head, brushing his lips along the curve of my neck. The
sensation is intoxicating, and suddenly, whatever happened in the kitchen
no longer matters. Just so long as he doesn’t stop now, I’m willing to
overlook it. 
“What I did in the kitchen wasn’t teasing you, Eve. I was simply asking
a question.”
I scoff, pushing my hips backward so his erection digs into my ass. A
low hissing sound escapes his clenched teeth, and he releases my waist,
trailing his hand up to my throat. His fingers circle around it, closing just
tight enough to make me suck in a breath. 
“If you want me to show you what it looks like to be teased by me, I’m
more than happy to oblige.”
My eyes flare, opening again to see him clearly in the mirror. His gaze
bores into mine, and there’s a promise burning in them that I want to let
consume me whole. Before I can talk myself out of it, I nod. 
A smirk curls the ends of his lips, and it’s when his foot kicks the door
behind us closed that I know I did, in fact, bite off more than I could chew.
Still holding me by the throat, he lets his free hand coast along my body.
His fingers ghost over the swell of my cleavage that’s pushed up perfectly
thanks to the bodice of the outfit. My nipples pebble under his touch, the
thin fabric doing nothing to hide them. 
He lets out a satisfied rumble before pinching each one between his
fingers. “Have you ever come from these?”
I shake my head, moaning as he tugs on one softly. “No.”
“Good,” he murmurs before moving lower. 
He walks his fingers down my torso, taking his time to note which spots
make me wriggle or squirm. “I love how fucking sensitive you are.”
That’s the thing—I’m not. No one has ever made my body feel as if it’s
damn near two seconds from bursting into flames, let alone making me
want so much more. More touching, caressing, more teasing. It’s not me.
It’s him. 
His fingers move lower, dipping into the top of my skirt. “Are you
dripping for me?”
I shake my head as much as his firm grip allows, trying to put on an air
of indifference. “Nope.”
He chuckles again, skimming his finger lightly over the waistband of
the lace. “You’re a terrible liar, sunshine.”
I add extra emphasis as I roll my eyes, but they quickly squeeze shut
when he slides his hand lower, placing the rough pad of his finger exactly
where I need it. Jolts of pleasure ripple up through my nerves, and I shift in
this hold, desperate for more friction. 
“Tell me something, E. How many times have you come with my name
on your lips?”
“Never,” I answer quickly, and this time, it’s the truth. While he may get
it out of me that I’ve fucked myself to thoughts of him, I never let
imaginary him make me finish. 
I couldn’t. It would breach a line I knew wouldn’t ever happen, not to
mention my general disdain for the man was enough to keep us in our
respective places. But the more I melt under his touch, the more I wonder
what real hate is and if I ever truly hated him at all. 
Maybe what I felt for him was more like a secret longing that I forced to
shift into annoyance. I needed to make myself think I hated him because he
wasn’t the safe choice. He was the wild card.
Now, the closer his finger gets to my entrance, the more I wonder if
wild is exactly what I’ve needed. 
 “What about you, Dorian?” I finally open my eyes and find his in the
mirror. My heart pangs at how good it looks to have him wrapped around
me so possessively. “How many times have you called out my name while
you fucked your hand?” 
A smirk tilts one side of his mouth right before he buries two fingers
inside of me. “Every single one.” 
My head falls back on his shoulder, the mix of his words and the
fullness of his thick fingers stealing my ability to keep it up. Too many
times, I’ve considered what it would be like to finish what we started that
night. To see if my imagination was close to what the real thing is like. 
It didn’t even hold a candle to it. 
“You’re fucking drenched, Evelyn,” he whispers into my neck as he
curls his fingers, hitting spots that already have me seeing stars. “Maybe I
should be a gentleman and lick you clean before I make you even messier.”
He draws his digits halfway out but stops when I whimper in protest. He
lets out a little huff before continuing to draw out. 
My eyes snap open, and I put on the most serious face I can muster in
my current situation. “Dorian, if you move your hand another fucking inch,
I swear to God, I’m donkey-kicking you.”
His hand flexes around my throat, a wicked grin spreading across his
face. “Let’s get one thing straight right now, E.” He slides his fingers back
inside, pressing the heel of his palm against my throbbing clit. “Tonight,
you’re nothing but my little toy.”
He trails soft kisses along my shoulder as his fingers start fucking me in
earnest. “You’re mine to play with however I fucking please.”
Why does that send a new rush of blood coursing to my pussy? 
He presses his hand down harder, rocking my clit with even more force
as his digits continue their assault. 
“You’ll do everything I say when I say it.”
He picks up his pace, twisting his fingers so quickly, a glint of light
flashes behind my eyes. 
“You’ll breathe when I want you to.”
Dorian’s grip on the sides of my throat has slowly strengthened, and it’s
only now that I’m realizing how hard it is to take a full breath. It makes my
entire body tremble, need surging through me so fast, I’m dizzy. 
“You’ll come when I tell you to.”
 The hand on my neck moves me, forcing me to peel my eyes open.
Somehow, without me realizing it, we’ve gotten closer to the mirror. My
skin is flushed, my impending orgasm mere seconds away, and the pure
hunger in my eyes is enough to tell him how every word is singing straight
to my libido. 
“And you’re going to be a good fucking girl and take everything I give
you.” 
I think I nod, but I’m not sure. Light erupts in my head, and I combust
around my best friend’s brother’s hand. The orgasm rips through my limbs,
the built-up teasing beforehand only strengthening how hard I convulse
around his fingers. 
His lips find the shell of my ear, and he nips at the lobe. “Squeeze your
cunt, sunshine.”
I start to open my mouth, but then he bites harder. “Now.”
I do what I’m told, squeezing against the contractions. The sensation is
foreign to me and somehow heightens everything more. My mouth opens
on a wild moan, and I push my hips back, driving my ass into him harder. 
“You feel that, Evelyn? That sweet pussy of yours wants to give me
another one,” he purrs in my ear before gliding his tongue up the column of
my neck. “Be a sweet girl and give it to me.”
He starts to move his fingers all over again, driving them inside of me
harder, somehow both extending my orgasm and building up another. The
sensation is overwhelming, lighting my body from the inside out as it
chases a second high. 
I shake my head, a wave of pleasure washing over me again and again. I
feel as though I’m about to be ripped under the tide and dragged
underneath. But I can’t stop it. I don’t want to stop it.
My breath stills, the pressure in my core growing with every thrust and
twist of his hand. Then, just as it begins to expand, my body quivers, telling
Dorian everything he needs to know. 
“Atta girl. Let me have it.”
The moment the feeling takes over, a loud roll of thunder and crack of
lightning vibrates the walls. This orgasm is somehow stronger than the first,
rushing through me until I’m panting for air and leaning against him for
support. 
My entire body goes lax in his arms, forcing him to slide his hand from
my neck to wrap around my waist to hold me up. He slips his fingers from
my pussy, making me wince slightly. “You did so damn good, sunshine.” 
Any real words to describe what I’m feeling evade me, but I blow out a
shaky breath and whisper, “Holy shit, Dorian. I can’t believe we just—I
just…”
I feel him smile against my neck. “Yeah, about fucking time. That was a
nice little warm-up to get us started.”
“Warm up?” I try to turn in his arms, but he holds me steady. 
“In what world would two be considered an acceptable number, E?”
My eyes widen as I take in his extremely serious expression in the
reflection of the mirror. “I-um—”
I don’t get to finish that thought, because the sound of heels echoing up
the stairwell cuts me short.
He finally releases me, dropping his hand from my waist to my hand—a
notion that feels strangely normal—and ushers us out the door.
 Clue 17: The killer is over six feet tall, but it’s unclear if they are
wearing heels or not. 

I reread the simple sentence over a dozen times before handing it to

Evelyn with the other evidence we found in the envelope. We’ve moved
into the next room, which just so happens to be the dining area, and it’s
taking all of my self-control not to throw her against the credenza and start
all over again. 
But I want to give her a breather. I know she’s completely fine after two
orgasms, but it’s not that I’m worried about. It’s about who I am—or who I
have been—up until five minutes ago. 
I’ve always had feelings for her. Always knew she could easily be it for
me. But in my effort to do what I thought was right, I built a wall filled with
spiders and sharp bricks. Now that I’ve ripped it down in a matter of
seconds, I’m trying to tread lightly. 
Nevertheless, the urge to rip the dress from her body and completely
devour her is getting harder to ignore. All I can think of is the way she
squeezed around my fingers, how her lips parted, and her entire body
flushed pink from her arousal. 
 I shuffle forward on the balls of my feet before hooking a finger in her
tiny apron and drawing her closer to me. “E.”
She reads over the clue again before glancing up at me through her thick
lashes, feigning complete indifference. “What?”
An odd sort of trepidation drips down my spine. I’ve never been
nervous before. Not in my adult life, that is, and definitely not around a
woman I just finger fucked. But still, it’s Evelyn. 
Even saying her damn name makes my heart beat a little faster. 
“What are you thinking about?”
She blinks, clearly surprised by my question, but quickly masks it. “I’m
thinking that it would be extremely ironic if you were the killer.”
This makes me chuckle. “It would fit, though.”
She cracks a smile, and my heart melts. “It would. But honestly…” She
trails off, her eyes drifting to nothing in particular. “I’m still kind of reeling
from what just happened.”
I release her apron and move my knuckle under her chin, tilting her face
up to look at me. “Are you okay?”
Her cheeks bloom that pretty pink, and if I weren’t so concerned with
what she’s thinking, I’d kiss her. I’ve wondered for a long time what her
lips would feel like against mine. 
Eve nods, her gaze drifting down to my mouth. “Yeah. I’m trying not to
seem—”
Her voice cuts off as I drag my tongue over my bottom lip,
understanding washing over me. “Needy?”
She lets out the smallest whimper, and it yanks at the thin piece of
thread holding my self-control in place. 
“What are your limits, Evelyn?”
She swallows around my words, her eyes still stuck on my lips. “I don’t
know. I’ve never tested them.”
Why that causes a flare of satisfaction to bloom in my chest is beyond
me, but I don’t even care. I want to have so many of her firsts that nothing
after me will be enough. I want to ingrain myself in every part of her, so
she’s ruined for any other man. 
“Are any places off-limits?”
She shakes her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “No.”
I shift my hand to stroke the side of her jaw, loving the way she leans
into my touch. We’ve never had the opportunity to be soft with one another,
and now, it’s all I want to do. 
Too bad this is probably for one night only. 
I know her. She’ll allow herself this one time to get everything out and
then pretend it never happened. My heart squeezes at the thought. 
Guess I’ll have to leave her sore enough to remind her who owned
every inch of her until she comes to her senses.  
“Would you like to come again, sunshine?” My voice comes out low
and husky, and her body’s visceral response is almost more than I can
handle. 
“Yes,” she breathes. 
I smirk, dropping my hand from her face and grabbing either side of her
hips. Leaning forward, I let my mouth brush against the shell of her ear,
reveling in the tiny shivers that rack through her body. “Turn off the light
and come right back.”
I back away slowly, allowing her a second to do as told. The dining area
is partially secluded, and from where everyone is currently supposed to be,
the only chance of someone walking in on us is my sister. With the light off,
and the way I plan to make her come, it’s only barely treading the line of
exhibitionism. 
Looking over the table briefly, I sit in the best seat and wait as Eve flips
off the light, shrouding herself in the dark. A small amount of light peeks in
from the kitchen and foyer behind her, giving me a beautiful outline of her
figure as she returns to me. 
“Sit,” I tell her, reaching up and toying with the tip of her fingers. 
She uses them as guides until she’s straddled on top of me, her lace-
covered pussy directly on top of my dick. “Who would have thought I could
be both terrified and turned on by being with you in the dark?”
This makes me chuckle. “Be honest. You’ve always known.”
Even though I can’t make out her features in the dark, I can feel her roll
her eyes. Again, I have to bite back my desire to kiss her but allow myself
to get close, brushing my lips along hers just enough to make her squirm
over my erection. 
Too many times, I’ve imagined us here, but to finally have it, to know
there’s a chance at something I’ve wanted for so long… My heart swells
and squeezes in tandem, hope spreading through me faster than I can try to
stop it. 
“Tell me what you want,” I whisper.
 She doesn’t hesitate. “You.”
“Where do you want me?” I grip one side of her hips, holding her
steady, while my free hand glides up her stomach to the tops of her breasts. 
She pushes her chest closer, letting out a small groan. “Everywhere,
Dorian.”
“Hmm.” I push her back slightly before tugging her frilly top down,
freeing her breasts. 
Her moans grow louder, and I pinch a nipple hard, earning me a squeak
of surprise. “Quiet, or this will be over too soon, E.”
She’s silent for a moment before she lets out a begrudging, “Fine.”
This makes me smile. I like this side of her grumpiness. “Before we
start, we need a word if I ever push too far. If you find yourself
overwhelmed, past what’s comfortable.”
“Spider.” She catches me off guard with how fast she says it. 
“Spider?”
Eve nods. “Sounds appropriate since I hate them.”
I grin, pressing a soft kiss on her nose. “Spider it is. Also, I need to
confess something.”
Her eyes narrow in question while my heart begins thrumming into my
sternum. I don’t know why my nerves are suddenly tight at the thought of
my admission, but my stomach twists as I kiss her nose again. “I’m clean. I
haven’t slept with anyone since Valentine’s when you stayed over, and
made me and C watch those movies with you. You’d made a comment
about how romantic it was when the man is head over heels, and it stuck.”
Her pupils flare, a light blush creeping across her cheeks. “Oh.”
I drag my lip through my teeth. “Yeah.”
“I am, too. Clean, I mean, and on birth control.”
I smile at the way her sentences come out. I think I like embarrassed E,
too. There’s a sort of charm to it in contrast to her ever-present confidence.
“Good to know. Now, I need you to stay very still.”
Whether she realizes it or not, she’s been constantly shifting on top of
my lap, her greedy little cunt chasing the friction from my erection pressing
into her center. While it feels fucking amazing and has my cock aching to
be inside of her, I need her completely still for what I have planned next. 
Out of nothing but defiance, she readjusts herself, sliding over the
length of my dick before settling on top. “Ready.”
 I make a note to punish her for that later, but being that this is our first
time, I have to keep everything as gentle as I physically can. Which is
harder for me than I’d like to admit.
Slowly, I snake a hand behind her, holding her spine steady as I lean
forward. My free hand traces over her breasts with featherlight pressure,
over and across, down and under. 
Small little whimpers flow from her lips, one after the other, and if I
wasn’t so dead set on how I want to make her come, I’d probably have
already given in to her cries and let her grind one out on my lap. 
“Patience, sunshine,” I whisper against her flesh before dragging my
tongue through the valley of her breasts. 
Fuck. She’s so goddamn soft. Every part of her. I want to explore every
single inch and crevice until I’ve memorized it all. I want to know which
nerves make her shake when I pass over them. Which ones make her cry
out or the ones that make her shiver. There’s no part of her I want to leave
unchecked by my hand, and if I have it my way, there won’t be a single inch
of her I haven’t kissed. 
That I haven’t marked. 
I take one nipple into my mouth while I pinch the other in tandem. I
suck, bite, tug, and twist, changing how much pressure I apply based on her
reaction. Twice, I have to tighten my hand around her back in a silent
warning to stay still. But like everything else, I really enjoy her not being
able to control her own body. 
I love her reactions. Her need. It sends my blood pulsing through me so
quickly I’m almost certain if she did move, I’d come. No one has ever had
such a strong effect on me. 
No one but her. 
Moving to the other breast, I repeat the process, stimulating the rock-
hard little buds until I feel her start to shake. Anyone who’s come from
nipple play alone knows how surprisingly intense it can be. The erogenous
zone is one of many, and if given the right amount of attention by the right
person, it can lead to—
“Dorian.” She cries my name as she comes, and I swear to God, it’s the
most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. 
Her thighs tense around me with every contraction of her cunt, and on
the third time she squeezes, I drop my hands to grab her hips, jerking her
forward. 
 She latches on to my shoulders in an attempt to steady herself from the
sudden shift, but as soon as I thrust my hips up and make contact with her
swollen clit, she melts into me. 
“I want you to come again, sunshine.”
She leans forward, resting her forehead against mine, her breath coming
out in small pants. “I can’t, Dorian.”
I shake my head, grinding upward. “Yes, you can, Evelyn.”
It only takes a few hard movements before she works herself up into a
frenzy, rolling her hips to meet mine. I continue my assault on the tender
flesh of her nipples but am careful not to push too hard, hence why I have
her riding my lap, chasing another orgasm.
She’s already going from barely getting one to what I hope will be about
ten in one night, and it would be irresponsible as fuck to push her any more
than that.
I want to get her addicted first. Then, maybe I can break her. 
Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she grinds down, her legs
trembling as she starts to peak. 
“That's it, E. Use me.” I grip her harder, hissing as her nails pierce into
my shoulders. “Don’t you fucking stop.”
In the next shift, she grabs one of my hands and brings it to her mouth,
biting into the side as she screams through another orgasm. My own blood
soars, my dick becoming painfully engorged at her every motion. There’s
only one thing I want more than to be inside of her, and it’s to hear her
come again. 
I continue to move for her when she begins to shake, unable to do it
herself with the wave of shudders coursing through her. When her shivers
finally begin to subside, I run my hand up and down her spine, whispering
soft praises into her hair. “You did so well, sunshine.”
She hums a response, her body pressing against mine as her muscles
relax. “Yeah?”
I nod, hooking my finger under her chin again so she can see me. “The
fucking best, E.”
I can barely see it, but the faint smile spreading across her face is
enough to make a man fall to his knees, and I can’t stop myself from kissing
her. Not anymore. 
Unlike what I’ve always imagined, it’s soft and sensual. It’s filled with
all the times I’ve wanted to tell her how beautiful she was instead of
jumping at her from around a corner. The thousands of times I had to stop
myself from tapping her nose when she said some of the cutest shit. For
every day I’ve wanted to kiss her, tell her how much I cared about her. 
I say it all with my lips, praying that she understands some of it. 
Thunder rolls through the building, indicating the few seconds we have
left until another pair walks in.
“I need to take you somewhere.” 
I lift her up, right her skirt, adjust her top, and run a hand through her
hair. When I turn on the light, I see her chest is still heaving, her cheeks a
dusty pink, eyes wide, and never have I seen someone so breathtakingly
gorgeous. 
“But the game. We have to go to the next room, or your sister is gonna
have a tantrum.”
I shake my head, threading my fingers through hers and tugging her to
follow me. “Fuck the game for a minute, E. I need my mouth on that cunt.”
I ’m ninety percent sure I won’t be able to come back from this—
whatever this is—and no amount of wishing it away will do anything to
make me forget what’s happening. 
It isn’t just what we’re doing. It’s all the unsaid things that are starting
to surface. It’s the way when he touches me, my body somehow feels like
it’s on fire but relaxed to a degree I’ve never experienced before. It’s when
he looks at me, like there’s nothing more important he’d rather have his
attention on. 
When he kissed me… it was like I was his. 
He isn’t the wildcard I thought he was, and, on the contrary, I’ve never
felt safer. 
There’s something so much deeper happening than the physical part of
what we’re doing, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified of what comes
after. 
With my hand still firmly in his, Dorian pushes open the wide double
doors to the game room. Inside, there are two long leather couches, a corner
bar, an en suite bathroom, and a pool table. The lighting is low, the only
source coming from the three pendant light hanging over the table. 
I vaguely remember how the pictures online showcased it as where the
groom’s party gets ready for the ceremony. 
 Dorian finally drops my hand to close the doors, and the sudden absence
of his touch leaves a heaviness over my chest I can’t quite place. 
When he turns to face me, my eyes immediately drop to the dark spot
over his groin. I feel my face flame. “Oh—I’m—”
Dorian’s head tilts to the side in question, but when he follows my line
of sight to the evidence of my arousal, the widest smile stretches across his
face. 
“I’m sorry.”
“Why? It’s proof of a job well done, if you ask me. Now,” he gestures
behind me with his chin, “on the table.”
My mouth parts to be a smartass and say something funny, but when he
lifts his eyebrows in warning, I can’t help but oblige. 
What can I say? He’s kind of sexy when he orders me around. 
Still, I huff my faux annoyance as I twirl, sauntering a little too slowly
to the table. 
“Are you always going to give me attitude when I give you an
instruction?”
I shrug, placing the flat of my hand on the table and jumping, hoisting
myself up and turning to face him. “Are you saying there’ll be more
occasions where you tell me what to do?”
My tone implies I’m being a little sarcastic, but the underlying
seriousness is there. I need to know if he feels it too, or if, for him, this is
exactly the hate-fuck he said it was. 
He takes a slow step forward, folding his sleeves up one at a time. “If I
had it my way, sunshine, you’d belong to me after this.”
My heart and core clench in unison, butterflies breaking free from their
dusty cages. My entire insides are buzzing, vindication seeping into my
bloodstream. 
Running my tongue over my top teeth to hide a smile, I tilt my head.
“Oh yeah?”
Dorian gives me a curt nod. “Yep.”
“And why…” I trail off for a moment, spreading my legs open and
putting my hands between them to grip the front of the table. “Do you think
you deserve to have me after all your petty little games?”
He huffs, dragging his thumb under his lip as his eyes fall to my hands.
I wriggle my fingers and kick my legs, hoping the air of nonchalance fools
him. 
 I know him too well, though. I’m more than positive he can see how
fast my pulse is thrumming from the vein in my neck. How quick my chest
is rising from my quickened breath. I want exactly what he’s offering, and
he knows it. 
“How about this? After we leave here, I give that cunt of yours a
break.” He steps closer, gripping both of my knees. His calloused fingers
feel so good against my skin, and my willpower to seem unfazed by his
touch dwindles. 
My eyelids flutter closed as he tightens his hold. “We can go room to
room for a little bit, play Ciara’s game.”
I suck in a sharp breath, jerking upright as he shoves my knees apart,
pushing his body between my thighs. 
“And if I find out who the killer is first, you agree to entertain whatever
this is.” His voice is so low and husky, my clit starts to throb all over again. 
“And if I figure it out first?”
He shoots me a wink before pushing me down flat on my back. “You
won’t. I want you too bad.”
His words act as shots of dopamine to my heart, spreading through me
with each pump. Who would’ve fucking thought this man had the ability to
make me swoon? 
Dorian’s hand trails up my thigh, and my skin responds immediately,
sprouting goose bumps under his touch. His fingers reach the lace covering
my pussy, and he tugs, slipping them from my body in one smooth motion. 
I try to sit up on my elbows to see him, but when he stands,
straightening his spine to tower over me, I lay back down. I like the feeling
of having him like this. At one point, it would have scared the shit out of
me, but now, it makes my entire body sing. 
My legs are still spread wide open, baring myself to him, naked in the
most intimate way. Some part of me is sure I’m supposed to be
uncomfortable, but the look of pure hunger etched into his sharp features
makes me feel like a five-course meal. 
“Do you know how fucking stunning you look right now?”
I bite into my lip, anticipation dripping over me with his words. 
He swipes a finger through my slit, making me jolt, before sliding it into
his mouth. A guttural groan vibrates from his chest as he licks it clean.
“How good you taste?”
Holy shit, that’s hot. 
 “Once I start, I’m not stopping unless you say your word. Do you
understand?”
I swallow around the sudden lump in my throat. I’m nervous. Why am I
suddenly nervous?
He taps my thigh, garnering my attention as he lowers to his knees.
“Words, baby. They’re important.”
A shiver flutters through me, and I have to fight to find the remnants of
my voice. “Yes.”
“That’s my girl.”
With that, he dips between my thighs and licks me from entrance to
clit. 
My eyes roll back, a feeble whimper falling freely from my mouth as
jolts of pleasure shoot through me. His fingers grip my thighs, holding me
steady as he laves at my clit. 
I want to stay still, to resist the urge to chase his face, but the way he’s
working me, I can’t help it. Reaching down, I run my fingers through the
short patch of rough curls on the top of his head and pull him closer. 
Somehow, someway, I want more. 
I need it. 
He chuckles against my sensitive skin before jerking me to the edge of
the table, lifting my ass higher. He tilts my body upward, forcing me to
wrap my legs around his shoulders. 
My heel presses into his back in an attempt to keep me steady, but then
he sucks my clit in his mouth, and I can no longer move. I’m stuck in place.
At his complete mercy to do whatever the hell he sees fit. 
The pressure is already building too quickly, and I’ve never had to battle
wanting something but also not at the same time. 
“Dorian, I’m too close.”
“Hmm.” He draws back slightly, replacing his mouth with his fingers,
and rubs steady circles over my clit. “You want to prolong it?”
My lips part twice before I can form a simple phrase. “I don’t know. I
want to come, but it feels so good I don’t want you to stop.”
“What a tangled web we weave.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, Sir Scott.”
Dorian’s brows furrow, and his hand pauses. “That wasn’t
Shakespeare?”
“Dorian.”
 He huffs out a laugh, resuming his hand’s movement between my
thighs. “I’ve decided I want something else before the night is over.”
I’m not able to respond this time because he slips his finger inside of
me, curling in a torturous way as he lowers himself back into place. He
drags his tongue up my pussy before sucking my throbbing clit in his mouth
again. “I want to hear what you sound like when you beg for me.”
His words spur the pressure to build all over again, and it only takes a
few more times of him combining the lick, suck, and curl of digits before I
explode, coming shamelessly on his tongue. 
The sensations ripple through me yet again, threatening to tear me apart.
This time, it feels as though my whole body is pulsing in tandem with my
cunt, clenching and releasing with every wave. 
He continues to fuck me with his tongue until I’m damn near panting
and shivering around him. “Dorian.”
“Hmm.” He doesn’t move but slows down, easing his movements until
my body stops tensing. 
Shit. There’s no way in hell I can live the rest of my life without feeling
his mouth on me again. 
“Up.” Dorian grips my hips and helps me rise slowly. 
It’s only now I’m starting to realize how much energy is being sucked
out of me each time I come. My muscles tremble as he helps steady me on
my feet, running an idle hand down my spine. 
“I need to know if you’re okay or if we need to take a break.”
I chew on my bottom lip, savoring the sweet Dorian that’s eluded me
until now. This is the guy everyone used to say was the sweetest thing they
ever met. The one who does anything to help a complete stranger. 
Part of me is glad I never saw this side of him before. It makes the
moment all the more tender. “I’m fine. More than fine. I’m perfect.”
He narrows his eyes, but when I lift on my tiptoes and whisper, “One
more,” against his lips, his entire body goes rigid. 
His grip on my hips tightens, and he turns me roughly, pressing into my
back and forcing me to bend over the pool table. I let out a playful squeal as
he lifts my skirt, tossing it over my waist. 
“I really want to take my time with this part, but I have less than five
minutes till that damn thunder goes off.”
“And you think you can get me off that quick?” My tone is borderline
cocky as I turn my face to the side, watching in my periphery as he draws
his chain out from the inside of his shirt. 
On the end, there’s a small cylinder shaped like a thin lipstick vial. He
tugs on the chain, popping the bottom off and tipping the contents into his
hand. 
“What is that?” I arch my back, interest piqued as he recaps the empty
shell. 
He drops his hand to the top of my ass, rubbing in small circles.
Completely bypassing my question, he trails his fingers down, stopping
when he reaches my tight ring of muscle. “Have you ever been touched
here?”
I suck in a sharp breath. “No.”
If I weren’t staring so intently, I’d probably miss the tic in his jaw.
“What a fucking waste.”
He shakes his head and continues his perusal of my ass until his hand
reaches my right knee. He lifts it up, hoisting it on top of the pool table and
spreading me apart. The cool air causes a shiver to rack through me, making
Dorian chuckle. 
“I’ll never get tired of your responses to me.” With that, he taps the top
of the gold cylinder, and it whirls to life.
It’s a fucking vibrator.
“I got this to use on you so long ago, and for a while, I didn’t think I’d
ever get to.” He presses the small bullet to the outside of my slit, and I
nearly jump out of my skin, scooting away from him on reflex.
How the hell is that little thing so strong?
Dorian flexes his hand at the small of my back, his voice dropping an
octave. “Never fucking run from me, sunshine. Not unless you want me to
chase you.”
His double innuendo speaks to a fantasy I’ve never dared to utter out
loud, and I must make a face, because Dorian calls it out immediately. 
“Hmm. Don’t tell me you’ve thought about me chasing you before, E. I
don’t think my cock could handle it.”
I moan as he moves the vibrator, shifting it closer to where I need it. 
“You like it when I jump out at you? When I used to chase you around
the house?”
I try to shake my head, but he places the toy right on top of my clit,
holding it there for a brief second before taking it away.
 “Dorian,” I hiss through clenched teeth, thrusting my hips backward.
“We don’t have much time.”
He lets out a low chuckle, allowing me a moment’s relief with the
vibrator, then snatching it away. He does it three more times till I’m
whimpering with need. 
“Please, Dorian.” I hate how desperate my voice sounds, but right now,
I can’t find it in me to care. 
I can hear the smile in his voice. “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll
put it back.”
I blow out a large breath of frustration, my muscles tightening with the
on and off of his touch. “You want to know if I’ve ever imagined you
chasing me and fucking me in the mask from that night? Maybe once or
twice. Happy now?”
He stills behind me. The moment is no longer than a second, but it feels
like an eternity. Right as I start to peek over my shoulder, he presses the toy
directly against my clit, leaving it there until I’m scratching and clawing at
the table beneath me. 
My next two orgasms slam into me back to back, leaving me a
trembling mess hanging on for what feels like my life. But even as I’m
shaking, wondering how I’m going to walk in my six-inch heels after this,
Dorian wraps his arms around my waist and tells me how incredible I’m
doing. How proud he is of me. 
His heavy hand strokes over my hair as he leads me to the en suite.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, sunshine.”
A fter cleaning me up and washing his hands, he somehow convinced
me I needed a break. He claims too much, too soon can be
dangerous, and I need to listen to my body. 
Well, my body is fucking exhausted, but I’ve never craved a man inside
me so bad in my life. 
He laughed when I said that and told me we still had a game to play. I
had to bite my tongue from telling him that no matter who wins, this isn’t
ending tonight. There’s no way in hell I’m not going to be warming his bed
for at least the next week—after my sore cunt gets some R and R, of
course. 
“Did you write it down?” Dorian holds his hand out for the new clue we
found in the sunroom. 
It’s the third room since we left the game room, which means, if I do a
quick math calculation, it’s been forty-five minutes of my pussy going
untouched by this man. 
“Yes.” My words come out a little curt, but I’m quick to apologize.
“Sorry. I did, thank you.”
He smirks as he takes it from me, sliding it back into the envelope and
tucking it in its hiding place. “You alright?”
I nod. “Just peachy.”
 He hooks his index finger under my jaw and tilts my face up so he can
look into my eyes. “You want me to fuck you?”
I nod again. “Yes, please.”
He laughs at this, and the low sound travels straight to my core, making
me squeeze my thighs together. “If I would’ve known you’d be so damn
sweet from a few orgasms, I would have done this a long time ago.”
“Fuck off, Dorian.” I roll my eyes and stand, glancing over my clue
sheet. “When I win, I’m making you beg for it.”
“I’ll do that now if you want. I’ll drop to my knees and worship every
last inch of you until you let me have my fill. No winning necessary.”
My mouth parts, the desire to accept his offer so strong, I almost don’t
hear the crash of lightning signaling our transition. It isn’t until Sir Saffron
and his partner open the door that I realize we need to move. 
Dorian loops his arm around my waist, drawing me into his side as we
pass the pair. I wait until we’re in the foyer before I shimmy out of his hold
and smirk. “Jealous?”
He doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Absolutely.”
His answer takes me by surprise, and my head jolts back. “I definitely
wasn’t expecting that.”
Dorian shrugs. “As bad as I want to claim it, you’re not mine, so I’m
jealous of any man who gets your attention.”
Not mine. I repeat the phrase a few times in my head before I drag my
teeth over my bottom lip. “Is that something you want? For me to be
yours?”
His heavy hands find either side of my hips and pull me into his chest.
“Sunshine, I’ve wanted that for longer than I’ll ever admit.”
He leans in, brushing a soft kiss over my nose before tapping it. “Also, I
already know who the killer is. So I guess technically, I get you all to
myself for a little bit.”
“Wait, what?”
I look down at the white paper in his fist and notice way more markings
on it than what I have on mine. Goddamn hormones. I was so caught up in
my head, thinking about the next time he would touch me, that I didn’t take
half as many notes. 
I glance over my own paper and try to come up with some type of
answer. It’s not that I don’t want him to win, it’s just the competitive side of
me would also like to claim the victory of knowing at the same time he
does. 
“Give me thirty seconds.”
He nods. “Sure.”
I narrow my eyes at his overly confident sure and study my less-than-
ideal clue sheet. 

In almost any circumstance, I’d be afraid I didn’t have enough written

down. That I was so worried about Dorian, I let him steal the victory out
from under my nose. But this isn’t just any circumstance, and it’s my
attention to him that makes the limited puzzle pieces I have click into
place. 
Everyone listed as a potential suspect is at or over six feet tall. All of
them arrived around the same time, making them the early birds of the
group. 
Seafoam is left-handed—I noticed when he accepted his pasta dish from
me—and Cruelon is wearing a white tie, leaving only Dorian, the butler,
and Sir Saffron. 
 There are two reasons why I know it can’t be Saffron. One, a black tie
would look hideous with his color combo, not to mention Dorian’s went
missing shortly after the lights flickered off. 
Second, I distinctly remember spilling soup near Dorian’s shoe when we
were in the kitchen. It’s not unreasonable to think he might have stepped in
it at one point. 
My heart hammers in my chest, and the hairs on the back of my neck
rise as I look up from the paper and at the killer who’s been fucking me into
delirium all night. 
“It’s you,” I whisper, taking a step back. “You murdered Detective
Danube.” 
Dorian smirks, erasing the space I just made between us. “Clever girl.”
I shudder at his words, a whole new type of adrenaline leaking into my
bloodstream. 
“How about I give you a ten-second head start? I think Ciara said she’ll
be in the maze, waiting for the winner.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat as I take another step back.
“Ten seconds isn’t enough.”
Dorian lifts one shoulder, tucking his chain into his shirt. “Then I guess
you better get running.”
Without another thought, I slip my heels off and sprint down the wide
hallway leading outside to the maze. Blood whooshes through my ears as
my feet pound into the marble, bites of pain shooting up my spine every
time my soles connect with the hard floor.
But I don’t stop. I book it at full speed, only slowing down when I reach
the door and jerk it open. I don’t bother closing it, nor do I look behind me.
That’s how every victim gets caught in the movies. 
They look back once, and they fall. Every. Single. Time. 
The cool October air feels refreshing on my suddenly clammy skin, but
it’s the only good thing about being outside, in the dark, surrounded by
hedges I can’t see over, with a killer chasing me.
Luckily, Ciara had Dorian set up a recognizable path to the center of the
maze, so I don’t have to worry about getting lost. Though it also means
Dorian won’t have to search for me. 
Panic and trepidation trickle down my temple with the sweat that’s
formed along my brow. I keep going, my breath quickening as I pass spider
webs and their oversized spiders. 
 My heart thunders in my chest, every pulse harder than the last. What
makes it worse is I don’t hear him I only hear the sounds of my feet
pounding into the ground and my sharp intakes of air. 
Even though I can’t hear him, I can’t bring myself to look. I know as
soon as I do, he’ll be there. 
Still…
Nope. Don’t be the token character in the movies. 
I keep going, knowing the center has to be coming up. 
Then I hear it. 
“I may have lied.”
It’s Dorian. I can’t pinpoint exactly where his voice is, but it’s not
behind me. 
“It’s just you and me out here, E.”
Fucking hell. 
Of course, I fell for that. Why in the world would Ciara be out here
when she’s got disgruntled employees in the house? Shit. He’s most likely
already in the center. He must know a shortcut. 
I consider turning around, but I worry he might have locked the damn
door. 
Shit. Shit. Shit. 
Fuck it. I veer off one of the adjacent paths and run. I don’t know where
the hell I’m going, but if I come out on the other side, I can round the
property and get to the front door. 
Adrenaline pushes my feet harder into the ground. Hues of green
become blurry as I run past them, turning left and right, then right again. 
My legs feel as though they’re two seconds away from becoming mush,
but I keep going. I’m at least seventy percent sure I see some type of
opening ahead. 
I use my last bit of energy to propel myself forward, and as soon as I
break through said opening, I’m captured around the waist. 
My shrill scream pierces through the air as I’m slung around, falling
with Dorian. He hits the ground first, landing on his back while he cradles
me on top.
“Got you.”
I try to push out of his hold, bucking and wriggling against him, but
instead of the expected alarm or pure dread, something else blooms in my
core. We’re both panting, our limbs fighting one another as we try to do the
opposite of the other. 
Finally, as if he’s a lion done toying with his food, he grabs both of my
wrists and flips me over effortlessly, coming down on top of me. His harsh
breaths blow the hair from my face, while my chest heaves, arousal taking
over every inch of my body. 
Dorian’s dark eyes rove over me, taking in every minute detail of my
face. Somehow, he looks even hungrier than he has all night, and for the
first time, fear trickles into my bloodstream. It’s a delicious feeling, and it
turns out, I like it. 
“Do you still want me to fuck you, sunshine?”
My cheeks flush pink as I nod. “Yes.”
“Here?”
I nod again. “I can’t wait.”
Dorian’s jaw tenses before he runs his tongue along his bottom lip.
“One time, Evelyn. Then I’m taking you home, and I’m going to fuck you
on every surface of your house so there isn’t a place you can look where
you haven’t come on my cock.”
With that, he crashes his lips against mine. Unlike the first time, this is
with an intensity I’ve never felt before. It’s as though years of desire,
annoyance, need, and missed chances are put into every part of it. As if he
needs me to know just how long he’s waited for this moment and doesn’t
want to waste a single second. 
A violent tremor racks through me at his promise, the ones both said
and unspoken. My voice comes out a mere whisper. “Please.”
In the next breath, Dorian’s jacket is on the ground and my skirt is
thrown up around my waist. He undoes his belt but moves so slowly that I
start to squirm with impatience. “Dorian.”
He smirks, the arrogant side of him I’ve come to know making an
appearance. When he finally glides his zipper down and releases his
erection from his briefs, I actually gasp. It all makes sense, and I realize
why he has every reason in the world to be a cocky asshole. 
I shake my head. “There’s no way I can take that more than once,
Dorian.”
He chuckles, grabbing my hips and hoisting me up at an angle that
allows me to watch when he enters. “Baby, not only will you take it, you’ll
beg me for it.”
 He runs the head of his dick through my slit, both coating it in my
arousal and making me writhe beneath him. A few more passes and I
realize it could be the size of King Kong, and I wouldn’t care, I want him
inside of me. 
“Dorian.”
“Remember your word?” He lines himself up with my entrance, pushing
the head in just enough to make me hiss. 
I nod. “Yes.”
“Good.”
Then, just as I think he’s about to drive inside of me, he slips a small
ball of fabric from his pocket. 
My panties. 
He’d taken them when we were cleaning up from the pool table. 
He taps my lip with his index finger. “Open.”
I furrow my brows, natural defiance seeping out, even in my wanton
state. “I don’t need those. Plus, they’re probably soaked.”
He taps my lip again. “One, you taste so fucking good, I know it’ll turn
you on. Second, not to be presumptuous, but you’re gonna scream, E.”
I narrow my eyes but do as he commands because if he’s not inside of
me in the next two seconds, I will be screaming. “Fine.”
Gently, he places the fabric in my mouth, and fuck if it isn’t the sexiest
and dirtiest thing I’ve ever experienced. It makes me acutely aware that
we’re outside, on the ground, in the middle of a party, where anyone can
walk out on us.
The taste of the fabric and remnants of my arousal only push that
feeling into overdrive, and I tilt my hips up in a silent plea. 
He smirks, gliding his hands down my side before grabbing either side
of my hips. 
Then, without another warning, he tears me in half.
F or the first time in my life, I know I’m not gonna last. 
Evelyn’s cunt is too hot and too fucking wet for me to confidently
say I can make her come at least three times before I do. Which is a
fucking crime already, if you ask me. 
I mean, I knew she’d feel good, but pair that with her reactions? I’m a
goner. 
To buy myself a little time and give her some to adjust to my size, I rub
small circles over her hip bone with my thumb. “How we doing down
there?”
With the panties in her mouth, she simply gives me a thumbs-up. 
“Can I slide in more?”
Her eyes flare, and I clearly understand her muffled, “More?”
“There’s a lot left.”
Her face blooms that delicious pink as she nods, and I decide to do us
both a small act of mercy and drive all the way inside her. 
My groan matches her wild moans as her pussy stretches to
accommodate me. Even though I know it’s an adjustment for her, I swear
she’s a perfect fit. 
Everything about her and how we are together only proves the notion
I’ve had all along. She’s mine. Made for me and only me, and there won’t
be another day that passes that she doesn’t know it.  
I draw out and slide back in, hating how heat is already trying to lick its
way up my spine. “This pretty little cunt was made for me. You know that,
sunshine?”
Again, I pull out and glide in, keeping my pace smooth and steady.
“That’s why you’re taking me so well.”
Her moans morph into cries and whimpers as I move, dragging my cock
all the way out to the head before burying myself back inside. Her pussy
grips around me as I move, squeezing around my dick every time I pause. 
She grasps on to my forearms, digging her nails into the muscles, her
legs drifting open wider. 
“That’s it. Open up for me, baby.” I hook my arm under her thighs and
lift, wrapping them around my waist. “Let’s see exactly what you’re
capable of.”
With that, I slam into her over and over again. My strokes are long and
hard, unforgiving and brutal. They’re filled with every emotion she’s ever
made me feel, all the times I wanted to do this but couldn’t. 
For when she stood in front of me, her chest puffed up and her face red
as she argued with me about something petty when all I wanted to do was
kiss her. When she knowingly walked past me, swaying her hips into my
kitchen before snagging one of my drinks. 
For every time I wanted to tell her how I feel but didn’t. 
Her cunt contracts around me, her first orgasm tearing through her.
Even with her makeshift gag, her screams are loud, echoing in the dark
space surrounding us. I fuck her through it, gripping her tighter as I drive in
deeper every time. It isn’t until her contractions weaken that I finally relent,
tugging the red lace from her mouth. 
I unhook her legs from around my waist and draw out slowly, pride
filling my chest as I watch her face tighten when she’s empty. 
“How are you feeling?” I ask, flipping her over onto her hands and
knees. Her ass is a beautiful red, small streaks decorating it from where the
faux grass dug into her skin. 
“I can take it,” is the answer she gives me, her eyes low as she peers at
me from over her shoulder. 
I smirk, threading my fingers through her hair before yanking back,
running my tongue along the column of her sweet neck. “Oh, I know you
can. But since you’re so confident, I want you to fuck yourself with my
cock while I sit here and watch.”
She lets out a hiss as I tighten my grip on her hair. “I can’t come again,
Dorian.”
I release a chuckle. “Yes, you can. Now, sit the fuck down.”
She sucks in a sharp breath but does as told, sitting back on her knees,
spreading her legs on either side of mine. It’s nothing more than reverse
cowgirl, but with me sitting up and her pussy open, it allows my cock to hit
different places and frees up room for my hands. 
Evelyn sinks down on my dick, and the groan that slips free of my
mouth makes her shiver against me.
She places both hands on top of my thighs and starts to grind. It’s slow
at first as she adjusts to the new position, but once she gets her rhythm, she
picks up the pace. 
“Atta girl, sunshine. Take what you need. It’s yours.”
She lets out a moan at my words, her bounces becoming harder and
harder as she chases yet another orgasm. 
I have to admit, I’m impressed with how well she’s doing, and when I
tell her as much, she slams down harder. “It’s because it’s you.”
Each word in that sentence sticks to my heart, delivering blow after
blow to whatever doubt I might’ve had about us being something more after
this. 
This woman is mine. Now and fucking forever. 
I reach around, finding her sensitive clit, rubbing it in sharp circles.
“This little cunt belongs to me. Do you understand, sunshine? This is it.
There will never be anyone else here after this.”
She cries a series of yeses, spreading her legs wider as the pleasure
comes over her. “It’s yours.”
Those two little words are my undoing, and the heat I’ve held at bay
finally takes over, threatening to consume me. I speed up my pace on her
clit, jerking my hips up, taking over with punishing thrusts. 
Her hands tighten on my thighs. “I can’t—Dorian. It’s too much. This
—”
I come at the exact moment she does, the sensation shooting through my
body and flooding it so violently, it hurts. She screams out, her cum seeping
from her cunt, covering my entire lap. 
 But I don’t stop. I don’t stop fucking her until we’re both spent and our
bodies are nothing more than worn muscle and beating hearts. 
When I finally do release her, she slumps forward, planting the flat of
her palms against the grass. Her shoulders are shaking, and her pussy is
leaking a mixture of our cum. A foreign desire passes over me to shove it
all back inside her, but instead, I lean forward, rubbing up her back and
peppering her spine with soft kisses. 
“You did so good, sunshine.”
She lets out a feeble laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’m about to die.”
“Then I did my job right,” I whisper over her skin before sitting back,
pulling my slacks up over my hips. They’re drenched from her cum, which
means it’s time for us to go. “Let’s get you home and cleaned up.”
“But Ciara. The party.” Her voice is nowhere near convincing that she
cares about either of those things, but I nod, slipping my phone out and
drafting a text to my sister. I’ll push send when we’re already in the car. 
“Let me worry about Ciara. My priority is taking care of you right now.
No discussions about it.”
I can tell she wants to reject the statement, but after another second of
thought, she nods, reaching a hand out and gripping on to me to help her
stand. I right her skirt and brush her hair from her face at the same moment
she looks down and realizes what’s happened. 
“Is… is that from me?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“I—” She stares down at the mess, her eyes wide. 
“Never squirted before either?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
I yank her close, turning to walk us back through the maze and toward
the estate. “Good.”
We make it to the door before I find my sister standing in front of it, one
hand on her hip while her eyes scan over a paper in her hand. I try to make
a sharp turn and avoid her, but it’s too late. She looks up, and her jaw nearly
hits the ground when she sees how disheveled we are. 
“I fucking knew it. I knew that if I just gave y’all a little time, you
would finally realize how crazy you are for each other.” Ciara’s eyes
bounce between the two of us, standing hand in hand like it’s the most
natural thing in the world. 
Funny thing is, that’s exactly what it feels like. 
 “Oh, I always knew. I was just waiting for her to catch up.” I nudge
Evelyn softly with my shoulder before tugging her toward my car. “Great
party, sis.”
Ciara laughs, shooting me a wink and a wave. “Thank you. But you owe
Jamie and me a few drinks since clearly, we’ll be stuck here, cleaning up.”
“Consider us even for you knowing your best friend put cayenne pepper
in my boxers and not saying anything. And the fact that you made me the
killer.” I wave over my shoulder. “Also, I highly doubt Jamie will complain
about having some alone time with you.”
Her mouth gapes open, and Evelyn giggles beside me as we walk
toward the car. “You knew?”
I smirk, throwing my arm around E. “I know a love-sick puppy when I
see one.”
Eve shakes her head. “You notice everything.”
I open her door and usher her inside. “Everything.”
Unlike the drive to the estate, when I was thinking about all the ways I
was gonna make her pay for putting hot pepper flakes in my boxers, I’m
now considering all the ways I want to break her, put her back together,
then break her some more. 
She hums contentedly the entire ride, and I think it’s somewhere
between her nose scrunching up about the fact that I secretly like mushroom
pineapple pizza and when she laughs about the time I lost Mortal Kombat to
her seven times in a row, that I know this woman is truly mine. 
When we get home, and I get her through the front door of her place, I
tell her exactly that as I carry her up to a much-deserved bath. “You wanna
know something?”
She hums, leaning her face into my chest, her eyes already drifting
closed. 
“You’re stuck with me, sunshine.”
Though she appears fully asleep, she grins. “As long as I get the
Canadian waters.”
A laugh rumbles out of me. “As many as you want.”
“W hat number?”
Warm tears streak down my face as I try to somehow catch
my breath. “I—it’s—”
“You lost count again, sunshine.” It’s more of a statement than a
question, and the notion he thinks there’s any way I could possibly forget
what number I’m on annoys me immensely. 
“Twenty-three,” I push out through pursed lips, readjusting my cuffs.
The once soft fur now feels like sandpaper scraping against my sensitive
wrists. 
I squirm. A lot. Because even after a year of being with Dorian Davis,
I’ll never get used to all the things he makes me feel.
He strokes a rough thumb over my cheek, brushing away the remnants
of my latest orgasm. “Can I have one more, baby? Just one.”
I can barely think, let alone speak, my body nothing more than raw
nerves and a pumping heart, yet somehow, I nod. 
I nod. 
It’s clear at this point that I’ve lost my mind, but the smile on Dorian’s
face is enough to make me want to push my limits. 
“That’s my girl.” Dorian tucks a stray hair behind my ear before
pressing a soft kiss to my nose. “I’m so proud of you.”
 Dorian picks up his pace, thrusting inside of me harder now. How in the
hell it feels more amazing is beyond me, but my head lolls back with the
overwhelming sensation. A moan slips out as he drives in and out, moving
in ways and hitting spots that have my body clenching tight all over again. 
My nerves singe, lightning pulsing through them as it spreads down my
limbs. Incoherent murmurs mix with wild moans as my greedy hips lift,
meeting each of his harsh strokes. 
“I knew you had one more for me.” One of his warm hands squeezes
my hip, his fingers digging into the tender flesh, while the other reaches
above me. The light whirl of my favorite vibrator, the air pulse stimulator,
nearly brings tears to my eyes. 
He presses it over my swollen clit, and whatever rational thoughts I had
left completely vanish. 
“Atta girl. Just like that. Don’t stop.”
I’m not even sure what I’m doing anymore, but I don’t stop. I chase the
high of my twenty-fourth orgasm that borders the line of pain and pleasure
and all things in between. The resounding explosion is crippling. Waves
rush through my body like a hurricane, ripping me apart. 
Something comparable to a scream tears through my throat, the orgasm
threatening to suffocate me. It feels incredible, yet overwhelming, and I can
swear I can feel the clench and pulse in the tips of my toes down to the ends
of my hair. 
It feels as if it goes on forever this time, coming in bursts until I’m
straining to catch my breath.
“I got you. Come here.”
Somehow, he has me out of the cuffs and curled into his lap just as the
throbbing subsides. One of his heavy hands strokes my hair while the other
wraps around my back, holding me steady. 
“I’m so fucking proud of you, baby,” he says against my temple before
peppering soft kisses over the spot. “That’s the most so far.”
I still can’t find the words, my brain ninety-five percent pulsing mush,
so I simply huff my acknowledgment. 
Even though Dorian has expressed wanting to get me to the sixties, he’s
been patient. He never pushes me past what I’m comfortable with and uses
signals I didn’t even know I gave to keep me from ever even having to use
our safe word. 
 It’s one of the many things I used to despise about him but now love. He
reads me as if he wrote my book himself, always finding ways to bring me
the most pleasure. 
“Breathe with me, E. Deep breaths.” 
Dorian’s chest rises with a deep inhale, and I do my best to match it. It
takes almost a dozen before I feel some sort of normalcy in my heart’s
rhythm. 
“How we doing?”
I nod. “Good.”
“One to ten?”
I drop my head onto his shoulder and let a soft smile spread across my
face. “Eight.”
He arches a thick brow. “Oh yeah? Wanna give me another dozen?”
“Oh. See, I’d love to,” I chuckle—albeit weakly—and pat a hand
against his broad chest. “But can’t. We’ll be late to Ciara’s engagement
party.”
Dorian shrugs, running a thumb down my jaw. “Jamie will make her
forgive us.”
I narrow my eyes. He’s trying to get me to admit I’m at my limit, but he
should know better. I could be three seconds from passing out, and I’d go
out talking shit. “It would be incredibly rude if her brother and favorite
sister-in-law were late.”
“Favorite? More like only.”
I wave him off. “Tomato, tomahto. Clean me up so we can go, please.”
Dorian smirks, and I’m certain if my pussy wasn’t about to fall off, it
would be clenching all over again. “Yes, ma’am.”
He moves to the end of the bed and stands with me still cradled in his
arms. His warmth envelops me as he walks us into our bathroom and sits on
the edge of the tub. As always, he runs my bath and nestles in behind me
until the residual tremors fade and my body comes back down to earth. 
My eyes grow heavy as he takes his time washing my shoulders and
arms. Dorian’s aftercare can last an hour, and half the time, I’m asleep in
the first twenty. 
“You getting sleepy on me, sunshine?”
“A little.”
He hums. “We have a bit. Take a nap after this.”
 I shake my head but allow my eyes to close. “You won’t wake me in
time.”
Whenever I decide to listen to him and drift off, he conveniently lets me
sleep way past my allotted time. He claims it’s because rest is more
important than whatever’s on my to-do list. 
He holds up two fingers in front of me. “Scout’s honor.”
I roll my eyes. He said the same thing to the officiant when he asked if
he promised to have and to hold me through sickness and in health.
“Alright. Twenty minutes.”
I feel the smirk on his face. “Twenty-four.”
Even being madly in love with the man doesn’t lessen my desire to sock
him in the face, but I guess that’s what makes us, us. Nothing has changed
in terms of his obsession with making me scream nor my constant readiness
to argue him down. Never have I been happier or felt more safe. 
This is where I’m supposed to be. 
Now and forever, spiders and all. 

The End.

Ready for your next kinky holiday read? Pre-Order here.

Coming Valentines ’23

 Acknowledgments

Thank you, my reader, for filling your time with the stories in my head.

As always, thank you to my hubs who made this book possible with
wrangling the kids and cooking me yummy meals. To my kids for always
walking in when I’m writing the spiciest scenes. And to my incredible
alphas and betas.

M.L., Dominque, Lily, Alexa, Salma, Skarlet, Erica, Lo, Batool Zainab,
and Andrea.

Y’all are the effing bomb and I hope you never leave me! Thank you for
putting up with me being so last minute and needing everything done in one
day. Like seriously. I love y’all.

CATTTTT. You came through. I can’t thank you enough for creating such
an incredible cover and blowing me away with your talent yet again. I’m so
incredibly lucky to have you.

Again, thank you to everyone! I can’t wait for the next holiday I randomly
decide to pop one of these bad boys out! Stay tuned.
 About the Author

Lee Jacquot is a wild-haired bibliophile who writes romances with strong heroines that deserve a
happy ever after. When Lee isn't writing or drowning herself in a good book, she laughs or yells at
one of her husband's practical jokes.
Lee is addicted to cozy pajamas, family games nights, and making tents with her kids. She
currently lives in Texas with her husband, and three littles. She lives off coffee and Dean Winchester.
Visit her on Instagram or TikTok to find out about upcoming releases and other fun things!
@authorleejacquot
 Also by Lee Jacquot

I wrote a couple other books!! Check them out here!

Holinight Novellas
Christmas on the Thirteenth Floor
The Four Leaf
Liberty Falls
Hollows Grove
Holinight #5

Wicked Wonderland Duet

Queen of Madness (Book 1)
King of Ruin (Book 2)

The Emerald Falls Series

The Masks We Wear
The Masks We Break
The Masks We Burn