Ghosts of Halloween: A Dark Why Choose Romance

I shriek and struggle against him. Caden enters the room, leaving the door free, and I fight Jack, groaning with effort. His hands on me are tight, but his grip doesn’t hurt. And he’s hard. His groin presses into my ass, and as I struggle, shifting against him, he makes a low moan when I press into him.

He’s distracted.

So I catch my balance, raise my foot, and drop it down hard on top of his.

Jack’s moan turns into a grunt, and I shoot out of his loosened hold, making for the door. I don’t make it far.

Caden grips a fistful of my hair, and I yelp, falling back. He puts his arm around me, and we struggle. I’m in full survival mode, biting, screaming, and thrashing, and he just laughs, holding me without effort.

“Such a good little slut you are,” he grunts in my ear. “Making me so fucking hard.”

I still, breathing hard, and we just stand there as I try to process everything that’s going on. It’s Caden. He’s the oldest of them all. I never even thought of him this way, but now, I know he’s gotten me off with his mouth, and that short-circuits everything else in my head, even wiping out the persistent thought this can’t be happening, because he’s dead.

“You like it when I talk dirty to you, little bird?” he asks, thrusting his hips. “Such a naughty girl. Tell me, Harlow. Have you ever taken two cocks at once?”

I can’t help it. My body goes lax against him, and the recent images I saw flash through my mind. Caden sucking Silas off. Silas fucking Caden’s ass and making him come on the floor.

Jack fucking me.

Oh, God, I could take both of them. I want to take both of them. All three of them, if possible.

Am I mad? They tied me up, fucked with me, and now they are chasing me through the haunted house. I’m terrified and horny, and none of this makes any sense.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, voice small and helpless. “You’re dead.”

“Do I feel dead to you, little bird?” he asks, callused hand moving up my bare arm.

His touch is rougher than Jack’s, and yet…

Spark.

I close my eyes, shaking with a sob I refuse to let out. Oh, God. This isn’t happening. It shouldn’t be happening. But it is and there is something so very wrong with me.

“I called fucking dibs!” Jack snarls behind us.

Suddenly, Caden groans and lets go of me, yanking back. I turn, startled, to see them both wrestling on the floor. This is my cue. I shake off my lustful daze and run out the door.

Get a fucking grip!

I run down the stairs, looking left and right. Those two are busy, but Silas is still somewhere here, I know. He can jump out from anywhere.

And yet, when I see him next, he’s not chasing me, just cutting my way off. He blocks the way to the front door and the kitchen, his feet planted wide, a sick smile on his face. He hovers an inch above the floor.

I squeak and veer toward the dark, narrow corridor on the other side of the stairs. There are three doors here, all of them closed, though one has a ragged hole in it. I think it’s made with an ax. That thought makes me shudder, the door-axing scene from The Shining flashing through my mind.

No. That door is out. I look over my shoulder and don’t see anyone behind me. Relieved Silas doesn’t give chase, I pick the one farthest ahead and go in.

I close it behind me, careful to be quiet, and take stock of the room.

There are overturned crates here, cans, and beer bottles. A bucket full of dirty sand and cigarette butts. A wall closet, its doors limply hanging off the hinges.

I see everything clearly in the light of a streetlamp falling in through the window. Which is barred, vertical metal rods dissecting it in three. I breathe out shakily, brushing sweaty tendrils of hair out of my face.

There goes my escape chance.

I step back toward the door, wavering. If I hide here, they will find me sooner or later. If I go back, they will catch me at once. I clench and unclench my hands, sick terror running through my veins, until there’s a loud thud against my door, followed by an unhinged laugh.

“There you are,” comes Caden’s voice.

And then, his head sticks in through the closed door.

I cover my mouth with my hand to muffle the sound of my terror. I already know he can do that, I felt his hands around my throat, but seeing it brings my fear to another level.

He laughs when I back off, stumbling, and steps through. Where there was just a head, all of Caden now stands, seeming completely solid.

“I’ve thought about you for two years,” he says, taking a step closer, and I move back, my foot nudging a beer bottle, making it roll over the floor with a clink. “But that didn’t prepare me for how delicious you taste, little bird.”

I roll my lips into my mouth and hold them with my teeth to keep from making any sounds. I’m terrified, and alive, and…

Suddenly, there’s a flash of movement, and Jack falls inside through the ceiling. I shriek when he lands in front of me, grinning madly, and I turn away to run. He catches me, though, and presses his body along mine, growling in my ear.

“You’re mine,” he snarls, furious. “No more running.”

He pushes me forward until we enter the empty closet, and he slams my body against the wall. I gasp, and then Jack hikes my dress up and enters me hard.

It hurts, and I scream.

“God, you’re wet,” he says, panting. “All that running, huh?”

I shake my head, because I can’t speak. Suddenly, all of that fear, all that electric energy finds another channel, and I vibrate with it. Jack doesn’t move, and slowly, I accommodate to having him inside me.

Flesh and metal.

“All right there, princess?” he asks after a moment, voice hoarse.

A shaky breath rushes out of me, almost a laugh. This question is so ridiculous right now.

“No,” I tell him truthfully.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

Jack leans his forehead against the back of my head with a low laugh.

“That’s too bad,” he says, dropping a kiss on my temple.

Spark.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not gonna stop,” he says in a low, tender voice, kissing me again. “I want you too much. But don’t worry, sweetheart. It will be quick.”

Sparks flood my system, and I shiver, pressing instinctively into him.

“But that’s just what’s wrong with me,” I say, my voice on the verge of breaking.

When Jack makes an inquiring noise, nuzzling against my hair, I explain, “Because I don’t want you to stop.”

“Oh, princess,” he says with amusement, dropping kisses over my head as he speaks. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect. Every part of you. All of you. Is perfect.”

Then he pulls out and turns me around so fast, the back of my head hits the wall. As I blink away the pain, I frown. Jack’s hands are still on me, his hot breath fanning my face, but I can’t see him. There’s nothing in front of me.

While I’m still trying to puzzle out what’s happening, invisible lips crash into mine.