Although some people choose to dress up as monsters on Halloween night, others simply are monsters. Even over the loud music erupting from the surround-sound speakers, the wind howls as it gusts through the open front doors of the house.
More people crowd into the entryway, dressed in a mixture of scary and sexy costumes, smeared in face paint and fake blood. There’s a creepy glow created from the neon lights draped from the ceiling, surrounded by bat and pumpkin décor.
My mind becomes overstimulated as I scan everyone in my path. I’m suddenly dying for a stiff drink, ready for the night to truly begin. The truth is, I’ve never felt more alive.
Candles flicker in the dim kitchen light, spread out across the countertops, showcasing the delicious party treats. There are Halloween-inspired cupcakes, Jack Skellington Oreo pops, and white chocolate-covered strawberries decorated as ghosts.
There’s a large, spiderwebbed, ice-filled bowl that holds fake blood bags filled with dark, red alcohol. The bucket beside it holds large syringes, filled with many colors of different Jell-O flavors. They couldn’t have been more festive.
“Blue raspberry,” a girl’s voice shrieks, as she swoops in front of me and grabs the last blue syringe. “Quinn,” she murmurs, catching me off guard.
It’s Veronica.
The girl who completely ruined my middle school and high school experiences.
My body stiffens, and I can’t find it in me to breathe. Awful memories flood through my mind, of being bullied, the rumors that were spread around about me, and the harassment I had to face every single day. Being bullied on every social media platform known to man is the reason I couldn’t have a cell phone or computer growing up.
More flashbacks race toward me.
Crying myself to sleep, night after night.
My wrists. Razorblades. Blood.
Veronica and her friends, both guys and girls, constantly telling me that my father had killed himself because I was born. Telling everyone he was so repulsed at having me as a daughter, that he took his own life, because of me.
“I haven’t seen you in a few years,” she awkwardly says, forcing a phony smile.
“Yeah,” I unthinkingly blurt out, trembling.
Ghost wraps his arm around my shoulder, bringing me against his firm chest, and I relax in his embrace.
“Oh, you’re with someone,” Veronica points out, sounding appalled, which triggers me.
“She’s with us,” Jason clarifies, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.
Michael steps beside us, remaining silent, but making himself known.
Her face drops at the realization.
And suddenly, I’ve never felt more confident. After these last few years, of starting over and learning to be happy with the life I was given, I remember the promise I had made to myself.
To never allow any of my bullies to ever affect me again.
“You took the last one,” I observe, eying her Jell-O shot. “Bummer. Blue raspberry is my favorite.”
“That sucks,” she carelessly remarks, her jaw tightening.
“Give it to her,” Michael orders, and I am blown away.
She scowls. “What?”
“He said, give it to me,” I repeat his words, stepping forward until I’m mere inches away. “But you know what,” I say, hesitating briefly, before taking a cherry-flavored one from the bucket. “I think I’m good. I’m really good, actually. Never been better.”
Pressing my lips around the tip of the syringe, I shoot the Jell-O into my mouth, savoring the taste of vodka that burns the back of my throat.
“I wish I could say it was good to see you, Veronica,” I say, tossing the empty syringe into the nearest trash bin. “But it wasn’t.”
Her mouth falls wide open.
Swiftly turning on my heel, I head toward the nearest bathroom, until I hear her shout something from over my shoulder.
“I’ve changed, Quinn!” she says, almost trying to convince herself.
“I hope you have,” I emotionally shout back, meaning it, from the bottom of my heart.
Pushing open the bathroom door and stumbling inside, I firmly grip the edge of the sink to keep myself upright. My chest tightens, my heart accelerates, and out of nowhere I feel faint. Not another panic attack. Not tonight.
The small room begins to spin in circles around me, and I feel a sense of detachment from the world around me.
Fuck you, crippling anxiety.
“Are you okay?” Ghost speaks up, catching me off guard.
“The door,” I rush out, breathlessly. “Please shut the door.”
And he does.
Taking in a slow, deep breath, and closing my eyes, embarrassment washes over me. I can’t believe he’s seeing me like this, amid an anxiety attack, and at my lowest.
“What did she do to you?” Ghost asks, barely any sound to his voice.
“Nothing,” I whisper, tightly gripping the edge of the sink.
“Quinn—”
“Nothing,” I sternly repeat, inhaling a small, shaky breath. “It was nothing.”
“Alright,” he says, the door creaking open. “I’ll give you space.”
“No,” I gasp, looking into the mirror and locking my gaze on him, completely unbothered by the creepy Ghostface mask in the reflection. “I don’t want space.”
He shuts the door, his hand lingering on the doorknob. After a moment, he cautiously approaches me.
“What do you want?” he asks, testing me, pressing the solid frame of the front of his body against my backside. “Do you want to talk?”
Shaking my head, I softly respond, “No.”
“Then, what?” he gruffly asks. “Use your words, little Quinn.”
“A distraction,” I carelessly breathe, flustered. “I want a distraction.”
Reaching around to the front of my chest, he locks his gloved hand around my throat, holding me still. “Like this?” he breathes, tightening his grasp.
I nod slightly.
Leaning down, he hesitates beside my ear. “Your words, Quinn,” he reminds me.
“Yes,” I mutter. “More.”
Trailing his hand to my jaw, he turns my head to the side, forcing me to look at him. Through the black mesh covering the dark holes of his mask, and just the right lighting, I’m almost able to get a glimpse of his eyes.
Almost.
He turns me around and leans down, gripping beneath my thighs before lifting me from the floor, easing me onto the cold, hard surface of the sink.
“This?” he asks.
“More,” I whisper.
“I know what you want, but I love to hear you beg.”
Lightly brushing his hands against the back of my legs, then trailing the tips of his fingers to my inner thighs, he hesitates at the lower buttons of my bodysuit.
“Please,” I moan, feeling his broad, manly shoulders beneath my hands. “Please, more.”
“You call that begging?”
“Please,” I plead, as he rubs my clit over the thin fabric. “Please, Ghost, please.”
“Fuck, baby,” he sharply exhales. “That’s right. Say my name.”
“Ghost.”
“Are you on birth control?”
“Yes,” I reply, shaking my head once I see the foil packet he’s retrieved from his pocket. “I was recently tested and I’m clean. Are you?”
He nods, tossing it onto the counter.
“Now distract me,” I order.
He groans. Tearing open the buttons at my crotch and lifting the robe of his costume, he yanks down his pants, keeping them right below his ass. His thick, hard cock is already slick with desire, and so impressively big.
Holy shit. There’s no way I can take him.
As I brace on his shoulders, he pulls me to the very edge of the sink, rubbing the tip of his cock along my wet entrance. Up and down, over and over, toying with me. Teasing me. Driving me to the brink of insanity.
“Please,” I eagerly beg, desperate to feel him.
Without warning, Ghost enters me with one, hard thrust. Stretching me wide, buried to the hilt.
“Fuck,” he bites out, getting a better grip on me as he secures his arms around my back.
The inner walls of my core tighten and grip at his cock with each stroke, and my body jolts back from the hard force. Thrust, after thrust, after thrust, he fucks me without emotion. Plunging himself deeper, faster, pushing his way inside of me repeatedly.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I hold onto him for dear life, spreading my legs wider so I can feel him more fully. And it’s almost too much.
He’s too massive.
There’s a sound of praise and skin smacking as he quickens his pace, pounding into me relentlessly. Crying out to him, whimpering, and gasping for air to fill my deprived lungs, I slip my hands under his robe, tracing the muscles of his back. Digging my nails into his flesh, I scrape him all the way down, before taking his firm ass in my hands.
“Yes,” I cry out, throwing back my head, matching his merciless thrusts with my hips. “Oh, fuck, yes. Yes. Yes!”
My eyes start to close as my climax builds and builds, rapidly approaching.
“Look at me,” he savagely orders, slamming into me.
Hard.
Harder.
Even harder.
And I obey, staring desperately into the dark eyes of his mask. Something about this is so erotic, so twisted. Here I am, in a stranger’s bathroom, getting railed by Ghostface.
And even better, he’s fucking my brains out through the hole he ripped in my fishnets.
Please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface. Not yet, at least.
Roughly squeezing my ass, and bruising my skin, he lifts me from the sink. Standing strong and tall, he bounces me on his thick, hard shaft. Adjusting to his size in this new position, my arms find their way around his neck. I cry out in ecstasy, grinding my clit against his pelvis, creating the perfect amount of friction.
“Yes,” I whimper, rubbing myself against him.
He brings me down harder each time, bucking his hips with each deliberate thrust, throwing me closer and closer to the edge.
“Fuck,” he groans, slamming my back to the wall.
Wincing from the pain, my legs lock around his waist tighter. I cry out, moaning louder, and he claims me ruthlessly.
“Yes, baby. I want to hear you scream.”
No longer able to hold myself back, I scream out with pleasure, letting go completely.
“Good girl,” he praises, squeezing my ass as he slams into me with an urgency. “You’re such a good fucking girl.”
“Yes,” I whimper, as he nuzzles his mask into the crook of my neck, adjusting the angle, and sinking into me deeper. “God, yes!”
“I want everyone in this house to know that you’re mine.”
“Yes!”
“Tell them, baby.”
“I’m yours,” I breathlessly moan, rocking my hips to match his thrusts. “Yes!”
“That’s right. Such a good little slut. Bounce on daddy’s dick.”
Tightly grasping his shoulders, I ride his pulsating cock, breathing in the heady scent of his cologne. The seductive aroma washes over me, and my senses are heightened, sending me into a state of pure euphoria. He pulls me from the wall, easing me up and down on his thickness, urging me to rock my hips.
“Fuck,” he grunts, bringing me down harder. “Just like that.”
“Ghost,” I moan, right there.
“Come for me,” he urges.
My orgasm claims me, ripping through me, catching me completely off guard. The intensity is unimaginable. I’ve never gotten off without my vibrator, only by taking care of it myself, but Ghost hits all the right places.
My back arches, pleasure consuming my body from my head to my toes. My serotonin levels skyrocket, and in this moment, nothing else matters. As he moves within me, with slow, deep thrusts, he grasps me tighter, gaining back full control.
Pure bliss takes over, earth-shattering sensations rocking through me like nothing I’ve ever felt in my life.
This is what it’s supposed to feel like.
“Fuck,” he breathes, finding his release.
Easing my ass back onto the edge of the sink, he leans against me. Grazing my fingertips to the curve of his hips, I pull him closer, as his cum leaks down my thigh.
“Now that, little Quinn—” He firmly takes my jaw in his hand, tracing my lips with his thumb. “That is how you deserve to be fucked. Always.”
