Ghost POV
“Block the front entrance,” I instruct Michael, pure hatred boiling inside of me, determined to break free in a form of utter chaos. “Jason, you cover the exit. Text me when the last group of people is out.”
“On it,” Jason says, disappearing around the side of the house.
Michael moves to the top step, blocking the way.
“Nobody in,” I bite out, seeing red. “And nobody out.”
Stepping inside, there’s a gloomy, gray vibe. The windows are heavily boarded up, the wooden floor creaks beneath my boots, and the music grows louder. Scanning the dimly lit hallway, nobody is in sight. Even through my mask, this place wreaks of gasoline from nearby machinery and damp wood.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Jason
Last group is out
Removing the knife from the back of my waistline, I turn the corner.
“Derek,” I call out, taunting him, tracing the blade with the tip of my fingers, as adrenaline pumps through me.
“Yeah, bro,” he calls backs almost immediately. “Who’s that?”
“Come find out.”
He steps out from behind a fake wall, dressed in his stupid little costume. “Sick Ghostface mask,” he observes, laughing. “Do I know you?”
Stalking toward him, my grip tightens on the handle of my knife. “Not quite,” I answer. “I’m a friend of Quinn’s.”
Confusion claims his face as he moves beside the dim light plastered to the wall. “Quinn?” he asks.
Impatiently cocking my head to the side, I nod. “Ring any bells?”
“Oh. Yeah. That weird little bitch whose dad offed himself, right?”
Tossing him against the wall of the hallway, I waste no time in jabbing my knife into his chest. There’s blood spurting, bones crunching. Over and over, and over again, I gut him, painting the walls, floors, and my mask in red. He chokes on his own blood, gurgling, half-sobbing for me to put an end to my vicious attack.
There’s no stopping now.
I made a promise to my little Quinn that I would make them pay. With their life.
Their blood.
His body becomes limp against the wall. Yanking the blade from his ribcage, Derek lifelessly drops to the floor with a hard thud.
One down.
The rest to go.
Adrenaline rages through me as I rush into another room, spotting a guy in scene, dressed as a crazy, old scientist. How fucking cliché.
“Are you going to be my next subject?” he asks, reciting his corny line, gesturing down to a fake corpse on what appears to be a metal operating table.
“No,” I growl, jumping over the table as he stumbles backward. “But you’re mine.”
He turns to run from me, shocked and confused, until I bury my knife into his back. Crippling over, he then drops to his knees, in a state of shock. That’s when the pain finally hits him, ripping through his body. And he screams in both agony and fear, as I twist the blade sideways in his flesh.
“John?” I sadistically ask, demanding an answer.
“Y-y-yes,” he chokes out, collapsing onto the floor, convulsing.
“Johnny boy!” I humorously shout, yanking out the knife before rolling up my sleeves.
With a quick toss in the air, I catch my knife by the rippled handle, before burying the sharp metal between his shoulder blades next.
“This is for Quinn,” I mutter dryly, kicking him in the ribs. “One stab for every year you and your friends tortured her.”
There’s another crunch as I stab him again. Again. And again. I end up getting off track and lose count in a fit of rage. There’s more gurgling. Quiet whimpers of desperation, as he begins to crawl forward, using what little energy he has left.
“How aren’t you dead yet?” I joke, stepping on his back, now covered with deep gashes, and soaked with blood. I click my tongue at him. “You’re not going anywhere, Johnny boy. This is the part where you die for what you did to her.”
And right on cue, any hint of remaining life leaves his body.
Jason enters the room, catching me off guard, his jacket stained with blood. “There’s gasoline out back in a shed.”
“Good find,” I sharply breathe, pulling my knife from Johnny boy’s flesh.
“I grabbed some and left it at the back door.”
“Where’s Alex?” I demand, still fuming.
With a nod of his head, he motions to another hallway.
There he is in the center of the room, chained to a wooden chair, duct tape covering his mouth. My dick twitches at the thought of ending his life.
Getting revenge for little Quinn.
It’s a sight to see as tears stream down his face.
“Poor Alex,” I recite Ghostface’s famous line. “You think this is all about you? You think you’re still the star?”
He mumbles against the tape, until I rip it off. “What the fuck is this,” he squeals, desperation and fear flickering in his eyes.
“This is about Quinn. What you did to her,” I spit out.
“You’re fucking crazy,” he shrieks.
“Crazy for her,” I say through clenched teeth, ripping off my mask, and shoving my face in his. “You fucked up. And now, you’re going to pay for it.”
“Help,” he shouts, becoming silent as I press the tip of my blade against his neck.
“Your friends can’t help you,” I shout back, cutting his throat. “They’re dead.”
A girl rushes into the room and screams out in horror, taking in the sight of blood pouring from the gaping slit. Jason chases after her into another room, disappearing from my view.
Pulling on my mask, I grab the gasoline at the back door. Jason enters through a doorway shortly after, tossing a bloody, metal bat onto the ground.
“Start at the front,” I instruct, handing him the canister of gasoline.
“What if we missed someone?” he asks.
“The flames will take care of the others.”
He nods, exiting the room.
“Ghost?”
My gaze darts over to the soft voice coming from the back door, when suddenly, I see her. Quinn.
“What are you doing here?” I harshly question.
“I was worried,” she fearfully replies, stepping into the room. “I needed to make sure you were alright.”
Stepping toward her, she moves back, until her body is trapped against the wall. My cock swells, uncomfortably straining against my pants.
“Fuck,” I grunt, slamming my hands onto the wall beside her head, locking her between my arms.
A sexy, little squeal escapes her lips.
“You make my dick so fucking hard, Quinn, it hurts,” I groan, leaning against her.
All this murder has really gotten to me this time. The sight of blood always makes my dick hard. I need to be inside her. Buried in that tight, wet, little cunt.
“I need to fuck you,” I breathe, throwing back my head as she unbuttons my pants. “Right now.”
Dropping to her knees, she yanks down my pants, and wastes no time wrapping her lips around my cock. Thrusting forward, she gags, while I plunge in and out of her warm mouth. Firmly holding myself at the base with my forefinger and thumb, I guide her hand to my balls.
“Oh, fuck, baby,” I grunt with each thrust.
She gags on my dick again, her cheeks flushing, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. She’s trying to please me with everything in her.
And she does.
Leaning down, I link my arm around her and ease her onto her back, pinning her to the dusty hardwood floor. After tearing open the buttons at her crotch, I spit in my hand, burying it between her thighs to get her ready for me.
But she is already drenched with her own juices.
I waste no time driving into her, as her pussy sucks at my cock with each thrust. She feels so good. Too fucking good. She’s my new obsession and she doesn’t have the slightest clue.
“Yes,” she whimpers, fisting the robe over my chest. “Yes, daddy, yes!”
As soon as daddy leaves her lips, I drill into her faster, locking my fingers around her throat. Taking her breath away. Fucking her without emotion. Without remorse.
Just deep, forceful strokes as her body stiffens beneath me.
Slamming into her, again and again, I fuck her violently, just as I had promised.
Withdrawing the knife from the sheath at the back of my pants, I press the tip to her throat. She gasps, squirming beneath me.
“Yes,” she encourages, and that’s all I need. “Please.”
Dragging the tip of the blade down her neck, I lightly nick her collarbone, and her body reacts with a shudder. Moaning for me, Quinn tilts her head to the side, exposing her throat. Sinking my cock inside of her slowly, I graze the blade to the sensitive flesh beneath her ear, smearing blood on her skin.
“Oh, God,” she cries, bucking her hips, matching my strokes. “Oh, God.”
“God isn’t here right now,” I confirm, nicking her skin again.
Again.
And again.
Suddenly, smoke pours into the room, and the smell of gasoline becomes overwhelming. Flames erupt around us, starting off small, and then growing larger. Quinn stares up at me with fear, unsettled, as I continue to fuck her mercilessly.
“Ghost,” she chokes out.
“You’re safe. Take off my mask, baby,” I instruct, and she listens. “That’s my good girl. Now put it on.”
And she obeys again, pulling the Ghostface mask over her head.
Halloween-themed music roars through the house, as the smoke thickens, and the bright light from the flames intensifies. Agonizing screams from the fear and pain of being trapped in the house and burned alive echo through the halls.
My body is thick with sweat from the intense heat. I make sure to keep my attention on the raging fire, which creeps its way across the ceiling, burning the wood structures. Slamming into her, I drop the knife, lifting her leg over my hip so she can take me deeper. And she comes for me, gripping my dick tight, her innocent little cries stifled from the mask.
“Fuck, baby,” I groan, entering her harder.
And I find my release with her, lungs burning, choking, and grunting with each stroke, now surrounded by a blanket of smoke.
Seeing nothing but black.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Scooping her into my arms, and holding her tight, I bolt through the doorway exiting the house. I carry her outside, where we can finally breathe, my dick still hanging out of my pants.
All that matters is her.
Her safety.
Michael and Jason race toward us, as I drop to my knees and lay her on the grass, the house bursting into flames behind us. Windows explode and glass shatters. Police and fire engine sirens roar in the distance. Yanking the mask over her head, my heart hammers against my ribcage at the thought of losing her.
“Quinn,” I urge, lightly smacking her face.
“Ouch,” she murmurs, and a smile plays at the corner of her lips. “What was that for?”
Sharply exhaling, I shake my head at her in disbelief.
“I’m okay, Ghost,” she whispers, gently cupping my face with her hand. The vulnerability that washes over me from her touch catches me completely off guard. “I’m safe with you.”
Yeah, you are, little Quinn.
More than you know.
