Read A Dark & Creamy Night Online

Authors: Eliza DeGaulle

A Dark & Creamy Night (2 page)

Even under the mask, I could tell his expression was full of crap. "Let's just go the normal route. I don't want to risk getting lost tonight and missing the party."

 

"What, are you, scared? I didn't know I was taking a walk with poultry in a hood."

 

I gazed down at the ground. "I'm not chicken, I just think it's pointless...”

 

"Live a little. What's life without some adventure?"

 

A shake of my head and I took the Big Bad Wolf's hand, abandoning the sidewalk for the thick brush of the forest. "If I break an ankle or something tripping over a branch, I'm going to break yours in return."

 

"Stop being such a worrier."

 

Through the trees, we walked together. It'd still be about a half mile in the forest versus a mile on the sidewalk, but we lost the little bits of light the lamp posts and moon provided. It was nearly pitch black. A hoot. I jumped closer to Roman.

 

"Totally not a chicken in a red hood. It's an owl."

 

"Right. I knew that." I was scared of the forest. Thick, dark, and everything hiding in that darkness. It was just common sense to be afraid.

 

The crunch of autumn leaves beneath our feet sounded, making me wish they wouldn't, so I could hear if anyone, or anything was following us.

 

"Stop trembling. I'm here. For now. I think the only thing you really have to fear is me pissing my pants. I shouldn't have downed that jug of water before we left."

 

"Why the hell did you do that?"

 

"Hey, water's good for you. Do you think this body comes from drinking nothing but Pepsi and Mountain Dew? I'm doing a cleanse, because Lord knows I'm going to be drinking and eating terrible things at the party."

 

"Could show restraint and just have a single beer or two, like I do."

 

"Hey, I gotta play the part. A wolf doesn't eat and drink like a chicken." We took a few more steps in the crunchy forest. "Goddamn, I don't think I can put this off. I'm going to find a tree and fertilize it. Wait here." He broke away from me.

 

"Where are you going?" I reached out, taking his arm again.

 

"Taking a piss. You told me you didn't get off on it, and I don't like people watching."

 

"But - alone. Don't like." I pleaded, like a 8 year old who didn't want to be abandoned by her mother.

 

"You can be in the forest a minute alone. Not like I'll be far. Just chill." He snapped his arm away from me and headed off to a big, thick tree that would block me from his sight.

 

I gulped, a cold shiver ran down my spine. It was a cool night, but that was hardly the reason. More hoots from owls. Why the hell did I bite his bait of coming in here? You're a coward, Cait. You can't even watch slasher flicks without a blanket to hide under. Unfortunately, Roman loves them, so you get a lot of practice dodging those scenes.

 

But hiding under a blanket doesn't help there. I took the hood down, wanting to maximize my peripheral vision. There's nothing in the forest that can hurt you. Repeat: there's nothing in the forest that can hurt you. If there were actual wolves or predators, they would have been run out long ago, after they chomped on the first kid.

 

I pulled out my watch, and stared at it. A minute had passed since Roman went to take a leak. I took another breath. He wouldn't deliberately take forever just to skeeve me out? Yes, he would. God, I fucking loved the guy like crazy, but he knew how to be a dick. I took another deep breath. "Roman? Don't take forever. This isn't funny."

 

No response. I took some timid steps towards the biggest tree nearby, the tree I saw him disappear behind. The crunch of leaves and branches from my own feet startled me after having them silent for a time.

 

"Roman? Oh big bad wolf? Defenseless Red Riding Hood needs her big wolf teddy bear to cuddle with right now."

 

Nothing could have happened to him, right? He was just going off to take a piss against a tree. It's absurd to think something could have attacked him without me hearing it.

 

Someone stepped out behind me. I performed a three-foot leap backwards.

 

"You asshole! You scared the shit out of me." Roman stood there. He shrugged but didn't say anything. "Come on, let's get the hell out of here. This is giving me the heebee jeebies. You won. I'm a chicken in a red hood."

 

I grabbed him by the forearm and pulled him the general direction of the house party. He followed.

 

"Going to give me all sorts of phobias and nightmares.
Daddy
is going to have to cuddle me through them." I flashed him a grin. I was so relieved to have him at my side again.

 

As we went along the path, he pulled me off my path, his hand closing around my forearm instead.

 

"Where we going now? Speak up. Don't tell me you pissed out your larynx."  I wiggled my arm in his grasp.

 

His grip tightened. He pulled harder. It dawned on me. In spite of the same mask, the same clothes, and the same everything else, the touch was far from what I was used to.

 

This wasn't Roman.

 

"Let me go," I pleaded, hoping to keep my knowledge of his ruse quiet.

 

The protest went unheeded. I was being damn near dragged through the forest. If I stopped walking, I would be literally dragged, so I found myself stumbling behind him, fighting him, trying to get my arm back. I had no chance of overpowering his grip.

 

"Roman? Where are you? Help!" I called out, and his pace immediately quickened. With great force, he nearly pulled my arm out of the socket, leading me into a small clearing with a tall tree, a rope hanging down off it. Thinking of what that could possibly mean, I pulled my arm pack harder, deciding a dislocated shoulder was preferable to whatever this guy was planning.

 

He pulled my arms up, towards the ropes, and yanked them down to me. I swung my wicker basket full of candy at his face. It was about as effective as you'd expect, dropping uselessly to the ground.

 

"Roman? Help! Someone, help!" I continued to call out.

 

"Shut the fuck up." With a show of strength, he shoved me to the tree, his weight heavy against my back, pulling my arms up over my head.

 

"Let me go, please. I don't know what you want, I can give you money, just leave me alone. I need to find Roman and get to the party."

 

"Your hubby isn't coming." The gruff voice commented. There was no sweetness, only cruelty in his tone. "I more than took care of him."

 

"What did you do to Roman?" Concern dominated my gaze, locked firmly on him.

 

"Wouldn't you like to know, Red?" He tied the ropes deftly around my wrists, forcing them up and over my head. I fought him the entire time, but it was useless. I kicked at him, useless. Why did I put off all the advice about going to the gym? A little more muscle and I'd be less futile.

 

He pulled the rope down, a pulley system rigged to the tree forcing me straight, almost off the ground, making me more helpless, the tippy toes of my shoes touching the dirt. I fluttered my feet uselessly, as he stopped my motion with his strength, his stomach against my back, arms wrapping around my torso, hands around my breasts. I craned my neck, trying to get a better look at him, figure out if I had any clue who was doing this to me. He groped me, pressing down on my tits, squeezing my nipples, a tingling pain shooting through me.

 

"I've been waiting weeks for this. Saw you walking down the street with your hubby and knew that I had to have you. I always research my marks, know where they live, what they’re doing, waiting for the chance to strike where no one will find out. Scream your lungs out, bitch, because no one's going to save you."

 

The blood drained from my face as he pulled at my breasts, his reckless massage moving upwards toward the neck of my dress. He had all of Roman's clothes, his mask. Did he attack him and take all of his stuff? All to get at me? I felt a tinge of shame that I, in any way, brought harm to him. I cringed as rough fingers pressed against the flesh of my neck and hooked into the top of my garment. Continuing to show his strength, he pulled down, tearing away my thin white dress, slowly down my body. The cold air of the forest blew over my skin as I was left in only my underwear before him.

 

"Mmm mmm, you aren't disappointing me at all. Gonna enjoy taking you, your hubby ain't gonna want you after I'm done."

 

"He's my boyfriend." I responded, trying to think of some way out of this. "We haven't tied the knot yet, you know? Maybe we can do it nicely if you let me down. I can show how I can please a man." I didn't want to please this scumbag, but if the only other option was–

 

"Why would I even consider your offer? How you going to stop me, bitch? No, you're right here, how I like it. Whether you get to enjoy it is completely up to you."

 

There was a massive rush through my head. Adrenaline. I continued to squirm, throwing my feet into the tree I hung from, hoping I could somehow bounce off it, break something, get away. But all that happened was his strong hands on my body, the grunt of a strain through the mouth of the mask as he pulled the front of my bra apart. Ruined, just like my dress. He truly didn't give a damn, tossing the cups away and pushing me into the tree, my bare breasts against the scratchy bark, the steady breathing of his chest against my back.

 

His hand grabbed my head, he lifted the mouth of the mask, and his lips pressed onto mine, his tongue following right after. Bite him, Cait. Fight. Use every weapon at your disposal.

 

No. Although adrenaline commanded me to fight, I knew it was a bad idea. I was already at his mercy. Biting off his tongue would just make it worse for me. Who knows if he's hiding a lethal weapon? He did take care of Roman so quickly and efficiently, after all. I just endured his tongue slithering around my mouth, a sick, twisted perversion of romance.

 

"You know you like it. I bet you can't wait for a real man to take care of you, instead of some lightweight wuss. And even that wuss isn't going to want you after I'm done with you. You're gonna be no good to anyone."

 

I had a moment's relief with the realization that the way he took care of Roman wasn't a permanent one.

 

"You're lovin' this. This is the best when I break the bitch, make them realize they ain't nothing more than a slut, moaning and crying for any man's hands all over them." He continued to thumb around my breasts. I was his toy. He watched my face contort, deny him the pleasure of the reactions I'd give him as he played with my nipples. Pleasure, pain, it didn't matter – he just wanted to assure his dominance over me, that he had complete control of my body.

 

I finally gave him what he wanted, my mouth letting out low gasps of delight and irritation from his touch. His hands slid down my sides, his lips landing on mine again, continuing his idea of making out. I felt guilty that I was doing even doing these things with a man who wasn't Roman. Down to my panties, his hands circled around those dainty things, chosen to match my quaint, now torn and useless, little dress.

 

As he pushed them into my sex, panic claimed me more fiercely. I didn't want him to touch me down there. To violate me, to know – know what was going down there. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. The pressure of the panties pulling against my sides and my butt was immense. Fingertips slid to where I wanted them the least. My breath came more ragged, my shame growing immense as those digits slid over my clit, a pulse of electricity through me, and poked deeply into my slit.

 

"I fucking knew it. Your panties are drenched because you fucking want this. So, so bad, don't you, you little slut?"

 

I wanted this, didn't I? I told Roman that this was my sick, twisted fantasy. The fantasy I never expected to come true. But as it was, I found my body betraying me. I didn't want to be enjoying this. The crazy fear, my heart beating a thousand beats a minute, my utter helplessness. I just wanted to be free of him, back in my boyfriend's arms, safe. Not wanting him to go further.

 

But he did. That strong thick hand, that middle finger sliding over my clit and deep inside my pussy. His entire palm tickling that sensitive skin. Tears in my eyes, I moaned. I couldn't help it. I was so turned on, it was almost a physical, non-voluntary reaction to my assailant's touch. He kept pumping in his fingers. Knowing he loved nothing more than my reactions, any sound from my mouth was a literal symphony to him, proof that he wasn't a scumbag asshole, but simply a man giving me what I wanted all along.

Other books

MacCallister: The Eagles Legacy by William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone
I'm Your Man by Timothy James Beck
Pick Your Poison by Leann Sweeney
Annabelle's Courtship by Lucy Monroe
Cosmo by Spencer Gordon
Poison by Molly Cochran