Icome back to the manor later that evening, with red-rimmed eyes and a tangle of emotions churning in my stomach. I can’t say anything to anyone. I know that, not even Jaxon yet, until I decide what to do. I’d managed to not cry until I left my mom’s house, but all the way back, I’d had tears running down my face, running through the entire story in my head over and over again. Now, I sit outside for a moment to get myself back under control before walking inside, only to find Cayde there waiting for me as I come through the door.
“Oh—hey.” I force a smile, but privately I can feel my heart sinking.Of course, he or Dean, or both, are going to want to take you to bed. You’ve been gone all weekend.“I’m really tired, I—”
“We have a surprise for you.” Cayde looks at me; his expression is almost sheepish. “We didn’t really know what time you were getting back, so we’ve just kind of been waiting around.”
I stare at him, my mouth almost literally dropping open in shock. I’d completely forgotten to text him or Dean and let them know that I was on my way back, which ordinarily would have resulted in a punishment of some kind. That, combined with the fact that they apparently planned some sort ofsurprisefor me, has me absolutely speechless.
It’s not the first time they’ve done something nice since they rescued me. But I’d thought maybe something like the carnival date and the sex that followed was an outlier, a way for them to get over their guilt about what happened. But—now they’re doing something nice again. Somethingsweet. Something that a boyfriend would do.
Cayde smirks, seeing the expression on my face. “Don’t worry, by the way,” he adds as he gestures for me to follow him. “I haven’t forgotten that you didn’t text us you were on your way. We were really fucking worried. But we have a different kind of punishment planned for you tonight.”
Oh fuck.My heart thuds in my chest, wondering if the surprise isn’t sweet at all, but something actually awful, like the tracker Dean threatened me with. I feel a twinge of nausea in my stomach. My anxiety has already been high all day after the conversation with my mother. This just makes it spike even more until I feel shivery and nervous as we walk towards the movie room.
I’ve only been in here once or twice. It’s the most ridiculously outrageous thing I’ve ever seen, with a screen that takes up most of one wall and has a picture so clear that you can see individual pores—some kind of UHD 4k or something like that. I don’t know anything about televisions—and every game system you can think of. Seriously, there are multiple consoles, a “smaller” screen on either side of the large one—for multiplayer games, I guess—and plenty of other controllers and tech and all kinds of stuff lying around. There are shelves of movies and games, and I’ve always been afraid to touch anything in here because god forbid I mess something up.
But all of that isn’t what catches my eye when I walk in this time. This time, it’s the fact that someone has moved the adjustable couches to make one giant, cozy couch bed, big enough for six people, let alone three. Not only that, there are thick, fluffy throw blankets and pillows scattered across it, boxes of movie candy and a big bucket of popcorn, and movie-style soda cups.
“The sodas are spiked,” Dean says with a smirk. He’s leaning against the back of the couch, in fuckingpajamas. Pajamas. Cayde is wearing his usual black sweatpants that cling to him distractingly and a tight white t-shirt. Dean is wearing a checkered pajama set that should be on some excessively rich sixty-year-old man but instead somehow looks sexy on him. Like—I want to unbutton every button of the shirt and lick my way down his chest sexy, which makes absolutely no fucking sense.
“This is the surprise?” I blurt out. “Seriously? A movie night?”
“Don’t you like it?” Cayde almost sounds concerned, and I turn to look at him, flabbergasted.
“I just—I didn’t expect—”
Dean shrugs. “See? This was our ulterior motive. We wanted you to be gone for the weekend so we could set this up.”
Part of me just can’t believe it. I can’t believe that this is real, that they went to this much effort—or had someone go to this much effort—all for me. That they actually cared enough and that this isn’t some kind of trap.
“Go change into something comfy,” Cayde says with a grin. “I mean it, actually comfy. We’ll get a movie queued up. It’s October, so we can go with old scary movies or like—real horror.”
“Old scary. LikeNightmare on Elm StreetorHalloweenor something.” I’ve spent the weekend with my mother watching cheesy horror, so I don’t want to do that again. It’ll just bring back the memory of how happy those first couple of days were before I brought up the article. But I also don’t have the stomach for real, dark blood and gore right now. Something with bad CGI and jump scares seems like more of the ticket, so to speak.
I almost feel like I’m in some kind of alternate reality when I go back in. Dean has the first oldHalloweenmovie queued up, and I wind up in between them on the couch, snuggled up under the blankets as we eat popcorn and movie candy and watch the so-bad-it’s-good slasher flick.
It feels good—toogood. I find myself forgetting about all the secrets that Mia and I have dug up, about all the things Cayde and Dean have done to me in the past, all the reasons why I want to get myself and my mother the fuck out of Blackmoor, and instead of losing myself in the warmth of them on either side of me, in the sound of Cayde’s laugh and the way Dean’s deep groan sends shivers down my spine even when it doesn’t have to do with anything sexual. I find myself disappearing into the scent of Cayde’s deodorant and Dean’s lingering cologne, and I find myself wishing Jaxon was here too, making dry and sarcastic comments about the quality of the movie we’re watching.
I want this to be real. I want it to be normal. I want all of the reasons why Ishouldn’twant it to disappear. And most of all, like the night of the carnival, I don’t want it to end and have to return to reality.
We’re somewhere through the second movie when they start touching me. Dean’s hand skims up my thigh; Cayde brushes my hair away from my face, his fingers running over the rim of my ear and down my neck. It’s not a sexual touch, not really, but as they continue to brush their fingers over my arm, my wrist, my hip, my waist, I can feel my breath start to hitch in my throat, my skin flushing. I know what they’re both capable of, and I remember Cayde’s warning—we haven’t forgotten about your punishment.
Ihad, just for a little while. I’d forgotten they intended to punish me at all. Now I can’t really imagine what it could be in this setting. This feels cozy and romantic, not like floggers and belts and canes.
But as the credits start to roll on the second movie, I see Dean and Cayde exchange a glance. And then, before I can open my mouth to say anything, Dean has grabbed my arms, turning me on the couch so that I’m laying backward on his lap as he turns to face Cayde while sitting cross-legged.
He takes my arms, sliding his hands up them slowly as he bends them and holds my wrists together above my head with one long-fingered, strong hand, and then I see the grin on Cayde’s face as he looks at Dean.
“Give me her panties once you get them off of her,” Dean says, and Cayde nods before tossing the blanket I’d tucked around myself aside.
I know he’s about to undress me before he ever hooks his fingers into the elastic waist of my pajama pants, pulling them down my hips. I wince because I know he’s going to see the wet spot on my panties that’s already there, evidence that their light touches were turning me on before we ever got this far. And from the look on his face, he sees it almost immediately.
Cayde presses between my thighs, his finger pushing against the damp spot on my pussy with a grin on his face. “Already nice and hot for us, aren’t you?” His words sound like the old Cayde, but there’s no bite to them this time, no cruelty. Just pleasure in how easily I get wet for them, in the embarrassed flush on my cheeks as he pushes his finger harder against my still-covered pussy. I can’t help but wriggle a little, a burst of pleasure running over my skin.
Dean reaches down to cup my breast with his other hand, tugging up my tank top slowly as Cayde pulls my panties off so that they’re exposed to the cool air in the room. My nipples harden even more, and Dean chuckles, pinching one between his fingertips as I gasp, squirming under his touch.
I feel myself flush even more as Cayde reaches over me, handing Dean my panties, and then to my horror, I feel Dean start to wrap them around my wrists—tying me up with my own panties.
And then he slides out from under me, standing up with a wicked gleam in his eyes and a clear erection pressing against the front of the checkered pants as he starts to unbutton the shirt, slowly, one button at a time just as I’d imagined doing myself.