He reaches up, yanking my hands away. “Don’t you dare keep quiet, I want to hear you. I want everyone to hear you.”
He thrusts faster and faster. His words and the thought of someone hearing us, finding us, watching us makes the coil of warmth spread out from my core like a fucking tidal wave. I can’t stop it, it feels too good—it builds and swells as he slams his body against mine. I wrap my legs around the back of his hips, nails scraping into his shoulders, my whole body vibrating.
Heat courses through me like lightning as he drives into me. I moan wildly, unable to hold back as the sensations overwhelm me. "Yes, yes, right there!" I cry out, my voice echoing off the walls.
He groans, a deep, primal sound. One hand fists in my hair while the other grips my hip, holding me in place as he takes me with wild abandon. "You feel so good," he growls. "So fucking tight."
I'm lost to the intensity, my body no longer my own. It belongs to him, to this moment. I'm climbing higher and higher, chasing my release. I whimper. "I'm so close. I’m gonna come."
He reaches between us, finding my clit. He rubs firm circles and I nearly scream, my back arching off the wall. "Who’s going to make you come?" he growls.
“You are,” I pant. “You’re going to make me…” I can’t form words as I tip over the edge. My pussy clenches tight around his cock as the orgasm crashes through me in intense, shuddering waves. "Ahh, I'm coming!" I moan, seeing stars behind my closed eyelids.
He kisses me hard, swallowing my cries as his own body tenses. With a deep groan, he finds his release, emptying himself inside me.
Chapter
Fourteen
Hayes and I stand in front of the doors, each one painted a deep steely gray. My body feels relaxed now, it’s easier to move and think, but there’s still something unsettling, something I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Ready to get this over with?” he asks, his voice a low murmur.
In my head I debate the merits of leaving, and pull out my hidden mini bottle of whiskey and twist off the cap. “Which door are you taking?”
He tilts his head, considering. “Hey, where’d you get that?”
I take a swig of the bottle and pass it to Hayes. “Seems that one of the friendlier Everwood spirits has bequeathed me with a well-stocked minibar,” I say with a chuckle.
He takes a long gulp, then grins. “My room doesn’t have a minibar. We’re definitely sleeping in your room after this.”
I like the way he says it confidently, like we’re a real couple with no option of sleeping apart. I feel a goofy grin spread across my face and thank God it’s dark enough that he doesn’t notice.
“Alright,” he sighs, giving me a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’m going through this one, I guess. See you on the other side.”He pauses, like he wants to say more, but then just nods and steps through the doorway.
“Good luck,” I whisper, my voice almost swallowed by the darkness. I raise my hand in a little wave, but he’s already through, the door closing behind him with a soft thud. A faint scent of incense lingers in the air as it swings shut, and I’m left standing alone.
I exhale slowly, steeling myself. The sooner I start, the sooner this will all be over. I make my way down to the other end, choosing the last door I see. It’s heavy and creaks and pops when I tug it open.Oh look, it’s another dimly lit room. Inside the air is thick with a musty, old-book smell, mingled with a faint scent of something metallic and sour.
I really don’t like this.
The walls are decorated with gruesome masks, each one frozen in a disturbing expression of terror or agony. They’re watching, waiting, beady-eyed and slack-jawed, as I move deeper into the room. A rickety grandfather clock stands slanted in the corner, its wooden surface marred with deep scratches and draped with cobwebs that hang like ghostly shrouds. The clock face, partially obscured by a cracked glass pane, has faded Roman numerals, and its hands—bent and tarnished—move with a jerky motion that’s alarmingly fast. Tick-tock, time is running out.
They’ve certainly put a lot of effort into the horror aesthetic of this place. It’s pretty disturbing.
I walk around the perimeter, looking for clues—that’s the whole point of an escape room, right? Finding messages and clues to make your escape. But there’s nothing much in here. I don’t even see an exit. I slide my hands all over the clock, looking for levers or hidden compartments. Nothing but dust.
There’s an old wooden chest in the corner opposite the clock, its surface covered in a thick layer of grime and cobwebs. That’sgot to be where the clue is hidden, there’s nowhere else. I crouch down and tug at the rusty metal latch. It’s stuck, and I have to pull hard to get it to budge. As I yank, the sharp edge of the latch slices into my finger. I yelp in pain, feeling a warm bubble of blood.
“Damnit!” I hiss, pressing my finger to my mouth, tasting the metallic tang of my own blood.
I pull my hand into my sleeve to staunch the bleeding, making a mental note to find a bandage as soon as I’m out of here. Ignoring the throbbing pain, I lift the chest’s lid, a cloud of dust puffing up around me.
“What the...?” I mutter, staring into the chest. Inside is a narrow stairway that seems to stretch on forever, disappearing into an inky black void. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I peer down into the darkness, my pulse throbbing in my ears and in the fresh cut on my finger. “Fuck my life,” I grumble. Taking a deep breath, I climb over the side of the wooden chest and balance on the first step. The wood creaks under my weight; this shit better not break. I swallow hard, my mouth dry, and begin my descent. The stairs are steep, the wood worn smooth from years of use. If I fall, I’m screwed. Shit, I don’t ever remember signing a liability release waiver for this place.
The air grows colder with each step, a clammy chill seeping into my bones. Darkness engulfs me, interrupted only by the faint glow of light filtering down from the room above. I keep my hand on the rough stone wall, feeling my way forward, each step a blind leap of faith. “No way am I falling down these stairs,” I mutter, pulling my phone from the hidden pocket in my hoodie. I turn on the flashlight, the beam slicing through the darkness.
