He shifts beneath me, and I force my eyes open, gazing down at him as I remove my fingers from inside me and slide theminto my mouth. “Mmm, do you want to taste me?” I ask, my throat humming.
He nods rapidly. “Oh, fuck yeah,” he says, opening his mouth wide.
I plant my hands firmly on his chest and scoot my pussy lips across his cock, inching my way over him, leaving a trail of moisture in my wake, until my ass sits almost on his neck, before lifting my body and lowering myself down on his face. His tongue plunges inside me, sending lightning through my thighs as it twirls about searching for the juices it longs for. I rock into his face, rubbing my clit across his nose as I lean fully forward, reaching for the handle of the pot above his head. I bring the hot candy corn closer, resting it just above his scalp on the altar as I slide backward off his face.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his face glistening. “I want you to bust in my mouth.”
I grip his cock tightly, stroke it and press it inside my pussy, forcing its entire length into me. His eyes roll back as I rock into him hard and relax, hard and relax, hard and relax until I feel the tell-tale tingle of my orgasm racing to the surface. “It’s coming. Close your fucking eyes and open wide,” I say as I continue rocking.
His eyes pinch close, and his mouth flies open, waiting to receive my pussy juices. I sit on his face, letting him taste me. It’s something that I usually don’t allow. Mastyx is the only one who is allowed to taste me—to eat me. But I’m caught up in the moment and press my luck, trying to have another man taste my pussy juices for the first time.
I slide off his face, his lips, and the area around his mouth, glistening with my fluids, his mouth still hanging open with a smile. I grip the pot of hot candy corn, plug his nose, and pour it into his open mouth. His eyes fly open as he tries to scream, but the molten candy bubbles in his throat, choking out his cries forhelp as it slowly begins to harden. I rest the pot back above his head, and lean forward, grabbing my wooden candle wick and plunging it in the center of his orifice, holding it there gently as it dries around it. Tears drain down both sides of his face as his body trembles beneath me. I grin broadly and say, “Now, you be a good boy and hold still. This will only hurt for a moment.” I release the wick, grab my Jack Skellington Zippo from my table, and light the wick as I stare into his eyes, blown wide open in shock as he suffocates.
My pussy swells and tingles as I drop the Zippo and rub my clit in a circular motion, bursting onto his face as I cry out, “Oh, Mastyx, my incubus, I fucking need you. I call you here on Halloween night, beneath the light of the full moon. Come to me, my lover, accept this offering as a symbol of my devotion.”
The fire flickers higher and brighter as my lover receives my message from the pits of hell. I grab the wax spoon, plunge it into the thickening candy corn, close the dead and empty eyes of the Reaper beneath me, and pour a spoonful onto each of his eyelids. A bubble rises and pops in the pot as I rest the spoon inside and pick up my wax stamp, pressing its golden end evenly into each of the Reaper’s eye sockets, leaving the impression of a rose with a half skull peeking from its stem. I rest the stamp beside the pot of candy corn and smile down at my masterpiece—candle flickering inside his mouth, eyes sealed closed, soul ready to take when my lover makes his appearance.
I’ve had this planned for months, telling Mastyx that this night will be something special I’ve put together just for him, and I can’t wait for him to see. The flickering flame inside the Reaper’s mouth gives me another idea for a future art display. A jawbone candle holder. Yes, that will be lovely.
I swing my leg off the man beneath me and lower myself to the floor. It’s funny how the sight of a dead man in the middle of my living room never gets old—another benefit of having no frontwindows. I shrug and saunter to my double bedroom doors, throwing them open and rattling their transparent windows. My fingers glide across my black satin comforter as I crawl across its cool surface, lie face down, and close my eyes with a smile.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mastyx
The room heats up as he manifests beside me. I don’t move, don’t open my eyes, don’t breathe.
I’m still on my stomach, facing away from him on my bed. The floor creaks, and his footsteps grow distant as he walks away from me and into the living room.
A few seconds later, a whooshing sound tells me he’s sucked out the soul of the Reaper on the altar, accepting my gift. The room grows eerily quiet, and the heat on my back feels like the scorching sun reflecting off the ocean on a blazing day. It’s almost unbearable to the point where if I were on the beach, I’d have to go inside or take cover under an umbrella to avoid sun poisoning.
Only this isn’t a poison affecting me, it’s Mastyx, crawling onto the end of the bed. The heat from his body warms my feet, then my calves, and finally stops on my spine as he hovers over me. My shoulders tense up as his claws graze my bare flesh and drag their way from my upper spine down to my ass, where he squeezes my cheeks tightly, crushing them in his grasp before gripping my thighs and violently yanking my legs apart. “You’ve been a bad girl, my Little Sinner.”
I gasp but don’t move. He hates it when I try to squirm away from him. And by bad, does he mean like what I did was naughtyby leaving him such an extravagant display, or is he referring to letting another man taste me?
I pinch my eyes tightly closed, not wanting to see his face—not wanting to know if he’s speaking out of anger or lust. Although he wears the mask I bought for him, sometimes he keeps it off until he’s finished having his fill of me.
The wet lash of his long tongue whips my spine, and I recoil against its sting as he licks his way over my ass and thrusts it inside my pussy. I creep forward, my toes digging into the mattress, trying to escape the burning pain and pleasure of his tongue swirling inside me, holding in my screams.
He snatches my hips, his sharp claws hooking into my skin and his hands scorching my flesh like leather seats on a hot summer day as he removes his tongue and says, “Keep still, my Little Sinner.” His booming voice sends chills down my spine and tremors through my core.
I bite my pillow as he rams his tongue back inside me, slurping and licking every inch of my insides that he can reach. He lifts my bottom off the bed and slowly pulls his tongue out of me as he shifts me upright, my spine against his chest, his hot cock pressing into the space between my legs, and murmurs in my ear, the heat from his breath like a furnace firing for the first time. “You’re so fucking delicious. I could eat you every day for the rest of eternity and still feel famished.”
My throat closes as he wraps his tongue around my neck, holding it firmly, and my pussy pulses with anticipation, dripping wet and ready for him. I gasp for air as he rams his hot cock inside me, sending my body upward like a fire was just lit beneath me.
I don’t know how to describe how he feels inside me. If I tried, I’d say it would be a cross between orgasming and having your clit tattooed while getting railed by the best dick of your life. It’s excruciatingly pleasurable in a vicious sort of way. I’vegrown accustomed to what to expect from him. Sometimes he’s gentle, warm, loving and soft, kneading my body with his heat and pleasuring me for me. Other times, like this, when I’ve gone too far sexually with my sacrifice, he gets jealous, territorial, visceral. He doesn’t like it when I share my juices with anyone else; they are for him and him alone.
I knew that before I sat on the Reaper’s face, but in the moment, I didn’t care.
Now, as my head grows dizzy, and I feel my strength fading, a wave of regret washes over me.
I relax my body, forcing him to hold me upright as he spills his hot lava inside me, coating my interior walls and singeing my tender lining with his soft flame, making it too painful to allow anything or anyone else to enter or touch it, even me. He releases me onto the bed; my body thoroughly soaked in sweat from his touch. I lie there, gulping precious air as his tongue recoils away from me. “You’ve been a naughty little freak.” His tongue lashes hard against my ass like a whip, tearing my skin. Something wet trickles down the side of my ass cheek, and he swipes it with a clawed nail. He flips me over with both hands in one quick movement, so fast and sudden, my eyes flash open and lock in on his face as he straddles my thighs.
He’s wearing the white death plague mask, his fiery eyes flaming with desire through it. His tongue slides out of the bottom of the half mask’s narrow nose and extends to his long, pointed fingernail to lick the crimson from it.
My crimson.
I scan his muscular chest, so perfect, so flawless, and dig my nails into it, raking them down the front of him. He hisses as the wounds rip open and black fluid pours down the front of him, dripping on my stomach like melted onyx wax, setting my blood on fire with desire. He chuckles as the wounds close on their own and return to perfection. “Silly Little Sinner, you know you can’thurt me,” he says as he rests the full weight of himself on top of me and heats his body to a barely tolerable burn. “But I can hurt you—kill you even.”
