He rips off his mask, gently grabbing my arm as I stumble my way out of the room. “Violet, wait, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you it was me.”
“That’s . . . that’s not the problem. I’m not supposed to be anywhere near you.”
“Who the fuck told you that?” Now he’s angry. Not at me; even when I was an annoying teenager, Damon never got angry with me. He’s mad at Aaron, he just doesn’t know that.
I look into his eyes, the blue so familiar, like coming home after a long vacation. Damon was always someone I trusted with everything that was going on in my life. Someone I knew I could confide in without judgment. I could tell him. I could tell him what’s going on.
But my thoughts are interrupted by my smartwatch vibrating with an incoming text. It’s from Aaron. A pit of dread fills my stomach at the idea of Aaron even knowing Damon is in town. I have to get out of here.
“I’m sorry, Damon. I have to go,” I repeat, more urgently this time.
His fingers slip from my arm as I continue toward the exit.
By the time I make it back to my car, tears soak my face and my entire body is trembling. I finallypull out my phone and check the message from Aaron.
Aaron:
I’m sorry about the other night. Can we talk tonight?
What the fuck have I done?
Chapter Nine
Damon
FUCK.I blew it.
After eight years away, of constantly wondering what it would have been like if we had been together, I finally had my chance with Violet and I fucked it up. She’s always been the one for me; I’ve known that since the day I met her. I’ve been with other women, but none who I ever connected with like I did with Violet.
I shouldn’t have kept the mask on. I should have told her it was me right away. She looked terrified when she realized.
And what the fuck did she mean she’s not supposed to see me? Says who?
I slip back into the operating room—locking the entrance so no one else enters the house before it’s open. I need to take care of the raging hard-on Violet left me with. Not that it would have been her responsibility even if she stayed, but it’s certainly caused by her. By what we just did.
I pull up the video feed of the asylum room, rewinding to when the lights turn off. The night vision on the camera makes the image glow green, but Violet still looks beautiful. Hands braced on the counter, head thrown back and blonde waves cascading behind her. I take a screenshot of the moment before I pull out my cock, wrapping Violet’s panties I stole earlier around it, and hit play.
I give myself a few long, slow strokes as I watch the video of me getting down on my knees to worship Violet. Fuck, I can still taste her sweet pussy on my lips. My strokes get faster as her moans echo through the speakers, the sweetest music I’ve ever heard. My orgasm builds from deep inside, sending tingles of pleasure through my body. Between the image of Violet in pure ecstasy and how turned on I’ve been since she walked into the house, I’m coming within minutes, releasing into the black lace fabric.
•••
An hour later, I meet up with Alyssa for lunch before the fair opens this afternoon. It’s odd seeing her in person after all this time. Alyssa and I were always close growing up, but me moving away for school made us drift apart a bit, even though we talk often. I’ve seen photos throughout the years on social media and we video chat every now and then, but thatcouldn’t really prepare me for how mature she looks. She’s definitely not the teenager she was when I left.
“It’s so good to see you, Damon.” She greets me with a hug as soon as I get to the table.
“It’s good to see you, too,” I say as I hug her back.
“I asked Violet if she wanted to come, but she said she had work to do,” Alyssa tells me as we sit.
“What is she up to these days?” I ask, hoping it comes across as casual and not like I haven’t stopped thinking about Violet and what she’s doing for a single second since she walked into my haunted house. Since before then, if I’m being honest with myself.
My sister doesn’t seem to think twice about it. “She works for the local paper, covering arts and culture. Her current article is about the fair, I think. She wanted to go to school for psychology in California, but she never did. She claims she lost the passion for it, but I think her douchebag boyfriend convinced her not to.”
“Boyfriend, huh?” Is that who told her she couldn’t see me?
“Yeah, you remember that guy Aaron who took her to prom our junior year? They started dating our senior year and have been together ever since,” my sister tells me.
I tilt my head as I think back to high school. Aaron . . . did I know an Aaron back then? “Was he in your class?”
