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“Nope, I’m part of the setup crew, teardown is another group of volunteers. Did you want to leave?”
“Not yet.” With Anna’s hand in mine, I lead her to the maze opening, stepping around the sawhorses. I glimpse at her before stepping into the field, and watch her bite her lip just before her face is hidden in shadow. She’s silent, not uttering a single objection. The dirt cushions our footfalls as we slip between the carved-out rows. Leaves skitter across the paths, and the stalks almost glow in the silver moonlight, providing enough illumination to walk through the maze without a flashlight, even among the many shadows.
She makes a small laugh under her breath. “You took me skydiving and I took you to a corn maze.”
“Yeah.” I nod.
“That’s a pretty poor comparison, don’t you think?”
I smile down at her, the moon catching the curve of her cheek.
“Better than eating disgusting pizza and you falling asleep on me.” I give her a gentle nudge.
She makes a wincing sound. “Sorry about that.”
“You know I like spending time with you. I don’t care what we’re doing.”
She nods and we keep walking, her body close to mine. Anna navigates the maze as if she knows exactly where she’s going. I had to memorize it.
“How well do you know your way around?” I ask.
“Really well, it’s the same design every year. I’ve walked it countless times to take photos and hang the lights. Occasionally help guests find their way out.”
It’s less playful in the dark, more sinister, especially with the way the tall stalks close in around us.
“Guess there’s no getting lost, then,” I comment.
She chuckles softly. “I can pretend, if you want?”
“Nah. We can—”
“Wait,” she whispers, then drops my hand and hurries ahead.
It doesn’t take much for my strides to catch up, but she stops so suddenly I nearly collide into her. She raises her hand, pointing through a thin gap in the stalks. Light glows from the other side of the corn and I lean forward slightly to see what I already know has captured her interest.
Through the opening, there’s a lantern sitting on a blanket that’s been laid in one of the clearings, on top of it is an amorous couple with tangled limbs, seemingly oblivious to everything but each other. Their passionate sounds are soft but unmistakable.
Anna’s hand flies to her mouth and she begins to turn around, but I quickly step behind her, sliding my right arm around her waist, hauling her back against my front, and sidestepping into the shadows. She falters and reaches behind her, fisting the denim of my jeans to regain her balance.
The couple continues like we aren’t there—because they were instructed to. Her browser history flashes through my mind—the voyeurism searches she probably thought no one else ever saw. I don’t even remember how it came up, but my client, Eric, once mentioned that he and his wife, Brandi, are active in the local swinger scene. I was curious, and after a long tattoo session, I learned that they enjoy putting on a show.
Anna doesn’t know it, but this is a performance just for her.
She’s not the only one who likes to watch.
The woman throws her head back while straddling her husband, riding his cock.
Anna’s breathing changes, faster now, and she looks away out of guilt. “We shouldn’t—”
I cup my left hand over her mouth and direct her gaze back to the hot exhibition in front of us, and dip my mouth to her ear.
“Shhh,” I whisper. “Just watch.”
I can actually feel the adrenaline vibrating through her body. Her chest rises and falls, pulse ticking wildly against my arm. It’s so goddamn intoxicating, the way her fear and curiosity and excitement all mix together. I know that heady combination well.
With my head ducked down beside hers, I keep my attention fixed on her instead of on Eric and Brandi, making sure I don’t miss any sign of her being uncomfortable, and because her reaction is much hotter than anything else going on around us.
“Do you like watching him fuck her, Duchess?” I murmur, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.
