Haunt

Chapter 9

9

Before I can think of what to say or do or scream , Harrow strides closer, reaching out to tilt my chin up to him, eyes studying mine from behind the mask. “Let me,” he murmurs, reaching out and grabbing Ravage by the back of the throat. When the other man growls his protest, Harrow turns on him, lifting his chin in a taunting challenge. “Rav…” he warns, grip tightening. “Do you want a lesson on how to behave? In front of Noa, no less?”

That definitely shouldn’t make my stomach twist in anticipation, and I drop my gaze to the floor, glaring at the gun that’s a few yards away. If it had been loaded, I wouldn’t be in this mess right now. Probably. Though, I’d also be a murderer, which doesn’t sound so great either.

But the thought makes me giggle, and I press a hand over my mouth even as the two of them look at me. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” I ramble, closing my eyes.

“What’s so funny, princess?” Ravage relaxes into Harrow’s hold, leaning up to nuzzle his mask against the taller man’s throat in a show of submission before Harrow lets go of him.

“No, it’s just…” I shrug my shoulders. “Here I am, debating what’s worse. The gun being not loaded, so now I’m probably going to get murdered by two men in Halloween masks at the wrong fucking extreme haunt . Or the gun being loaded, making me a fucking murderer for shooting you in the throat.” Closing my eyes hard, I drop my hand to press them both against the wall behind me before lifting my face and opening my eyes to look between them. “And I can’t decide which would be worse.”

They trade a look and Ravage scoffs softly under his breath, reaching out to tuck my hair that’s completely come undone from the ponytail it had been in behind my ear. “I was never in any danger,” he purrs. “If I hadn’t known the gun was empty, I wouldn’t have let you press it to my throat.”

I shake my head, grinning humorlessly. “That’s probably not the comfort you think it is.” Sucking in a breath, I press back against the wall behind me, the concrete cool against my palms. “Let me go. Please,” I say, keeping my voice level and no note of pleading or begging anywhere to be found. “I really, literally won’t tell anyone. What would I even say? ‘Some crazy people in masks killed people in a warehouse that I don’t know the address of, officer’?” I tilt my head to the side, glaring at them incredulously. “Come on. Who’s going to believe that?”

The two of them trade a look before Ravage sighs and shakes his head. “I expected begging,” he admits. “I’m pretty thrilled you aren’t begging for us not to kill you, admittedly. That gets really boring, really fast. But…”—he tips his head to the side, studying me from behind the skeleton mask—“we still have a lesson to teach you about making good choices, remember?” He casts a look at Harrow just as I glance to the side, debating whether I could make it to the nearest door.

“We’ll take her to your room. I guess it was worth you dragging that stupid mattress in there after all.” Harrow cuffs Ravage lightly on the shoulder, making the other man sneer a laugh.

When he turns to me, I bolt, but I only make it two steps before I’m hauled off my feet and thrown over Ravage’s shoulder, my breath leaving me in a gasp. “Put me down!” I protest, kicking against his chest. My hand comes up, slipping against his shoulder, as I try to get some kind of leverage to kick him again.

At least, until he pins my legs against his chest. “So feisty , princess,” he laughs. “I love it. But I don’t need my chest all bruised up, so you’re gonna have to wait until we get there.” He strides purposefully toward one side of the room, his foot connecting with the door hard enough to make me wince and causing it to slam open on its hinges.

Harrow follows him, casual and unbothered, just shaking his head at the now-dented door before he closes it behind him and trails us down a hallway. I glare up at the animal mask, meeting his thoughtful gaze before dropping my eyes back down to the floor and the occasional glimpse of Harrow’s boots.

Another door is shoved open in front of Ravage, and suddenly I’m no longer on his shoulder. My feet hit the floor hard, and the man catches me, holding onto my arms until I regain my balance. Not that I plan on thanking him.

Why the hell would I?

Instead, I look at the door, making one last desperate move for it just as Harrow closes it behind him, and a hand comes up to twist in the front of my hoodie. “There you go again, making bad choices,” he sighs softly with a tinge of disappointment in his tone. He walks forward without letting go of me, backing me up across the space until I’m in the middle of the windowless, starkly lit room. I glance around, looking for anything to help me, only seeing a large armchair that’s definitely seen better days, and a mattress covered in mismatched blankets in the corner.

“How prison chic,” I mutter, glaring at Ravage. “It’s very you.”

He snorts and collapses into the armchair to face us, one leg folding over the other. “I’d watch what you say if I were you, princess. Harrow is a lot less playful and… forgiving than me. If you’d cut him with that knife and kicked him off that table, well…” He rolls his shoulders in a shrug. “He might not have seen it for the fun game it was.”

Frankly, I hadn’t seen it as such a fun game either. But I figure now isn’t the time to press that point. Especially when Harrow jerks me forward, lifting me onto my toes by my hoodie. “Get on your knees.” His voice is soft. Casual. Like he’s asked me to pass a box of pasta.

“What?”

He doesn’t repeat himself, but his dark eyes narrow behind his mask. He sighs, switching his grip to yank me harder onto my toes, still not repeating himself before he finally lets go. His eyes flash in a silent, pointed warning, and I find myself slowly getting to my knees, hoping not to bruise them any more than they already are.

I can’t help the rush of anxiety that goes through me as he just fucking stares at me from behind the mask, eyes narrowed shrewdly. But I do sit back on my heels, figuring I have nothing better to do. At least, until his voice makes me tense up all over again.

“Did you notice, Rav…?” His voice is soft. Casual. Almost affectionate as Harrow taps the toe of his boot on the floor. “Back in the lobby, when our little unexpected visitor was supposed to be watching the video, she wasn’t paying attention. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of my boots…could you, little girl?”

When I don’t answer, he reaches out to grip my chin and forces me to look up at him. “I asked you a question.”

“I…” This is definitely not what I’d expected him to say. “Y-yeah, I guess. Your boots are pretty cool.”

“I think you like them a bit more than that. I was waiting for you to start drooling over them. So you can do that now.” He releases me, staring at me expectantly, but I just…look at him.

“You want me to what?” I ask, stunned and not sure my brain is working right.

“I want you to show me just how much you like my boots. Do you need some help with that?” When I don’t answer or move, seeing as I’m too stunned and way too confused about what he means, he reaches out to tangle his fingers in my hair. He gives me a second, then two, before suddenly he drags me down to the floor, shoving my face to his boot and holding me there. “Show me how much you like my boots, pretty girl,” Harrow purrs. “I think my meaning is pretty clear at this point, and you’re not stupid.”

I’m not. But this isn’t something I’ve ever considered being into, and it feels more than a little embarrassing. I feel like a fucking dog being shoved to the floor for doing something bad, and I can’t help but writhe, my fingers pressing to the concrete floor as I start to push up against his hand again.

But he doesn’t let me. He shoves me back down until my nose is pressed to the smooth leather of his boot, hard enough to sting. “Okay!” I gasp. “I won’t try to get up?—”

“And I’ll let go once you know what to do.” His words cut me off smoothly, and he holds me in place, stuck to them. Fuck , this is humiliating. I can’t stop thinking about how Ravage is only a few feet away, watching me squirm on the floor with my face against Harrow’s boot.

I’m also not being given much of a choice about it, however. With a soft sound of protest I open my mouth, licking over the smooth surface of his boot with a shudder at the taste of dirty leather. I can’t let myself think about what he’s stood in, or how much blood he’s gotten on these. I can only focus on licking over the toe of his boot and hoping he’ll decide it’s good enough in the next few seconds.

“Don’t sit up. Not until I tell you that you’re done,” Harrow warns. He uncurls his fingers from my hair and stands up straight, hands in his pockets as he stares down at me. I’m too terrified of him to do anything other than what he tells me. So I continue to run my tongue over the leather with a shudder, one hand inching up to grip the back of his ankle as I lean forward to lap at the leather surrounding his ankle as well.

I swear I hear a soft murmur of approval from the man above me, but it’s hard to tell over Rav’s delighted groan from the armchair. “Now I wish I’d worn boots like yours,” he chuckles. “ Fuck , I bet she looks so good from your angle, huh?”

Harrow doesn’t reply, making me wonder if it’s a rhetorical question. But a few seconds later he moves his foot back, giving me hope that I can sit the hell up and stop with this humiliation.

Until he shifts his other boot, placing it expectantly just under my face on the dirty cement. I don’t even look up at him. I can feel the embarrassment burning my face, and I know I’m probably red as hell as I give the same treatment to this boot.

Finally he reaches down again, dragging me up to my knees even though I can’t meet his eyes. “Don’t you have something to say to me?” Harrow asks patiently, his grip in my hair is firm and unyielding. When I look up at him, a baleful expression in my eyes, he chuckles. “I’ll help you out before you say something I’ll make you regret. This is where you thank me, little girl.”

“For what?” I snap before I can stop myself.

“For letting you lick my boots. Unless you want to do it again until you find a reason to be grateful.”

I definitely don’t want to do that. Not with the continued taste of leather lingering on my tongue and embarrassment burning in my face. But thanking him is almost just as humiliating. “Thank you,” I whisper finally, not looking at him.

“Do better.” Harrow shakes me by the hair like a dog. “I know you can do better.”

“ Thank you ,” I hiss, glaring up at him. But the warning in his eyes makes me drop my shoulders, and I widen my eyes instead. “Thank you,” I murmur, reaching out to press a hand gently to his thigh. “For letting me appreciate your boots. I—You were right. I really like them, and they were super distracting earlier in the lobby.”

“Good girl. See?” He lets go of me, lifting one foot to shove me back onto my thighs. “I knew you could do it.”

Before I can even move, Ravage is there, dragging me up by my hoodie and across the floor amidst my shrieks of protest. He tosses me onto the mattress, following me down onto it a second later to cage me in.

“Oh, you can fight me all you want, princess,” he laughs, grabbing my wrists and slamming them to the mattress over my head as I go to grab him. “I like it. It’s so fun when you’re fiery.” He grips the hem of my hoodie in one hand, shoving it up my body.

“Stop!” I protest, lashing out at him and managing to knee him in the hip. “I don’t—” But he’s definitely not giving me a choice. In seconds, he wrestles my hoodie off of me, his grip shifting to pin me to the bed by my throat.

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” His other hand is bare and strokes down my chest, brushing over the swell of my breasts before pressing down against my hips. “So gorgeous that I don’t think I want to share you. Well…” He glances over his shoulder as Harrow drops to sit at the side of the mattress, watching carefully. “I’ll share you with him, but that’s only because we share everything. Anyone else, though?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think that would be okay, princess. You get it.”

“I really don’t.” I kick out at him again and both of them move. Harrow grabs my wrists and pins them as he slides behind me to pull me back against his chest. “What are you doing?” I sneer at him, though when he looks at me I shy away, dropping my gaze to his hands.

“At least you know who to be afraid of,” he chuckles, wrapping an arm around me to pin my arms at my sides.

Ravage kneels between my knees, not letting me press my thighs together. He reaches up to stroke his fingers down my thighs, moving to grab the heel of my sneaker in one hand and yanking it off. I fight him for the other, but soon enough it’s on the floor with the first, with Ravage’s fingers tangled in the fabric of my leggings.

“You’re going to fight me for them, huh?” he laughs. “You’re going to be such a bitch about me pulling them down, I just know it. But that’s okay.” He doesn’t try to pull them down. He reaches up to grip the waistband, yanking on it until I hear the fabric ripping down the seam.

And he makes it look so easy. Even though I’m writhing and fighting against Harrow’s hold, Ravage just rips my leggings apart like it’s one of the easiest things he’s done all day. As I watch, they’re reduced to stripes of fabric, and he easily yanks them off of my ankles to toss the ruined clothing somewhere else.

Leaving me only in my Ghostface mask underwear.

“Oh, now that is just adorable. How precious ,” Ravage purrs. He trails his fingers up my thighs, hooking his fingers in my underwear and dragging them down as well. “Do we have a little horror lover? Are we making this real enough for you?”

“Fuck you,” I hiss, though there’s a lot less bite in my words than before as I try to press my thighs together to hide myself from him.

“Yeah.” Ravage laughs, his fingers digging into my thighs. “That’s absolutely the plan, princess.” He plunges two fingers into me without warning, groaning at the feeling of my pussy clenching down around him. “You’re still loose for me,” he purrs in approval. “I knew it was worth it to finger your pretty pussy earlier. God.” He scissors his fingers and pulls away, reaching up only to smear his fingers across my cheek. “She doesn’t even need me to prep her, Harrow. She’s begging for it.”

“Maybe for you.” Without warning, Harrow shoves me forward, forcing me onto my knees until Ravage can grab my hair to keep me on all fours. He moves behind me, and I hear the buckle of his belt clink as he undoes it and slides down his zipper again.

Remembering how intimidating he’d felt in my mouth, I whimper, glancing up at Ravage as if he has any intention of helping me out. “Don’t,” I murmur, trying to tug free. “Please, I?—”

“It’s a bit late for that.” Ravage’s voice is rough with excitement, and he undoes his own belt with hurried motions, able to do it with one hand as he settles back on his heels, thighs spread, to unzip his cargo pants as well. “Come here, gorgeous girl.” He’s barely freed his half-hard length as he drags my face down to him, not giving me a moment before he’s sliding his tip against my lower lip.

“Don’t be shy now. I might not be wearing the pretty boots like Harrow, but you can show me how much you love my cock anyway, can’t you?” His grip in my hair is tight, as his fingers scrape against my scalp.

I really don’t know what else to do, unless I want to bite him. But that definitely feels like it’ll get me murdered. Not to mention…I swallow hard, fighting the rise of anticipation in my body and the tinge of heat between my thighs.

I definitely shouldn’t be into this. At all.

Opening my mouth, I lick at his tip, realizing he’s giving me the time to do what I want instead of shoving himself between my lips like Harrow had done. He shudders under my tongue, and boldly I lick a stripe up the underside of his cock to the sound of his moans.

But I’ve forgotten Harrow, somehow. At least until his hands find my hips, making me flinch, and he runs his hands down my thighs, then smooths them up over my ass.

“Relax.” I hear him murmur. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Noa.” He moves closer to my entrance every time his gloves stroke against me, teasing me and threatening me at the same time.

“Put it in your mouth, princess,” Ravage growls hoarsely. “I’m tired of you teasing me.” I do what he says, sinking down with his length against my tongue until he bumps the back of my throat.

Harrow takes that moment to slide two fingers into me, drawing a sound from my throat that must be good for Ravage, given how he curses under his breath.

“You were right, I suppose.” Harrow’s voice is so…uncaring. Just so bland as he remarks on my body. “Usually you rush things. I figured you were lying to me about her being ready to take us. But”—he adds another finger, ignoring my whine of protest—“you were right this time.”

“I’m always right—Fuck, princess. Your mouth feels so good.” He thrusts up against my lips. “Can you take more for me, sweetheart?”

“She can take all of you.” Harrow’s fingers are suddenly gone, and I can’t help the whimper of frustration that sounds too loudly in the space between us. Kindly, they don’t remark on it. I can feel Harrow shifting on the bed behind me, his hands coming up to stroke my hips again. “Just relax for me. Like I said, little girl, I’m not trying to hurt you.” I feel the brush of him against me, and it’s torture that I can’t see him as he slides his cock between my folds.

“Is she wet for you?”

“Oh, she’s very into this.” Harrow teases me with his tip, barely entering me before he once again just slides his cock between my parted thighs. “Relax,” he murmurs again, stroking his fingers down my spine. “Don’t want you tensing up or biting Ravage. I don’t think he’ll like that.” His hand splays against my lower back, holding me in place, and he presses into me, his cock stretching my walls and sinking deep into my body without stopping.

He’s so big that it gets uncomfortable quickly. But even when I whine in protest, he doesn’t stop. The only time he does go still is when he’s buried as deep as he can go inside of me, his hips pressed flush against the backs of my thighs.

Ravage’s hand flexes in my hair. “Does her pussy feel as good as I’m dreaming it does?” he asks, moving my head however he wants. It’s just as embarrassing as everything else, to have him fucking himself with my mouth and just using me like this.

It really shouldn’t be so hot. I definitely shouldn’t be into this at all, and it’s hard to focus on the burn of discomfort when the feeling of being full is so satisfying.

Sex has never been like this for me before. But then again, I’ve never been fucked by two murderers on a filthy mattress in a warehouse before. Maybe this is just my kink.

A very problematic kink.

“Better.” Harrow pulls back to thrust into me hard, dragging a yelp from my throat. “She’s so greedy for me. Whenever I pull out…” He does it again as if illustrating his point, before slamming back into me. “She clenches down around me. Greedy. ” But he says it like praise, holding me in place with his hand on my back while he fucks me.

It’s hard to focus on just that, however. Especially when Ravage gets more insistent, dragging me up and down by my hair and making me choke on his cock. “Good girl,” he praises, his voice breathy. “Mmm, that’s such a good girl. You’re just such a perfect play toy for us, aren’t you, princess?”

I can’t answer, but I doubt that he really wants me to. The two of them talk over me, my brain fogging up a little bit at the dual stimulation of being fucked and having Ravage fucking my mouth. It’s a new feeling to feel this floaty during sex, or at all, and I can’t help it when I relax into both of them, something inside of me seeming to unwind as I start to enjoy it.

“There you go.” Harrow’s words are a growl of approval. “Look at you being so good for us.”

“ Fuck , I want to come in her pussy,” Ravage whines. “This is so unfair.”

Harrow’s soft laugh meets my ears, but I’m barely listening to their words. They banter back and forth, until suddenly I’m jerked upward to my knees, my lips parted as I register the absence of Ravage’s cock.

Harrow sits up as well, his cock slipping free from me, and turns me to face him. “Oh…” His eyes narrow behind his mask. “Well, well. Look at you, Noa.”

Ravage rests his head on my shoulder, tilting his chin questioningly.

“Our little girl is in subspace, aren’t you?” Harrow croons, but he’s obviously not expecting an answer. He drags me down over him, laying down on the bed with his hands on my hips. “Come on. You can have it back. Take my cock like a good girl.” He urges me down, one hand going down to position himself so that when he presses me against him, his cock slides back inside of me, pulling a groan from my lips.

“Just like that.” He starts fucking me again, hands on my hips as he rolls his hips up, grinding into me.

“ Fuck ,” Ravage growls. “Don’t let her look back at me, okay?” His words only make me want to look more, but Harrow reaches up, grabbing my face in both hands to make me look down at his mask with the red-painted upside down cross on his forehead.

The first touch of Ravage’s tongue on my inner thigh makes me flinch in surprise, and I buck my hips, trying and failing to turn to look at him while Harrow laughs. He does it again, his tongue lapping at my entrance that’s stretched around Harrow’s cock. Judging by the shudder that goes through the man under me, I have a feeling Ravage’s tongue isn’t only on me.

“Rav…” Harrow’s voice is low, and there’s definitely a warning in it. The man behind me chuckles, his hands coming up to stroke over my hips.

“I’m gonna need you to be so good for us, princess,” Ravage murmurs, the feel of the latex of his mask on my shoulder proving that he’s put it back on. “I promise it’ll be so good for you. Even though it’ll definitely hurt at first.”

I blink a few times, trying to form a coherent thought while Harrow thrusts slowly, languidly into me. “What…” But I don’t need to finish the question when I feel Ravage’s fingers stroke along my folds, finger dipping into me beside Harrow’s cock. “N-no!” I protest, trying to jerk away only for Harrow to drag me back down.

“Don’t be like that,” Ravage croons. He adds another finger, sliding them alongside Harrow’s cock. “You don’t have to be so scared, princess. I know what I’m doing, and I promise you can handle this if you just relax for me.” He continues to force me to take his fingers, moving them with Harrow’s thrusts before finally pulling them free.

“I can’t,” I gasp, fighting against Harrow’s grip on my hair and hip. “That’s—I really can’t ? —”

“You really can,” Ravage growls. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Just…relax.” He grabs my thighs, holding me in place. At the first brush of his cock along my folds, I sob, sinking into Harrow’s hold until my face is buried in his throat.

A shudder goes through me, but I try my hardest not to tense up. Pleading whines leave my mouth, though I hear Harrow’s soft words of consolation and encouragement as Ravage slowly works his cock into me beside Harrow’s; my head spins at the feeling of being stretched by both of them.

I can feel it when he’s fully sheathed inside of me, and I can hear his groan of pleasure, his fingers digging into my hips. “Oh fuck , you’re perfect. How can you be this perfect, Noa?” He says a few other things, but my heartbeat in my ears is overwhelming, making it so I can barely hear their words through the noise.

“It’s too much,” I whine into Harrow’s throat, face still pressed to his neck. “It’s way too much, please!”

“Oh, but baby…the hard part’s over. Why are you protesting now?” He thrusts experimentally, dragging a harsh cry from my lips as I shudder. “If it was really too much, you would’ve been protesting a lot more before. But now ?” He pushes into me again, and Harrow’s movements pick up once more, until they’re both fucking my cunt.

“Well, now we can both see how much you like this. How much you clearly need two cocks in your greedy little pussy.” His laugh is rough and dark against my shoulder, his grip bruising as he picks up his pace. My head spins at the feeling of both of them fucking me, both of them in my pussy and sliding against each other.

It seems impossible. It seems like it should be painful.

What’s way worse is how much I like it. How quickly the pain is fading to pleasure as heat curls and twists up my spine. Before I know it, I’m not whimpering for them to stop.

I’m whimpering for them to keep going.

Ravage is easily the less controlled of them. His thrusts are eager, erratic, and I can feel his impatience as he chases his release.

“I bet you’ll look so good with your pussy full of our cum,” he growls against my spine. “I bet we could keep you like this—full and needy and begging for more. You know…” His fingers trail down my spine until he’s teasing just over my tailbone. “I bet I could ruin this pretty ass of yours, too. Bet I could make you beg for me to ruin all of your greedy holes.”

His words are only making my stomach and pussy clench tighter. Harrow doesn’t seem to mind how I’m panting and probably crying into his neck at the overstimulation of them both fucking me. He’s content to thrust into me with the occasional praising murmur against my throat.

I like it when they talk about me. I like it even more when they talk to each other about me, like it’s not worth considering my opinion.

Ravage’s thrusts start stuttering first. He definitely has the lesser self control of either of them, and soon enough he’s dropping praises from his lips and clenching my hips tightly in his grip as his cock slides alongside Harrow’s.

“ Fuck ,” he snarls against my shoulder blade. “You feel so fucking good…It’s crazy how your pussy is made for us, you know that?” There’s a breathy note in his voice, and I can tell as he gets closer by his breathing. He snarls against my skin, slamming into me one more time and shuddering as he comes.

Not that Harrow seems to be in any hurry. He reaches up to brush his fingers down Ravage’s arm, watching him with narrowed eyes while Ravage snarls and growls like a wild, feral thing.

He’s not paying attention to me, I realize, barely able to see him draped over my back from where I’m between them. But I can tell he’s half out of it, and I can’t help the way my fingers inch up toward his head that’s resting at my shoulder.

It would be just so easy to tug off his mask. My fingers brush the plastic as he growls, not noticing what I’m doing, and I’m convinced Harrow is too busy fucking me and touching Ravage to notice either.

But the moment my fingers clamp down on the material, ready to tug, Harrow strikes, quick as a snake, to grip my waist.

“Oh, no you don’t, little girl,” he growls in my ear, forcing me to sit up in his lap as Ravage falls back on his heels. “That was really bad of you. I thought we were making progress on the good choices, but…”

His grip tightens on my arm, eyes pinning mine. “I guess you’ll have to learn the hard way.”