Ready or Not (Aspen Ridge Holiday Novellas)

10. Lily

Chapter Ten

LILY

I stare at myself in my full-length mirror, rethinking the costume I chose. The white corset top hugs my chest and gives me more cleavage than I thought possible with my small breasts. It cinches tightly around my waist before flaring out slightly at my hips in a tiny lace skirt that hits mid-thigh. It leaves little to the imagination, but that was the whole point. The matching wings I’ll put on when I get to the party are massive and filled with gorgeous white feathers, bringing the entire costume together. It doesn’t exactly scream “first date” but it’s a costume party, and I’m rocking it. I’m going as an angel, and the irony of it isn’t lost on me.

I may project that persona to the outside world, thanks to my parents, but there’s a part of me I keep hidden that yearns for the dark and depraved. I’m sure my date tonight will be another dud, just like the last dozen. They’re always the same—pretty, rich, kind, and considerate. They ask all the right questions, do all the right things, and look at me like I’m a precious, delicate little flower. Which is great, if you’re into that. It’s exactly what my parents want for me. What they expect. While the guys may be stable and sweet, when I imagine the future with each of them, I picture coffee at opposite ends of the table every morning while we watch the news, Tuesday missionary sex at 9 p.m., and a mundane life rotating around each other’s work and social obligations.

If my husband doesn’t want to bend me over the kitchen counter and fuck me like he can’t start his day without filling me first, then I don’t want it. I don’t want to be fucked like I’m breakable. When I finally got the courage and told Adam I wanted him to get rough with me during a blowjob and chase his own pleasure, he was appalled. He told me that he could never violate me like that. Violate me. Like I wasn’t begging him for it and the thought of it didn’t drench my panties. Even if I was thinking about his dad the entire time. I know, hell. I’m bound for it.

I pull out my phone and snap a photo to send to Emma, wanting her opinion. Not that I have another option at this point.

Emma:

You look hot AF

Me:

Yeah?

Emma:

Yeah, I’d do you

Me:

If you didn’t like dick so much

Emma:

Yeah I can’t give that up. The more the merrier.

Deciding that I agree with Emma, I throw on my heels, grab my jacket, wings, and purse, and head to the door. The cold air hits my lungs as I walk into the crisp Halloween night, garnering the attention of two men on the short walk to my car, which fuels my confidence. With my black Honda Civic in sight, my breath catches in my lungs. On the windshield, is another single red rose, this one wilted around the delicate petals. Having finally learned my lesson from the previous times, I carefully pick up the stem without being cut and bring it to my nose to smell. I look around the long, busy street of downtown, my head swiveling, searching for whoever is lurking in the dark.

Once safely in my car, my phone chimes again with a text. Pulling it out, my body breaks out in goosebumps, my pussy throbbing. The response is primal and uncontrolled and hits me like a tidal wave.

D.I.L.F:

Be safe tonight.

Me:

What fun is that, Mr. Draven?

Wanting nothing more than to toy with this man, no matter how wrong it is, I send the flirty text, turn my phone on vibrate, and start the drive into the Pacific Northwest woods. The night is dark, the trees tall and domineering, casting wild shadows over the narrow road, and creating the sensation of driving through a tunnel. The air is heavy with an eerie stillness, as if the world around me is holding its breath, waiting for something ominous and sinister to unfold. The long, winding road stretches in front of me, curving around bends, darkness swallowing everything around me, the full moon ahead illuminating my destination like a beacon in the sinister Halloween night. It’s hauntingly beautiful. I love it.

I park my little car among the lines of others here for a night of carefree fun with the tortured souls trapped within these forsaken walls. The abandoned insane asylum sits at the very end of a long dirt road that’s only visible because of the cars that blazed the trail ahead of me. The landscape is overgrown and dying, the air thick with the scent of decay and despair.

I step through the crumbling entrance, a feeling of unease settling over me. A chill sweeps through, sending shivers down my spine and goosebumps up my arms. I look around again, knowing that eyes in the distance are tracking my every move. I play coy, facing back toward the darkness and pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. I lift my pointer finger and move it in a “come here” motion. When they don’t give anything away, I quicken my pace and enter the building. The music from the DJ consumes every sound, the bass taking over my heartbeat, forcing it to the rhythm of the beat. I continue to walk through the asylum, and see the center has been turned into a massive dance floor. People from every town in our area fill the space, dancing and letting loose, letting themselves escape on the best evening of the year. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was about to change everything for me.

I find the makeshift bar and walk over, realizing now that I left my wings in the car, along with my purse. I take one step before someone appears in front of me. I register his face from his photo and am thankful he wasn’t using a fake. He’s slightly taller than me, athletic build, in a basic Clark Kent costume. He’s completely clean-shaven and looks exactly like someone my parents would set me up with.

“Lily?”

He’s attractive enough, tall and fit, his near-black hair combed over and gelled in the Superman style. His suit is clearly tailored, and not of the costume variety. I imagine that his Clark Kent look is not too far off from his day-to-day Marcus look.

“Yes. Marcus?”

“Correct. It’s good to finally meet you. My parents have been raving about you.”

I internally cringe. I’m so over my parents trying to set me up with men from their elite inner circle. They’re all the same. I straighten my spine and decide it’s better to just go with it. It’s my favorite night of the year and I’m not going to let anything get me down. He can get on board with that or find someone else to spend his time with tonight.

“How about a drink? I could use one.”

“First date nerves?” he asks, and I do everything I can not to roll my eyes.

“I guess you could say that. Beer is fine.”

He walks away for a moment and returns with two clear plastic cups full of beer from the keg. I take one from his hand and down half of it.

“Easy, angel. I want to get to know you. Want to go somewhere to sit and talk?” he asks as he looks around in disgust. This is clearly not his vibe. Knowing he doesn’t mean to hook up and that he genuinely wants to leave the area to talk, I make a different suggestion, because tonight is mine.

“How about we dance?” Not waiting for an answer, I leave him where he stands and saunter to the makeshift dance floor. “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails blares from the speakers around me and I let myself go to it. My hips sway side to side, my hands moving through my hair and back down, letting my fingers trail over the skin on my neck—the sensual dance of someone who doesn’t care if anyone is watching but secretly hopes all eyes are on her.

It’s not long before someone slinks up behind me, and based on their size, it’s not Marcus. But there isn’t a single part of me that cares at this moment. This is my night. The one night of the year when I completely let go and let myself be who I wish I could be every other day, too.

The song changes and I let myself go to the rhythm of “For Your Entertainment” by Adam Lambert. The lyrics roll over me, and my mind drifts to my stalker, wondering if he’s here, if he’s watching.

Hoping that he is.