Erotic One Shot: Fright Night
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V. J. Villamayor
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33,9K
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2
She arrives determined to prove she is not afraid, stepping into a place designed to test every nerve and instinct. What begins as a challenge shifts when she realizes she is not alone. Someone has been watching her since the gates—silent, patient, and always just behind her. In a maze of mirrors where reflections blur truth and illusion, his presence closes in, his voice low at her ear, questioning her fear. She knows she should run, should leave while she still can. But she doesn’t. And when he asks for a safe word, she makes a choice that pulls her deeper into the tension between fear, control, and something far more dangerous.
Chapter 1
“Just one, please.”
The clerk at the ticket booth raised an eyebrow and quickly glanced around. “That’s pretty brave of you,” he remarked, wrapping the glow-in-the-dark wristband around her slightly trembling hand. “Lose a bet or something?”
“Or something…” Ivy swallowed.
“Enter at your own risk.” He chuckled and pressed the button that released the gate, which screeched open to enter the world of horror.
She swallowed and squeaked, “Thank you.”
She heard it before she entered. How could she not? Screams filled the air alongside laughter and the sound of feet running away in different directions. Cackles and shrieks intertwined with the slinging of metal against metal and chainsaws that shrilled through the night.
A tall figure stood at the broken, wooden gates further down, arms crossed, unmoving. He loomed there like part of the structure itself—deliberate, immovable. Dressed entirely in heavy, black, torn denim pants and a slashed jacket that clung to his broad, bare frame, unable to disguise his size.
A jagged black mask concealed the upper half of his face, but it did nothing to hide his eyes.
Dark eyes.
Fixed on her.
Watching. Waiting. Silent.
Ivy knew that the characters at the Fright Night she had forced herself to go to were paid to scare the visitors, but the rule was that they couldn’t touch them. With that knowledge, it would make sense that she shouldn’t feel scared, however, the atmosphere was so well organized it oozed fear.
It was impossible not to feel the cold shiver up her spine.
Ivy clutched at her purse as she crept past the silent, watchful Sentinel. She waited for the scare, the sudden move or quick shout…but he did nothing. He just watched. With a slight tilt of his head, his eyes never left hers, and without even having to move a finger, he had goosebumps erupting all over her body.
As she walked further into the horror park, it was almost as though he merged into the shadows. Suddenly, flames shot out on either side of the “Welcome” sign, making her shriek and jump aside. Ivy giggled nervously and looked back at her Sentinel—but he was no longer there.
“Probably off to scare more visitors,” Ivy reassured herself.
Ivy hated all things scary and only booked the tickets for her boyfriend’s birthday—ex-boyfriend—she corrected herself mentally.
After two years of trying to prove herself to her ex and reassuring him she would like the same things he would like, he laughed in her face and broke up with her by text after she suggested that they go to Fright Night together.
Anthony
Give it up, Ivy.
Anthony
Watching you try to fit in with me and my friends when we do anything exciting is exhausting. It kills the excitement having to hold back and keep checking on you—it’s like bringing a little sister along everywhere after my mum tells me to.
Anthony
Look, it’s just not working out. Fright Night would’ve been good, but you’re too scared to enjoy it. I’m sorry…but it’s over.
So what did she do? She came to Fright Night—alone—to prove to herself that she was brave and not…boring. Just as the thought came to her, a deranged clown wielding a chainsaw plodded toward her, and she screamed, turning to run away.
Laughter exploded around her, and she dipped her head in embarrassment. It wasn’t until she looked around and saw that the laughter wasn’t solely pointed at her but in general toward everyone.
She observed how crowds would watch and laugh as bloody ghouls and pale ghostly figures would creep up to unsuspecting victims, surprise them, and chase them down the pathway.
A smile cracked at the corners of Ivy’s lips, and she could see the potential of how this could be fun—as long as she wasn’t the one being scared! She tucked a loose strand of her mousy brown hair behind her ears before tucking her hands into the pouch of the oversized hoodie she wore for the night.
The feeling of someone watching her overwhelmed her senses, and she looked around, only to find everyone’s attention directed at a zombie butcher clambering around the food stalls.
Ivy pulled a face at the notion that there were stalls upon stalls of food and drinks here. All had some sort of ghoulish and creepy person serving the food—but it was more the array of fake bloody handprints and body parts everywhere that had her wondering how anyone could feel hungry at all.
She wandered through the horror park, jumping, squealing, and laughing with strangers as they watched others get scared. She had begun to enjoy herself, despite feeling lonely, but with the constant jump scares and flames bursting into the night sky, Ivy didn’t actually need the hoodie she wore.
Ivy always loved a skirt and baggy hoodie combo, but it seemed that tonight, it wasn’t the best choice.
She pulled her hoodie off, happy to at least have a loose, sleeveless top underneath, and tied it around her waist. Just as she finished smoothing down her skirt, a crowd of screaming teenagers came bolting toward her. She shifted her position and noticed at least ten demon characters chasing after them.
“Run!” the teenagers yelled to everyone, and considering the narrow space, more people began to join them. The young girls within the group shrilled with laughter and grabbed people to encourage them to run, and Ivy soon found herself being pulled along as one grabbed her elbow.
They had begun to run into a separate area where the bright lights were even more sparse, though seemingly replaced with flashing red lights, and artificial fog that crept thickly across the ground. Ivy could no longer see her boots through the fog, and she began tripping over her own feet as the crowd grew.
She spotted an alleyway between the “temporarily closed” Haunted Fun House and a decorated abandoned building. Quickly, she ducked into the shadowy aisle, moving a little further in so she wouldn’t be seen by one of the demons chasing everyone.
Her breaths came in quick, short bursts as she watched the crowds and characters move from the dark, attempting to slow it down.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Goosebumps pebbled across her skin once again, and she spun around to look for what could be the cause. She saw him.
Her Sentinel.
“What are you doing here?” she squeaked, stepping back on instinct.
He didn’t reply. He tilted his head and stepped forward to match her backward stumble. Ivy stepped back. Again, and again. Trying to create space between them and breathing room to figure out why he would be trying to trap her in the alleyway.
Unfortunately for Ivy, his strides were much longer, and before she knew it, he stepped quickly toward her until her back thudded against the cool wall.
A second later, his palm came slamming down heavily against the wall beside her head. “Shit!” Ivy gasped breathlessly.
She was panting at his proximity. He invaded her space, and his eyes bore into hers. Close enough that she could see the slow rise and fall of his chest that lightly brushed her own with every one of her gasps. Close enough that she could feel his heat through layers of costume and thick air.
Flames blew up into the air outside their alley, and the sudden inferno only highlighted the ridges of his bare torso underneath the heavy jacket.
Seconds ticked past, and it was almost as though the screams and laughter from outside their secret alley were muted. Why was her breathing so loud? Could he hear her racing pulse?
She could step away.
She should step away.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes never wavering. It was as though he was studying her. Reading her.
Waiting.
Daring her to run.
But she didn’t.
There was a ghost of a smirk, and he leaned in, not touching, just enough that his breath whispered across her ear.
“Not scared?”
His voice was a baritone, so deep and gruff it carried a hint of a growl that, because their bodies were barely separated by a breath, it felt as though the vibration traveled through her own body.
“No,” she whispered defiantly. She wasn’t sure if even she believed herself from her trembling voice.
“Such an adorable little liar.” He chuckled. “I can see your lips trembling from here.” His hand, not trapping her in, slowly lifted. His thumb caressed her bottom lip and traced it across. Her hot panting feathered over his thumb, and an unconscious sultry sigh escaped her.
His dark eyes dipped from her eyes down to his thumb stroking her lip. “Or…maybe you’re trembling for another reason?” Below his half mask, her Sentinel bit his lip and slowly lowered his hand to stroke along the long column of her neck.
He collared her throat, anchoring his strong fingers just below her jaw and tilted her head up slowly. “Your pulse is racing,” he whispered, his index finger resting directly over her carotid pulse point.
What was Ivy doing? This wasn’t like her at all. She should absolutely…absolutely…
Ivy shut her mouth and swallowed, mentally shaking herself. She should absolutely step away from this tall, dark, and mysterious man. She didn’t know a thing about him. And why was he doing this? Surely, this wasn’t part of the Fright Night act?
“Why are you doing this?” she whispered her thought aloud.
The Sentinel’s hand that had caressed her throat lowered and slithered around her waist, drawing her flush to his own heated body. Lowering his mouth to the shell of her ear, his deep voice growled in reply. “Because you want this.”
Did she? She barely registered that her own body was crushed to his because she was also clinging to him. When had her hands gripped the loops of his pants? When did she lose her mind that she didn’t even realize she was wet at the notion of this dangerous-looking man having his way with her?
He nipped at her earlobe, and her eyes rolled back, the tingles of his bite spreading like flames across her body.
“Look at you,” Sentinel crooned. “Legless and so, so submissive.”
He pulled her up slightly, crushing her against him, but so the tips of her toes rested on his boots, and he stepped her farther back. The sound of a door creaking open caught her attention, but she was lost in the depth of his eyes.
She swore he was hypnotizing her with the way he could see deep within her. The heat of the outside alleyway cooled to a shiver, and the darkness was warped with neon colors, tainting the walls.
Where the hell were they?
Did he trap her where no one could find them?
He dropped her suddenly. Her heels touched the ground, and she tripped backward, finally allowing her some space between her and this mystery man. Ivy’s eyes darted around, and she realized they must’ve entered a side door into the Haunted Fun House.
It was dark, but neon lights of purple, blue, and green were haphazardly streaked around the beginnings of the mirror maze. The music, screams, and Fright Night sounds were still loud enough to hear inside the Haunted Fun House—something she found solace in, at least it wasn’t dead silent.
But as she took in their surroundings, she noticed they were everywhere. Their reflections surrounded them with stark differences. Ivy, looking so small and innocent with her dainty outfit, and her Sentinel—dark, looming, and looking so hungry he was surely the embodiment of a mythical creature readying to devour her.
The thought sent more shivers down her spine—what she couldn’t figure out was whether she was shivering from fear or anticipation.
Sentinel’s roughened hands slid to his belt, unbuckling it and slipping the belt out in one whipping motion before undoing the button of his pants. “Oh my…” Ivy swallowed, biting her sensitive lip—the one he had toyed with not even seconds ago.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed a doorway between the mirrors and knew, despite the sensations rising within her, she should leave.
He twirled his belt around his hands and wrists until it was fashioned into leather handcuffs and dangled them from a hand. “Run.” He dared her. Almost like a snap in her senses, Ivy turned and ran toward the mirrored doorway.
It was, without a doubt, a terrible idea. Ivy’s adrenaline pumped through her body as she found herself deeper and deeper in the mirrored maze. Visions of her flushed and panicked face met her with every turn, as flashes of neon lights near-blinded her.
A dark laugh echoed around, and flashes of Sentinel’s dark silhouette would peek around the corners of the mirrors.
“Shit!” Ivy cried as she bumped into herself in another dead end filled with reflections of her image from the ceiling and every wall.
She was breathing hard, her hoodie lost in another mirrored hallway, and she let her head drop against the mirror she thought was her escape.
Suddenly, multiple Sentinels surrounded her as he stepped into view. Caught. Again. Ivy swirled around and gulped. His jacket was gone. His face was still half hidden behind the slashed mask, and he twirled the makeshift leather handcuffs once again.
“What do you want with me?” Ivy conceded. She was panting, hard, and was so exhausted from being the scaredy-cat everyone accused her of being.
“I want you,” he drawled, “to turn around.”
Ivy paused. “What?”
He whipped the leather into his palm, demanding her attention. Demanding her. “Turn around.” She obliged, turning to watch him in the mirror. “Hands behind your back.”
“What?!” She repeated as she began to turn around, only to find her hair twisted in his hand and her head pulled back.
“Hands. Behind. Your. Back,” he demanded quietly.
Why in the goddamn hell did the twist of her hair in his hands feel so fucking good? She felt like she was crossing into forbidden territory. She didn’t know him. She shouldn’t want this. She shouldn’t like this.
But she did.
“Are you going to hurt me?” she whispered, feeling the taut gulp down her exposed neck.
Ivy felt the edges of the leather belt handcuffs trace up her thigh and circle around the exposed cheek of her ass under her skirt. “Only if you want me to.” A sly smirk ghosted his lips again at the desperate whimper that escaped her. “I won’t repeat myself again, Angel. Hands behind your back.”
Angel?
Ivy slowly gave in as she pondered his nickname for her and offered him her hands behind her back. He traced the leather back up her thigh, allowing her skirt to lift, then fall, before circling her wrists with the handcuffs.
He leaned in and tugged at her hair again, pulling her to tilt her head to the side. “Such a good girl, Angel,” he purred.
Oh, sweet hell…
A tug on her bound wrists had her turning back to face him, and he loomed over her once more. What was it about feeling surrounded by this man that just seemed to push all the right buttons on Ivy? “Got a safe word, Angel?” he crooned into her ear.
This was it. If she played along to this twisted seduction or game or whatever he was doing, then he knew she was willing to do…this. Her mind was racing…safe word? Fuck the safe word, she should be running away.
But she tried that, didn’t she?
Did she even want to run away? Her eyes dropped to the rugged lines of his musculature that gleamed in neon highlights. She came here for a reason. She came here to prove to herself she wasn’t scared, that she could have fun. And he looked like oh so much fun.
“Anthony…,” she whispered. The thoughts of her ex-boyfriend flashed past her hazy mind.
His hand shot out to her throat and gripped at the corners of her jaw to tilt her eyes up at him. He looked furious, molten, and lethal. “And why the hell is your safe word ‘Anthony’?”
A second ticked past before she admitted, “Because I don’t plan to say it.”
