Haunting Adeline (Cat and Mouse Duet)
The Manipulator⁶
𝙶𝚁𝙴𝚈𝚂𝙾𝙽
Fvck, Addie, I’ve missed you.
Greyson breathes into my neck, humping me against the wall.
My tailbone is going to be bruised in the morning.
I roll my eyes when he slurps at my
neck again, groaning when he rolls his dí¢k into the apex of my thighs.
Deciding I needed to get over myself and blow off some steam, I didn’t cancel on Greyson like I wanted to. Like I want to. I regret that decision.
Currently, he has me pinned against the wall in my creepy hallway. Old-fashioned sconces line the blood-red walls, with dozens of family pictures from generations in between.
I feel like they’re watching me, scorn and disappointment in their eyes as they witness their descendant about to get railed right in front of them.
Only a few of the lights work, and they just serve to illuminate the spiderwebs they’re crawling with.
The rest of the hallway is shadowed entirely, and I’m just waiting for the demon from The Grudge to come crawling out, so I have an excuse to run.
I would definitely trip Greyson on the way out at this point, and not one inch of me is ashamed.
He murmurs some more dirty things into my ear while I inspect the sconce hanging above our heads.
Greyson said in passing once that he’s scared of spiders. I wonder if I can discreetly reach up, pluck a spider from its web, and put it down the back of Greyson’s shirt.
That would light a fire under his @$$ to get out of here, and he’d probably be too embarrassed to talk to me again. Win, win.
Just when I actually go to do it, he rears back, panting from all the solo French kí$$íñg he’s been doing with my throat. It’s like he was waiting for my neck to lick him back or something.
His copper hair is mussed from my hands, and his pale skin is stained with a blush. The curse of being a redhead, I suppose.
Greyson has everything else going for him in the looks department. He’s hot as sin, has a beautiful body and a killer smile. Too bad he can’t fvck and is a complete and utter douchebag.
𝙶𝚁𝙴𝚈𝚂𝙾𝙽
Let’s take this to the bedroom. I need to be inside of you now.
I try to play it off by jerking my shirt over my head. He has the attention span of a beagle. And just like I suspected, he’s already forgotten about my little blunder and is staring intensely at my tits.
Daya was right about that, too. I do have great tits.
He reaches up to tear the bra from my body—I probably would’ve smacked him if he actually ripped it—but he freezes when loud banging interrupts us from the main floor.
The sound is so sudden, so violently loud that I gasp, my heart pounding in my chest. Our eyes meet in stunned silence. Someone is pounding on my front door, and they don’t sound too nice.
𝙶𝚁𝙴𝚈𝚂𝙾𝙽
Are you expecting someone?
He asks, his hand dropping to his side, seemingly frustrated by the interruption.
I quickly tug my shirt back on—backwards—and rush down the creaky steps. Taking a moment to check outside the window next to the door, I see the front porch is vacant.
Letting the curtain fall, I stand in front of the door, the stillness of the night closing in on the manor.
Greyson walks up beside me and looks over at me with a confused expression.
𝙶𝚁𝙴𝚈𝚂𝙾𝙽
Uh, you gonna answer that?
He asks dumbly, pointing at the door as if I didn’t know it was right in front of me.
I almost thank him for the directions just to be an a$$, but refrain.
Something about that knock has my instincts blaring Code Red. The knock sounded aggressive.
Like someone had pounded on the door with all their strength.
A real man would offer to open the door for me after hearing such a violent sound. Especially when we’re surrounded by a mile of thick woods and a hundred-foot drop into the water.
But instead, Greyson stares at me expectantly. And a little like I’m stupid. Huffing, I unlock the door and whip it open.
I step out onto the porch, the rotting floorboards groaning beneath my weight. Cold wind stirs my cinnamon hair, the strands tickling my face and sending shivers racing across my skin.
Goosebumps rise as I tuck my hair behind my ears and walk over to one end of the porch. Leaning over the rail, I look down the side of the house.
No one on the other side of the house, either.
There could easily be someone watching me in the woods, but I have no way of knowing with it being so dark. Not unless I go out there and search myself.
And as much as I love horror films, I have no interest in starring in one.
Greyson joins me on the porch, his own eyes scanning the trees.
There’s someone watching me. I can feel it. I’m as sure of it as I am about the existence of gravity.
Chills run down my spine, accompanied by a burst of adrenaline. It’s the same feeling I get when I watch a scary movie.
It begins with the beat of my heart, then a heavyweight settles deep in my stomach, eventually sinking to my core. I shift, not entirely comfortable with the feeling right now.
Huffing, I rush back into the house and up the steps. Greyson trails behind me.
I don’t notice he’s in the middle of undressing as he walks down the hallway until he steps into my room after me. When I turn, he’s stark n@ked.
Someone just banged on my door like the wood personally put a splinter in their @$$, and he’s immediately ready to pick up where he left off.
Slurping on my neck like one would slurp jello out of a container.
He asks incredulously, splaying his arms out to his sides.
𝙰𝙳𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚈
Did you not just hear what I heard? Someone was banging on my door, and it was kind of scary.
𝙰𝙳𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚈
I’m not in the mood to have $£x right now.
What happened to chivalry? I would think a normal man would ask if I’m okay
Feel out how I’m feeling.
Maybe try to make sure I’m nice and relaxed before sticking their dí¢k inside me.
You know, read the fucking room.
He questions, anger sparking in his brown eyes.
They’re a $hítty color, just like his $hítty personality and even a $hítter stroke game.
The dude gives fish a run for their money, the way he flops when he fv¢ks.
Might as well lay out n@ked in the fish market—he’d have a better chance of finding someone to take him home.
That person is not going to be me.
𝙰𝙳𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚈
Yes, I’m serious.
He snaps, angrily swiping up a sock and putting it on.
He looks like an idiot—completely n@ked save for a single sock because the rest of his clothes are still thrown haphazardly in my hallway.
He storms out of my room, snatching up articles of clothing as he goes. When he gets about halfway down the long hallway, he stops and turns to me.
𝙶𝚁𝙴𝚈𝚂𝙾𝙽
You’re such a bít¢h, Addie.
𝙶𝚁𝙴𝚈𝚂𝙾𝙽
All you do is give me blue balls, and I’m sick of it.
𝙶𝚁𝙴𝚈𝚂𝙾𝙽
I’m done with you and this creepy fv¢king house.
He seethes, pointing a finger at me.
𝙰𝙳𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚈
And you’re an @$$hóle. Get the fv¢k out of my house, Greyson.
His eyes widen with shock first, and then narrow into thin slits, brimming with fury. He turns, cócks his arm back and sends his fist flying into the drywall.
A gasp is ripped from my throat when half of his arm disappears, my mouth parting in both shock and disbelief.
𝙶𝚁𝙴𝚈𝚂𝙾𝙽
Since I’m not getting yours, I thought I’d create my own hole to get into tonight.
Still sporting only one sock and an arm full of clothes, he storms off.
I rage, stomping towards the large hole in my wall he just created.
The front door slams a minute later from below.
I hope the mysterious person is still out there. Let the @$$hóle get murdered wearing a single sock.
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