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I honestly didn’t know whether I should be flattered that he kept showing up—or creeped out. Maybe both. Both was good. Both was the safe option. Because admitting I had a thing for the half-naked slasher in a mask was not something I was mentally prepared to explore.
“Are you going to show me the way out again?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he circled behind me like he had at the rib tent, one slow step at a time. Unlike before, I let him, especially since I could see what he was doing in a dozen different mirrors.
His dark gaze scanned every inch of me like a piece of meat he was getting ready to carve up. Even though he still had the mask on, I could hear him inhale at the nape of my neck, thenose of his mask brushing through the bottom of my blond hair. We looked like polar opposites in the mirror. His dark hair and dark eyes compared to my blond and blue. He definitely had more muscle than I did, but we were about the same height.
As he came to the front, he switched his machete from his right hand to his left. Lifting the right hand, he grabbed my jaw and pulled my face closer, his dark eyes glimmering again with the old-fashioned light bulbs ringing the room. It was mesmerizing. Like looking at the night sky.
His thumb slid over my lips, stroking them. I opened my mouth slightly, fully expecting him to shove it in. He didn’t. He kept running the pad of his thumb over them, back and forth, almost teasingly.
I didn’t know what he wanted. I mean, I had a pretty good idea and surprisingly, I wasn’t opposed. It felt like I’d been half-hard all night, every time I laid eyes on him. And despite the fact I knew we were in a very public place, where the other actors or terrified customers could burst in at any moment, it felt like we were totally alone.
For once in my fucking life, I made a decision and seized the opportunity in front of me. Bobbing my head forward, I sucked his thumb into my mouth.
His dark eyes widened and he inhaled sharply, his chest expanding with the sudden breath.
As soon as his skin made contact with my tongue, a familiar taste registered in my brain. Blood.Realblood. That metallic tang was unmistakable.
Or I was imagining it. I already knew I was tired. My brain had been playing tricks on me all night.
Spurred on by the hunger in his eyes, I swirled my tongue around his thumb and sucked it in earnest, offering a preview of what I could do for his other body parts.
Pulling his thumb free, he took a deliberate step back, palming the bulge in his black jeans. His dark gaze raked over me, even slower than before. Either he was undressing me mentally or trying to decide which part of me to hack off first.
While he decided, I reached for my dick, freezing when the machete jerked upright.
My pulse skyrocketed when he laid the bloody tip against the inside of my wrist. Keeping the blade flat, he flicked it to the side, batting my hand away from my groin.
“Oh, so you can touch yourself but I can’t?” I quirked an eyebrow at him, relaxing once again.
The corners of his eyes tightened and he went back to his slow perusal, circling me once again like I was prey. Even without following his every move in the mirrors, I could feel him a hair’s breadth away. It wasn’t so much his body heat seeping through my clothing as it was the growing desperation for him to touch me again and put me out of my misery.
I spread my arms, affording him a better look, although I doubted he could see anything of interest with my clothes on.
He stopped directly behind me. Something tugged against my jacket collar a split second before I heard fabric rip. Light pressure glided down the center of my back.
I couldn’t see what he’d done until he took a step back. There, in the mirror, I realized he’d sliced my jacket in two. I should have been mad about it, but I couldn’t help the thrill that prickled down my spine in the wake of the blade.
Peeling one arm off and then the other, Bane threw my ruined jacket to the floor and reassessed me.
With one quick slash, so fast I hardly saw it, he sliced open the back of my t-shirt.
Gasping, I arched my back, away from potential pain and danger. I immediately looked in the mirror again, expecting to see a trail of blood on my skin. Thankfully, there wasn’t one.
Unperturbed by my wide-eyed look, he strolled to the frontside and did it again before I could so much as swivel my head in that direction. Without much weight keeping them in place, the two halves of my t-shirt slid off my bare arms and fluttered to the floor.
The flat of his bloody blade landed on my shoulder. Spine straight and throat tightening, I barely even breathed as the machete slid inward toward my neck.
Dragging the tip along my collarbone, it toed the line between a burning scratch and a cooling whisper of metal, threatening to slice through my flesh at any moment. He let the point linger in the hollow of my throat while my heart spasmed behind my ribcage. I risked a nervous swallow, unable to hold it back any longer.
Tilting his head, his dark eyes dropped to my chest a moment before the blade. It zigzagged over my torso, grazing one nipple and then the other, lazily making its way down to my navel.
My heart was already racing by the time he aimed the machete at my pelvis, but it kicked up another notch—or ten. I lifted my hands in surrender. Potentially getting cut on my torso was worth the risk, a price to pay for some kinky sex with a masked stranger at a carnival. Swinging a razor-sharp blade near my dick, however? Hard pass, no matter how horny I was. “I can take them off. If that’s… what you want.”
His dark eyes slid over my body again, stopping on my groin and the very obvious hard-on I was officially sporting. Using the machete, he motioned downward.
Swallowing thickly, I unbuckled my belt and unzipped my jeans. I paused for a moment, waiting to see if he was serious or not, to see ifIwas serious or not. I mean, stripping in front of a machete-wielding carnie in a funhouse? Taylor was right. Ihadlost it.
