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Behind me, Blade and Nash were already bickering in the kitchen about what car we should take and who had the best night with me.

But when I crossed the threshold to my room, I stopped in my tracks.

Laid out on bed was a puffy, yellow dress with a gingham pattern.

A handwritten note rested on top.

For our goldilocks

From your three killer clowns

76

BLADE

“I mean, you can ask her yourself.” Nash smirked, leaning back against the fridge while I cleared the last of the breakfast dishes.

Of course she took the chivalrous parts — cooking the meal, cleaning up after Tess. And now, I got to do the dirty work while she gloated about last night’s victory.

My loss.

I already knew the weight of that loss. I’d felt it all night, throbbing between my legs. I was desperate for a release that wouldn’t come until next Fright Night at the earliest. And Nash rubbing salt in the wound was only making me more aggravated.

“But we both know the truth.” Nash puffed out her chest. “No one touches her the way that⁠—”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t be such a sore⁠—”

“Shhh…” I pressed a soapy finger to her lips as I turned off the tap. Straining my ears, I could just make out the sound of platform shoes clicking down the hallway. The footsteps grew louder by the second.

Nash pushed my hand off by the wrist, spluttering to clear the soap from her lips. But I wasted no time throwing down the sponge in the sink and toweling off my hands.

I’d just gotten dry when Tess emerged from the hallway, making me wet all over again.

I mean, fuck.

I knew Tess was sexy. It was one of those unequivocal facts of life: the sun was hot, and so was our little captive. But holy shit, if she didn’t find a new way to prove it to me everyday.

The first things I saw were platform Mary Janes and thigh-high white stockings that made my brain go numb. Another step, and the puffy frill of her yellow skirt swished into view — long enough to cover all the important bits, but short enough to make me imagine how easily I could slip underneath it. Her tits looked amazing in the fitted gingham bodice.

But it was her smile and the cute little pigtails she’d thrown her hair in that knocked the air from my lungs.

Nash was equally floored, jaw slack as she took in the goddess standing in our kitchen. “Sweet Lamb, you look⁠—”

“Stunning.” I shook my head. “Absolutely fucking perfect.”

Tess giggled, giving us a twirl. As Nash turned to me in dumbfounded shock, all I could do was glare.

I couldn’t believe that she’d had all of that woman to herself just a few short hours ago. I wanted a taste for myself. But as Tess frowned down at her phone, I knew there was no time.

“Ready?” she asked sweetly, though her body betrayed her restlessness.

Broken from our trance by the sound of her voice, Nash and I both raced to the door. Each step down to the car was a race to make ourselves useful — holding open doors, lending steady hands, offering jackets.

But as Nash raced to help Tess into the Cadillac, I looped around the other side and slid into the backseat. Nash’s jaw dropped as she locked eyes with me across the backseat, but it was too late to change anything now.

“Thanks for driving.” I smirked at Nash as I looped an arm around Tess.