Page 44 of Wicked Temptations
“Getting soft,” he said. “Posing for selfies instead of scaring people.”
“Says the guy who just flexed for those girls.”
“Didn’t see you complaining.” He was smirking at me. No, not smirking. Leering. Even through all the layers of black and white face paint, he was able to get that snide expression across.
“It’s just good for the park.” I didn’t believe a goddamn word that was coming out of my mouth. “Good for metrics, we get to keep doing whatever the fuck this is.”
“This?” Ash took a step closer. The space between us crackled. “And what is this, exactly, Jude?”
I weighed my answer against the hunger in his eyes and decided on evasion. “A good time.”
“Right. A good time.” His jaw worked like he was chewing on words he wouldn’t spit out.
The truth sat heavy on my tongue. That I thought about him constantly. That he’d gotten under my skin in ways nobody had since Dylan, maybe even worse. That every time we touched, I wanted more, wanted everything, wanted things I had no business wanting from someone I was supposed to work with.
People left. That was the lesson I’d learned young and hard. Dad first, then Cait, then a parade of Mom’s boyfriends who stuck around just long enough to make us all believe before vanishing. Dylan had lasted longer than most, but the ending was the same. I was too closed off and messed up to give a shit about.
I’d built my walls for a reason, but Ash seemed determined to find handholds I hadn’t known existed, but for both our sakes, I had to stop him from cresting over the top.
My mind flashed back to Murphy’s bathroom. The way he’d tasted when I’d finally stood up, the salt of him still coating my tongue. I’d gone back to the table and ignored my drink, unwilling to wash away that evidence. I had sat there for another hour with the phantom sensation of his cock in my mouth and his hands fisted in my hair.
Then I’d watched him across the table, trying not to smirk each time he moved and looked uncomfortable. He was a dirty mess under his clothes, and knowing what I’d done to him and how I’d marked him made me want to drag Ash back to that bathroom and put him face down on the floor.
The power of it had been intoxicating.
All week, we’d been chasing that high. Finding dark corners and empty corridors. The park had become our playground and our battleground. We’d fucked in the costume storage room, in his car again, against the back of the prop shed while the muffledscreams of guests echoed through the walls. He’d cornered me in the showers last night and
Two nights ago, Ash had cornered me in the showers after close. He’d fucked me against the tile, water pounding down on us both, and when Jonas walked in Ash had clamped a hand over my mouth and stayed buried deep. He’d jerked me off while Jonas showered three feet away, oblivious. The terror of discovery mixed with the pleasure had nearly made me black out.
When we’d finally been alone again, Ash had wrecked me. Pounded into me until I couldn’t stand, until I was begging, until my voice gave out entirely.
I’d loved every second.
Each time had been raw and brutal, filled with need that left marks and bruises and satisfied something savage in both of us.
But then Ash had started using his words, just like now. He’d asked what this was and what it meant forus, and every time, I found myself backpedaling and skirting around the answer.
I didn’t know what this was. It was amazing sex, that was for sure, but I didn’t understand why he was so keen to put a label on it. Labels ruined everything, They made things fragile and breakable and created spaces for people to walk away from.
Hate-sex was so much easier.
“Yeah,” I said, not meeting his eyes. “That’s all it is.”
And then I slipped back into character and lunged at him as they started playing out fight song.
* * *
I spotted Ash across the staff room and immediately wanted to turn around.
Too late. He’d already seen me, his eyes tracking my movement from the doorway to the drink fridge. The protein bar in his hand stayed suspended halfway to his mouth.
Every table was packed tonight. The park itself was at capacity, which meant we’d all been pushing hard and long, and everyone was overdue for their breaks. Parker was cycling through fast, trying to get everyone fed and watered before the next scheduled group parade.
I slipped past a group of neon skeletons and only frowned slightly at the vampires arguing about blood consistency near the vending machines. I hope they were talking about homemade fake blood. Even the fucking murder clowns were in here, their oversized shoes taking up two chairs each.
The noise level was absurd; someone’s laugh cut through the din like a hacksaw, and the energy was palpable. We were all so wired.
I grabbed a water bottle and did the math. There was only one empty seat in the entire room.
