Came Back Haunted: An Experiment in Terror Novel #10

by Halle, Karina

  “Okay,” he says slowly, running a hand down his face. “I have to admit kiddo, you’re scaring me a little.”

  “Because it is scary,” I tell him, stopping right in front of him. “I’m scared too. But you’re going to have to trust me on this.”

  “Is this what your doctor was getting at? Do you trust her?”

  “Yes. And even if I didn’t, I know that this is right. I know deep inside that this is the way. The only way for us.”

  He swallows, fear swimming in his eyes.

  I put my hand at his cheek and peer up at him, looking him as deep in the eyes as I can. “Dex. I love you. I love you with all that I have, even when it feels like I have nothing left. It’s all for you, everything is. And I am so deeply sorry for the words I said the other night, words I have never once believed and should have never been said. It wasn’t me talking. But this is me talking now.” I run my fingers up over his face, brushing a strand of dark hair off his forehead. “I need a favor from you.”

  His jaw tightens, his eyes growing in intensity. “Anything. I’ll do anything for you.”

  “I need you to possess me. So that nothing else can.”

  His brows come together. “Possess you? Don’t I already possess you?”

  “I don’t mean in the fact that you’re mine and I’m yours,” I say, my hand falling away. I move past him to the knife rack. “I mean in the most literal way.”

  I pull the smallest knife out, which also happens to be the sharpest.

  Turn around to face him, holding it up in front of my chest.

  His eyes go to the knife to my eyes, and back again. “Baby, what are you doing?”

  “You have to trust me.”

  “I’ll trust you if you tell me what you’re doing.”

  I put the knife on the counter and then fish out a bottle of disinfectant from the medicine drawer. I pour some of it on a clean towel and rub it over the knife.

  Dex watches my every move. “Perry? That thing I said earlier about how you’re scaring me? Well, that still stands.”

  I look over at the bedroom. It would be too messy in there. Then I look down on the kitchen floor. Then the island. It would be uncomfortable, but it would be easy to clean up the blood. And more than that, it holds importance. That counter was where Dex and I first had sex.

  I remember it like it was yesterday.

  How he felt.

  How we felt like together.

  I remember a shimmer enveloping the entire apartment, bending and warping, and not really knowing what it meant at the time. Now I do.

  That was our energy finally coming together. A hint of what it can do, of what we can do as one.

  Now we’re going to test it like it’s never been tested before.

  Four years later.

  To…wait a minute.

  To this very day?

  My mind flips back, seeing the dates line up, the night of the Shownet company Christmas party.

  Holy shit.

  There are no such things as coincidences.

  “Perry?” Dex prompts me.

  I look at him.

  “Why did you just disinfect a knife?”

  “Take off your clothes,” I tell him.

  He balks. “What?! No.”

  “Fine,” I tell him.

  I take off my sweater and my shirt underneath, throwing them to the floor, then I pull off my leggings and socks, until I’m just in my bra and underwear.

  I pick up the knife and hold it out for him.

  “Take this,” I tell him.

  He blinks, and I know he’s trying to make sense of this, scared that I’m going to make him hurt me. And he will, but only a little.

  “Take it,” I repeat.

  He takes it from me by the handle, his fingers wrapping around mine, not letting my hand go.

  “Tell me what we’re doing.”

  “I need you to possess me.”

  “Tell me what we’re doing.”

  “We need to create a blood bond. A blood pact. A way to tie ourselves to one another, a thread that can’t be broken no matter what. In that blood bond, while having sex…” I close my eyes, trying to find the words. “I invite you in. You possess me. And once you possess me, no one else can. Not Samantha, not anyone. This is the plan. This is the only chance we have, as crazy and fucked up as this all sounds. This is what we have to do.”

  I open my eyes and look at him. He’s breathing hard, a war raging in his eyes, still holding onto my hand and the knife. “A…like blood play? Like we cut each other up?” He’s vaguely horrified.

  “Yes. You know how when kids were young they’d slice open their palms and shake hands? A blood bond.”

  “Fucked up kids!”

  “Don’t kink shame.”

  He almost laughs. “Kink shame? Baby, I am all for whatever the hell you want to do in the bedroom, but come on, give me a minute here before I start slicing you up with a knife, okay?”

  “I know this sounds nuts,” I tell him, pulling my hand away from the knife and cupping both sides of his face. “But I believe in it. This makes sense for us. Think about it.”

  “You’re asking me to actually literally possess you? This is witchcraft.”

  “That’s exactly right. It is witchcraft.”

  “You’re not a witch.” He narrows his eyes. “Are you?”

  I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter though. Anyone can be with the right energy.”

  “And if it doesn’t work?”

  “Then Samantha wins,” I say, trying to ignore the defeat in my heart. “And we have a few scars to remind us that we at least tried.”

  His brow softens, eyes finally taking in how serious this is, how serious I am. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Then we’ll do this. Just tell me what to do.”

  My lips twitch. “Oh? So you’re letting me be in control now?”

  “I guess so,” he says. “You better enjoy it though, because once I possess you, that’s all over.”

  “We’ll see. Apparently I can kick you out at any time.”

  He smiles faintly before his expression turns grave. “You sure you want to do this? I don’t even know what this entails. I’m going to be in you…like…really in you.”

  “I know.”

  “And what happens to the rest of me?”

  “I believe you can be in two places at once,” I tell him. “And I also think that you can just be in the background most of the time, only coming forward when needed.”

  “You think or you know?”

  “I was possessed once, remember?”

  “And you and Abby were having conversations about the living quarters of your soul?”

  Urgency floods through me. We’re running out of time.

  I give Dex a look to shut up, then say, “Put me on the counter.”

  He’s caught off-guard for a moment then puts the knife down. He wraps his hands around my waist and picks me up, placing me on the edge.

  Keeping my eyes focused on his, I reach back and unhook my bra, tossing it to the side.

  Dex’s gaze is pinned to my bare breasts, my nipples tightening. “Well, fuck, Perry. Maybe you should have just opened with this and I wouldn’t have questioned anything.”

  “Take off my underwear,” I tell him.

  He gulps. “Yes ma’am.”

  I take in a deep breath as he reaches for my hips, his fingers curling over the edge of my panties, and I lift myself up slightly as he brings them down over my thighs, knees, calves.

  I part my legs, enough for his eyes to drop between them, hunger flaring. The more I turn him on, the less chance he has of backing out. Pretty sure he’s already a goner and I’m just getting started.

  “We’re supposed to take our time,” I tell him, running my fingers over my clit. I’m already wet and the sound is lewd and Dex looks like he’s going to fucking faint as he watches my every move. “The more turned on we get, the more we delay coming, the better it is.”

 
; He swallows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes coming up to mine. “Does your therapist usually give you this kind of advice? Maybe you should see her more often.”

  I know I will be seeing her more often now, but I can’t focus on that. I can only focus on this moment. What I want. What I need. Energy and intention.

  “Take off your clothes,” I tell him again.

  This time he listens.

  While bracketed between my legs, he reaches down and pulls off his t-shirt, and I don’t know if it’s the lust and danger and energy that’s circulating in the air, but he’s never looked better. His shoulders are as broad as the horizon, his muscles are perfectly rounded, hard and big as rocks, leading to his wide biceps and thick ropey forearms that flex as he starts to undo his jeans. His skin is tanned, smooth, perfect.

  My eyes trail over his taut chest, absently taking in his tattoo, then coast down over the six-pack that doesn’t go away, no matter how much beer he drinks.

  Lower.

  Lower.

  The jeans fall to the floor, leaving him just in his grey boxer briefs, his cock so rigid and defined underneath that he might as well be naked.

  It’s one of my many wow I married that moments.

  Which is quickly replaced with a wow we’re about to get extremely fucked up moment.

  “All your clothes,” I remind him.

  “Greedy little thing.” He’s been smirking at me this whole time. “Let’s wait until we’re done with the knife, shall we?”

  Fair enough.

  I swallow, thinking of the next steps, hoping I can brave. Hoping he can be brave too.

  “Now take the knife,” I tell him.

  He seems to freeze. “We’re starting with you?”

  “Pick up the knife, Dex.”

  Reluctantly he leans forward and picks up it off the counter. “Next time we try role playing, I vote for not being the butcher.”

  “Dex,” I say sharply. “This isn’t funny.”

  He gives me a chagrined look. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I know it’s not, I’m just trying to…get through this.”

  I know how he feels. The only way I’m able to get through this is by taking complete control until I have to give it all up.

  Though I have to say, having this control is empowering, like I’m not only using my own energy, but creating something too.

  Maybe being a witch ain’t half bad.

  “Now,” I say through a long exhale. “Do you think you can touch me and cut me at the same time?”

  He blinks, mouth opening. He then snaps it shut, shaking his head. No.

  “That’s fine,” I slide my fingers over myself again and Jesus this is going to be hell because I’m already so turned on.

  “Fuck Perry,” he whispers, eyes glued to where I’m touching myself.

  “Cut me,” I tell him, reaching forward with my other hand and grabbing his, pointing the knife at my chest, just above my breasts where the bones disappear. “Right here. Little cuts, just deep enough to draw blood.”

  “It’s going to hurt,” he warns me.

  “Not any more than when you bite me during sex. The pain feels good when I already feel good,” I tell him. I mean, I’m just going by what they say, that sexual arousal dulls pain, hence why a lot of BDSM works the way it does.

  I close my eyes and bite my lip, waiting for it.

  I hear Dex’s breath catch.

  Feel the warm of his hands and the cool of the blade as they approach.

  Then the sharp sting as he makes a cut across my skin.

  It hurts but only a little.

  “I’m sorry,” he says softly.

  I open my eyes and look down to see a single tear of blood bleeding from a two-inch cut above my left breast. I glance up at him. He looks both scared and fascinated, watching the blood trickle down.

  “It’s fine,” I tell him, still playing with myself. “Do it again. Where my skin is soft. Make me bleed all over.”

  He shakes his head, sucking in his upper lip. “I don’t think I can.”

  I reach up and grab the back of his head, bringing his face to mine. “Do this for me.” Then I kiss him, hard and wet and violent, leaving him gasping against my mouth.

  “Okay,” he says, trying to catch his breath.

  His brow lowers in determination and makes another quick cut on the other breast, then between my breasts. I lean back on the counter so he can do the same to my stomach. It hurts every time, but the pain is almost transcendent, like it’s bringing me to another plane of existence. Good lord, I hope I don’t turn into a masochist after this.

  “I’m done,” he says, voice shaking. “I can’t do anymore.”

  I straighten up, looking at the blood run down me. At first, I was a bit worried that it would feel like I used to when I was cutting myself, back in high school. My inner arms still bear those faint scars. But there is no relief or anguish in this, just determination that we’re doing the right thing.

  Okay, and it’s also a little bit hot. I don’t make the rules.

  “I can do myself,” he says, bringing the knife toward his chest.

  “No,” I tell him, holding my hand out. “Give it to me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you do things to the extreme, Dex.”

  “I do not.”

  You once stuck a sword in your fucking throat.

  “You’re going to hurt yourself. Give me the knife. I’ll be quick.”

  “Maybe I’m afraid of how comfortable you are with this whole thing,” he says, but he hands me the knife anyway.

  I press one hand against his shoulder to steady myself, trying to decide where to put the cut. The weird thing is this won’t even hurt him a little, and by next week he won’t even have a scar. Makes it a little easier on me.

  I make quick work of him, matching the same places where he cut me. Two on the chest, one between, three on the stomach. He doesn’t even fucking flinch.

  “Not even an ouch? What’s wrong with you?” I ask him, putting the knife to the side, watching the blood run down him.

  He shrugs. “Tis only a flesh wound.”

  I glare at him. “No jokes, Dex.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You going to finally get naked, or do you need me to slice them off of you?”

  “I hope to god you’re talking about my underwear,” he says, running his thumbs under the waistband, teasing me for a moment. Then he pulls them down, stepping out of them. His cock looks phenomenal, sticking straight up and I instinctively reach out, running my fist over it from balls to tip.

  He hisses out a breath, and we watch as my bloodied hand leaves red behind.

  “Am I crazy, or this the fucking hottest thing we’ve ever done?” he asks. I look up at him to see all the worry and fear disappear from his eyes, replaced by pure carnality.

  There he is.

  I give him another squeeze, running my palm over the crown, a fever running through me. He thrusts up into my hand, a groan escaping his lips, and I remember how important it is to draw this out, to delay the orgasms as long as we can.

  This is going to be HELL.

  “Jesus,” he swears, leaning in to kiss me, his mouth gently sucking in my lip, then my chin, my jaw. “I want to fucking maul you.”

  “You already have,” I tell him as he finds my neck. He tentatively licks at my skin and I start jacking him off, making my fist tighter, harder.

  “Fuck,” he cries out, and then bites down on my neck hard, and I know he’s broken the skin there. Vampire husband will come in handy tonight.

  I grip him harder, watching his back rise as he tries to catch his breath, tries to keep it together. Then I suddenly let go of him. Not only did they say to delay foreplay, but they said getting each other to the point of coming several times would help, as cruel as that seems.

  And right now, it seems very, very cruel.

  “I need to be inside you,” he says to me, grabbing my chin with a shaking hand
. He has my blood on his lips and I lean in, licking it off of him.

  “Not yet,” I tell him before kissing him deeply.

  I make fists in his hair and then pull away, yanking his head down between my legs. “Don’t you dare get me off and don’t you dare get yourself off either,” I tell him.

  I lie back on the counter and he starts devouring me, one hand spreading me further open, the other I know he’s touching himself with.

  My back arches, my hips rise, and he works me so good with his tongue and teeth and lips that I just want him to keep going, but I know I can’t come, not yet.

  “Stop,” I whisper but he’s not listening, his tongue swirling around my clit.

  I grab his hair tighter and lift his head off me. “Stop,” I say again, gasping. “Oh god.” I was so close to coming.

  He stares up at me through my legs, blood on his face, his hands. My stomach and breasts are already smeared red, so is his chest.

  I hoist myself up to sitting position and he straightens up. His dark eyes are lost to lust, they look crazed and unsteady, gripped by fever. I part my thighs further and grab his bicep, pulling him up to me, wrapping my legs around his waist.

  “Come here,” I tell him, reaching up and putting my hands behind his neck. “Closer.” I pull him into me so that I’m almost sliding off the edge of the counter, his shaft pressed right up against my clit, sliding easily against me. I’m so fucking wet, it’s insane.

  I place my chin on his shoulder so that my breasts are pressed against his chest, so that our stomachs meet, so that the blood between us mixes. I swear I feel the heat building on our skin, sparks where the blood fuses together.

  “Can you fuck me like this?” I whisper.

  I hear him swallow, let out a heavy breath. “Yes.”

  He reaches down, scooting back just a few inches to position himself.

  Then he pushes his cock inside me, sliding in like silk, our bodies pressed together again.

  “Oh, fuck,” he says through a gasp, and I’m widening for him, squeezing down on him as goes.

  He’s already inside me so deep, and I press my heels against his ass, driving to drive him in deeper. I know we can’t rush, I know we have to wait, but I’m so fucking crazed right now that I almost don’t care. I just want to get off.