Halloween Next Door: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 78)

by Flora Ferrari

  My mind replays the events scaring me a second time, but my subconscious catches something.

  When the monsters jumped out at me they didn’t touch me. There was a waiver posted in really big letter right when you come inside that says you might be grabbed while in the house. I wasn’t expecting anything pervy or anything like that of course, but neither of these monsters touched me when they had the chance.

  And I was super scared but if they had laid their hands on me I would have screamed bloody murder.

  Which is what they want, right?

  But I could tell by the possessive intensity that Bishop was displaying on the ride over that that’s definitely not what he would want.

  And even behind the monster’s makeup it was like their faces recognized something in me and they pulled back a bit.

  Did Bishop say something to them?

  And what kind of words, or noises, is he going to make when I come by his part of the haunted house?

  Or does he have an entirely different kind of noise he’s going to try to get me to make.

  A different kind of moan, that is far from scary, and one that only he can elicit?

  CHAPTER 8

  Bishop

  “Nobody touches her.”

  I was very clear when I said it in the backroom just before we all went out to take our stations.

  I described her in detail twice just so there would be no confusion, no “mistakes.”

  When I saw one of the other professors eyes glazing over like he was headed to his happy place, making me realize I was describing her perfection in too much detail, I gave him a stare down and a snarl and he quickly pulled his mask up and over his head and scurried off somewhere.

  Good, because none of these “monsters” scare me.

  In fact they’re thinking I’m a real life monster myself after the way I spoke in no uncertain terms about laying a finger on my Penelope.

  “She just cleared the corner. Coming your way,” pops up on my cell phone.

  I exchanged numbers with the professor one “scare station” as they call them before mine so I’d known when she was near.

  But now I realize I didn’t even need to do that.

  I swear I can smell her. Her scent. There’s something very primal about it. It’s like the darkness of fear mixed with the sweetest flower in the world. I memorized it on the ride over and I recognize it now.

  And the groups are coming through staggered so I won’t have any trouble doing exactly what I have planned.

  I look through the little peephole and see her. She’s just a few feet away as her hands move from one wall to the other as if she’s in a maze trying to find her way out.

  And I have to find a way to get my erection back under control when I see the way the purple light hits that white T-shirt of hers, highlighting her perfect breasts.

  And then my eyes lock in on her nipples.

  Holy fuck! They’re rock hard and pebbling though her bra and her shirt.

  She’s turned on and it can only be for me.

  I can’t wait any longer and I jump out early.

  She sees me and screams at the top of her lungs before turning to run in the other direction.

  But I’m too fast, too big, and too powerful.

  Two steps later I’ve got her, scooping her up from behind and carrying her back to my lair kicking and screaming.

  “Let me go!” she screams and I hear the voices of the group behind her scream out in fear as well.

  But I don’t care about them. They won’t know what it’s like to experience the kind of fear I can deliver.

  And more importantly no one will get the chance to experience the kind of pleasure I can give either.

  No one except her.

  CHAPTER 9

  Penelope

  “You don’t really want me to let you go…do you?” the deep, husky voice says to me.

  It’s only then that I realize I was so terrified that I somehow missed what had happened.

  “Bishop.”

  “You know I wouldn’t allow anyone else to lay a finger on you, let alone pick you up and carry you against your will,” he says. “In fact is this against your will?”

  It’s like a switch inside me flips and my fear turns to lust.

  “No, it’s…okay. It’s…what I want.”

  “There’s a big difference between what’s okay and what you want,” he says matter-of-factly.

  And he’s right. “I want it,” I say, responding directly in kind.

  “Good, because last night you came to me to see what I would do. Well here’s your answer. You didn’t have to come to me a second time because I saw what I want and now I came and got it for myself,” he says, and even through the mask I could see his eyes move over my body as he said, “what I want.”

  “Are we going to get caught?” I say.

  “Caught implies we’re doing something we shouldn’t be doing. Something that is wrong. And there’s nothing wrong about the way we feel about each other.”

  I know Bishop is a decisive guy, my dad has told me stories. But it’s one thing to know he’s decisive and it’s another to see just how decisive he is in person…especially when what he’s decisive about is claiming me as his.

  And that’s exactly what I want. What I came to Tulane for. What I came to his front door for yesterday.

  Him.

  And now I’m so close to having him, or more accurately him having me.

  There’s no way I could do anything to him. He’s so much bigger and stronger than I am…and likely experienced too.

  Whatever he saw in me he could have. Yes, I was going to do my best to please him, but it would be foolish to think I could maneuver a man as big and strong and dominant as he is into any sort of position that I might want.

  And judging by the grip he has on me there is no doubt he wants me. All of me.

  The way he holds me with his fingers not just underneath me, but around me…in a possessive grip. And his short, direct sentences which are more like something a caveman, or some barbarian out of the annals of a history book, might say.

  And I want this barbarian to raid my shores and take exactly what he wants. For this caveman to enter me and claim me as his.

  I feel my body being twisted upright and suddenly he’s sitting me on something back in his tiny hiding spot, out of view of the haunted house visitors.

  Even sitting on some sort of ledge, which I can’t make out do to the lack of light, he’s still so much taller than me. I must be sitting a good three or four feet off the ground, but it makes no difference.

  I like this feeling of him having me here in front of him. This idea that we’re in some secret spot and everyone around us is screaming, which means if what I think is about to happen happens then I can scream as loud as I want and get away with it.

  The excitement of sex in public, without the exhibitionism that I know he wouldn’t allow, nor would I.

  I want his body for my eyes only, not for the world. Possessiveness and jealousy are a two way street that we both drive on.

  He growls something fierce as his hand comes up to my cheek. He brushes the pad of his thumb across it and I reach out for his finger, taking it and pulling it into my mouth before sucking as much of it as I can.

  “Do you know what you’re doing to me right now?” he asks.

  “The same thing you’re doing to me,” I say.

  He moans and I can feel my pussy making a puddle beneath me and my nipples pebbling I’m so turned on right now.

  His thumb and middle finger find my jaw and he massages it firmly as he slowly removes his finger from my mouth.

  Once it’s out his hand moves down my neck and around the back as his hand knives into my hair, moving my head to the side exposing my neck.

  His head darts right in and he kisses me right below my ear sending a tingling sensation straight through my spine that quickly spreads throughout my body.

  “You see how much I want
you,” he whispers into my ear.

  “Uh huh,” escapes my lips.

  “You feel how much I want you,” he says as he continues to kiss my neck as his free hand takes mine and puts it squarely on the bulge in his pants.

  “Oh my god you’re huge.”

  “You do that to me. Only you,” he says.

  My hand moves up across the denim and I reach inside his pants, finding the space between his pants and his underwear. I shove my hand in deep grabbing as much of his dick as I can feeling his rock hard rod before I quickly shoot my other hand down his pants to see if I can’t take all of him in my hands.

  His other hand comes up and he runs his fingertip across the side of my cheek while his other fist stays knifed in my hair.

  His lips move away from neck and suddenly come crashing down on mine as his hungry kiss devours me with a neediness only matched by my own.

  The taste of his lips on mine and the feel of his cock twitch in my grasp at our first kiss causes my stomach to tighten and a wave to rush over me.

  Suddenly my forearms flex and my stomach tightens as I grab his cock hard, possessively, and before I can even try and stop it my body shutters and I climax right there where I sit.

  “Uhhh!” I moan in-between the sounds of screams of terror and cries for help from the people inside who are scared out of their minds.

  And I’m scared too, but for reasons of my own.

  The way he so easily made me come with just one kiss and I know my two-year crush is more than a crush. It’s an obsession and I have to have him inside me.

  Now.

  CHAPTER 10

  Bishop

  I want to be a gentleman, but this is out of my control.

  My hand slides down her neck and finds her breast and I grab it hard, pissed off at the thin T-shirt fabric and bra between us, but still her nipple is practically ripping right through her clothes and as I take it in-between my fingers all I can think about is burying my dick in-between her walls and filling her with enough of my seed to make her mine forever.

  “What’s back here?” a voice from the path says.

  “I think we crawl down this way,” another voice says.

  I lean to the side and see some college-aged kids looking right at me.

  “Rawr!” I snarl and they take off in the other direction and I go right back to kissing my woman without missing a beat.

  She’s so lost in stroking my cock and sucking on my lips that I’m not even sure she noticed.

  “Bishop,” a voice says as I hear a knock against the plywood underneath Penelope’s perfect ass. “Open up so I can relieve you.”

  I hear the stainless steel hook and eye latch rattle as he tries to press up on the plywood underneath Penelope.

  Fuck.

  “Give me a minute,” I growl at him.

  “It’s hot in here, man. Hurry,” he says.

  As much as I’m pissed off at him for interrupting us I realize this is a sign. She deserves better than this and the professor who’s here to relieve me doesn’t deserve to wait on me in some unventilated crawl space while I claim my woman for the first time less than a foot above his head.

  “Sorry, Pumpkin. This will have to wait,” I say pulling her hands off my cock even though that’s the last thing on earth I want to do.

  She fights me and I like her feistiness. “Nooo,” she says trying to keep her hands rammed down my pants, but when I lean in and kiss her again her whole body melts into mine and I slide her tiny paws off my bone.

  I lift her up off the plywood structure and we straighten out our clothes.

  I unhook the latch and help the professor who’s here to relieve me up and out and into our little hiding space.

  I can’t complain. I asked for just a super short shift and a quick relief and he provided it just at the time I asked.

  If anything I should be angry at myself, but I’m not.

  Now we get to go through the rest of the haunted house together, and she can put her hands on me all she wants when she gets scared in there.

  But I’ll be damned if I let anyone come close to putting their hands on her.

  Because she’s mine.

  CHAPTER 11

  Penelope

  “You called me Pumpkin back there at the haunted house,’ I say as we walk through a pumpkin patch.

  We decided to do something else fun and Halloweenish after the haunted house so a pumpkin patch under the moonlight was the perfect activity. Plus it gets us outside where we can breath in the crisp autumn air that I wait for all year, and it gives us space where we can walk and talk.

  “Your last name’s Patch. It fits perfectly.”

  “Why not strawberry then?”

  “I bet you are as sweet,” he says and then his tongue slides out of his mouth just a little licking his upper lip before his top lip is engulfed by his lower lip and both lips come out together and back into a normal resting position.

  If most guys tried that they’d look like a ridiculous imitation of L.L. Cool J.

  Not Bishop.

  I’m not even sure he knows he did it. It was more like an involuntary reaction, his body language betraying the thoughts he’s trying to keep to himself…or not.

  “But when I think of strawberries I think of fields, not to mention it is Halloween and a pumpkin has a perfectly round shape just like your,” he says. He lets the words hang there and I imagine his hands on my butt. “Eyes,” he says and I quickly slap him on the arm.

  “Ow!” I say. “You’re…you’re…made out of rock or something.”

  “Carved out of steel, thanks to years and years of lifting iron,” he says.

  “Can I even squeeze an inch right here,” I say bringing my fingers to his tricep and looking for something to grab but finding nothing. “Okay, you win,” I say. “You’re the fittest guy I’ve ever seen.”

  “How many fit guys have you seen,” he says looking at me with a streak of jealousy in his eyes mixed with surprise.

  “So far in my life…none.”

  “Good. That’s what I thought,” he says.

  “I thought guys were interested in someone with…experience. Isn’t that why dating apps are all the rage?”

  “First of all I’m not most guys,” he says and he’s absolutely right about that. “And I barely know what an app is. And I’ve sure never put my personal information on the Internet, although I’m guessing the university might get around to that if they haven’t already.”

  If only he knew that homeowner records were not only public record, but right there at the click of a fingertip on Zillow. In a way I feel bad now, but the thought quickly gets dismissed when I think about where I’d be without having tracked him down.

  I’d either be back in Oak Ridge with no future, or I’d be at some university trying to figure out which drunk coed is the least bad bad option for a boyfriend.

  But I’d actually never do that. I’d rather be single than be in a relationship with someone I’m not interested in long term.

  And I’ve been very interested in Bishop for over two years now, so even though things got hot and heavy about an hour ago at the haunted house it strangely doesn’t feel like we’re moving too fast.

  Probably because I’ve already played out a ton of sexy scenarios in my mind not to mention I may have even considered baby name combinations for our kids.

  “Not to mention when I want something I want it all to myself. I’ve never been good at sharing anything. My toys when I was a kid. Food. Even notes on students with other teachers or professors. And I’m certainly not sharing my woman with anyone, ever.”

  Hearing him say “his woman” makes my entire body light up again, not that I wasn’t already fully awake and alert right now. Just being around him creates this air of excitement unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

  “Professors share notes about students?”

  “All the time, but not me.”

  “Why?”

  “They wan
t to know who’s trouble, who might be cheating, and who their best students are before their classes even start. Sometimes for seating purposes and other times just to know what to expect and things like that.”