Haunting Adeline (Cat and Mouse Duet Book 1)

by H. D. Carlton

  “If you were my little girl, I would worship every inch of your body for as long as our souls are tethered to this earth. My tongue would leave no part of you untouched.” I nip at her bottom lip, wringing a whimper from her throat. “Untasted,” I murmur, my tongue darting out, sliding along the seam of her lips.

  My hand slides up to grip her dainty throat, and I can’t stop the deep growl from forming. My fingers nearly wrapping around the entirety of her neck.

  I could snap it so easily. Bruise it. Leave my mark with my tongue and teeth.

  “If you were my little girl,” I breathe, desire growing dangerously high. “Your sweet little pussy would be so full of me, you would forget what it means to feel empty. I would be inside of you so deeply, you would have to cut me out.”

  Then, I bare my teeth, squeezing her throat until her face pinkens, overcome with the thought of her trying to do something so futile. “You would bleed out before that could ever happen.”

  “I would do it,” she croaks. I loosen my hand just enough to allow her to continue. “I would take a knife and cut every inch of my skin from my body. So nothing would be left of your touch.”

  I cock a brow and grunt my amusement, both turned on and angry from her insolence.

  “We’ll see about that—” I lean down, making sure that my lips brush against the shell of her ear. “Little girl,” I finish on a whisper.

  Grabbing Addie’s hand, I drag her towards the touchscreen to push play on the movie, and then grab a seat smack in the middle of the front row, forcing her onto my lap.

  She tried to sit two seats down from me, but that only pulled a deep laugh from me. Expletives spilled from her mouth in the five seconds it took to wrangle her little body on top of mine.

  The surround sound booms with the opening credits, causing Addie to jolt against me. I wrap my arm tightly around her waist, sliding her back until she's molded into me. Her perky ass sits nicely against my straining cock, and the second she feels how hard I am, she stiffens.

  “Zade,” she warns breathlessly, though the effect is lost on both of us.

  I keep quiet, letting her slowly relax into me as the movie starts to play. Despite the loosening of her muscles, she’s still on edge. I would bet anything right now she’s high on endorphins from the mix of fear of being caught, the conversation that just transpired, and the movie.

  The opening scene is already creepy, setting the tone immediately. Addie wriggles in my hold, her thighs clamped tight.

  I let twenty minutes pass, the movie subtly getting scarier. I pay it no attention—all of it has been routed to Addie.

  Her wide eyes are hooked onto the screen, her breathing is escalated, and heart pounding against her chest. The first jump scare has her yelping, nearly jumping out of her own skin.

  Beneath the flickering light, I watch her skin grow flushed with desire and a small bead of sweat forms on her hairline.

  “Are you even watching?” she asks, her voice a mere octave above a whisper.

  “Yes,” I murmur, my voice deeper and hoarse with need.

  Her breath stutters and her eyes slowly slide towards mine. Those rosebud lips are parted as she stares at me with unbridled heat.

  Gliding my tongue across my bottom lip, I wait until her gaze has been hooked onto the act before I fist the soft fabric of her dress and hike it up until it’s pooled around her hips.

  “Stop it,” she pants, but I don’t listen. She swats at me, but those tiny hands are no match against mine.

  With wicked intention, I slide both of my hands in the crease of her thighs and jerk them apart.

  Her hands snap to my forearms, gripping tightly as if to stop me. But she doesn’t fight against me, even as I spread her thighs so far apart, each leg rests on either chair beside us.

  “What are you doing?” she gasps, staring at my creeping hands with trepidation. I lift one to grab her by her jaw and force her face to the screen.

  “Watch the movie,” I growl.

  A creature in the movie pops out, diverting Addie’s attention enough to scare her again. A startled scream rings out as she shrinks away from the screen and deeper into my hold.

  I groan, the feel of her ass digging into my cock nearly blinding me with pleasure and need.

  The tips of my fingers glide across her creamy thigh, causing her to shift against my touch with restless desire. The creepy music from the movie builds to a crescendo, sending her heart rate to dangerous levels as a person is chased down by something from your worst nightmares.

  “Zade,” she pleas breathlessly, desperate for something that she’s not capable of putting a name to.

  I glance down, biting back a groan when I see her bare.

  "This might not end well for you," I muse.

  She stiffens. “Why?”

  “Your cum will be leaking down your legs when we’re done,” I hum. “How scandalous.”

  "I’d rather have wet thighs than have panty lines with a dress like this.”

  My fingers softly brush against her folds, reveling in the cream gathering on my fingers. I keep my touch light, depriving her of truly gaining any pleasure.

  “Zade,” she bites out, her voice more forceful and demanding. I smile, refusing to give in.

  “Are you watching the movie, Adeline?” I ask harshly. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

  Her eyes snap to the screen, another gasp pulled from her painted lips when the creature brutally slaughters a person.

  Her pussy pulses, juices gushing from her slit and over my fingers. I groan, fighting the impulse to plunge my fingers into the depths of her pussy and feel her come all over me.

  My tongue darts out, licking along her neck and inhaling her jasmine scent. Tasting the saltiness from the thin layer of sweat coating her skin.

  She tastes so fucking delicious. My mouth waters with the need to lap up the arousal soaking my hand. I deny myself the pleasure, keeping my hand glued to her weeping little cunt.

  Giving in to her silent plea, I swirl the pad of my middle finger on her clit, giving her just enough pressure to cause her head to kick back with bliss.

  This time when she whispers my name, it’s full of pleasure.

  A scream from the movie startles her, and her head snaps upright once more.

  “S-someone could come in,” she croaks, my ministrations steady and firm. When I pinch her sensitive clit between my fingers, her eyes cross, a sexy moan releasing from her parted lips.

  “Does that make your pussy wet?” I implore, continuing to rub her clit with my finger. “Does the knowledge that someone could come in any second and see you spread open for me turn you on?”

  She shakes her head, denying the truth as much as she denies how much she wants me.

  “The fear of being caught with my fingers deep in your pussy—” I pause to drive home my point, plunging my middle finger inside her and wringing out a sharp cry— “it makes you want to come so badly, doesn’t it?”

  I add a second finger, fucking her in quick hard strokes. Her breath sharpens, and her moans heighten as she draws closer to an orgasm.

  My eyes shift back and forth between what my fingers are doing to her and her face. Her eyes have long since dropped to my hand, defying my orders once again.

  Mid-stroke, I withdraw my fingers and grab her face with my other hand, roughly squeezing her jaw in my grip. She mewls, crying from both the loss and the pain lancing through her face.

  I deliver one quick, sharp slap to her pussy, enjoying the startled cry of pain that sneaks past her lips.

  “What. Did. I. Say?” Her chest heaves, and her hips buck against the air, desperate to feel my fingers filling her up once more.

  “Watch the movie,” she answers, sucking her lip between her teeth as her glazed eyes focus back on the screen.

  “Were you listening?” I growl, refusing to touch her needy pussy.

  “I—no. I’m sorry,” she says quietly, a deep crease forming between her brows. Her ap
ology didn’t settle right with her, so to abate the sobering thoughts, I plunge my fingers back inside her.

  A long moan releases, but her eyes stay glued to the screen.

  “Good girl,” I praise, feeling the answering clench around my fingers. “If I catch you disobeying me one more time, you won’t get to come. Am I understood?”

  She nods, the movement choppy and strained against the force of my fingers clutching her cheeks.

  Releasing her face, my hand drifts to the front of her dress, tugging down harshly. The fabric holds tight beneath her tits, forcing them to swell. Groaning, I cup a full breast in my palm, squeezing tightly before kneading the sharpened point of her nipple between my fingers.

  I resume my ministrations with the hand between her thighs, keeping my thrusts slow and languid. Drawing out her pleasure and wringing more delicious moans from her mouth. Her eyes droop into a half-lidded state, but they don’t stray from the screen.

  Loud, wet noises war with the sound from the movie as my fingers dip in and out. She’s so fucking wet. She’s creating a pool on my slacks and the seat beneath us.

  I trade between biting and licking at her neck and whispering words of appraisal in her ear. This time, I want her orgasm to build at a slower, more painful pace. It’ll gradually creep up while feeling so far out of reach.

  “This sweet little pussy is so fucking needy for my fingers, isn’t it? Do you feel how tightly you’re gripping me? I have to fight just to withdraw my fingers so I can fuck you with them.”

  A sinister vibe emanates from the screen, and Addie’s pulse seems to become even more erratic.

  “Zade, please,” she begs, her nails biting into my arms. My sleeves alleviate the sting, but the pressure increases until I fear she’s going to start breaking her red painted nails.

  My free hand grips her throat and squeezes firmly until her face pinkens, and her breath grows short. Staccato moans bursts from her lips as I increase my pace and firmly rub her clit with my thumb.

  “Oh, God—” she sucks in a sharp breath.

  “That’s right, I am your God.”

  “Zade!” she screams a moment before her pussy clenches onto my fingers so tightly, I can hardly move them any longer.

  Her back arches and her head kicks back, past the point of caring about my demands and the movie. A sob wracks her throat as I continue thrusting, riding out her orgasm until her entire body is convulsing and she’s desperately trying to pull my hand away.

  “Oh my god, oh my god, Zade, stop,” she chants, her juices flooding so heavily from her core that I feel them spilling past my hand.

  Finally, I ease my fingers out, licking them clean as she watches me with a colorful expression. She’s satisfied, but embarrassment, shame, and anger are slowly creeping back in.

  Now that she’s coming down from her high, reality is setting in.

  I laugh as she scrambles from my lap and rearranges her dress back to its previous state—a tad more rumpled than before but no less beautiful.

  There’s a slight wet spot between my legs, but luckily my black slacks conceal it, and most of it got on the seat. I feel the need to leave a hundred-dollar bill for whoever has to clean that.

  “I can’t believe we did that,” she mutters under her breath, seemingly to herself as her hands drift over her hair, checking to make sure nothing is out of place.

  “You look beautiful,” I say, cutting off her continued muttering and rendering her silent. Subtly, she glances over her shoulder at me, but doesn’t acknowledge my words.

  “So, not only do you only fear me in the daylight, but you only love me when I’m making you come.”

  That gets her attention. She whips around, fire in her eyes as she spits, “I don’t love you.”

  “Not yet,” I counter, topping it off with a grin. Her eyes narrow into thin slits.

  “Come on, little mouse. You’ve wasted enough time getting your pussy worshipped, let’s go get some answers.”

  I slip past her, walking ahead of her and towards the doors. Yet, I still hear her mutter asshole under her breath, and it does nothing but bring me joy to know I get under her skin so deeply.

  Chapter 26

  The Manipulator

  I ’m seething, and my thighs are slick with my own arousal as I rush after Zade.

  He doesn’t bother turning the movie off. We just slip from the room and quickly make our way back into the ballroom.

  It’s like no one even noticed us gone. But I’m sure people have, right? Zade has worked this entire room by now, and as much as I loathe to admit it, the man is unforgettable.

  To say the fucking least.

  All of two minutes pass before a man approaches us, his black uniform and white vest signaling his position.

  “Mr. Forthright, Ms. Reilly, please follow me,” the butler, Marion, instructs.

  Just like that, I’m stone-cold sober and the lingering orgasm has been completely eradicated.

  Marion leads us through a series of hallways, pointing out certain pictures and historical artifacts Mark managed to get his hands on.

  I nod and hum my appraisal, but my mind is drifting back towards Gigi and the potential information I could garner tonight. Mark might choose to give me breadcrumbs and keep me coming back for more, but it'll be futile.

  He’s not getting me back in this house again. I'm not entirely sure if coming here was even worth it yet or not.

  At least I got to watch an unreleased movie, even though I didn’t get to see how it ended.

  Whatever, I don’t remember much about it anyways. My gaze was sightless when all I could focus on was—

  Stop it, Addie.

  My stomach drops from the fresh memory, and it takes entering Mark’s study to pull my attention firmly back into the present.

  “My two favorite people,” Mark greets loudly, a lit cigar poised between his fingers and a glass of amber liquid in the crystal cup dangling in his other hand.

  He looks drunk. His ruddy face is flushed red, and his eyes have begun to glaze over a bit.

  “Please, sit,” he directs, pointing to the plush leather couch beside his desk.

  Zade and I take a seat, and the two men immediately engage in a conversation about the party. I add my two cents in when required, noting how beautiful the chandeliers are and the fascinating artifacts decorating his house.

  He beams at the compliment, a smile stretching across his face.

  “All thanks to my wife, of course. She does enjoy spending my money, and if decorating this house is what keeps her happy, then I can live with that,” he jests. His tone is joyful, but the words are condescending and meant to be an attack.

  “I’m sure you know how much the ladies love our money, huh, Zack?”

  And there’s the cherry on top of his sundae of misogyny. I bet his sundae taste like bruised skin and a bleeding heart.

  Zade smiles, the act nearly primal and ripe with danger. “Small price to pay when they give us something so priceless every day. And if you ask me, I’d tell you I’m not worthy of it, but I’m a selfish bastard and will accept it anyways,” he answers cryptically. I don’t know how I know, but I know exactly what he’s speaking of.

  Love.

  Love is priceless. As Mark’s nefarious dealings have proven, pussy can be bought and is plentiful, whether they’re forcing it or getting consent. And despite all the ways Zade has forced me to my knees for him, the only thing he’s ever really wanted from me is to return his addiction. Because that’s the one thing he can’t take or force.

  He can force my body to succumb to him, but he can’t force my heart to beat for him.

  And ironically, it seems that’s the one thing he wants most from me.

  Mark takes it the direction most men would. He laughs and offers me a wink, as if he knows without a doubt how priceless my pussy might be. But if I had to guess on what type of man Mark is, he’d put a price on me in a heartbeat.

  “I know exactly what you mean,
” he chortles.

  Do you, asshole?

  I shrug a shoulder. "I think you're the lucky one, Mark. One look at Claire, and you can see she is a strong, capable woman. Those are the most dangerous." I add in a wink, but I know it's falling on deaf ears. Mark is too comfortable in the patriarchy to consider that Claire might not shove a knife through his neck while sleeping one night.

  Mark scoffs, but he takes the hint and shuts his mouth. At least he's not dense enough to feel the plummeting mood.

  Zade appears relaxed and collected, but I know that beast in his soul is pacing back and forth, just waiting to be set loose. I can tell by the subtle flexing of his fist, and that way his smile appears threatening and feral. I can just feel the energy radiating off of him despite the serenity he exudes.

  Why does Zade wanting to kill a man over a sleazy comment most men would say make me want to repeat the favor he stole from me in my driveway? This time I’d be much more… willing.

  I hate him.

  “So, Adeline, about your great-grandmother. Gigi was a beautiful woman. Even as a little boy, I remember that clearly,” he continues.

  Climbing a mountain would take less energy than what it does to keep my eyes from rolling at his remark.

  That would be something Mark latched onto. Gigi was beautiful, but who the fuck cares about personalities, right?

  I clear my throat and paste on a smile. “Yes, she was.”

  Mark tips his head back, seeming to retreat into a memory. “Yeah, I remember her signature red lips. Don’t think I ever saw her without that lipstick on.”

  “Do you remember anything about her murder?” I ask, trying to keep the hope at bay.

  “I remember how absolutely devastated John was when he found her. Was in near hysterics, and it took my father hours to calm him down enough to tell him what happened.”

  “You said your father thought it was John, but do you think it could’ve been anyone else?” I press. I already know my great-grandfather freaked the hell out. There was a comment in the police report that they threatened to sedate him.