Sabrina tears into the funnel cake, sugar dusting her lips, and when she licks it off, my self-control takes another hit. She notices, of course. She always notices.
“You’re staring,” she teases.
“Can you blame me?”
She bites into another piece. Slow. Deliberate. Like the fucking brat she is.
We wander through the festival like that, her pushing, me resisting, the tension between us strung tight. By the time we reach the hayride, my hands itch to touch her. Instead, they squish the plush toy until my knuckles turn white. Sabrina hops onto the wagon, the skirt of her dress swishes like a bell, and pats the spot beside her. Me and the newest addition to her cat army join her just in time for the ride to begin.
There are only a few other people on the haybales lining the trailer, and they’re scanning the woods in anticipation of the first scare.
“You know,” she whispers as the tractor lurches forward. “A haunted hayride is the perfect place to get me alone in the dark.”
Not as alone as I would like but away from the lights of the festival it’s so dark I can’t see the other people sitting up at the front of the trailer. And more importantly they can’t see us.
“You wanted to see the ghosts,” I whisper.
“I’d rather rile up the living.”
The trailer rattles down the dirt path as the red tractor pulls us with a loud rumbling engine, the woods close in, the laughter of other riders muffling the crunch of leaves underneath the large tires. She leans into my side, all warmth and temptation, and when the first zombie pops out of the trees, she gasps and grabs my thigh.
Her nails dig in. My control frays. Sabrina gasps again when another ghoul leaps from behind a tree, but she doesn’t pull her hand away. If anything, her grip on my thigh tightens. My jeans suddenly feel about two sizes too small.
“You, okay?” I murmur, leaning close so only she can hear.
Her blue eyes glitter with delight in the waning moonlight.
“Oh, I’m great. I’ve just realized haunted hayrides come with an extra seat.”
My jaw clenches at the thought of Sabrina’s curves pressing into me. Her warm weight settling over my aching cock as I try not to come in my jeans like a teenager.
“Careful.”
She tilts her head, all faux innocence.
“Why? Scared I’ll make you break your little promise?”
Little. Fucking. Brat.
She shifts closer, and the trailer jolts over a rut. Suddenly she’s on my lap anyway, skirts pooling around us like a dark wave. The scent of her, smoky vanilla with something sharp beneath, wraps around me until all I can think about is how warm and soft she’d feel if I shoved that skirt up and pulled her onto my cock properly.
Instead, I grip the edge of the trailer hard enough to dent the wood siding.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” I say between clenched teeth.
Sabrina smiles, slow and wicked, like she’s winning. I’ll be damned if the feel of her on my lap grinning with sinful delight doesn’t make my cock harden against my jeans. Her eyes widen slightly and I know she feels it poking her in the ass.
Another jump-scare distracts the rest of the wagon, but my focus stays locked on her. Her lips are so close I could lean in and take them. She’s waiting for me to crack, daring me to.
I bend, just enough that my mouth brushes her ear.
“Keep this up, pretty girl, and the only reward you’re getting is a spanking that’ll keep you from sitting for a week.”
Her breath hitches. For the first time all night, she’s the one who falters.
The trailer rattles to a stop back at the festival grounds, laughter and chatter filling the air as people climb down. Sabrina takes her time, sliding off my lap deliberately, smoothing her skirt with a devilish smile curling her black lips.
“You’re no fun,” she purrs.
