And I had something better in mind.

“WHAT ARE WE DOING?” she asked, peering out the windshield. “Why are we here?”

I pulled up in front of St. Killian’s, the headlights shining in the darkness and landing on the broken stained glass windows and the eerie blackness inside. The dilapidated stone of the structure was surrounded by fallen autumn leaves, and the only sound was the wind howling through the trees overhead.

My stomach knotted with anticipation, and a drop of sweat glided down my back.

This was my favorite place.

It was weighted with history and filled with a thousand corners and small spaces. As a kid, I’d climbed around inside, exploring and getting lost for hours.

I shut off the car, the headlights going dead, and I stepped out, the smell of earth drifting through my nostrils. This place felt more like home than any other.

Slamming the door shut, I gripped my mask in my hand and watched Rika climb out of the G-Class. Her nervous eyes kept glancing up at the dark and silent cathedral, and her chest rose and fell faster.

She was scared. Good.

I let my eyes fall down her outfit once again, having got a good look before we left the house, too.

She wore her navy-blue and forest-green plaid shirt and a white blouse fitted with a matching plaid tie under a navy-blue vest. On her feet were black flats. She’d even combed out her hair and put on a little make-up to freshen up.

I think she had an idea of what was in store when I told her to wear the outfit, but she was definitely surprised when I told her to get in the car.

And now…a little frightened.

I gazed at her legs, my cocking swelling at the memory of how smooth they were and how warm it was between them.

My heart started to race.

“Let’s go down to the catacombs.” I nodded toward the cathedral. “No blindfold this time.”

I smirked, keeping my expression hard. I didn’t want her to feel safe.

She dropped her chin, searching the ground for a way out. Should she say no? Should she ask another question I wasn’t going to answer?

Or would she play?

She raised her eyes and swallowed, a look of defiance crossing her face. And I held back a smile, seeing her turn and start walking toward the side entrance.

Lifting up the mask, I slid it down over my face and walked slowly behind her. Stalking, not following.

I stared at her back, taking step after step, slow and steady as she walked briskly, stumbling over rocks and uneven ground. She twisted her head, looking over shoulder, and her face fell, taking notice of the mask.

But she turned back around quickly and kept walking, rolling with it.

My breath filled the inside of the mask, and I could feel a light layer of sweat breaking out over my forehead.

The backs of her thighs, the few inches I could see, were making my hands ball into fists. I wanted to slide my fingers up the back of her skirt and touch skin that I knew felt like butter.

The top of her hair glowed in the soft light from the moon, and every time her nervous glances over her shoulder hit me, it made my heart beat faster.

I’m going to make you scream.

She stepped slowly into the cathedral through the door, now hanging on its hinges, and stopped, looking around.

But we weren’t sightseeing. I planted my hand on her back and shoved her forward.

“Mich—” she gasped out, losing her voice. She jerked her head around, shaking it as she breathed hard. “I don’t think we should—”

But I immediately reached out and grabbed her neck, cutting her off and shoving her backward again.

“Michael!”

Her breaths rushed in and out loud and fast, and she hurriedly backed away from me, her eyes wide with fright. She swallowed, holding my stare, and I could tell she was definitely fucking scared now.

Then, I narrowed my eyes, seeing her hand absently drop to the inside if her thigh.

Jesus. She was so fucking turned on, she was about to rub one out right here. She quickly pulled her hand away, probably realizing the impulse she’d had.

I jerked my head toward the entrance to the catacombs, remaining silent. She hesitated, shifting her eyes side to side, but turned anyway and started walking.

She didn’t trust me. But she wanted to.

We reached the entrance, cool air drifting up and seeping through my jeans and hoodie.

She paused. “There’s no…” she twisted her head to the side, talking to me. “There’s no light.”

I stood behind her, looking down at the top her head and waiting. I didn’t care if there was any light.

She seemed to realize that when I didn’t say anything. Taking a deep breath, she stepped down, slowly finding the next stair as she grazed her hand along the wall to our right, using it to guide and steady her.

With every step she took, my cock grew harder.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she turned her head again, looking to me with a question in her eyes. It was nearly pitch black down here, some moonlight seeping in from cracks in the ceiling.

The chilled silence of the tunnels to the left and right closed in on us like walls, and I wondered if there was anyone else down here.

Walking into her, I forced her backward into the vault ahead of me. The same room I’d taken her to three years ago.

Her footsteps picked up, and she entered the chamber ahead of me, her fair hair the only thing I could make out in the darkness.

“Michael?” she called. “Where are you?”

Taking out a lighter, I pushed the button and lit the small candle on the wall sconce by the doorway.