Shiver : 13 Sexy Tales of Humor and Horror

Part One: The Bet

“Scary movies have never really done it for me,” I said with a shrug.

I lay stretched out on the bed in the gigantic hotel suite. Jay and I were spending our honeymoon in a five-star resort in Miami. Having lived in rainy Ireland my entire life, it was a whole other world from what I was used to. I could definitely learn to appreciate all the sunlight. You’d never find yourself suffering from seasonal affective disorder in this part of the world. The sun was everywhere; it infiltrated every nook and cranny.

“Not even The Ring?” Jay asked in a curious voice as he lazily traced circles on my arm. “Everybody gets freaked out by The Ring, especially the original.”

I shook my head. “Nope. It’s like when it comes to horror films, I have this inability to suspend my disbelief. I just burst out laughing when the scary bits start. Plus, the title of The Ring is comical in itself. I feel like the person who came up with it was having their own little private joke at everyone else’s expense.”

Jay gave me a wry but amused look, and shook his head. “One week as my wife, Matilda, and already you’re making ass jokes. I must be a bad influence.” Despite his tone, he seemed pleased by that fact.

I grinned. Every chance he got these days, he was reminding me we were now married. Our wedding was a small affair; it took place in Las Vegas (which to me was glamorous with a capital “G”), and I got to wear a swanktastic dress. In comparison to the women on that Bridezilla show, I was particularly easy to please.

“Well, you’ve hardly let me put mine away since we got to this ritzy place. I’ve almost forgotten there’s such a thing as clothing.”

He feigned a confused look and put on a haughty voice. “Clothing? What is this sorcery of which you speak?”

I giggled, because my husband looked like the ultimate cool dude when you saw him on the street, but behind the bad boy façade lay a bit of an oddball.

His hand slid from my neck and down the center of my chest to rest on my belly. I could tell from the heated stare he was giving me that he was getting turned on, and we’d just had sex a half hour ago. This was verging on the ridiculous. I knew we were on our honeymoon and everything, but I did want to leave the hotel room and take a look around at least once. We were flying back to Vegas tomorrow. Since Jay had a full run of shows booked and our wedding was something of a spontaneous affair, we only had a three-day window in which to honeymoon.

Before my next thought could enter my head, Jay was parting my legs and climbing between them. For a moment I was mesmerized by the way his muscles moved and flexed as he held himself above me, the way his tattoos came to life as though dancing on his skin.

“Jay,” I half sighed, half whimpered, and leveled my hands on his shoulders. “We’re not having sex again. I’m going to be walking funny as it is.”

He cocked a sardonic eyebrow and tilted his head. “I don’t mind you walking funny, Watson. Besides, we’re not leaving this bed for the rest of the day, so it’s a nonissue.”

He started to push inside me, and I couldn’t help the moan that came out. Still, I clenched my thighs around his waist to hinder any further movement. He bit his lip and groaned. “Man, you’ve got strong thighs. Must be all that cycling. My wife is sexy as fuck.”

I shivered at him mentioning the words “wife” and “fuck” in the same sentence in that husky Boston accent of his. But I stayed firm; he wasn’t getting around me on this.

“I’m being serious, Jay. I think we should take a breather. And anyway, I’m starving.”

Bringing his mouth to my neck, he licked a long line from my throat to my jaw, and my pulse ratcheted up a notch. “Hmm, me too.”

My momentary distraction caused me to loosen my thighs, and his hips thrust forward, filling me up in one smooth motion.

“Ah! Jay, stop,” I gasped, my protest weak, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

His deep, satisfied chuckle did all sorts of wonderful butterfly-like things to my stomach. He slowly withdrew and flopped over onto his pillow, his arms thrown up above his head. Then he reached for the phone and quickly dialed room service, ordering enough food to feed a small country.

“What about The Exorcist?” he asked once he’d hung up, returning to our earlier topic of conversation.

“Hilarious, especially when the girl’s head starts to twist around.”

Jay’s mouth formed a flat line as he studied me, perplexed, and I could tell he was thinking real hard. “I bet I could scare you,” he murmured low, his voice giving me momentary shivers.

I rubbed absently at the gooseflesh on my arms. The thing about Jay was that even though he was laid bare to me and all his secrets revealed, there was always a hint of mystery beneath the surface, always the idea that he could be thinking of something far beyond the realms of my paltry imagination. His mind was a kaleidoscope of trickery, and I was still learning how to navigate the terrain.

“That sounds ominous. Do you mean you could scare me because you’re in fact a psycho killer, or scare me with a magic trick?”

His eyes crinkled at the edges, and there was mischief in his gaze. “The latter, obviously.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Your tricks are cool and everything, but they mostly astound and amaze me rather than scare me.”

I loved that Jay was an illusionist. It was so incredibly exciting to live with someone who was constantly coming up with new ways to surprise people. It was also incredibly sexy when he was on stage. However, I was now accustomed to strange things happening, so the fact that I knew it wasn’t real made it hard for me to believe I’d be frightened. If something out of the ordinary occurred, my husband was usually behind it.

“Halloween’s in a few days, too. I think I’m gonna have to come up with a spooky trick just for you.”

“Go ahead,” I told him breezily, “but it will be a waste of time.”

His grin spread wide, and devilry played on his features. “Oh, yeah? Care to make a wager on that?”

“That I won’t be scared? Sure,” I said, and presented my hand. He took it in his, his thumb brushing along my pulse as he pulled me closer. “What do I get if I win?”

Jay’s eyes went dark, his voice low as he asked, “What do you want?”

I chewed on my lip, thinking about it. Finally, I responded, “How about if I win, you have to let me choose your stage outfits for a whole week, and you can’t argue with my choices?”

I managed the wardrobe for Jay’s magic shows in Las Vegas, which was where we’d usually be if we weren’t currently honeymooning, and he was often difficult when it came to what I chose for him. I wanted to put him in designer suits and those sexy V-neck shirts, but he always wanted to wear plain old combats and vests. He said a V-neck was a man vag, and he wasn’t going to be caught dead in one. I could wrangle him into a suit on occasion, but those occasions were few and far between. Apparently, you sweat like a motherfucker in a suit on a stage (his words, not mine.) I was also dying to get him into a Dixie bow. Don’t ask why — it just needed to happen.

He looked amused yet indulgent, giving me a tickle. “That’s what you want, you little weirdo?”

I gave him an expression that was half scowl, half ambiguous smile. “We both know dressing you is a secret pleasure of mine. Remember the suit I was making for you when you proposed? It was probably the thrill of seeing you put it on that made me say yes,” I teased.

Jay smirked and knelt on the bed, his hands braced on his knees as he stared down at me, his eyes smoldering. “You would have said yes regardless, but back to this bet. What do I get if I win?”

“I don’t know. What have you got in mind?”

It barely took him a second to answer, so I knew he’d already been thinking his prize up as we had our conversation. “You naked for twenty-four hours.”

Oh, typical.

“Jason!” I scolded jokingly. “What would the neighbors say?” Technically, we didn’t have neighbors, since we were living in a hotel until he finished his string of shows, but that was neither here nor there.

“Fuck the neighbors,” he swore, and gave me a hot look. “Anyway, we wouldn’t be leaving the suite for the entire twenty-four hours, if you catch my drift.”

“Oh, so your prize is basically sex for twenty-four hours. You were simply trying to dress it up all fancy-like.”

His eyes flashed at me, and I knew he was enjoying the way I baited him. “More like strip it down.”

I smirked. “Was that a pun?”

“It might have been.”

Stroking my chin, I affected a thoughtful expression. “Hmm. Okay, I’ll agree, on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“If you win, you get your day-long sexathon, but until the bet is over, which would be Halloween, there can be no more bedroom action.”

Jay shook his head ever so slightly, his disagreement simple. “Nope.”

“Hey, hear me out. If we don’t have sex for the next few days, it’ll make the prize that much sweeter, don’t you think? Otherwise, you’ll just be getting something you already have. My prize is something I don’t have, so I think your prize should be, too.”

A breath escaped him as he eyed me for a prolonged moment. “This is presuming I win.”

“Of course.”

He narrowed his gaze, trying suppress a smile. “You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Fields.”

I held my hand out so that we could shake on it, and finally he took it. “I guess this means we have ourselves a bet,” I declared. “I’m confident you won’t be able to frighten me, but how do we measure it? How will you know if I’m covering up my fear?”

One eyebrow rose again, and I guessed it was a silly question. Jay had studied behavioral science for years, knew all sorts of mentalist tricks and ways to read people, so I presumed he’d be able to tell whether or not I was scared pretty easily.

“I have my methods,” he replied enigmatically.

“I know that. But we need to make a checklist. Break my fear down into a science so that the end result can’t be refuted.”

He considered me a moment. “People show fear in different ways. The most common symptoms are a widening of the eyes, raised brows, increased heart rate, flared nostrils, dilated pupils, tensing in the muscles, a dry mouth, sweating, trembling, and, of course, screaming.” He reached out and stroked a hand down my face. “A lot of these reactions are similar to arousal, when you think about it. Fear and sex create the same extremes in humans, although only one brings pleasure.”

I swallowed and tried not to blush. “Well, that sounds fairly extensive.”

We might have been married, but I still got goose bumps whenever he was suggestive. It was bizarre that I could still get shy around him, but there it was. In the grand scheme of things, we hadn’t really been together for very long. Still, I knew that I loved him, knew he was the only one for me.

“I’m nothing if not thorough,” he murmured, and leaned in to place a soft kiss on my mouth before climbing off the bed. He went into the bathroom, and I heard the shower come on. When he emerged fifteen minutes later, he was fully dressed, where usually he’d come out wearing a towel around his waist, hair wet, droplets of water still on his skin….

He must have seen the dreamy look on my face, because he chuckled. “What are you thinking about, darlin’?”

“Huh?” I bit on my lip, paused, then answered, “Just about how you normally come out of the shower wearing a lot less.”

More chuckling. “Well, I don’t want to go tempting you, now, do I? It’d be a sorry reflection on the both of us if we couldn’t stick to our sex embargo for more than thirty minutes.”

Oh, he was enjoying this. I had a feeling he was going to do his best to torture me for the next few days. I was, after all, the one to come up with the no-sex rule. A minute later, the room service arrived, and I decided to console myself with spaghetti carbonara. Carbonara consoling, I liked to call it.

After we were done eating, Jay retreated to the desk in the living area with his laptop. I got the feeling he was already researching his trick for the bet, and I began to wonder if I’d bitten off more than I could chew. It was true that I never really got frightened of horror films, but that was because I was sitting safely on my couch, watching them through the medium of a TV screen. Jay’s trick would be a trick, but there would be no safety blanket, no distance.

It would be happening to me in real time.

The idea made my skin prickle. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult for him to scare me after all.

For the rest of the evening, Jay had gone into “the zone,” as I often referred to it, when he was so consumed by an idea that he barely noticed the world passing around him. You could almost feel the air thickening, crackling with energy, could sense that something special was happening as he scribbled down notes unreadable to anyone but him and furiously looked for information in books or on his computer.

He was like that in most things.

Intense.

Obstinate.

Perilous.

It was a heady combination, and probably the reason why I was so fascinated by him. Often it felt like his energy consumed me to the point it was hard to focus. That was why I liked having my sewing. It didn’t take too much brainpower to stitch by hand, which was what I’d been doing while we were here, since I didn’t have my machine with me. It was a good way to distract myself from the man in my life and gain some focus. When I had nothing else to do, my hands always seemed to itch for a needle and thread.

After a while, I threw on a summery maxi dress and some sandals, and decided to take a walk around the resort. I ended up at the bar, where a handsome and flirty bartender mixed me a Sex on the Beach. He had suggested it, if you must know. Women who order sexily named cocktails while sitting alone at bars are just asking for trouble, especially when being served by young, available, flirty-mouthed males.

Can I have an Angel’s Tit?

You can if you show me your tits, angel.

How about a Screaming Orgasm?

Oh, those are my specialty.

I’m in the mood for a Bend Over Shirley.

I’d be happy to bend you over any time, Shirley, dear.

I could go on and on. Sometimes I wonder if some sneaky perverted barman invented all those drinks for his own personal enjoyment. Or for furthering his own personal sex life. Anyway, I was oblivious to the fact that this particular barman might find me attractive, until I went to take some money from my purse and he informed the drink was on the house while giving me a saucy wink. I was about to insist on paying, but he quickly turned around and went to serve two women sitting on the other side of the bar.

Oh, well, I might as well enjoy the free drink, I thought to myself. I sipped on it while staring around at the patrons. This wasn’t a family resort; it seemed to cater to rich people living lives of leisure, or business types. I had a fanciful notion that the barman thought I was some rich young heiress who whiled away her evenings drinking overpriced cocktails and pondering the emptiness of her existence. The idea made me giddy, so I decided to play along with the role for a minute, running my finger along the edge of my glass and trying to affect a demeanor of jaded privilege.

Perhaps he thought he could butter me up with free drinks and then wheedle his way into my bank account. My real-life bank account was nothing to write home about, but my imaginary heiress bank account could keep him in Rolexes and designer underpants for the rest of his days.

Now that I was watching him, he did strike me as the type who could sail through life on his looks if it so pleased him. Jay was attractive in a rough around the edges, battle-scarred sort of way. The bartender was a pretty boy. I doubted he had a single scar on his tanned, muscular form.

Once he was finished with the ladies, he sidled his way back over to me and began wiping down the bar top.

“Is the cocktail to your liking, honey?” he asked, and I gave him a polite smile. I was beginning to tense up now, because the way he looked at me was like he’d already stripped me of my dress and was pleased by what he saw. Actually, it was kind of irritating.

“It’s great, thanks,” I said, stiff.

He leaned slightly closer. “I love your accent. Where are you from?”

I inwardly snorted at the idea of my accent being anything other than common and mundane. The romance languages were the ones that had the enviable accents. “Ireland,” I answered finally.

“Oh, yeah? I’m a fifth Irish on my mother’s side, you know,” he said, and winked. “What brings you to this part of the world?”

Before I could tell him that I was on my honeymoon, another voice did it for me. That voice was one part amused and another part seriously pissed off, and it came from the stool to the left of me. A stool that I was sure only seconds ago had been empty.

“She’s on her honeymoon,” said Jay, and I turned to him. He was frowning.

The whole randomly appearing thing was a bit of a habit of his, something of an occupational hazard for magicians, you could call it. One of these days he was going to give me a heart attack. It usually goes something like this: I walk into the empty kitchen, open the fridge, pull out some orange juice, take a sip, look to the previous vacant table, and there sits Jay, sending my heart racing. It’s similar to when you think you see a person standing in a darkened room, but it turns out to be a coat rack…or a cardboard cutout of Harry Styles. Only in my case, the person often turns out to be Jay.

The bartender quickly took in the dynamic, eyebrows shooting up into his forehead, nodded, and suddenly looked like he had a very important task to complete elsewhere. A second later, he was gone.

Jay took my hand in his and leaned down to sniff at my cocktail. “As if he didn’t see the ring. Prick was trying his luck,” he muttered. “What are you drinking, darlin’?”

“A Sex on the Beach,” I said wryly. “The barman suggested it.”

“I bet he did. I can’t leave you alone for a minute before the vultures start circling.”

I laughed loudly. “But of course. I might as well be Pamela Anderson in the ’90s. The menfolk just can’t get enough of me.”

“That is a weird analogy, Watson. Why wouldn’t you just say Megan Fox? Or Mila Kunis?”

Trying to keep a straight face, I replied, “They didn’t come to mind. But I’m very interested by how quickly they came to yours. Do you have a celebrity crush, Jason?”

He pulled my hand up to his mouth, turned it, and kissed the inside of my wrist, murmuring, “The only crush I have is you. The only person I see is you.”

He made some intense eye contact with me that had me burning up and wishing I’d never had the genius idea to make sex off limits. In that moment, I wanted him to show me with his body the things he was doing to me with his eyes.

“That’s….” I cleared my throat. “That’s a very good answer. So what brings you down here and out of your crazy magician cave?”

“I went to take a piss and saw you were gone. It’s a good thing I came after you, too. Otherwise, the pervy fuck of a barman might have tried to spike your drink.” His words dripped with possession…and I kind of liked it. “I also have a question for you about our bet,” he went on, piquing my interest.

“Oh, yes?”

His gaze darkened roguishly. “I need to know what your limits are. Do you want me just to scare you, or are you giving me permission to mindfuck the shit out of you?”

Well, the second option sounded both frightening and sexy as hell, which was exactly why I swallowed and answered, “The latter. Yes, definitely the latter.”

Jay grinned in approval and brought his arms around my waist, his fingers kneading my hips. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Part Two: The Tease

Arriving back in Vegas was a whirlwind of activity. Jay had to get back to doing his show five nights a week, which meant I had to return to work, too. Since I hadn’t won our bet yet, I was still confined to the usual (boring) man choices of the wardrobe world. My artistic freedom was going to come at a price, and that price would be fooling my husband into believing he couldn’t frighten me.

I spent our first afternoon home secretly Googling techniques for staying calm in times of crisis. If I knew anything about Jay, he was going to go all out, so I needed every advantage I could get.

In other news, we’d been invited to a Halloween party being thrown by Tina, the girl who worked as Jay’s assistant. Don’t get me wrong — he didn’t have those sexy magician’s assistants who wore sparkly outfits that showed lots of leg and/or cleavage, but he did have a PA. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t like her much, and I rarely disliked people.

This was probably due to the fact that she showed a lot of leg and/or cleavage anyway.

I could tell she fancied the pants off Jay and was secretly biding her time. It was ridiculous; I mean, we’d just gotten married, for Christ’s sake. And really, it was so unclassy to have designs on someone else’s man. It wasn’t as if there weren’t thousands of other eligible bachelors in the city for her to set her sights on. No, she wanted mine. I knew Jay was aware of her affections and a little discombobulated over what to do about it. He was trying to be a gentleman, but I thought maybe he was going to put in for a new assistant soon.

I was hoping that was what he’d do, because I was one step away from making a voodoo doll, and since I was a dab hand at crafts, it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that I would….

Anyway, I was holding my head high and not succumbing to the urge to trip Tina and her too-tight jeans over, and I had agreed to go to the party. It was fancy dress, which meant I needed to find a suitable outfit. I kind of felt like going down the comedic route by dressing as a beer bottle or a stop sign, but that wouldn’t do. All of the women would be going as sexy angels, witches, nurses, vampires…llamas. No? Okay, then.

The point was, I needed to come up with something that was fancy dress but also provocative. It was shallow, but I wanted to look better than Tina. I would have designed and made something myself, but I was too rushed off my feet. That meant I had to go to a costume shop and buy an outfit. Unable to decide, I ended up buying three and bringing them back to the hotel with me to try on. They were as follows:

1.) Black pleather cat suit with spider-web netting over the boobage. Indecently tight.

2.) Sexy cop outfit complete with handcuffs and a bare midriff.

3.) Another black cat suit, this one for an actual cat, with cute ears and stick-on whiskers. Again, indecently tight. I thought I might have to be sewn into it like Olivia Newton John in the “You’re the One That I Want” scene from Grease.

And you know what? I kind of hated all three. I just wanted to wear a nice dress, do something cool with my hair, and be done with it.

It had been three days since we made the bet, and I was dying to give in and call it off. In terms of our relationship, everything was still very new, and I had a hunger for Jay that simply wouldn’t abate. It was torture to watch him doing stage rehearsals, which could be very rigorous, and hence he would work up quite the sweat. Yesterday he pulled off his T-shirt, balled it up, and used it to dab his forehead. It almost felt like it was happening in slow motion, like a Diet Coke ad or something. I mean, how was I supposed to resist that? Tina almost spontaneously combusted with an eye orgasm.

I coughed loudly, and her gaze slid to me, momentarily widening in shock to be caught ogling. It was funny. I was having a hard time with all this jealous/possessive business. Before I met Jay, I was always the sort of girl to back off and let the sassy go-getter chicks have the guy. But with him I felt like doing bodily harm when other women so much as glanced at him, going all Vampire Bill and proclaiming Jason is mine!! It was a strange new feeling for me, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.

Back to the present, I was trying unsuccessfully to zip myself into Halloween costume number one, the spider-web cat suit. I stood in front of the mirror in the lounge area of our suite, twisting my body as I tried to pull the zipper all the way up, but the lady was not for turning. I had way too much hip, belly, and tit going on for a surprisingly unstretchy material. I should have gotten one made out of spandex or something.

Finally, with a lot of wriggling around, I managed to get the zip done up the entire way. I felt like my ribs were being crushed, but I was triumphant, pumping my fist up into the air in victory. Unfortunately, my fist pump exerted a little too much action, and I heard a rip. I froze, eyes widening, as I turned and looked at my backside through the mirror.

I thought these kinds of things only happened in cheesy physical comedies, but no, it seemed the arses of pants that were too tight could split in real life, too. It was at that wonderfully opportune moment that the door to the suite opened, and Jay walked in. I stood in front of the mirror, staring at him through the glass, caught with my pants down (or should I say, torn at the seam.) I had half a mind to run and hide in shame, but it was too late. He’d already seen the damage, as it were.

I could tell he was trying not to laugh when he plastered on a bland expression. “Hey, you want some dinner?”

Bless him, he knew I was embarrassed and had chosen not to capitalize on the moment.

“Yes,” I sighed. “And you can go ahead and get a few jokes in. You know you want to.”

His mouth twitched. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Watson.”

“I bought the wrong size, okay. And the shop was about to close, so I didn’t have time to stay and try it on.”

He went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and took a long gulp before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “If it’s any consolation, your tits look great in it,” he said, smirking.

I gave him a tiny grin. “Ever the charmer.”

He winked at me, and I went about relieving myself of the awful cat suit. The material made some rather unsexy noises as I pulled on it, heaving heavily when I finally got it off. I sat on the floor in my bra and knickers, trying to catch my breath after such a vigorous ordeal. Jay walked out of the bedroom, where he’d somehow managed to procure an energy bar. He had it halfway to his mouth when he paused midstride, piercing me with his gaze.

“Oh, no, you don’t, you’re not allowed to give me bedroom eyes. That’s against the rules,” I said, quickly standing up and hurrying to throw on a T-shirt and some yoga pants.

He took a bite out of the bar then and began to chew. In my sex-deprived state, even seeing him chew was like pornography.

“I wasn’t giving you bedroom eyes, Matilda. They were more ‘I want to tear your panties off and bend you over the couch’ eyes, and I didn’t happen to see anything about those sorts of eyes in the rulebook.” He gave me a very smug grin.

“All carnal looks are prohibited,” I said. I had been heading for the couch, but I stopped, turned, and went to perch on a pouf instead.

“It’s been three days. I have no censorship control over my eyes at this point, so you’ll just have to deal with them. Now, what are you going to do about your Halloween costume? It saddens me to say it, but it looks like whatever you were supposed to be in the cat suit is out of the question. A damn shame, too.”

“I have some other options.” I waved away his concerns. “What about you? What are you going as?”

He smiled, flashing his teeth at me, but didn’t reply.

I didn’t bother pushing him, because if I knew anything about Jay by now, it was that he never told a secret he didn’t want to tell. We ate dinner, and then it was time for his show. He performed in the hotel’s venue downstairs, so we only had to take the elevator down to get there.

The next day he was working out a few kinks in his choreography. And when I say “choreography,” I don’t mean dancing. In a magic show, it’s all about placement on the stage and standing in exactly the right spot at exactly the right time.

I was mending a cape Jay used in the disappearing part of his act. It was probably one of the few “old school” tricks he performed. Anyway, the cape had gotten torn on one of its edges. I suggested simply buying a new one, but he was adamantly against it. Apparently, some old guy he knew back in Boston who mentored him in magic for a while had given it to him, so it had sentimental value. That was why I was taking extra care to make it good as new.

Practice was an everyday thing for Jay. His show was a thrill ride when you were watching it from the audience, but the little details that sometimes took days or even weeks to perfect were tedious. Saying that, I still loved hanging out while he practiced. I was sitting by my sewing machine in the small room devoted to wardrobe with the door open. It was at just the right angle to be able to watch him. He had a small notepad in his hand and a pencil tucked behind his ear as he paced. He’d take three steps, stop, scribble something down on the notepad, then take another three steps.

Tina came in then, carrying a brown paper bag and a tray of takeaway coffee cups. I drew my lips into a tight line when I saw how short her skirt was. In terms of looks, she was the exact opposite of me. Tall, lithe, blonde, and graceful. She could have been a ballerina in another life. And sadly, I noted how Jay never had to bend down to speak to her. If they were kissing, their bodies would be perfectly proportioned for their mouths to meet.

I didn’t know why my brain came up with these horrible thoughts; it seemed it got a sick pleasure out of torturing me. Or perhaps I got a sick pleasure out of torturing myself, since technically speaking, I was my brain.

Jay barely gave her a second glance as he thanked her for collecting lunch, and took the proffered sandwich and beverage. She placed a hand on her hip and said something, but I was too far away to hear. Still, I imagined it was something saucy and flirtatious. My fears were totally unwarranted; Jay would never cheat on me, but I still couldn’t help having them. I quickly looked away and focused on my task when Jay’s head turned in my direction.

I wasn’t a crazy, jealous fool. I was so cool I was oblivious to all of my husband’s admirers. Ha, yeah, right.

“Yo! Watson!” he called, hands clasped around his mouth. “Lunch is here. Come eat with me.”

I suppressed my smile when a tiny scowl flittered across Tina’s face. She hadn’t known I was there. Perhaps she’d been hoping Jay would invite her to have lunch with him. I set my work aside and made my way out. Jay was already sitting on the floor of the stage, his legs dangling off the edge as he dug into his sandwich. Tina glanced at me, then held out the remaining sandwich and my requested tea.

“I guess this is yours,” she said as I took them from her.

I swallowed and glanced away. “Um, yes, thank you, Tina.”

You see, this was my problem. I couldn’t help but be polite to people, even when they didn’t deserve it. Her first day on the job, Tina had shown up in loose jeans and a very respectable shirt/cardigan combo. However, after she saw who she was going to be working for, i.e. Jay, she began showing up in low-cut dresses, short skirts, and painted-on jeans. What? I was a designer. The sorts of clothes people chose to wear was something I noticed more than the average person. And Tina’s outfits were clearly chosen to catch the eye of any that-way-inclined gentleman in the vicinity.

Tina also giggled unnecessarily whenever Jay said anything even remotely funny and fingered the silver moon pendant that hung around her neck a lot. Having read one or two of Jay’s books, I knew a good deal about body language tells, and Tina’s fingering of her pendant was a move designed to draw my husband’s eyes to her chest. She wasn’t as well-endowed as I was, but still, breasts were breasts, and men liked to look.

I sat down beside Jay, and Tina walked off. Deciding this was as good a time as any to broach the subject that she was attracted to him, I dived right in.

“Your assistant fancies you, if you hadn’t noticed,” I said absently, and took a bite out of my sandwich, which was surprisingly good. I just hoped Tina hadn’t spit in it or anything.

Jay let out a long breath. “Yeah. Bit of a problem. She’s great at her job, though.”

My initial instinct was to say no more, but I wasn’t going to back down. I couldn’t allow myself to. “I don’t like it.”

Jay took a slug of his coffee and set it down. I could see he was smiling already before he turned to look at me. He seemed entirely too gratified by my jealousy.

“Well, you don’t have to look so pleased about it.”

“Hey, I have a right to be pleased. It only took you a goddamn month to actually come out and admit you had a problem with her. I was beginning to think you didn’t give a shit.”

My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open. I was indignant. “You were waiting for me to say something! Was this all a little game for you?”

He shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich, nonchalant. I hated that I still found his chewing sexy. “What? A man needs to know his woman will fight for him,” he teased me.

“I’m not sure I’d win that fight. Tina’s bigger than me.”

He nudged me with his shoulder and winked. “Oh, I beg to differ. You’re a scrappy little thing, Watson. You could take her.”

Despite everything, his reply made me laugh. “I can’t believe you were baiting me with this. That’s sneaky, Jay, very sneaky.”

“You love it,” he said, voice growly. “I’ll get rid of her if you want. It’s unnecessary, since she could walk right in here wearing nothing but a thong and a smile, and I’d still be looking at you, darlin’. But if it makes you feel more comfortable, you only have to say the word.”

I chuckled against my will at his use of the phrase “a thong and a smile,” and then considered his offer. For some reason, I didn’t enjoy being the one to make the decision about someone else’s livelihood. Even if she was making a play for my husband, it felt selfish and low to have her fired just to assuage my own jealous insecurities.

Letting out a long sigh, I finally replied, “No, don’t fire her. Just…maybe I should talk to her or something. Tell her she needs to back off, you know, woman to woman.”

Jay pulled me to him then and began to massage some of the tension out of my neck. “Standing up for your man. I like it,” he murmured, and I melted into his touch. “You look gorgeous today.”

I had to stifle a moan, because his hands felt so good on me. Jay had been pulling late nights after his shows all week, staying up to do research, so most of the time I was asleep before he came to bed. It was good in terms of us sticking to the rules of our bet, but at the same time, I was hungry for his touch. His hands. God, I loved his hands.

I sank into him, my back to his front, and his lips whispered over the shell of my ear. “I’ve missed you,” I whispered weakly. His lips at my ear made a shudder pleasantly trickle down my spine.

He didn’t say anything, but his hands went to my hips as he pulled me in closer so I could feel just how much he’d been missing me, too. His cock was like a steel pipe pressing into my back, and I desperately wanted to reach around and feel him, but there were people still milling about, so I couldn’t. I was confined to the secret thrill of knowing we both wanted each other, but there was nothing we could do about it for the moment.

“You have no idea the things I’m gonna do to you after I win this bet,” he threatened, and I squirmed, clenching my thighs together. I wanted him to do those things right now.

His hand moved to my stomach, then dipped down so it was tantalisingly close to my nether regions. Daringly, I asked, “What kind of things?”

Even though I wasn’t facing him, I could practically feel his satisfied grin. “I’ll grip your hair as I sink myself into you from behind, pulling just a little, because I know how much you like that,” he said, and his words were torture. I was instantly wet and aching.

“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled, biting my lip.

“Then I’ll make you come with my cock still inside you. I can’t wait to feel you pulse around me.” He paused and took a breath as one of the hotel workers walked by. To the ordinary bystander, nothing lewd was going on. Little did they know the things my husband was whispering in my ear.

“I’ll have a taste of you then, maybe make you come on my face this time.”

“Jay,” I pleaded, gripping onto his hand, which had started to move down between my legs. I managed to stop him just in time. “You need to quit talking now.”

His chest shook with quiet laughter. “You’re the one who asked.”

“Yes, well, I hadn’t expected that onslaught.”

He tutted. “My dear Watson, do you know me at all?”

Part Three: The Ruse

The next day was Halloween. Jay had an afternoon show to perform, and then he was off duty for the night. I’d caught the tail end of a conversation between him and Tina that morning, with Tina asking if he was still coming to her party. He’d replied that yes, he was, and that he’d be bringing his wife. I enjoyed the extra emphasis he put on the word.

Still, Tina hadn’t seemed too deterred, and there was even a bit of an extra swing in her step all day. I absently wondered what she had up her sleeve. I was making my way back to the hotel suite that evening, my mind full of Tina and her scheming. It had just gotten dark, and we were supposed to be leaving for the party in an hour. I planned on taking a quick shower and then throwing on my costume. I’d done a bit of improvising, deciding to use the cat ears and whiskers, but instead of wearing the indecently tight cat suit, I’d wear a pretty black lace dress.

Tonight I was going to get Tina alone and have a woman-to-woman chat. I was all inside my own head, psyching myself up for it, as I stepped into the suite and dropped my bag down onto an end table. A warm breeze brushed past me, and I saw that someone had left the balcony doors open. It must have been the housekeeping staff because I knew Jay had been downstairs all day.

I walked across the room, intending to close them, when something caught my eye. A necklace of mine was sitting on the ledge, and I didn’t remember leaving it out there. Stepping outside, I went to retrieve it, and the moment I picked it up, the balcony doors slammed closed behind me, making a loud clatter. Gripping the necklace, I whipped back around and went to open the doors, but they wouldn’t budge.

What the hell?

I pulled at them, but there was nothing for it. They’d been locked. I was almost certain that there was no automatic lock on them, either. Peering in through the glass, I saw that the suite was empty, exactly as it had been moments ago. Nothing was out of place, no sign that anyone had entered and locked me outside for whatever bizarre reason. My heart began to thrum as my mind raced. What if a thief had broken into the suite to steal our valuables and locked me out here so I wouldn’t get in the way?

The breeze blew my hair over my shoulder, and with it I was one hundred percent certain I felt a cold hand slide across my neck. I had definitely felt it. Turning around again, I found no one. I was all alone, and goose bumps began to break out on my skin. I started to get anxious, because I hadn’t imagined the hand. It had felt oh, so very real.

“Murder,” came a strange whisper in my ear. It echoed as though coming from an electronic speaker, but that couldn’t be right. There was nothing out here. All of a sudden, I remembered the bet. I couldn’t believe it had slipped my mind, but I’d been so busy with work and fretting over Tina.

The hand slid across my neck again, but this time I was fast, grabbing it before it could disappear again, as weird as that sounded. Nothing was too out of the realm of possibility when it came to Jason Fields.

When I did turn around, I startled for just a moment as he came toward me, backing me up into the glass door. The thing about Jay was that he was almost as good an actor as he was an illusionist. Even though you knew it was him, he could be so absorbed in his character he made you believe it, too, made you question if you actually knew the real him at all. I clutched at my heart. He was wearing zombie makeup, a torn white shirt complete with fake blood stains, and torn black trousers.

I almost didn’t recognize him.

“Raised eyebrows, eyes wide, heartbeat accelerating. Yep, I think I managed to frighten you, Matilda,” he declared triumphantly.

I scowled. “You gave me a fright, that’s all. You didn’t frighten me.”

“Now, now, you know you can’t lie to me. You were scared, admit it.”

“I was more confused than scared. I couldn’t figure out how the doors became locked.” Walking to them, I pulled on the handle. They still wouldn’t open. I turned back to him. “Okay, how the hell did you get out here? Were you hanging off the edge of the balcony or something?” If he had been, it wouldn’t be the first time, but that was a whole other story.

He simply gave me an enigmatic smile in response. He rarely revealed his trade secrets to people, even his own wife. I stared at him, brows furrowed. This had been a good trick and all, but I found it difficult to believe he had spent all his time planning something so small-scale. Jay liked to think big. His usual stunts were the Taj Mahal. This was a one-room cottage on the side of the road.

“So that was it? That was your attempt at scaring me?”

“Yep. And it worked,” he said, reaching past me for the door handle. Annoyingly, it opened quite easily when he tried. “I can’t wait to collect my winnings.”

“No way. If anybody’s going to be collecting winnings, it’ll be me. I wasn’t scared. You took me by surprise. It’s not the same thing as fear.”

Jay shrugged and walked into the suite. “Fine. Have it your way.”

I followed him, grinning. “Oh, I will. I’ll have a great time having it my way, and the first thing I’m going to make you wear is a red Dickie bow. Get ready for some style, Inspector Holmes.”

He winced and flopped down onto the couch. “A Dickie bow? Not happening. Okay, I still have until the end of the night to frighten you. The bet hasn’t been won yet.”

I gave him a confident look and folded my arms across my chest. “Fine. Bring it.”

“I love it when you sass me. You won’t be sassing me when I win, though. You’ll be bending over and begging for more.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Studying him as I went to gather my things for the shower, I got the distinct feeling that the little show out on the balcony was all a ruse and that he had something much bigger planned. It was so like him to lull me into a false sense of security and then bamboozle me with a grand finale. I decided a five-minute shower was all I had time for. Our bathroom here was huge, and there was even a bench inside the shower that you could sit down on if it so pleased you.

So I sat there, lathering up my hair with shampoo and trying to think of what my devious husband could be planning. I was fresh out of clues. I had just finished washing and was about to get out when the door to the shower opened, and in stepped Jay wearing nothing but a smile. Yeah, there wasn’t even a thong to speak of. I threw one hand across my chest and the other over my downstairs business.

“Get out! You’re breaking the rules,” I protested. I was annoyed now, because I was so close to winning our bet and he was throwing a spanner in the works. Plus, I had some sexy lingerie set aside to wear tonight, and whether he won our bet or not, I had been hoping to surprise him with it. It had been a week since we’d been intimate. I didn’t want him ruining my surprise with shower shenanigans.

“I have to wash off all this zombie makeup,” he explained teasingly. “Not everything is about sex, Matilda.”

“Aren’t you dressing up for the party?”

He shrugged.

I watched as the water hit him and his cock stood proudly to attention. “Not everything is about sex,” my arse. I think I might have drooled a little. That plus the sight of his wet abs was enough to tempt even a nun into handing over her celibacy.

I stood there, yep, still drooling, as he squirted some shower gel onto his hand and began rubbing it all over himself. I had no words. None. The smile never left his face as he brought his eyes to mine and ran a hand from his chest down his abs to his groin. He looked…lickable. And he was using dirty tactics.

“You’re playing dirty,” I whispered, my voice completely devoid of all strength.

His eyes went soft, sort of sexy hazy, as his hand went to his cock and fisted it. “On the contrary. I think you’ll find I’m playing clean.”

Eating me up with his gaze, he pumped himself up and down, and I had to get out of there before I attacked him. I swallowed, took a deep breath, and put one foot in front of the other. They were the hardest three steps I’d ever taken in my life. I didn’t know why I was so determined to keep from having sex with him; I guess in some messed-up way I wanted to prove to myself that I could resist him, even if I was on a knife’s edge.

I summoned all my reserves of calm. I knew he was jerking himself off in the shower and wished I could be there to witness it, if not to join in. Trying to keep busy, I blow-dried my hair and set about putting on my costume. I used some black face paint to draw on a cat’s nose and then stuck the whiskers on my cheeks. I was done.

To my delight, Jay wore a black suit with a white shirt and a black tie that I’d designed for him, and even though it wasn’t fancy dress, I didn’t mind. I took a strange pleasure out of seeing him in clothes I’d made. He whistled appreciatively when he saw me, and I smiled happily.

“That was a low move you pulled in the shower,” I said as I took his hand and he led me outside and into a waiting taxi.

“You loved it, and you make a very pretty cat, by the way,” he said, dipping his head down and capturing my mouth in a quick, tender kiss. His tongue briefly slid past the seam of my lips and dipped inside, but then it was gone. He could be such a tease sometimes.

Tina lived in an apartment in a stylish part of town. Her place was small, but maybe it just seemed that way because there were so many people. She pouted when she answered the door — yes, that’s right, pouted. Her hair was up in a twist, and she was wearing a pink Playboy bunny outfit. It was all I could do not to roll my eyes. This was obviously the thing she had up her sleeve. I was almost offended on Jay’s behalf that she thought a sexy bunny outfit would be enough to tempt him.

“Jay, you didn’t dress up,” she said, trying to look all cute and disappointed. She barely gave me a second glance, even though I had gone to the trouble of dressing up.

Jay wrapped his arm around my waist as he led me inside. “Oh, I beg to differ. I thought my Alfred Hitchcock vibe was obvious,” he said, winking.

“You could be anyone in that suit,” said Tina, still feigning disappointment, like he had to make it up to her or something.

God, this woman needed to get a clue.

A somewhat awkward silence ensued.

“Oh, well, make yourselves at home, and feel free to have some drinks and food,” she said, and then went to talk to a group of other people. I saw her briefly touch Jay’s hand before walking away, and he broke the contact immediately, giving me an apologetic look. I knew there was nothing going on between them, but it was getting on my last nerve how she kept trying to get his attention.

Jay led me over to a counter full of drinks and poured me a glass of white wine. He knew my tipple of choice by now. His was usually a whiskey or sometimes a beer.

“Well, this is going to be fun,” I said, heavy on the sarcasm. “She obviously wore that outfit for your benefit. Perhaps you should fire her.”

Jay gave me a pleased smile. “You sound bitter, Watson. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Oh, whatever. You’re just as bad. Remember the barman from our honeymoon? I swear, if looks could kill, the guy would have dropped dead on the spot the moment you set your eyes on him.”

He massaged my hip as he placed a wine glass in my hand. Just my mention of the barman brought on a frown, and I enjoyed it. “Let’s not talk about that,” he said, and then some people we knew from Jay’s show came over to make chitchat. About an hour passed, and despite Tina making fuck-me eyes at my husband all night, I was having a decent time. I’d had a couple glasses of wine in me when I saw her make her way toward the bathroom. With alcohol-fuelled courage, I decided this was my time to set her straight.

Just before she had the chance to close the door, I pushed it open with my hand and stepped in after her.

“What the hell?” she said, giving me a dirty look.

“We need to talk,” I stated firmly, and closed the door behind me.

“I was just about to take a piss…um, what was your name again?” she asked bitchily.

Oh, she knew exactly what my name was. I laughed as I imagined her cutting my head out of photographs of me and Jay, and then supergluing her own head onto my body.

“My name is Matilda,” I enunciated. “Matilda Fields, and I’d like to politely request that you stop making a play for my husband. It isn’t proper.”

She stared at me, eyes squinted in annoyance. Then she folded her arms and cocked her head. “Jay is my boss. I work for him, so I’m certainly not making a play. I think you might be imagining things.” She paused and let out a long sigh. “Some women, God, so insecure and jealous.”

My eyebrows practically shot right up to the ceiling. “If you weren’t interested in him, then you wouldn’t have just said that. But anyway, I don’t want to drag this out. I just wanted to tell you to back off. We just got married, and I’d like to enjoy being a newlywed for a while without having to deal with women like you.”

She huffed. “Women like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

I gave her a wry look. “I bet you always wanted your friends’ Barbie dolls, didn’t you? You couldn’t just go get your own — you had to have somebody else’s.”

“This is my apartment, and I think you need to leave now,” she hissed, and took a threatening step toward me. I backed up, because despite Jay’s opinion that I could take her, I didn’t think I was tough enough to win a cat fight, even though, strangely enough, I was dressed up as a cat.

This was a weird night, and as I turned to leave, I discovered that it was about to get even weirder. I opened the door and stepped out, and there on the floor lay Jay’s black cape, the one I’d been repairing for him the other day. I blinked, wondering if I was seeing things, because the cape was huge, and I definitely hadn’t remembered him bringing it with him.

Kneeling down, I gathered it up and went to find my husband. He wasn’t in the party, but when I asked around, I was told he’d gone outside to have a smoke. Stepping out onto the terrace, I saw him bring a cigarette to his lips and take a drag. He turned, a welcoming look on his face, like he’d been expecting me. Stepping closer, he exhaled the smoke, blowing it over my face. For some reason, it made me feel sleepy.

“Hey, Watson, I want you to relax now. You’re going to go to sleep for a little while,” he said, his voice a flat monotone. Less than a second later, I was falling, and I felt Jay catch me just before I lost consciousness.

Part Four: The Trick

My head felt foggy when I woke up, and I was cold, so cold my skin was prickling. It was strange, because I hadn’t felt this kind of cold since I’d arrived in Vegas. It was forever hot and humid here unless you were somewhere that was air-conditioned. It got a little colder at night, but not this much, not in my experience, anyway. I could also hear rain pounding down on the roof of wherever I was; a roll of thunder rang out, causing me to shudder. When I was little, I’d always been scared of thunder.

My body was sore because I’d been lying flat on dirty wooden floorboards. It was dark, and I didn’t know where I was, couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there.

I searched my memory for clues, but the last thing I could remember was having lunch with Jay on the stage after I’d been mending his cape. For some reason, I felt like there was a gap, like there were things that had been blanked out. They were just within my grasp, but when I tried to reach for them, they disappeared like wisps of smoke. The imagery of smoke triggered something, but my brain couldn’t work to comprehend what that something was.

Pushing myself up onto my knees, I looked around. I could hardly see a thing until a fluorescent light bulb began to flicker in the distance.

It blinked on and off, providing me with the opportunity to take in my surroundings. When I did, my gut sank. I was in a gigantic, rundown, grotty old room in what felt like an abandoned factory or warehouse. There was rusty old equipment scattered about, but I couldn’t tell what it might be for. I was shivering hard, because this felt like a kidnapping to me. There was no way I’d set foot in a place like this of my own choosing.

“Gah!” I yelped as I felt somebody tap me on the shoulder. I turned, startled, but there was no one. Then I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye. Oddly, there was a large mirror on the wall at the other end of the room. It was large, with an antique frame, and completely out of place for the setting. Feeling compelled, I walked toward it, and when I got near enough, I gasped because there was a figure standing there, still as a statue, looking at me through the glass: a tall male form wearing all black with a white mask over his face. The mask had a single black question mark on one cheek, which for some reason I found highly disturbing.

I glanced all about frantically, trying to figure out where the reflection was coming from, because I was standing right in front of it and I couldn’t see myself, only the man. It was almost as though he were trapped inside the mirror.

He was still staring at me.

“Who are you?” I called out, and the moment I said it, the glass cracked, causing me to jump. More thunder rang out, this time followed by the loud wailing of a woman who sounded like she was in extreme pain. I was trembling all over now; the wail was foreboding, and it made my skin crawl. Seeming uninterested in my fear, the man within the glass turned and walked away. Then he was gone, but I still couldn’t see my own reflection.

It was eerie. I was only wearing a thin lacy dress, and I was freezing now as I rubbed at my arms. Freezing and terrified.

“Help!” I cried. “Please, somebody help me!”

My voice echoed around the empty space. I ran to one of the windows, trying to see outside, but it was so coated with dirt that I couldn’t make out a thing. When I noticed the open door at the end of the room where I had originally woken up, I ran for it. If I could at least get out of the building, then I could figure out where I was and perhaps get to safety. Before I reached the door, a strange hissing sound filled the room and I froze.

It started out low and soft, but rose in volume little by little. It was a horrible sound, and it made my skin crawl, like somebody had crossbred a snake with a vampire. A vampire! For crying out loud, I was being ridiculous. This was rapist territory, not horror movie territory. Still, the imagery of the man in the mask had my mind conjuring up all sorts of macabre ideas. Someone was trying to fuck with my head. I tried to will myself to believe I’d imagined him because it was the only way I knew how to carry on.

I felt something move by my foot and looked down to see a massive snake slithering through my legs. My mouth dropped open in a silent scream, and then I heard a whisper echo in my ears. A single word.

“Murder.”

When I looked back down, the snake was gone, but now I could feel a new presence advancing behind me. I didn’t want to turn around to see what it was, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. For some reason, my brain wanted to see what it was frightened of. I could hear footsteps advancing behind me, and when I looked, I saw the man in the mask. Now he wasn’t trapped inside the mirror, he was real and coming straight at me. He wasn’t wearing the mask anymore; it had been pulled down and hung around his neck, but I wished he’d kept it on. His face was deathly pale, like a corpse, and his eyes were blood red. There was no white at all, just red. He was holding a knife in his hand and it was covered in blood.

His movements sped up once he saw me looking, and I sprang into action, screaming as I ran for the door. I made it and discovered a narrow staircase, practically tripping over myself as I scurried down the steps. All the while I could hear the red-eyed man coming after me, hissing and grunting. Luckily, I was a fast runner. My entire body broke out into a sweat, and my every pore was pulsing with pure, undiluted fear, adrenaline rushing through my system. I had never felt anything quite like it. Had never felt the imminence of death so strongly, because something deep down in my bones told me that if the man caught me, I was done for.

It didn’t even bear thinking about where the bloody knife had come from and whose blood it was. My muscles were drawn tight, and my mouth was dry and rough like sandpaper. If this was a dream, then I desperately wanted to wake up. Tears were streaming down my face as I reached the bottom of the stairs and entered another room, this one almost identical to the first. I hated it. I felt like I was in a labyrinth that never ended. But then I scanned the space and realised it was worse, because lining the far wall were about twenty people standing there, still as stone, all replicas of the man in the mask, like their clothing was a uniform or something.

Who the hell were these people?

The hissing got close again, so I knew Mr. Red Eyes had caught up with me. I was penned in. No escape. Arms came around my middle, gripping me tight like a vice, and I whimpered. This was it. I was done for. All at once the line of identically dressed people started to move, marching toward me, their movements strange and staccato, their footsteps ringing loud and harsh as I was held in place. I struggled to break free, but it was no use — my captor’s strength was far superior to my own.

“Please! Please let me go,” I begged.

When the line of people was just two feet away, they stopped, and the tall one right in the centre stepped forward. My chest rose and fell frantically in terror, and then he pulled off his mask, revealing a familiar face. The face of my husband.

My breath escaped me all at once, and I felt like I might faint.

Confusion washed over me as Jay came and took me from the man and into his own arms.

“Hush now, it’s okay, you’re safe,” he whispered, bringing his hand up to my face. He clicked his fingers, and the sound reverberated in my ears. Then I was out again.

I woke up to the sound of an engine running. I was lying down, this time in the back of a car. Jay’s car. I’d recognise his smell anywhere. My head was in his lap, and he was stroking my hair away from my face in a soothing manner. The windows were down, and the fresh night air flowed in. I swallowed down deep gulps of it, my heart still going ninety as the events leading up to this moment rushed into my head all at once.

Now I remembered the party, Halloween, and our bet. While I’d been inside that strange nightmarish scene, I’d forgotten about all of it. I guess that had been the point. Jay had hypnotised me, somehow made me forget everything so that I’d believe what was happening was one hundred percent real. For a brief moment in time, very specific things had been wiped from my memory. It was incredible and infuriating in equal measures.

“Where are we?” I asked, my voice a little raspy as I tried to sit up.

“We’re in a parking lot, darlin’. Lie back down. You need to relax.”

He was right; I did need to relax. For now. Once I’d recovered from my fake near-murder experience, I was planning on giving him the tongue lashing of his life. And not the sexy kind. I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to summon some calm.

“I’m going to kill you,” I muttered, and he chuckled in response.

He continued stroking my hair. “You gave me permission to do this, Matilda. I gave you a choice, and you asked for a mind fuck. You can’t complain that I gave you what you asked for. If you’d chosen a simple scare, my zombie routine back at the hotel would have been it.”

I reached out and slapped him hard on the arm. “I was terrified, Jason! Some scary Halloween fun is fine, but that felt too real. I could have fallen down those stairs and really hurt myself.”

“You wouldn’t have. I was with you the entire time. You just couldn’t see me.”

“Are you going to tell me where all that took place and who all those people were?”

Jay gestured to the tall building in front of us. “It’s a film studio. The whole thing happened on a specially designed, climate-controlled set, and those people wearing the masks were all actors. They’re in a drama group that meets in a center near our hotel.”

“You took it too far,” I complained, some of my anger dissipating. Jay was right — after all, I had given him permission to do this.

He leaned in and kissed me softly. “I’m sorry. You know that when I set my mind to something I can get a little…extreme. But you felt fear. I saw it. That was the whole point. You wanted me to scare you, and I did.”

“You didn’t just scare me, you terrified me, Jay,” I said, and began to massage my aching temples. This whole thing was bringing on a migraine. “Seriously, if you ever get tired of magic, you should start making horror films for a living.”

“Nah, movies aren’t my thing. But I did have an idea to make this a whole experience next Halloween. You know, have people pay for me to scare the shit out of them. Could be fun.” He grinned playfully.

“You have a very warped idea of what fun entails.” I scowled. “And anyone who’d sign up for that needs to have their head examined. I can’t believe you hypnotized me! I mean, I’ve seen you do it to other people lots of times, but I didn’t think I’d be susceptible to it.”

“Most people are susceptible — you just have to tailor the technique to the individual. The cape was the trigger, and my voice was what put you under.”

I slapped him again, this time more in surprise than in anger. “I knew there was a reason why you were having me repair that old thing. That was sneaky!”

He grabbed my hand right after I slapped him and used it to pull me closer. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

I sighed. “You won the bet.”

He nodded and brought his lips to mine, tasting me leisurely. “I won the bet. But since you’ve been such a good sport, I’ll give you one concession and let you choose my outfit for tomorrow night’s show. I’ll give you carte blanche, wear whatever you want.”

A big smile spread across my face, all annoyance from his elaborate horror stunt wiped clean. “You will?”

“I will for you. Only for you, Watson, because I love you.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and planted kisses all over his face. “You’re the best. And I love you, too.”

The next night I was still smiling as I straightened out Jay’s Dickie bow. I’d paired it with a dark brown three-piece suit and a pair of Italian leather shoes. He hated it, and I adored it. After our confrontation at her party, Tina was skulking around, giving me the evil eye and then plastering on a sweet-as-pie expression whenever Jay was looking.

She sauntered by, swinging her hips as though hoping he’d check her out, even though I was standing right there in front of him. The woman was shameless.

“You know, I’d been hoping her behavior was something to do with your trick, like maybe I had to be pissed off in order for your hypnosis to work, but seemingly I don’t have that kind of luck,” I griped, and stood back to admire my work. Jay looked absolutely dashing. I needed to take a picture before he went on stage, because I knew by the end of his show, half the buttons would be undone and he’d have stripped down to the waistcoat at the very least.

He ran a hand down my arm and leveled his eyes on me. “Ignore her. She might as well be wallpaper to me, and besides, we’re stronger than that. Nobody else can touch us. I told you before — all I see is you.”

His words made me breathless. I ran my hands over the lapels of the suit, acting like I was dusting it off when really I was just taking any excuse to feel him up.

His mouth hovered over my ear when he whispered, “Hold that thought. After tonight, I have two days off. As soon as we get back to the suite, I’m cashing in on my winnings.”

Trust him to be able to read my desire. I wanted him badly. I’d been too exhausted for anything when we got back last night, so our week of abstinence was still going strong. I trembled with anticipation, licking my lips. He bent down for a quick, hot kiss full of promise, and then the house lights were dimming and it was time for him to take to the stage. I stood and watched him perform. Even though I’d seen the act dozens of times before, there was always some new detail that fascinated me.

After his show, we took the elevator up to our suite. The car was empty when we stepped inside, and the moment the doors closed, he was on me.

“I should get a fucking trophy for sticking to this sex ban,” he growled as he backed me up into the wall and brought his mouth to my neck.

I giggled and then moaned when his hand went between my legs and cupped me hard. Immediately, I was aching. “Oh, indeed, a medal at the very least,” I replied, my voice raspy.

He chuckled, and the deep sound reverberated through me, making me shiver. It felt like it had only been seconds when the door pinged open, and Jay was scooping me up into his arms and carrying me to our door. It seemed he didn’t have the patience for walking. I almost regretted putting him in the suit tonight, because it felt like it took forever for me to get his shirt off. Since it was tailor-made for him, it went against everything I believed in to tear open the buttons, so I summoned some willpower and forced myself to unbutton it carefully. He watched me the entire time, a wry, knowing smile on his lips.

When I had him topless, I ran my hands over his body, and he allowed me a moment to savor him. I loved that about him; even though he was desperate for me, too, he held back, letting me go first. He didn’t hold back for long, because the next thing I knew, he was scooping me up in his arms again and carrying me into the bedroom. I bounced when I hit the mattress, and Jay made short work of pulling my dress up over my head and off me in one fell swoop.

His mouth went instantly to my breasts, yanking down the cups of my bra so he could lavish my nipples with attention. I squirmed beneath him, and my hands fumbled for his belt buckle. We had all weekend to have our fill of one another. But it had been a while, and right then I just needed him inside me.

He seemed to sense what I wanted, because he came up for air. “No foreplay?”

I shook my head. “Later. Right now I need to feel you.”

His eyes darkened, and he practically growled in approval. Before I knew it, his pants were off, and he was plunging all of his hot, hard, silky flesh into my needy core. I cried out when I felt him, my walls clenching tight around him.

Our eyes locked, held, as he moved his hips, thrusting in and out, slowly building up a pace. Then he was out and out fucking me, giving me everything, not holding back an inch, and I took everything he had to give. We were frenzied, lost to each other. There was so much love in his eyes that I became breathless and hot all over. In that moment, I knew I’d been silly to think that anybody could ever threaten what we had together. Jay and I existed in our own little bubble, and we always would. We’d been through so much. He had fought hard to get us where we were right now, and I knew he’d never do anything to jeopardize that.

The revelation warmed my heart.

And then I was so overtaken by lust that I couldn’t form coherent thoughts any longer. Hours later, our bodies spent, I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

Perhaps I’d make a bet with him every Halloween, because if this was where betting with my husband got me, I was quite happy to take a gamble.

Want to read Jay & Matilda’s story from the beginning? Check out L.H. Cosway’s contemporary romance, Six of Hearts.

Step right up and meet Jay Fields: Illusionist. Mentalist. Trickster.

I think in triangles. You think in straight lines.

I show you a table and make you believe it’s a chair.

Smoke and mirrors, sleight of hand, misdirection. I trick and deceive.

But most of all, I put on a good show.

The world thinks I killed a man, but I didn’t. Bear with me. It’s all a part of the plan.

Revenge is what I want. I want it for me and I want it for her.

I want it for all six of us.

She doesn’t remember me, but she’s the reason for everything. She’ll be my prize at the end of all this — if I can hold onto my willpower, that is. Maybe I’ll slip up a little, have a taste, just a small one.

So go ahead and pick a card. Come inside and see the show. Look at my hands, look so closely that you can’t see what’s happening while you’re so focused on looking. I’ll be destroying your world from right here in the spotlight.

You’ll never see me coming until it’s too late.

I’ve only got one heart, and after I’ve pulled off my grand deception I’ll hand it right to her.

So, sit back, relax, and let my girl tell you our story. You’re in for one hell of a ride.

Praise for Six of Hearts

"This book was sexy. Man was it hot! Cosway writes sexual tension so that it practically sizzles off the page." — A. Meredith Walters, New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author.

"There is a way that certain authors write that just grips me by the throat because I can see the world, I can smell the sounds, I can hear the voices, and I can feel their hearts." — Marie Hall, New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author.

"I loved the twist at the end. I loved how sexy it was. (DAMN IT WAS SEXY!!)" — Penny Reid, Author of Neanderthal Seeks Human.

"Six of Hearts is a book that will absorb you with its electric and all-consuming atmosphere." — Lucia, Reading is my Breathing.

"There is so much "swoonage" in these pages that romance readers will want to hold this book close and not let go." — Katie, Babbling About Books.

L.H. Cosway has a BA in English Literature and Greek and Roman Civilisation and an MA in Postcolonial Literature. She lives in Dublin city. Her inspiration to write comes from music. Her favourite things in life include writing stories, vintage clothing, dark cabaret music, food, musical comedy, and of course, books.

She thinks that imperfect people are the most interesting kind. They tell the best stories.

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