Trick and Treat Read online

  Trick And Treat

  Madison Faye

  Contents

  Mailing List

  Trick And Treat

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Also by Madison Faye

  About the Author

  Mailing List

  Featured Content

  Bossed Three Times

  Bossed Three Times

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Royally Shared

  Royally Shared

  Mailing List

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Mailing List

  Copyright © 2017 Madison Faye

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.

  This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains extremely sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers. This book is strictly intended for those over the age of 18.

  All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual.

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  Trick And Treat

  Tonight’s the night we take what’s ours. Tonight, she's going to have a Halloween she'll never forget…

  We've waited patiently. We've planned this for months, down to the finest detail, and tonight, our patience will be rewarded. Because tonight, we're done waiting patiently.

  College sorority girl, steel-fortune heiress, and all-around tease. We’ve watched Annabella for months, and our obsession has only grown into pure, untamed hunger.

  Years ago, her father nearly destroyed us, but tonight, we’ll be settling that debt. Tonight, this pampered little rich girl is going to be ours.

  Forget ghosts, goblins, and horror-movie monsters. There are way worse things stalking her tonight - things like us.

  Trick or treat, trick or treat. Tonight, she’ll give us something sweet to eat.

  …She just has no idea yet.

  Author’s Note

  Dear reader,

  This book comes with a bit of a trigger warning. There are scenes on the following pages that include kidnapping, restraint, and other strong themes. Some readers may find these themes unsettling, offensive, and/or triggering, so I feel that it’s my responsibility as an author to put that up front and let you know.

  However, if you’re brave enough to get through until the end, I promise that the treat you’ll find is worth the trick! As with all my books, please understand that this is a work of fantasy that is barely grounded in reality.

  Happy reading!

  1

  Bishop

  The second she steps out of the car, I can feel the blood rushing into my cock. I growl lowly, muscles tensing and jaw tightening as the raw hunger for her takes over. It's something primal at this point — a caveman instinct to take and to claim her.

  I sniff the air, as if I could smell her scent from over here - here across the moonlit lawn of the opulent Antebellum-era Louisiana mansion, hiding in the shadows watching her through the branches of a tree like some sort of wild beast.

  It's a pretty accurate analogy. Because this is what she does to me — to us. The mere sight of her gorgeous little body, or the faintest scent of her drives the two of us into a beast-like frenzy. "Us" is Remy and me, and when I hear him growl next to me in the bushes, I know he's as hungry for her as I am. I know he's as ready for this evening's plans to move forward as I am.

  We've waited patiently. We've planned this for months, down to the finest detail. We picked the night, the place, and the time, and tonight, our patience will be rewarded. Because tonight, we're done waiting patiently.

  Tonight's the night we claim what's ours and take her, because she's ours to take. Tonight, she's going to have a Halloween she'll never fucking forget.

  Annabella Dupuis. Yeah, those Dupuis. Annabella Dupuis as in the Governor's daughter, and heiress to the Dupuis Steel fortune. Annabella's a pretty little college girl, sorority sister, and all around fucking tease. Gorgeous chestnut hair, big blue innocent eyes, tits a man could bury his face into and an ass that's just begging for a big hard cock.

  Like mine, for instance.

  She's eighteen. She loves horses, and classic rock. She hasn't declared a major, and she volunteers at a veterinary clinic on Sundays.

  And tonight, she's going to be our plaything.

  …She just doesn't know it yet.

  The black, tinted-window car pulls away, and as I get a full look at her, my cock throbs in the confines of my dirty jeans.

  Fuck is she enticing.

  She's arrived to the college-hosted, alumni-sponsored Halloween party for the school's more pedigreed, legacy students dressed as Little Red Riding Hood. I grin hungrily: how hilariously appropriate, even if she has no idea that there are two big bad wolves stalking her through the forest tonight. Two big bad men who are going to show her much more than big hands and big teeth, I can tell you that.

  She's wearing a small red cape over a black, corset-style top and a flimsy red skirt, with tall, black, fuck-me heels.

  And I will. We will, like she ain't never been fucked before. Like I said, tonight is going to be a Halloween she's never going to forget. Tonight, Little Red's got two hungry wolves ready to pounce.

  The fucker she's arrived with steps forward — this dumb-fuck, daddy's-money piece of pampered frat trash. He grins at her, his face as hungry as ours as his fucking eyes drink her in. And just watching him leer at what's ours makes me want to blow our cover right now and run over there to kill him with my bare hands.

  I want to fucking murder him — tear that
arm off and beat him with it as he begs for mercy. It's only us who get to touch her — from now on, that is. Remy and I share everything, but only with each other. And from now on, it's her we'll be sharing.

  She’ll be ours forever after this night.

  My friend seems to sense the way I'm about to snap, because he turns and glares at me.

  "Easy, buddy," he growls quietly, his eyes about as fierce as mine are.

  "Follow the plan, Bishop."

  "How about we skip to the good part?" I mutter, my blood roaring in my ears as I watch the primped and preppy little fuck-wad she's with put his pampered hand on her bare arm and lead her up the stairs to the mansion.

  "All in good time," Remy growls, watching our prize be pulled away from us. But we both know, it's only a temporary save. Soon, nothing's going to save her from being ours.

  Her father wronged us. Badly. Tonight, we’re going to settle the score.

  I swallow back the beast inside and check the gun in my hands.

  It's time.

  I turn and glance at Remy, meeting his eye.

  "You ready?"

  "For that?" He nods at the slight swish to Annabella's mini-skirt-covered ass as she slips through the front door. A little parting flash of red like a matador's flag antagonizing a bull.

  He growls.

  "Fuck yes."

  I could make a crude joke about us playing rock-paper-scissors to see who gets her first but it's a laughable notion. There's no "first" in what's about about to happen.

  Tonight, we're taking her together.

  And she has no idea.

  2

  Annabella

  I bristle when Brett touches me. I demurely try and move my arm away, but he's either blissfully or willfully unaware of my intentions, and puts his meaty hand back on my arm. I scowl.

  Brett's been barking up this tree for weeks now. I know coming to this party with him tonight was a terrible idea. And I know doing so will only end up fueling the flames of whatever shot he thinks he has of sleeping with me. But as much as I'd have loved to just stay home tonight, this party is something I had to come to.

  Of course it is.

  This party for the pampered, connected "legacy" students of this college is something I'm expected to attend, as nauseating as I think it is. Yes, I'm one of the legacy students. But no, I didn't ask to be born into the family I was born into.

  Shocking, I know.

  This party is just one more link on a chain of things I'm "expected" to do in my life, and with it. My life which is not my own, and really never has been. That's the problem with growing up with a last name Dupuis, especially in Louisiana.

  Yeah, those Dupuis.

  The steel industry tycoon family. The one's that always end up popping up in gossip magazines and tabloid papers. Dupuis as in Harold Dupuis, aka the Governor of the state.

  Aka, my father.

  It's why I'm at this college, and why I've been forced to pledge the same ridiculous, cliche sorority my mother belonged to. It's why I have to come to stuffy, elitist parties with complete douchebags like Brett Littleton.

  In a perfect world, I'd be spending tonight in sweats and a t-shirt, half-scared out of my mind hiding under a blanket while I binge-watched Freddy Krueger movies. But alas, here I am, being led up the front steps of the Lamont Estate on the school grounds to this silly party. I mean, the house is gorgeous, I'll say that — this beautiful old Civil War era mansion surrounded by the Spanish moss and willow trees of the Louisiana woods. The moon is full and the air has that crisp fall nip to it.

  Brett's arm circles my waist, and I'm about to try and slink away from it when I hear a low, edged growl coming from the forest. I'm about to whirl, but I stop myself, knowing it's just me being silly. After all, it's Halloween, and my mind's just on the scary movies I'd rather be spending the evening watching.

  But again, tonight is another thing I'm expected to do, because "that's what Dupius do," as my father would say. Of course what he won't say is the other things Dupius do. He and the rest of my crooked family all think I don't know, mostly because I play the dutiful, "blissfully unaware" daughter card, but I'm not an idiot. I know where the money my family has comes from. I know the sort of people my father and my uncles do secret business with, behind closed doors and using their government connections to get. I know about the drugs, and the girls they've started getting into, and it's those things — especially that second one — that's been fueling my plan.

  Or maybe it's just a daydream. I'm not sure yet. But the thing is, all I want is to leave it all behind. All of it. I know being a Dupuis comes with a lot of privilege, not to mention insane wealth, but I also know I need to get out. If I don't I'll just end up another vapid, mostly drunk housewife to a rich, horrible man, just like my mother.

  My thoughts are interrupted by Brett pulling the door to the mansion open and gesturing inside.

  "In we go, babe."

  I know what Brett wants, and I know what the hand on the small of my back that lingers a bit too long to be gentlemanly means. But he's not getting what he's after.

  No one is.

  It's become a thing of gossip in my sorority house that I never have guys over. Not ever. I tried faking it once — making loud noises like I was getting my brains fucked out by some awful frat boy. But the head girl of the house and four of the house sisters were waiting for me to open my door afterwards and totally busted me.

  The truth is though, I don't want any guys, not since... well, it was a long time ago. The time I once knew love, but that got dashed away by my father. That sort of love wouldn't nearly be up to our family "standards," so it was chased away from me. I try not to think about all that though as I step into the mansion, and what tonight will bring.

  I try and lose myself in it all, pretending to smile like I've done most of my life when some horrible, elitist snob makes some terrible joke. I hold my drink in my hand and pretend like I'm glad to be here at this alumni Halloween party instead of back in my room with Freddy Krueger scaring the shit out of me.

  I'm so lost in pretending, and in shutting myself away from this night, that I almost don't even register it when suddenly, all hell breaks loose.

  But then the guns go off, and suddenly, I'm ripped from my daydreams right back in a very very real reality.

  The front door to the house splinters and cracks half-off it's hinges as two huge men in wolf masks come barreling through, guns in hand. One of them jams his gun up in the air and fires off four rounds into the plaster ceiling, and the other sweeps his across the crowd of cowering, screaming guests.

  The screams fill the room, and my pulse pounds like a drum in my ears. The men are yelling something, but it's like I'm listening underwater — not quite able to process what's happening with the adrenaline surging through me like it is. I see Brett lunge to the floor beside me and cower, and I know I should be screaming and crying on the floor like everyone else, but it's like I'm mesmerized by what's unfolding in front of me.

  One of the masked men turns, and suddenly, he freezes. And even with that mask on, I know his eyes are piercing right into mine. He slowly moves towards me, and I can feel my insides turn to jelly.

  "You," he points, snarling. There's a heat in his deep voice that takes my breath away — a glint of danger in it that pulls at something deep inside of me.

  "YOU!' he roars it this time, brandishing his gun. He marches towards me, with the other man right behind him.

  "I— sorry. I'm— I'm sorry," I start to stammer, jolting myself out of my weird frozen state and starting to move to get on the ground. But a voice stops me cold.

  "No." It's the other one this time, and when I look up, I shiver, realizing they're both standing right in front of me, towering over me even in these heels I'm wearing.

  They're both in jeans and black t-shirts, pulled tight across bulging chest and arm muscles. I blush, realizing I've just checked out the two men in masks brandishing guns who've just kicked down
the door to the party. Somewhere across the room, a girl whimpers pitifully. And again, I know I should be more scared than I am. But I'm having a hard time feeling anything but the rush of this moment.

  The men glance at each other, nod, and then turn back. Suddenly, both of them reach up and yank the masks from their heads.

  I swallow thickly.

  They're both strikingly gorgeous, in this dangerous, dark sort of way. The first one's got dark black hair, a short, cropped beard, and the most piercing green eyes I've ever seen. It's like I'm staring at a scarier version of Joe Manganiello. The second is like a sexier, rougher version of Charlie Hunnan, with blond hair, chiseled features, and striking blue eyes.

  And yes, in this moment, I fully accept how completely moronic it is to be comparing these two very dangerous criminals to sexy Hollywood stars.

  "Not you," the blond one says, slowly shaking his head. Slowly, he smiles wickedly. "You're coming with us."

  The floor drops out beneath me.

  "W-what?" I half-whisper, my voice thick and the blood roaring in my ears.

  "Come. With. Us." He growls menacingly, moving even closer to me and making my breath catch.

  "Now."

  Rough hands suddenly grab me.

  Strong hands.

  Masculine hands.

  I gasp, half stumbling on my heels as they turn and pull me after them.

  "Time to play, sweetheart," the dark-haired one growls menacingly in my ear, sending a shiver up my spine that teases me in places it really shouldn't.

  "This your boyfriend?" The blond man hisses, stopping and glaring down at a cowering Brett, who looks like he's trying to hide behind an ottoman.

  I shake my head.

  "No," I say quietly, truthfully.

  The men laugh.