21. Penn

Chapter 21

Penn

I push open my door and find my wife taking up my entire room yet again. She’s sitting on the floor, painting her toenails an inky black like my soul and hers. The stark contrast of the polish against her pale skin draws my eyes, but I don’t have time for distractions.

“Fuckin’ unbelievable,” I start, pacing back and forth, my voice loud and fast. I can barely understand my own fucking ranting.

“Slow down, Penn,” Reagan cuts in, her voice sharp enough to get me to stop talking for a moment. She doesn’t even look up from her toes. “Explain clearly.”

“Clearly?” I echo, stopping dead in my tracks. My blood boils. “Alright, how’s this for clear? Graham’s accident? Graham and Memphis were racing. Memphis was high as a kite—probably popped some pills or snorted something. Almost rode headfirst into a damn car. Graham had to clip him, make him lay his bike down. Then Graham took the hit from the car himself.”[1]

“Jesus,” she mutters, finally looking up at me, her eyes locking onto mine. “They’re fucking insane.”

“Fuck,” I say, feeling the weight of it all settle in my chest. “I’m going to kill him. He’s a fucking addict, and I told Graham to stop fucking with him. Graham’s always been a goddamn hardhead, but this…Fuck, Reagan, he could’ve died.”

“Could have,” she repeats, her tone almost mocking. “But he didn’t.”

“No, he didn’t, but all Memphis got was road rash and bruises. For now.” My voice drops.

My eyes trace the curve of her neck, drawn to her pulse beating just beneath the surface. My fingers itch to touch her, to feel that life thrumming beneath her skin.

“Penn...” Her voice is a warning.

“Shit,” I mutter, stepping back from her. My head’s a mess, tangled in the chaos of Graham’s crash and stupidity. Reagan’s golden eyes are locked on mine, probing, searching for something I’m not even sure I can give.

“Hey,” she says softly, breaking through my mania. She stands, her long legs unfolding gracefully as she moves closer. Her touch is hesitant, awkward—a quick pat on my back like she’s comforting a lost puppy. It’s almost laughable, but it works. Something in me unravels.

“Reagan...” I breathe her name, and it’s like everything else fades.

“It’ll work out or you’ll make it work out,” she murmurs, her voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. But it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

“Such fucking faith.” My hands find her hips, pulling her against me. For a moment, I just hold her, breathing her in.

Her fingers dig into my back, anchoring me.

“Come with me,” I say, pulling back just enough to look her in the eye. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“A ride?” She arches an eyebrow, skepticism written all over her face. “Now? It’s almost ten at night.”

“Yeah, now.” My grip tightens on her hips. “I need to get out of here. Clear my head.”

“Fine,” she sighs after a beat, her resolve crumbling. “But I need to change first. You’re lucky I used quick dry polish.”

“Do it fast,” I tell her, releasing her reluctantly. “Meet me downstairs.”

She nods, and without another word, slips past me. Her scent lingers, teasing my senses as I head to the walk-in closet, yanking the door open with more force than necessary.

My hands are shaking as I grab the bag—a deep red duffle that’s seen better days. I open it and throw a couple of things in it into a black backpack.

“Fucking Graham,” I mutter under my breath, slinging the backpack over one shoulder.

I leave my room and make my way downstairs, each step heavy with anticipation and something primal lurking under the surface.

Outside, the night air works hard to temper my anger, but all I feel is spite. Spite for my brother, my wife, and my own fucking life. It’s a wicked thing, a beast of a feeling clawing at my throat and my eyes. Infecting me until all I feel is a shell of myself. Reagan needs to hurry up because I need to get on two wheels and fucking fast and I need her right now. There is no one else to play with for me. Not once I said those vows tying us together. Everyone else simply ceased to fucking exist.

My demons need to be let out, and my wife is the unlucky participant. Maybe it will scare her away. Part of me hopes it does. A bigger part of me hopes it doesn’t. Wanting her around is more dangerous than anything else I’ve ever experienced.

I throw the backpack on, settling it against my back, and lean against my bike, waiting impatiently for her to hurry her ass up.

Five minutes feel like an eternity before she finally appears, striding toward me. She’s changed into a fitted leather jacket and tight jeans that hug her curves in all the right ways. My mouth goes dry at the sight of her.

“About time,” I growl, before moving behind her and taking her hair into my hands and quickly braiding it, tying off the end so we can leave. I press a kiss to the braid, inhaling deeply so the only thing filling my lungs is her.

“Ready?” I ask, my voice rougher than intended.

“Ready,” she replies, slipping on her helmet. Her eyes lock onto mine through the visor, challenging and inviting all at once.

“Get on,” I say, swinging my leg over the bike. She follows suit, her body pressing against mine as she settles into place.

“Hold on tight,” I warn, firing up the engine. The roar of it drowns out everything else, a visceral growl that echoes in my bones.

Her arms wrap around my waist tightly.

We peel out of the driveway; the tires skidding slightly on the gravel before catching grip.

The countryside blurs around us in shades of dark green and blue. The scent of earth and pine mingles with the exhaust as the cold winter air blows through us. Thank fuck it doesn’t snow here. Every twist and turn of the road feels like a dance, the bike leaning into each curve with grace.

We pass through small towns, their quaint charm a stark contrast to the life we live. Part of me wants to just keep riding and never stop, but I know that’s not realistic. I can’t leave my brothers and even if I could, Robert would track my ass down and make me pay for it.

“Left or right?” Reagan asks, pointing ahead at a fork in the road. The sign to New Haven City looms, but I veer left without hesitation, choosing the narrower path surrounded by dense trees and foliage.

The air grows cooler, the scent of earth and pine sharper.

“Where are we going?” Reagan’s voice holds wariness. She trusts me enough to get on this bike, but not enough to let her guard down completely. Smart girl.

I don’t answer her, instead choosing to let her doubt and tension build.

I slow the bike to a crawl, the path no longer fit for speeding. Finally, I stop altogether. A tap on her leg signals her to dismount. She slides off gracefully, and I follow suit. Our boots hit the soft, damp ground, the scent of pine and rich soil flooding our senses.

“Okay, what in the Wrong Turn is this?” she quips, looking around, her eyes narrowing as if trying to read the secrets in the trees.

I pull off my helmet and run my hand through my hair, making sure my curls aren’t stuck to my head weirdly. I’m a little vain about my hair and I make no apologies for that.

My wife follows my lead, taking off her own helmet and shaking out her hair even though it’s braided back. “Is this where you take me into a shack in this creepy-ass forest and sacrifice me in some odd satanic ritual? If so, I would have dressed in my most virginal outfit for extra points.”

I shrug off the backpack and open it, reaching in and feeling the cold material of the mask in my hand before pulling it out. The thought of what’s about to happen sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. I slip the mask over my face, concealing my identity.

“You know Halloween was months ago, right?” Reagan hisses, her voice thick with annoyance.

“Always with the smart-ass mouth. I need to fucking gag you.” I say, smirking even though she can’t see it. I sigh theatrically, as I put my hand back in my bag and pull out my long knife. “Can’t a guy have a little fun?”

“Fun?” Her eyes narrow, and I can see the cogs turning in her head as she tries to figure out what’s going on. “What are you up to?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I ask, smirking beneath the mask. “I’ve brought you out here for a bit of…excitement.”

“Excitement?” she echoes, one eyebrow raised skeptically as her eyes flicker between the mask and the knife I twirl in my hand.

“Yes, hellfire. Fun, and since we’re married, you get to be my lucky one. I am a man that adheres to his vows after all,” I say, the sinister edge to my voice evident. “I need to let off a little energy and I feel like chasing my wife and look at me killing two birds with one stone because I distinctly remember a certain fantasy about me fucking you exactly like this. Isn’t that right, Reagan?”

She’s frozen, eyes wide in both fear and desire. The war they are battling in her gaze is enough to make me start leaking pre-cum.

“Run.” I bark out at her.

Reagan hesitates for a moment, then her eyes narrow, and she takes off, running into the thick foliage of the woods. Her heart must be pounding, just like mine is. The thrill of the chase has always been intoxicating to me .

“Fuck you, Penn!” she shouts over her shoulder, but there’s a tremor in her voice betraying her slight fear.

“Better run faster than that if you want to stay ahead!” I call out, my laughter laced with ill intent.

As I watch her disappear into the darkness, I listen to the sound of her panicked breaths and the rustling of leaves beneath her feet. My senses heighten, excitement coursing through my veins. This is what I live for—moments where danger and desire blur into one intoxicating experience.

I count to sixty, each second feeding the fire inside me.

“Here we go,” I mutter to myself. The hunt is on and I’m going to savor every moment.

Stepping forward, I feel the dry, brittle foliage crunching beneath my boots as I make my way toward the tree line. The forest seems to hold its breath, waiting for my next move.

Pausing right after I slip in between two decaying trees, I close my eyes for a moment, letting all my senses wash over me once I take sight away. I turn my head slowly to the right and smile as the shallow, rapid breathing coming from my hellfire reaches my ears.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” I call, voice low and teasing. The wind carries my words, sending shivers through the trees. I hear her shift, a soft gasp betraying her position.

“Reagan,” I purr, moving silently now, stalking her like the prey she is. “You’re not very good at this, you know. It’s almost disappointing. How are we supposed to have fun if you won’t even run?”

“Fuck you,” she snaps back, her voice filled with annoyance.

“Such a foul mouth,” I chide her playfully.

A burst of movement catches my eye as she runs deeper into the woods, and I finally start jogging after her. I feel the branches snapping underneath me as the ones still hanging from the trees scrape along my skin. My blood pounds in my ears and the forest blurs in muted colors as I zero on her.

“Hope you’re ready,” I growl, every inch of me alive with anticipation. “Because once I catch you, there’s no going back. We’re gonna play until you scream and cream.”

Her desperation is palpable, a sharp scent that mingles with the earthy aroma of the forest floor. It fuels me, driving me forward when I see a flash of her pale skin. I launch myself forward, closing the distance between us. My hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around her arm with an iron-clad grip. She yelps, twisting in my grasp, but there’s no escape now.

“Gotcha,” I hiss, yanking her back against me. Her body collides with mine, warm and trembling. “It’s cute you thought you could outrun me. You and I both know I could have gotten ahead of you at any moment. You’ve seen me on the field...”

“Let go of me, you bastard!” she spits, her amber eyes blazing with rebellion. But it’s all a front. I can feel her lust, taste it on my tongue. I could drown in it.

“You don’t want that, baby,” I murmur, my tone dripping with mockery. “You’re alone in the woods with a man who knows your fantasies. There’s no escaping this.”

She doesn’t try to run or fight me off as I tear at her clothes until her skin is exposed for me and she’s naked save for jeans and panties wrapped around her ankles and boots. I don’t bother removing them. There’s something more exposed having them still on instead of completely bare before me.

My fingers trace the curve of her spine, feeling her shiver beneath my touch.

“Look at you,” I whisper, my breath hot against her ear. “So fucking beautiful.”

The tip of the knife presses against Reagan’s skin, my grip firm and controlled. I can feel her pulse quickening beneath the cool metal against her collarbone.

“Feel that?” I whisper, my lips brushing against her ear. “That’s what power tastes like.”

“Fuck you,” she spits, but there’s a tremor in her voice. Her arousal is so thick I could waterboard myself with it. She’s at my mercy.

“Language, hellfire,” I chuckle, pushing the tip harder into her flesh. She winces, but I know it’s not just pain she feels. “You wouldn’t want me to think you’re ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful for what? This sick game of yours?”

“Exactly, when we both know you enjoy it too damn much.” I drag the tip of the blade down her torso, and she trembles under my touch. “Now, be a good girl and enjoy the ride.”

She arches toward me and into the pressure of the knife, seeking more of what I’m giving her. My little masochist of a wife.

“You’re insane,” she gasps, and all I do is shrug.

“And so are you, Reagan. I might have this mask on, but this is me and this is you. Take the fucking masks off you wear and just be yourself for fucking once. Nothing you show me is going to scare me. I’m the scariest thing out here.”

With a swift motion, I flip the knife and bring it to my own arm, slicing just enough to draw blood. The crimson liquid wells up, warm and sticky, and I smear it over her bare skin, painting my name across the top of her tits before drawing little red hearts around her pebbled brown nipples.

I bring the knife back to my arm, cutting deeper, letting more blood flow so I can stain both of us. I coat my hand in it before touching her neck, her arm, her thigh and her belly. Leaving red streaks all over her delicate skin. I want to cover her in my blood, my spit, my cum. I’m going to consume her like wildfire consumes towns.

“Psycho...” Her voice is barely more than a breath now, as though she’s losing herself to the euphoria we’re creating.

“Yeah, baby. I know.” I tell her before I undo my pants and yank down my zipper. I pull out my cock, hard and aching for release, and watch as her eyes widen in shock and desire.

I lean in closer, my breath hot on her skin as I whisper filthy promises into her ear, letting her know exactly what I plan to do to her.

“Please... just fuck me already,” she gasps, her body writhing against mine. Her desperation only serves to fuel my own desire, and I waste no more time teasing her.

I spin her around and push her toward the ground. I could put her clothes beneath her or even my shirt, but I don’t want that. I want nothing between her body and the dirt.

“Hands and knees. Let me see my cunt and ass.” I tell her and she grumbles before presenting her leaking body to me. The tips of a bloody handprint resting just above where ass meets hip. Unable to help myself, I run my hand over the cut on my arm that is slowly coagulating to get just enough to leave one perfect print on her left cheek.

I grab my dick and it throbs in my hand, eager to claim what’s already mine. I press against her entrance, and she shudders, her body ready to take me into her.

With one swift motion, I plunge into her, feeling her wet heat envelop me entirely, and I don’t stop. I don’t let up. Pounding into her and forcing her into the ground beneath us .

“Fuck, Reagan,” I growl, my movements growing more intense with each thrust. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Harder, Penn,” she moans, her nails digging into the hardened earth. The culmination of lust and pain between us pushes me closer and closer to the edge.

“Tell me how much you need this,” I demand, my voice ragged with need as I continue to piston into her.

“More than anything,” she admits. “I need you, Penn. I need this darkness inside me.”

“Good girl,” I murmur, leaning down to bite her neck, hard enough to bruise. She whimpers, her body tightening around me, driving me closer to the edge. I pull her body up to align with mine before grabbing the knife laying next to us. I put it toward her throat, just hovering over the delicate flesh there.

I can feel my grip on the knife tighten as I continue to fuck her mercilessly.

“You’re such a fucking slut for this, aren’t you?” I taunt, my voice dripping with mockery and desire. “You love being my little toy.”

She whimpers in response, her body arching into mine, seeking more despite the brutal pace. “Yes…yes,” she pants, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

I press the knife harder against her throat, feeling my own heartbeat sync with hers. She’s shaking now, that feeling building in her to go over the edge. Every thrust sounds in the quiet forest as the wet sounds of her pretty cunt gripping my dick create my new favorite playlist.

She sinks her teeth into the flesh of my hand, the sharp sting driving me wild. The pain is intoxicating, blending seamlessly with the pleasure coursing through me. Her bite spurns me on even further, making me drop the knife so I can focus all my attention on her trembling body .

Now that I’m not holding the blade, I lower my hand onto her clit and begin to rub circles, pushing her to the brink.

“Cum for me,” I demand harshly, feeling my own release building to an uncontrollable peak. “Cum all over my dick.”

Her body obeys instantly, shattering under my touch as she explodes around me. The sensation is too much; it sends me spiraling into oblivion right along with her. Milking my cock right along with her.

“Yeah, baby. Milk your husband’s dick and let me coat every inch of you.”

I feel spurt after spurt leave me and right before the end is near; I pull out and watch the last two torrents stream out and across her pale, peachy ass.

Pushing her back to her hands and knees, I rest my half-hard dick between her ass cheeks and thrust just so I can feel my balls slap against her pussy and clit.

I pull the mask up and rest it on my head, and then open my mouth. I let spit fall out until it mixes with the cum on her backside and then I rub it right across the bloody handprint.

Reagan turns her head, her eyes catching mine full of disgust and fascination. “You’re so fucking unsanitary,” she breathes out.

I laugh, an echoing sound that reverberates through the stillness of the woods. She’s right, but that’s hardly a deterrent. “Oh, come on, wifey,” I lean in close, my breath hot against her ear. “You know you fucking get off on this just as much as I do.”

Her lips part slightly, as if she wants to protest but can’t find the strength or the will to lie. I tighten my grip on her hips and thrust one last time between her cheeks, making sure she feels every inch before I finally collapse into the dirt, pulling her naked, used body on top of mine.

She leans down slowly, the look in her eyes shifting from defiance to something almost tender. As she reaches out to finger the edge of my Ghostface mask, a smirk plays on her lips.

She dips her head lower until her lips hover just over mine.

“You’re sick,” she whispers.

“And you’re hooked,” I reply, equally quiet but no less intense.

She closes the gap between us, kissing me with a ferocity I didn’t expect unless we’re arguing or fucking.

Her fingers press into the mask before they slide back into my hair, yanking hard enough to hurt but fuck if it doesn’t make me want her more. My hands travel up her back as I grip her hips tight enough to leave marks—proof that she’s mine as much as I’m hers.

Reagan breaks the kiss first, panting against my mouth. “Goddamn you,” she swears softly.

I laugh again, softer this time, but no less unhinged. “Too late for that,” I murmur laughing at the red marks my beard left on her face.