Carving for Cara: A Dark Romance Halloween Novella (Wrecked Series Book 1)

The regret I feel for telling Sloan we didn’t need jackets this evening is overpowering. It’s somewhere around forty-five degrees, and I swear my nipples could cut diamonds. Sloan and I have been drinking by the bonfire since arriving well over an hour ago.

We showed up later than most, and by now, the strong majority of the party-goers are entering blackout mode. The pungent scent of alcohol swirls through the fall breeze, interlaced with the smoky aroma of the massive fire crackling beside the lake.

Looking around, this million-dollar lake house is a little blurry. The tequila shot Sloan pressured me into taking took the edge off my anxiety, and I’ve been suppressing it further by downing copious amounts of alcohol. Is this the best start to my decision-making this evening? Probably not, but I can’t kick this eerie feeling that’s been following me all day, and alcohol is helping, so that’s what I’ll go with for now.

There’s an unusual chill tonight, and I don’t think it’s the autumn air. The only thing taming the hairs on the back of my neck is the continuous consumption of hard liquor.

The burn of cheap whiskey rolls down the back of my throat, clawing at my flesh as I swallow.

“Youuu need another drink,” Sloan slurs as she grabs hold of my arm, stumbling around as she braces herself. “If you don’t loosen up, you’re going to make me lose my buzz, and I’m not ready for that.”

I laugh, smiling at my unstable friend. “I think we’re both more than ‘buzzed’ at this point. I’m not sure there’s any going back from here.  This is where the bad decision-making begins.”

As if right on cue, Alex, Sloan’s current infatuation, crosses the lawn, heading toward the house. He’s eye fucking her as he walks, biting at his bottom lip as he sucks it between his teeth. He’s tall and somewhat athletic, which blows the rest of these small-town losers out of the water. Most of the guys at this party grew up here and have never left, and nearly all of them still live with their mamas. They’re not real men, and based on my experience, none of them know how to fuck.

Perhaps it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s because Alex is genuinely good-looking, but I feel a smidge of jealousy as he watches my best friend. Alex isn’t from here, and he’s not like the rest of the “men” at this party. He’s clean-cut and well put together, and Sloan says he’s rich. What girl wouldn’t want that kind of stability?

“Go hang out with him,” I force out before my imagination gets the best of me. I shouldn’t be jealous of my best friend.

“What?” Sloan snaps in a drunken state. “I can’t just leave you here by yourself. Besties stick together at these things.”

“Parties?” I laugh. “I’ll be fine. You need to get laid, and I need to get another drink. I’ll be out here when you’re done with him.”

She hesitantly draws her eyes away from him, making squinted eye contact with me. Her cheeks are flushed, an obvious effect of the alcohol raging its way through her bloodstream. “Are you sure?” she asks in the most sober voice she can pull together.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I nod. “Now go!” I order as I push her toward Alex. He’s disappearing into the massive log house by now, and she’s going to lose sight of him if she doesn’t hurry the fuck up.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Sloan warns as she excitedly skips off, following Alex into the house.

Alone and cold, I feel goosebumps pimple along my skin, raising tiny hairs across my arms, and they spread. My breath hitches in the back of my throat, and I find myself scanning the crowd of people.

I know almost everyone here. They’re almost all the same people I went to high school with, and if they’re not, they’re probably married to or dating someone who did. My heart pounds in my chest as my anxiety rises. I’m straining to focus on the faces of the people here.

Across the lawn I catch a brief glimpse of a shadow, but before my eyes can focus, it disappears behind a tree. I take a step forward, determined to get a better look at what I’ve just seen.

I’m immediately cut off by a young couple running through the lawn, ignorantly playing their adolescent games as though there isn’t something lurking in the shadows. I stop dead in my tracks as a ball forms in my stomach, and something in my core tells me I shouldn’t proceed. I shouldn’t walk into the forest where other partygoers won’t notice me if someone snatches me into the woods.

Shaking my head, I curse at myself under my breath.

Fucking stupid.

What would possess me to think it’s okay to wander into the woods by myself? I turn, redirecting. The warmth of the house embraces me as I step through the open sliding glass door. The chill I had been feeling seems to fade as I step closer to the alcohol.

“One more won’t hurt,” I whisper so quietly no one else will hear me. “Take the edge off,” I encourage myself.

Lifting the thick ladle from the bowl, I clumsily pour the mixture of liquor and fruit punch into a clear cup. The red liquid spills out from the ladle, covering the sides of my cup with sticky juice.

“Need some help?” a male voice murmurs from behind me. He’s so close I can feel his breath puffing against my ear.

Raising a brow, I turn to meet a very drunk Jonah. I bring the cup to my lips, slowly drinking down its entire contents before answering his question. “No,” I sigh as I turn back toward the punch bowl, desperate for seconds. “You shouldn’t be near me. If Sloan catches us, she’ll never forgive me.”

“But, Sloan isn’t here, is she?” he smiles the sloppiest smirk I’ve seen from him. “She went to the back of the house with that Alex fellow a few minutes ago, and judging by the way they passed by me, they won’t be back for a while.”

“Still,” I say as I rotate back, meeting his half-shut eyes. “We need to stop doing this. It’s not healthy for either of us to stay wrapped up in something that’ll never go anywhere.”

Jonah takes a step toward me, quickly closing the distance between us. “You know what’s not healthy?” he asks, whispering against my cheek. “Denying your body its… needs.”

Gag. Okay.

I wouldn’t consider Jonah one of my “needs,” but I can’t help but squeeze my thighs together at the thought of being satisfied tonight. The alcohol making its way through my veins makes my decision that much easier.

Fuck it.

“Make it quick, and don’t let anyone see us,” I say before I’ve thought the words through enough to truly understand the meaning behind them.

“Deal,” he winks, snatching my wrist away from the punch bowl as I go back for thirds.

I drop the cup, and the little bit of liquid I managed to pour into it spills over the expensive-looking tablecloth, but I don’t have time to clean it off as he drags me away, leading me toward a set of stairs.

Jonah leads me through the house, and as I follow him, I find myself forgetting about Sloan. She’s preoccupied with Alex, and I deserve a little bit of a release. We snake through a maze of hallways, eventually stopping at an open door at the end of the hall.

I peer inside. It’s dark, but I can see what looks like a guest room. There’s a bed, and that’s really all I care about at this point. My buzz has surpassed what I originally intended, and I’m rapidly approaching my blacked-out alter ego.

We step inside and I lazily close the door behind us. I don’t hear it click shut, but I don’t care when Jonah’s lips crash into mine, nearly knocking me off my feet as we stumble toward the bed. His tongue assaults my lips, lashing out at them as he pries them open. I allow them to part, and he slides into me, dominating my entire mouth.

Jonah is quick to release his zipper, tugging his cock free as he slams me not onto the bed but against the wall. My clit is pulsing with anticipation as he strokes himself, pushing his cock to be as hard as it possibly can before hiking my skirt up over my hips.

Our kiss deepens, and he’s pressing into me so hard that it almost hurts. He’s so drunk he can’t hold his own weight, and he’s using me as support.

His hands slide between my thighs, searching for the pooling heat I have waiting for him.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he moans out as he slides his fingers over my pussy, spreading his arousal over his hand before slipping three fingers inside me.

“Ahh,” I cry out, caught off guard by his sudden roughness and the sharp pain I feel from him entering me so quickly.

“You like that, don’t you?” Jonah presses into my ear. “You love it when I spread your wet pussy across my fingers and fuck you with them.”

“Yes,” I moan as he begins pumping his fingers in and out of me, stretching me wider as he goes. I relax at his touch, trying to enjoy the feeling of being so full, but Jonah’s sloppy execution leaves me cringing more than anything.

He grows bored quickly, pulling his fingers out from me. He strokes his cock a few more times, then throws my leg over his arm as he lines himself up against me. I’m standing on the tip of my toes, trying to be tall enough to take his cock to the fullest extent, which isn’t much, but I keep reminding myself it’s not about size. It’s about how he uses it.

Jonah’s mouth is back on mine as he shoves himself inside me, filling me as deeply as he can before pulling back out, then slamming back into me with enough force to crack the wall behind me.

He picks up the pace before I can really adjust to him, but I wiggle under him, repositioning myself better as he keeps going. Jonah’s breath picks up, and a whiny noise escapes his lips with each thrust. It’s somewhere between a porn star moan and a dog that needs to go outside, and that’s when I realize Jonah isn’t anything more than those two things.

He likes to fuck, but his primary goal is getting himself off. He acts like he cares about what I want for a split second, occasionally, but always reverts back to getting what he wants.

My needs are never met, and that’s one of the many reasons I left him to begin with.

Even in this drunken state, Jonah can’t pleasure me in the way I deserve. In the way I need.

He’s sloppy, selfish, and truly inexperienced, even though we’ve fucked a thousand times. He’s vanilla.

His whiny bitch noises increase with his speed, and I’m doing everything I can to keep the best poker face possible. My back slams into the wall repeatedly as he cries out into my cheek, sweating as he thrusts.

Jonah pulls out, suddenly releasing me from his hold. My body relaxes away from the wall. His leg kicks out as he wraps his hand through my hair, forcing me to my knees before him. Drunk and way too slow, I’m too late by the time I realize what he’s doing.

Cock in hand, Jonah is furiously rubbing his hand across his dick. His head tips back as he bites his bottom lip, furrowing his brows as his ejaculation rises.

I open my mouth to protest, trying to push myself to my feet, but I’m too drunk to use my limbs. Jonah immediately busts his load, shooting it all over my face and my open mouth.

I squeeze my eyes shut as quickly as I can, but my eyelashes are already coated in his cum. Jonah cries out, squealing with delight as he ejaculates all over my face.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I gasp, opening my mouth for air as he finishes. My nostrils are clogged with his sticky white jizz.

“What?” he smirks as he tucks his cock away, zipping himself back up before turning to leave. “Thanks for that,” he winks before quickly disappearing through the door we came in through.

Stunned and in a spinning state, I sit there, dazed for a moment.

That bastard just came all over my face, ruining my make-up and my hair, and now I have to go out there and face not only all those people, but my best friend, who will immediately notice my change in cosmetics.

I’m so fucked, and I’m so fucking stupid for thinking this was a good idea to begin with. Fuck alcohol and the liquid courage it gives me to do the most fucked up shit.

“Fuck!” I yell out, frustrated with how my night is going.

I grip the bed beside me for support, then raise myself off the ground with a face full of cum. I walk toward the door, then peek into the hallway to make sure no one will see me.

It’s clear, so I silently make my way down the hallway, checking each closed door to see if there’s a bathroom behind it. It takes a few tries, but on the fifth or sixth door, I open it to find a small powder room fully equipped with fresh towels.

Perfect.

After doing my best to clean myself up and save what I could of my makeup, I head back outside to find Sloan. She’s probably done with Alex by now and wondering where I’m at.

I grab two shot glasses filled with clear liquid as I pass by the drink table. Jonah sobered me up far more than I had planned on being this evening, and I can feel my anxiety returning as I approach the door leading to the yard.

A frigid breeze expands in my lungs as I step outside, filling me with the same ghostly chill I’ve been feeling the majority of the day.

I search the yard a few times, aimlessly walking with my shot glasses. I can’t find her, so I decide to shoot back the glasses before I spill any more of the precious liquid inside. They look like they’re the same, so I mentally prepare myself to take them one after the other without a break.

Breathing out, I calm myself as I stare at the glasses.

“Go,” I quietly encourage myself.

I don’t hesitate to bring the first glass to my lips, throwing it back as quickly as I can. It burns like hell going down, but I immediately force the second shot down before I have a chance to back out.

I cringe, scrunching my face as the burn momentarily intensifies, then subsides, leaving a faint raw feeling in my throat.

While I wait for Sloan, I decide I’ll observe the apple bobbing going on in the middle of the yard. It’s decently dark outside, so I don’t understand why now is a good time to go apple bobbing, but I have to admit it’s pretty funny to watch a group a drunk people shove their faces into the water, violently sloshing around for a chance at grasping an apple between their teeth.

I watch for a few minutes, and during that time, I feel the effects of the two shots I took begin to kick in. The fire cracking on the other side of the apple bobbing seems to burn brighter, blurring my vision further.

“It’s your turn, Cara!” someone yells from the crowd of drunk apple bobbers.

My liquid courage is doing its job, and I don’t hesitate to join in on the fun. Fucking up my make-up in the apple bobbing will be a great cover up for Jonah coming all over my face. I approach the deep tank of apples, and I eye the bright green apple I’m going to target.

I hate green apples, but this one will give me the best chance at coming out of this successful.

Leaning back, I inhale one last time before shoving my face down in the apple, trying to get my face just wet enough to mess up my mascara, but not wet enough to damage my curled hair more than it already has been.

I struggle briefly, falling left and right as I bob around. This is a lot harder than it looks, and I’m starting to feel like my mouth is simply too small for this game.

Rising back up, I’m about to tell everyone about the conclusion I’ve just come to, but a hand forces me under the water, submerging my entire head beneath the surface.

My arms flail around me as I try to fight back, but I’m too disorientated and panicked. I accidentally inhale, sucking in a mouthful of water. I can’t breathe, and I feel like I’m drowning. I’m helpless in this moment, completely vulnerable and at the mercy of the hand forcing me down.

The hand releases, and I jump backward, coughing and gasping for air as I try to stabilize my stance.

The sound of Jonah’s laugh fills my ears, and my blood instantly begins to boil.

“What the fuck?” I shout, nearly in tears as I try to catch my breath.

Water drips down my hair, soaking my white top so much it becomes translucent.

“Calm down,” Jonah spits. “It was a joke.”

Fuming, I glare at him. “That wasn’t fucking funny, Jonah. You were drowning me.”

There’s a sly grin in his face. “What can I say? I like forcing you to your knees,” he winks before turning, once more disappearing from my view before I can give him a piece of my mind.

I am so never fucking him again. I’m done this time. He’s taking things too far.

My hair keeps dripping, so I step away from the water tank to ring it out. As I step away from the tank I find myself locked in a trance, staring directly across the bonfire burning in the middle of the yard.

Beyond the fire is what I believe to be the shadow I saw earlier. A man.

He’s dressed casually, but there’s a scarecrow mask resting over his face. I can’t see his eyes, but I feel them. He’s facing me directly, and I know he can see me watching him.

Chills run along my spine, and I strain to catch a better look at him, but the roaring flames in the fire make it hard to see.

“What happened to you?” Sloan gasps from behind me, grabbing my shoulders to assess the situation.

“I…,” there’s hesitation in my voice. “I went apple bobbing, and I fell in.”

Unsatisfied with my answer, Sloan says, “You fell in?”

“Yes,” I breathe, turning away from her to get a better look at the masked man through the flames, but he’s gone.