Halloween Carnival Series: The Bone Keeper

I was ready to curl up with a good horror novel and some ginger tea but the loud sound of glass breaking caused me to pause my nightly routine and head downstairs. Turning on the lights, I searched every room until I found the broken window, the wind blowing through the small hole in the bay window in the living room. I sighed with contempt, and bent over to pick up the rock someone had thrown through my window.

My hand was now stained with fresh red spray paint as my thumb traced the letters F-R-E-A-K against the solid and jagged stone. It wasn't the first rock someone had thrown through my window. I've had too replace many of them throughout my stay in this stupid town.

I should've never moved into my grandmother's house.

There I was, five years ago, twenty, fresh out of college and ready to move into a rent-free house my grandmother left for me in her will. She might've left out a small detail in that will that might've made me think twice about moving in.

Grandma Kat forgot to mention that the land this house was built on had history. A bad history that this town was very familiar with. Oh, and lets not forget the cemetery I had for a front yard.

It was the best joke she could've ever pulled on me, honestly.

What better way to say I'm-sorry-for-being-such-an-asshole-when-I-was-alive then to give me land that would only cause people to be even more afraid of me.

My half-scarred face and body did all that good stuff for me, most days. People don't like anything that didn't look perfect. Anything out of the ordinary and they crucify you with their stupid stones and hurtful words.

I never asked for these stupid burn scars. You could blame dear old Dad for that one. The idiot thought it would be fun to light his own daughter on fire while drunk one random afternoon fifteen years ago.

He was rotting in jail as we speak with no stigma attached to him in there. He wasn't the freak with the half-burned body. But I was. Jobs were hard to come by in this town, and when I decided being the cemetery worker was not going to pay the rest of the bills I had for this house and for landscaping, I decided it was a good idea to let the carnival committee hold their annual Halloween celebrations on my land—with royalties, of course. I might be the monster people feared in this ignorant town, but I'd be damned if I was going to let their opinions of me keep me from building my business.

If I had to replace a couple more windows every year to keep my livelihood intact, then so be it.

After disposing of the rock inside my garbage can in the kitchen, I reached for the bottle of wine I swore I wouldn't open until a special occasion popped up. But screw it. I needed a pick-me-up and wine would make me loosen up a bit.

I picked out my only wine glass from the cupboard and popped open the fifty-year-old wine I found in my grandmother's wine cellar when I first moved in. It was one out of three bottles left and I figured keeping one for myself wouldn't hurt. I could sell the rest of them if needed.

Pouring the dark liquid into my glass halfway through, I paused after I drank some and placed the glass down onto the counter top when I heard the doorbell ring.

I didn't bother looking to see who it was first. I was the boogeyman people were afraid of here anyway. But I did freeze when I saw the six-foot-two, chocolate-colored, brown-eyed solid build of a man standing on the other side of the doorway when I opened the door.

"Jason? What are you doing here?" I asked the regional manager of the carnival in surprise, but only because I rarely ever see him in person, not because he was terribly handsome and also made me wish I had a vibrator tucked away safely in my bedroom and better social skills.

He greeted me with a worried expression after he glanced at my red-stained hands.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his tone firm yet still soft with concern.

"Yeah. Just some punks throwing rocks through my windows again." I dismissed, like it was no big deal, like I wasn't mortified that I didn't think of wearing something other than an old college t-shirt that barely hit my mid-thigh. I never forget the look in a man's eye the minute he takes a look at my scars after undressing me. I could hide the scars on my face pretty effectively with my thick dark hair combed to the side. But sex was made to be had in the nude, bodies sweating as they crashed against each other and, well, most of my evenings had been cut short because of the ugliness underneath my clothes. Of course, they'd never leave without at least a blow job.

Which I've probably perfected by now.

"I can fix that for you in the morning if you want." Jason offered and I was surprised by the gesture. Not that he wasn't a nice man. He just caught me off guard.

"I... um... thanks, but I've got it under control. Did you need something?" I inquired, as my foot rubbed against my leg, to compensate for the chilly breeze blowing into my house. Halloween was only three days away, after all. Chilly weather was the norm around this time of year.

"I came by to give you an early payment of today's earnings. I'd mail them to you but since there seems to be something wrong with your checking account—" he started, handing me my payment in cash and I nodded appreciatively, not at his words but at how he kept his gaze on my face and not the rest of me. I didn't want him to see anything he didn't need to.

"It was nice of you to stop by. Let me repay you with some hot cocoa to warm you up, if you're not too busy," I suggested, placing the money inside a coat pocket in the meantime by the coat rack near the door. Then I immediately crossed my legs, feeling the ache between my thighs throb when his sharp smile responded to me.

"Sure. I have my assistant manager Marco taking over for a bit while I run some errands. You got marshmallows? You can't have hot cocoa without marshmallows," he teased with amusement dancing in his eyes as I stepped back to let him in and closed the door behind him. I bit my lower lip, rushing to reach for a knit wrap around sweater I left hanging near the doorway earlier on in the day, and pulled it on me. It was long enough to cover my legs and I was thankful I had forgotten I left it there to begin with.

"I think I might have some in my cabinets somewhere," I mentioned as I made my way back into the kitchen and quickly washed off what I could of the red spray paint. But it was too late. The breeze had helped stain my palms for the time being.

"Any plans for Halloween?" Jason asked, and his ironic question made me smirk as I dried my hands with a small towel.

You mean other than being the town's bone keeper?

"Got some fresh graves to dig, if that's what you're asking," I snapped, and instantly winced at my uncalled-for comment.

"Sorry. I'm just not used to this," I apologized, swallowing hard as I braced my hands against the black granite countertop.

"Used to what?" he questioned, and I could hear him move behind me somewhere. But I had no idea just how close he had gotten until I turned around to face him. His back was leaning against the island in the middle of the kitchen and I was barely three feet away. His eyes continued to stay on my face, never lowering down with curiosity. He had no idea how much that turned me on.

"People being nice? I don't know. I'm not very good with people in general." I continued my ramble and hoped my words didn't make him feel as awkward as I felt.

"Neither am I. They have too many opinions about things they know next to nothing about."

"Like what?" I asked, now intrigued at what this man could possibly have endured to make him hate people just as much as I did.

"Like my lifestyle. I like being alone, no woman to come home to at night. And for some reason, that has to mean I'm gay," Jason answered and I really didn't mean to laugh. But his words were ridiculous. Even if he were gay, which I suspected he wasn't, there'd be nothing wrong with it. An orgasm was an orgasm. Who cared who gave it to you?

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to laugh, but people really suck," I commented as I turned back around to face the cabinets, trying to remember where I had placed the marshmallows.

"Don't get me wrong, I love women. All shapes. All sizes. If they got a killer smile, then they got me," he confessed, and I raised a skeptical eyebrow but kept my doubts to myself as I rummaged through my cabinets, finally finding the marshmallows in the last one. But, of course, it was too far back in for my five-foot-two short self to reach.

"Oh, here, let me help you," Jason said as he stepped closer to me and extended his arm so he'd be able to reach for the bag. Licking my lips, I caught his mahogany fragrance and almost shivered with delight.

"Thanks," I said, clearing my suddenly dry throat.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Ivy?" He posed the question and it was a heavy one since he had no idea how much I've wanted him since the first day I met him five years ago. I'd put him in the category of men I'd never be able to touch back then, and yet here he was standing barely a foot away from me, staring at me as his equal, nothing more, nothing less. The look of repulsion was nowhere near his expression as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, revealing the imperfect skin it so comfortably hid on a daily basis.

"Straight shooter, huh?" I stalled with a nervous laugh, lowering my gaze to his broad chest covered in company uniform. I felt the need to close my eyes as he lifted my chin up with his fingers and traced my bottom lip with his thumb.

"Among other things. And I really wish you'd stop being afraid to talk to me," Jason replied, sounding almost irritated by my actions. Didn't he understand how... rare this was for me?

"We're talking right now," I reminded him, my defense mechanism of rejecting them before they rejected me kicking in as I pulled away and returned to making the hot cocoa. I didn't know him from a hole in the wall and I hated that he could see right through me so easily without knowing so much as my name and my address.

"I'd be lying if I said the scars didn't bother me," he confessed, and I'd be hurt by his words if I hadn't heard different variations of them throughout my life. I was just as numb as the decomposing bodies buried in my front yard.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't expect you not to care," I answered, reaching for the milk inside the refrigerator, pouring it into a small pot as I poured in the cocoa mix into the cold substance after turning on the stove.

"I only care because you keep hiding behind them, using them to scare me away. I'm not like those other men, Ivy," Jason insisted, and I wished I could believe him. My entire body wanted to. But words meant nothing without actions to back them up.

"You mean the men who were too repulsed by all of this to allow me to touch them completely? I gotta tell you, its a hard pill to swallow, and I've swallowed plenty of them since the day I got the damn scars," I responded defensively. He had no right to make me feel bad about feeling nothing.

"Tell me then, what part of them did they let you touch?" His question stirred something in me that defused the anger simmering at the pit of my stomach and replaced it with determination.

"You want me to show you?" I asked bluntly, turning off the stove. The hot cocoa could wait until he stormed through that door once I was done with him. Turning sharply to face him, I grabbed a hold on the single ounce of confidence I had left and reached for the waistband of his jeans, tugging at his belt, throwing it on the floor before I moved on to bringing his zipper down. The moment my hand dipped down into his boxer-briefs, his cock sprouted thicker and longer with arousal. I stared him straight in the eye as I stroked him, watched how his breathing turned heavier with each pump of my hand. I knew he was about to spill in my hand but for some reason he pulled my hand out and pulled me closer to him.

"How'd they manage to keep their hands off you while doing that?" he asked, his deep voice lowering an octave in his aroused state.

"By doing this," I answered simply, removing the knit sweater off my body, allowing him to see the trail of scarred flesh-toned tissue leading down my right leg. I took his hand then, pressing his fingertips down the same trail, desperate for him to understand why I kept people like him away from people like me.

"You keep looking at the door as if you expect me to run out at any moment," Jason observed in an irritated tone as he tucked himself back inside his pants and zipped up neatly.

"I wouldn't blame you if you did." I answered, and watched him shake his head in disapproval before he picked me up and placed me on top of the island, next to the wine I had poured myself earlier. His dark hands rose against my nude-colored skin, up my thighs until they managed to raise my t-shirt up and over my head, throwing it on the floor somewhere. I didn't bother wearing underwear around the house since I lived alone anyway, and Jason seemed to appreciate the exposed woman in front of him.

Another rare moment I had to adjust to.

My thoughts were slightly occupied with a sudden rush of desire when I saw him slip his fingers inside me as he stared right into my eyes. My hands reached for his shoulders immediately, my nails digging into his shirt, then continued to watch him finger me.

"You don't feel like a woman who expects her man to leave her," Jason commented smugly, and I couldn't help but bite my lower lip, my mouth watering as I noticed how completely wet I was against his fingers.

"You're not my man," I reminded him, my hips rocking back and forth with every flick of his fingertips.

"I am tonight. If you let me," he offered with a deep grunt of desperation as he slid his fingers deeper inside of me. Although I knew he would leave, for a moment I pretended he wouldn't, and nodded in response. I'd blame the lust after he finished finger-fucking me.

"Lie down, Ivy. I need to see all of you," he ordered, and I did as he asked, laying vertically on top of my island after he removed the glass and bottle of wine elsewhere. His hands parted my legs and he smiled just as his fingers slid right through my wet walls. If his fingers felt this good, I could only imagine what the rest of him felt like. My back arched as soon as I felt his lips brush over my pulsating clit, his fingers still working their magic against my g-spot. I was no virgin, but I could honestly say I've never been with a man who made me feel everything all at once.

With his tongue and his fingers bringing me closer and closer to an orgasm, I could feel my resolve fading, my insecurities melt away, all my doubts pouring out of me. And just as my inhibitions slowly crawled out of their cage, Jason pulled away from me, his fingers and tongue as well. The sudden motion caused me to open my eyes quickly, searching for him. But he was still here, turning the stove back on no less as he took out a marshmallow out of the bag, and watched it melt slowly against his fingers as flames burned down the white gushy cloud of sweetness into a thick liquid texture.

My eyes watched him carefully as he made his way back to me after turning off the stove, and blew at the sweet and sticky substance to a decent cool before he placed some of it on my hard nipples. His fingers painted a trail that led down my scarred leg and then up towards the wet entrance he'd been neglecting (for far too long, if you asked me).

When there was nothing left on his fingers, he began to undress, discarding his clothes to the side. He proceeded to climb on top of me then, and I licked my lips when I felt his thick and long shaft teasing at my opening. He took my hands, raised them above my head, and started to kiss the right side of my face gently, causing me to close my eyes. The right side of my body was the most sensitive to touch and right now it was feeling everything ten times greater than my left side, which was driving me crazy enough to bite something. And I chose to bite his shoulder. He groaned at my impatience but it did cause him to continue his kissing journey at a quicker pace.

His tongue finally met the now marshmallow-flavored nipples and it made my entire body writhe beneath him. Once he was done licking off the liquid sugar from my breasts, he freed my hands and lapped at my skin, licking his way down my leg, swirling his tongue over the sensitive nerve endings my scars held. I never knew they could be used for this purpose, to make me feel things at such a heightened level of pleasure, that it almost drove me to push him off me just so I could ride him right on top of this island.

The feeling of his mouth enclosing between my thighs stirred the aching I had for him again, my legs parting wider so he'd have more access, and more motivation to stop his games and give me what I obviously wanted. The tip of his unusually large tongue flicked over my nub several times before I finally spilled into his mouth, unable to hold back any longer. He didn't try to tame the loud moans coming out of my mouth, instead he decided to make them louder by thrusting himself inside of me, pumping harder, faster, his hands gripping at my breasts, his thumbs circling and pinching furiously, adding more to the fiery desire burning through me.

He pulled away just before I came again, and I almost stopped to protest, but he smiled at me again and I saw the pure hunger in his eyes for me, something I've never seen before. It made me want to stay on this ride for as long as he allowed me to.

"You think you can handle some more, Bone Keeper?" he teased, using the nickname most people used around town when referring to me. I grinned in response, leaning in to bite at the skin on his neck. He leaned into my cheek and moaned into my ear, grazing the scruff on his cheek against my right shoulder.

"Can you?" I countered, and he chuckled into my skin without shame or disgust. He had no idea how much it meant to me.

"I'd want nothing more than to hear that pretty mouth of yours moan again."

"Well then, just keep doing what you're doing," I replied with the smile of a woman who was still recovering from the biggest high she ever received.

"And what is that?" he added, with a knowing smirk.

"Making me feel like more than just a bone keeper."

"That's because you are. And I'd love to keep proving that to you, night after night..." he trailed off as he resumed his body kissing once more, causing me to giggle when he reached my lower stomach.

"I thought you liked being alone," I reminded him, recalling the typical detail of a self-appointed bachelor.

"I enjoy your company too much to let you sleep alone after this," he said, his tongue flicking at my swollen clit, causing my body to jump in response. Just a promise of the nights ahead of us.

"In that case, my bones are all yours."