Page 10 of Make Her Scream

“We know you don’t like crowds, so we’ve rented the entire place for the night. Just for you.” Roman is bursting with pride.

Her mouth falls open. “You rented the whole carnival? Just for us?”

“For you,” I correct.

“Oh, my God, you guys!” She throws her arms around Roman, then me, and finally Cain. When she pulls back, her eyes are shiny with emotion. “This is amazing. I can’t believe it. It’s a dream come true.”

Some women want diamonds and twenty-thousand-dollar handbags. Ophelia acts as if a night at a carnival is the best thing in the entire world. We really are lucky. I put my arm around her shoulder and pull her close.

“Fucking love you,” I whisper against her ear.

She grins. “Back at you, Mal.” Then she breaks my heart in half by adding, “Is this real or an apparition? Can I trust in my own vision?”

She just quoted the words of the song I wrote for her when we were on the run. My perfect, beautiful girl.

“It’s real, baby.” I kiss her cheek softly, loving the light, fruity scent she’s wearing.

As we approach the chained swing ride, with the flying chairs, Ophelia turns to the three of us. “Oh, wow, can we go on that?”

“Your wish is our command, Angel,” Cain says.

I eye the thing and hope to fuck it really has been properly maintained.

There’s a huge, surly-looking guy standing by the twister ride, with the cars that normally spin standing silent and still on the tilted platform, so I beckon him over to the swings. “We’d like to go on this, please.”

“Sure.” He growls the word out and lumbers by to go open the control booth.

Are we supposed to just get in ourselves, I wonder? But a young woman walks over to us. She’s very skinny, almost as if she’s malnourished, and her too-big eyes give her a perpetually terrified expression.

“Which seat do you want?” I ask Ophelia. She chooses a bright pink one, and I take the orange one next to her. I make sure her bar is down and correctly fastened with the bit between her legs firmly in place, too, so she’s safe.

Once we’re all in our seats, the young woman comes around and checks the safety harnesses again, then she gives the big guy in the control room the thumbs up.

The lights are already flashing up and down the center, but as the ride jerks forward, pop music starts to blare.

At first, Ophelia seems to love it as the central column lifts up and the chairs start to fly around it, but as the force of the ride increases with speed and the chairs lift outward and tilt, she starts to bite her lip. I watch her closely, and her face is turning more pale than usual.

I know my baby, and she has panic attacks.

Even though I’m not too sure about this fucking place myself, I lean across to her and shout. “It’s totally safe, baby. Just enjoy it. It’s like flying.”

“Like flying,” she repeats.

“Yeah, whoo-hoo!”

I put my arms out and make like I’m having the time of my life, and to my relief she smiles then does the same. She puts her arms out, closes her eyes, and tilts her head back.

Soon, she’s laughing in delight and watching the world spin around her, and it’s all too soon that the ride is slowing and we’re coming back down to earth.

When we disembark, Ophelia’s cheeks are pink, and her eyes are wild. Her hair is mussed by the wind, and she’s never looked more fuckable. I can’t wait until we get to the funhouse portion of the night, but I don’t want to rush it and for her to miss out on other experiences.

We’ve told the guys who run this place that we want to be given access to the funhouse and left alone for one hour at ten p.m.

My cock twitches in anticipation, and I try to lock that shit down. It’s not easy, though, when Ophelia bends over to look at something low down on a shelf and almost shows her panties. God damn, the nurse’s uniform might be a cliché, but it’s a sexy one.

The sooner we get her alone in that funhouse, the better.

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