Caught.

Clara’s POV.

One week later, Halloween night arrived whether I was ready or not.

The costume my mother had practically forced me to buy hung on the back of my door. I stared at it longer than necessary before finally putting it on.

The black bodysuit was tighter than anything I normally wore—stretchy material that clung to every curve and dip of my body, cut high on the hips and low enough in the front that the tops of my breasts pressed together with every breath. Thin straps crossed over my shoulders. A short, flared skirt sat low on my waist, more decoration than coverage. The matching cat-ear headband and sleek black mask completed it. When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. The mask hid enough of my face that I felt almost anonymous, which was the only reason I agreed to wear it or attend the party at all.

Downstairs, guests had already started arriving. Costumes and masks filled the large living room. Music played at a low volume, lights dimmed to something softer and more atmospheric. I picked a seat near the back wall where I could watch the exits and escape the second I started experiencing any form of anxiety or just couldn’t stand the party anymore.

Daniel, my stepfather, opened the evening with a short welcome greeting. Even from across the room, I couldn’t look away.

He wore all black—a well-fitted button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark trousers, and a simple black half-mask that covered the upper part of his face. The mask somehow made him look more dangerous instead of less. His jawline was still visible, the line of his throat, the way the shirt stretched across his chest and shoulders. Something low and unwanted pulled tight in my stomach.

No, not again.  

I forced my eyes elsewhere, anywhere else in the room apart from him.

People I recognized began filtering over to greet me. I smiled, answered questions, laughed when it was expected. The anxiety hovered at the edges, never fully settling, but I kept it managed. Barely.

Then a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Clara?”

I turned. A familiar figure approached and stood in front of me, wearing a simple black mask and a dark shirt open at the collar.

“Ethan Reed,” he introduced himself and stretched out his hand for a handshake.

“Oh my god, Ethan!” I exclaimed and enveloped him in a warm hug instead.

We had grown up on the same street and had been long-term childhood best friends before his family moved and college further separated us. Though we still kept in touch, it hadn’t been the same.

He had been the one I escaped to, and he protected me times when my father was being a monster.

I hadn’t seen him in two years, but he still looked like the same familiar good-looking boy from childhood—only taller now, broader in the shoulders, more mature and grown.

His eyes moved over my costume once, quick but obvious.

“How are you doing? Didn’t expect to see you in something like that,” he said, smiling. “You look… different.”

“Different good or different bad?” I teased.

“Definitely good.” He held out a hand, but also, his energy and body language suggested something different. I was fully aware that Ethan had a longtime crush on me as a child, and it seemed like he still did.  

“Dance with me.”

I hesitated only a second. Maybe this was exactly what I needed. Someone my own age. Someone uncomplicated. Someone who could fuck the restless ache out of me so I would stop thinking about the man across the room. I wasn’t a virgin. I knew how to take what I needed and leave the rest.

I took his hand.

The lights were low enough that the center of the room felt private. Ethan’s hands settled on my waist as we moved. At first it was casual. Then the music shifted into something slower, heavier, and his grip tightened. My body responded before my mind caught up—hips rolling with his, chest brushing against him, the thin material of the bodysuit suddenly feeling like too little. His fingers slid a little lower on my back. I didn’t stop him.

Somewhere in the middle of it, I felt eyes on me. Someone was watching me. A steady, burning weight that made the back of my neck prickle. I quickly brushed it off as me hallucinating, even though the feeling still remained. Crowds always made me feel watched and uneasy, so maybe it was just that.

The dance grew more heated. Ethan’s thigh slipped between mine. His mouth brushed close to my ear.

I turned my head and whispered, voice low, “Meet me upstairs. My room. You still remember which one it is.”

His breath caught. He nodded once.

I stepped back first and made my way toward the stairs. Just before I left the living room, I glanced over my shoulder.

My eyes landed on Daniel’s, and I found that he was already looking in my direction.

Even with the black mask covering half his face, I felt the intensity of his stare like a physical touch. Something dark and somewhat dangerous emanated from him.

This didn’t feel like something fatherly at all.

For a second, the entire party seemed to fade. Then I forced myself to look away and kept walking.

Ethan followed less than a minute later.

The second the bedroom door closed behind us, his mouth was on mine. The kiss was hungry, a little clumsy with urgency as we moved toward my large bed. I kissed him back harder, fingers already working at the buttons of his shirt.

“Ethan,” I moaned his name, and he groaned in response, pushing the thin straps of my costume off my shoulders. The bodysuit peeled down easily. Cool air hit my bare breasts, making my nipples harden. His hands followed, squeezing, thumbs brushing and pinching my nipples until they tightened in pleasure.

An image settled in my mind where it was Daniel’s hands fondling my nipples, and my legs nearly buckled from the intense rush of pleasure that followed.

Ethan groaned against my mouth and reached lower, pushing the rest of the costume down my hips until it pooled at my feet.

“You’re so beautiful. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he rasped as his fingers slid between my thighs and found how ready I was. I gasped, hips pushing forward into his hand.

Suddenly, two hard knocks sounded, sharp and deliberate.

Before either of us could react, the door opened. In our haste, both of us had forgotten to lock the door.

Daniel stood in the doorway.

My somewhat arch-enemy and part of the reason I was in this situation in the first place.

Time seemed to stop in that moment.

I was half-naked, costume around my ankles, breasts exposed, thighs still parted where Ethan’s hand had been. The cool air of the hallway mixed with the heat in the room, and I swear I could smell my arousal in the air. My pulse slammed so hard I felt it in my throat.

“D-Dad,” I stammered, not even knowing what to do.

Ethan jerked away from me like he’d been burned. He muttered a rushed apology, scrambled to fix his clothes, and slipped past Daniel without making eye contact. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the two of us alone.

I remained frozen in the same position—bare from the waist up, costume tangled at my feet, legs spread wide and pussy wet and exposed fully before my own stepfather.

Daniel didn’t move at first. His masked face was impossible to read, but the tension in his shoulders was not. His eyes moved over me once, slow and thorough, before locking on my face.

The silence stretched, thick and dangerous.

I couldn’t seem to reach for the costume. I couldn’t seem to cover myself. I just remained frozen, heart racing and body still aching from the interrupted almost-sex, waiting for what would happen next.