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“Sophie, baby,” I moan, unable to stop myself. I pull out, and she takes a deep breath. I push into her again, slipping down her throat. “Oh, good girl,”
she pats her hair, trying to finger-comb it behind her ears. I want to tell her that really won’t help at all. She looks properly fucked.
Soren is fascinating. All of my attention is taken away from my family and put on to him. How am I supposed to ask how a boring drive was when I’m watching a serial killer blossom like a crowned prom princess?
“He’s handsome,” Mom comments. “I know,” I sigh. That’s what started the whole mess. I went out with an asshole who looked like Soren. And then Soren killed him.
“I’m not doing this again,” I whisper. “Yes, you are.” Soren’s fingers dig into my hips as he pulls me down the length of his cock. “Oh, Sophie,” he groans.
“Move for me, baby.”
“I think I love you, Doctor Moore.” A shudder rolls up his body as I clench. His words are evil. They make me feel too much. “You don’t,” I rasp. “I really do,” he insists.
Soren groans against my throat as he comes. His grip on my hips is unforgiving as he spills inside me. “Oh no,” he rasps. “I’ve come in my therapist.”
“I love you,” I whisper. Soren presses deep inside me as he comes. No protection again. Just Soren. When he falls out, his fingers curl inside me, holding his release in. “What are you doing?” “Breeding my therapist.”
I’ll give it all up, everything, if I have to. Whatever she wants me to do, I’ll do it. No killing, no fucking, whatever. I don’t care. I want her more than I want peace of mind or the undeniable pleasure of killing an asshole. She’s my person. I need her.
Soren Erikson is going to retire from serial killing so he can live happily ever after with his therapist.
