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blonde stranger smiles at me over my dead client. He has blue eyes so pale they’re nearly gray.
His hair is pale and somewhat of a mess on top of his head,
The volume in my messy brown bob
It’s unfortunate I’m kissing him back. Truly. My ethical dilemma of lusting after a patient is suddenly overshadowed by kissing a fucking murderer.
I shouldn’t have moaned. How embarrassing. Kidnapping one-oh-one: don’t moan.
“God,” I mumble under my breath, my face heating. There’s a certain Hell for people who blush when a killer calls them their wife.
could handle a bad date and a murder, apparently. But being proposed to while my perversion is revealed? Too much. God, please pick another soldier; this one has had enough battles for one night. Ugh.
“They say not to take work home, but what if work takes you home?” She asks some higher power.
This is a lot more fun than the last kill. Everyone should drag their therapist along for murders.
I like the way his foreskin moves back and forth over his head. I like the feel of his thickness in my hand. I like the taste of his precum when I gently suck it from the tip. His groans bury between my legs like they wish to penetrate me.
She shouldn’t have sucked my cock because now it’s all I can think about. Then again, that was probably her intention. She’s a clever therapist, isn’t she?
I whine, clawing at the snow. It hits me fiercely. No matter how I try to escape the orgasm, I can’t. All at once, pleasure weighs my body down. My mittens slide across the snow. “No,” I moan, my eyes losing focus. “Yes,” he responds.
The third orgasm is coming, and he’s feral for it. I try to kick away from him in the snow, but he holds me against his face. He draws the next orgasm from me. I cry out, my body baring down and wetness gushing out of me. “That’s what I wanted,” he groans,
She knows exactly what I want. It drives me insane that she’s trying to give me it. A groan rips from my mouth as she tries to let me in deeper.
her body tries to force me back out with a gag. “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,”
“Be a good girl and give me what I need.”
When I pull out, she gasps for air before performing the ritual without prompting—kissing the tip of my cock with swollen lips. “Open up,” I rasp. Her lips part instantly, making me shudder. “Such a good fucking girl,” I groan,
She whines around me and grabs my hips, pulling me all the way back in. “That’s it, baby,” I encourage. Her entire body relaxes once I’m in her throat. As if my cock is the only thing she needs.
Because he kills people. A psychopath who loves family visits. I don’t know if that’s worse or better.
Nothing I can do about corpses in the freezer with the fucking Christmas ham. But I can re-do my makeup, at least.
Everyone looks at the six-foot-four Nordic nightmare. “Incapable,”
apple cider and knocking it back. “Good lord,” I wheeze. My eyes water. He was drinking straight scotch.
“This is acting?” She pants. “You don’t seem like a good actor. So I’m helping.” I grind between her legs. My erection presses against Sophie, and her nails sink into my side. She writhes beneath me. We’re both getting off. This is more than acting.
“The fabrics too rough,” she whines. That’s practically a request. I shove my sweatpants down. My bare skin touches hers. Soft folds hug my cock as I slide through her pussy.
One more night of play fucking and another set of twins will be on the way. My stomach feels elated, and I grimace. No breeding your therapist, you psychopath.
“Whenever you feel like tensing, just remember to relax,” he whispers low. His thumb rubs my throat like it does when he’s in my mouth. “You’re really good at that.”
“We shouldn’t,” I whisper. “I know.” Then he presses inside me. I claw at his back as he sinks into my body. He groans. “Such a good therapist,” he rasps, grabbing my hips and sinking in as far as he can.
“Do you love me, Sophie?” “Of course not.” I turn my head away. “Such a bad liar,” he chuckles. Soren’s on me suddenly. His mouth, his hands, the weight of him pressing me against the wall. “Say it,” he demands between brutal kisses.
“You know I'm right,” he rasps in my ear. “You're my person.”
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.”
He starts to harden against my ass as he presses kisses to my neck. “Not again. My family is still out there.”. “And I'm in here.” His cock sinks inside me, pushing his own release back in. “We need to stop.” “Shhh.” His fingers find my clit and rub in languid circles. I moan and angle my hips better. “Such a good therapist,” he chuckles.
And then he fucks me all night, getting me to the strange headspace where all I want to do is whine and writhe while he does what he wants.
This big house is a mockery. I can’t have what I want because I’m not like everyone else. I don’t want to be alone, but unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about that.
Perhaps my morals are fucked, but that’s what makes us work.” I nod, fighting the lump in my throat down. Serial killer one-oh-one, don’t cry when your therapist makes you feel like a puddle of goo. That would be embarrassing.
“Soren?” “Yes, Doctor Moore?” “You won’t ever leave me either, right?” “There’s nothing in this world strong enough to take me away from you.”
