“Oh fuck.” My thrust stutters as her words wash over me.
“It won’t count,” she says. Her hips move, trying to position herself for me to fuck.
“No.” I press her hips into the mattress as I thrust between her legs. The headboard bangs the wall. I’m seconds away from losing my restraint and driving my cock into her. I thrust once, twice.
“It won't count,” she murmurs again.
“Sophie, please stop saying that,” I beg. I notch my head at her entrance. My fingers find her clit and rub frantically. I stay still, the head of my cock poised perfectly as she finally cums.
I press forward, feeling the pressure of her entrance on the head of my cock. Sophie’s body goes lax as the orgasm finally releases her. I grind my teeth and then manage to find the strength to pull away. I roll off her, pressing my palms into my eyes.
I envision myself saying fuck it, rolling back on top of her lax, pleased body and fucking her raw.
I leap from the bed and start shoving clothes on. There’s only one thing that can stop me from fucking her right this minute.
“Soren?” She asks, her voice thick with satisfaction that cloys. I pretend my therapist isn’t in my bed and quickly leave the room without a word. I’m going to ruin everything unless I get out of this house right now and finally kill the bastard she’s been keeping me from killing all week.
Sophie drew the lines very clearly. She’ll use her mouth to help curb my need to kill. But I’m not allowed to fuck her.
I cannot get her words out of my head as I drive away. Practically begging me to put it in. But if I do, she’ll leave. It’s as simple as that. I’ll be alone again, and I don’t have a hope in Hell of surviving alone. Without someone around, I’ll sink into the emptiness.
The drive is long, but it goes by in the blink of an eye. I burst into his house and find him still awake, watching TV.
Shit, it'sA Muppets Christmas Carol. I'm not even recording it at home. He fights back like a cornered animal while I try to catch clips of the musical numbers. When his fist nearly makes contact, it snaps me out of the Muppet fog. I can’t get a mark, or her family will ask what it’s from. His next swing hits me dead in the eye. Shit.
I fall into the Christmas tree, and the whole thing falls over with me. Ornaments crash to the ground, breaking apart in shards. I grip the multicolored lights around the tree and rip at them as I get back to my feet. The man rams me. We fall back into the tree. I wrap the lights around his neck and squeeze. His eyes bulge, his mouth gaping open as he tries to breathe. His fists pound my stomach, making my arms shake, but I keep holding tight.
Finally, he passes out. I know it’s the cut-off blood supply that’s done it, not oxygen loss. I keep gripping the Christmas lights in my fist, counting in my head until I know he’ll be dead. Then I drop the lights, and he rolls off me onto the shards of ornaments.
I catch my breath. An ancient strand of lights on the mantel starts playing a robotic, out-of-tune Jingle Bells.
I peel my pants down and grip my cock. It can’t wait any longer.
“Sophie,” I groan. My fist strokes my cock as I think about what she’d do if she was here right now. She’d be exasperated—sighing and asking me what we’re supposed to do withthisbody when we have three more at home.
She’s seen every dark corner of me and hasn’t left yet. Still wears the ring.
You’re fascinating, Soren. I’m never leaving you.
My balls draw up as I imagine her telling me that here, right after a kill. Accepting all of me. My fist works in quick strokes.
I love you, Soren.
I pull my shirt up and come lines across my abs. Then, I stare at the ceiling in despair.
“That was a dumb fucking thing to come to,” I groan. I think I’m in love with my therapist.
I haul the body into my truck and drive home. It feels infinitely longer on the way back now that I’ve drained all my needs.
Hopefully, her family already believes in the intense sexual appetite for each other because the bedtimeactingneeds to stop. 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.
I’ll have to convince her family of my undying adoration of her and stop with the dry humping.
A sense of calm washes over me. I can handle fawning over her because that won’t lead to anyone's bare pussy rubbing against me while they beg to be fucked.
14
