“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.
“I don’t,” I gasp. He drags me to the bed, and strips me bare. A moment later, he’s inside me, fucking me from behind.
“Say it,” he rasps, rocking into me on all fours. He grabs the back of my neck and squeezes. I drop my face in the blankets, curving my back. It makes him hit the most delicious spot.
“This won't work,” I whisper.
“It already is.” He grips my hips and fucks into me roughly. His breath hitches between deep groans. A moment later, he presses his chest across my back, draping himself over my body entirely.
“You know I'm right,” he rasps in my ear. “You're my person.”
“I'm your therapist.”Thrust. “Your researcher,” I moan. His right hand covers mine, our fingers threading. Our rings press against each other.
“My wife,” he groans. “My partner. Just tell me.” His hand sinks between my legs, brushing my clit. I clench, and he melts against my back, kissing that place on my neck until I can barely think. He doesn’t let up until I come.
There's so much pleasure in fucking my serial killer.
“Even if I do… this isn't maintainable,” I rasp.
“Just tell me,” he begs. “Please, Sophie.”
“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.” He spoons me in bed, spreading his large hand over my stomach. I feel like I might fall asleep again.
“What time is it?” I ask.
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.
“Quickly,” I whisper.
“No.” He patiently moves in and out. “All night, Doctor.”
“Soren,” I sigh. I reach over my shoulder, tenderly pressing my hand to his jaw.
“Wouldn’t want me running off to kill someone, right?” He's joking… I think.
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.
17
SOREN
Iwake up alone in bed the next day, remembering it’s Christmas Eve. When I walk out of the room, I see Sophie’s family decorated for Christmas the previous night. Tinsel is hung up. Multi-colored lights are draped on the fireplace mantel. The perfect tree that I picked out when asking Sophie to marry me is glowing with soft white lights. Despite a few weeks in the garage, it looks as good today as it did back then.
It’s weird starting over. I miss the ornaments I’m used to seeing every year. It gives me nostalgia. But it’s nothing more than that—somberly missing what I’m used to seeing. I likethistree, and I like how warmthisliving room feels with the decorations that family put up. I wouldn’t trade it for the familiar things. I like the new stuff.
However, I miss my kids. It’s a cold ache in my chest. I sent the twins a pile of presents they’re going to open on the phone with me tomorrow. But it’s not the same as having them here. The same feeling that drove me to therapy threatens to pull me under a heavy cloud as I look at the decorations.
