13. Soren

13

SOREN

I stare at Sophie in my bed. What the fuck am I doing? I guess what I’m doing is convincing her family we’re actually married. No one in their right mind gets married two weeks after meeting and then acts like a prude afterward.

I put her aunt closest to us and the kids all the way at the other end. We don’t have to do much. Just enough to sell it.

When I slip into the bed, Sophie tenses.

“We need to do this,” I whisper, pulling her close.

“This isn’t a good idea,” she whispers back.

“I know.” She’s warm. I like the way my arm fits in the curve of her waist. The smell of eucalyptus and my cooking clings to her. I don’t have a plan in mind. I should have thought this through better.

Suddenly, I’m kissing her. She moans against my mouth.

“Good girl, like that.” I grab her thigh, hiking it up on my hip. When I roll on top of her, I settle pleasantly between her thighs. Why am I kissing her? I don’t know. I find her mouth again.

When I grind between her legs, she moans. I thrust harder, wanting more.

I know this isn’t part of our deal. That I shouldn’t be doing this. But I can’t seem to stop. The bed sways. The floor creaks, and the frame gives light squeals.

“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.

Her soft sounds are delicious, but I’m going to make her cum. If it’s anything like the slopes, then Sophie isn’t quiet.

When I rock against her, she tries to cover her mouth. I rip her hand away and hold it hostage against the bed.

“No,” I tell her. I thrust between her thighs, and her expression breaks beautifully. The way a moan slips past her tense mouth makes my body ache.

“Come on, Sophie,” I pant. The next time I rock into her, the headboard knocks the wall with a light tap.

“Come on, what?” She hisses. I thrust, and she swallows a groan. The headboard keeps tapping the wall as I work up the power of my thrusts. Fuck, I’m trying to chase an orgasm I shouldn’t. What if I just fucked her?

The thought takes me by surprise. I trail my hand up her thigh. She’s wearing loose shorts that are easy to pull aside. My fingers slide under the silk.

“What are you doing?” She whispers, her breath tickling my chest. My fingers slide under the edge of her panties. I swallow thickly.

“Can you get off this way?” I ask, hoping she says no.

“Soren, why do I need to get off?” She pushes frantically on my chest as I keep thrusting.

“Unless you think you can fake it?”

“I—”

“Come on, Sophie. Fake it right now, and we can stop.” I half pray she will because this is a test I won’t pass. When she doesn’t even try to fake it, I roughly tug her shorts and panties aside. Next thing I know, I’m grinding against her naked pussy.

“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. A shudder starts in the base of my spine as I feel her on me.

“Let’s make this quick.” Because I can’t control myself for very long. There’s nothing between us but poor restraint as I grip her hips and grind against her.

“It doesn’t count,” she keeps saying over and over.

“What doesn’t?” I pant.

“If you don’t get off,” she rasps. Her legs wrap around my hips.

“Okay,” I say.

“I mean, if you put it in,” she whispers against my chest.

“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's A 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 with this body 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 bedtime acting needs 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.