Chapter Sixteen
Frankie
I’m roused from my nap sometime later to the delicious smell of something cooking. For the first time in nearly two days, I can feel the pangs of hunger. The sun is all but gone, the outside pitch black. I must have slept most of the day away. The sound of music can be heard down the hall, something I’m growing accustomed to around Noah.
My mind is still warped with all that I’ve taken in. That Noah is James. That he killed my ex, then removed his heart, and sent it to me in a prettily wrapped box. And then there’s Luke and Emmett.
They touched something that didn’t belong to them.
Shaking my head, I climb out of bed, feeling steadier on my feet than I did earlier today. Crossing the hall to the modest three-piece bathroom, I close the door to relieve myself. Cosmos’ litter box is tucked in the corner of the room, next to the vanity. How is it a man who murders people also does things that are so thoughtful? What kind of kidnapper makes sure to bring your cat and all his belongings over? Washing my hands, I use some of the water to coax my hair into a somewhat respectable bun, then dry my hands and pad towards the kitchen.
Baby I Need Your Lovin’ by The Four Tops is blaring from the radio, Noah whistling along as he pulls a casserole dish from the oven. My feet are like glue to the floor as this man moves around the kitchen, plating food, and placing fresh bread in a basket. He is truly mystifying.
“How did you sleep?” he asks, moving the food to the table in the corner of the kitchen. Again, it’s set for two, only this time it’s by candlelight, two glasses of wine accompanying the meal.
“Like the dead. I can’t believe I slept the entire day away. I don’t think I’ve done that since I was a teen.” I slide down into my spot, again on the bench, a generous helping of lasagna sitting in front of me. My stomach growls in anticipation. Noah sits across from me, sliding in close to the table, the corners of his mouth tilt, offering me a slight smile. His hair has lost some of the product he must use to hold it in place, loose pieces falling over his forehead. I like him like this, he’s not so callous. He’s almost human.
“You needed it. You also need food.” He tips his chin towards my plate, but I’m all too happy to dig in right now.
Clutching the fork and knife, I move to cut into the lasagna. It’s divine and my eyes nearly roll in my head as the combination of meat, sauce, and cheese explodes on my palate. “This isn’t one of your victims, is it?” I say around a mouthful of food, praying he isn’t into cannibalism.
His eyes twinkle. “No, I don’t have an affinity for eating people.”
“Good to know.” I laugh as I wash it down with a sip of wine. “I think I’ve had my fill of encounters with body parts, at least of the dead variety.” This earns me a chuckle from him, and God could I get used to that sound. Is it wrong I’m actually enjoying sitting and eating a meal with him? I probably need a psych evaluation.
We eat. We talk. Well, I mostly talk, but he listens attentively and occasionally adds to the conversation. He’s intense and it still feels strange to hear Noah’s voice after him being mute for so long. It’s deep, and rich, and makes me want to do things that I definitely shouldn’t want to do with my captor.
We clean up after dinner—me washing the dishes, him drying—and again it feels so normal.
Noah puts the last dish away in the cupboard as I drain the sink. The song has switched to When a Man Loves a Woman by Percy Sledge, and Noah hangs the towel over the handle on the stove before reaching for me, pulling my body to sway with his.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” I confess. My music taste is vastly different than his, you can’t really dance to metal.
“That’s ok, I can teach you.” He laces his fingers through mine, pulling me to the center of the kitchen where we have room to move.
With my right hand in his left, he guides my other hand to his shoulder, his falling away to my waist.
“Just follow my lead, when my left foot goes forward, your right foot goes back.” My eyes watch his feet as he steps forward, and I awkwardly follow. “Yes, just like that. Now we both take a step to the side, then your left foot goes forward, and my right goes back.”
He guides me through the steps a few more times, until I think I’ve gotten it down pat, and I can actually raise my head instead of focusing on our feet. I’m no ballroom dancer—I’m clumsy as hell—but soon we’re moving with some semblance of grace. I can’t remember the last time I danced with anyone. It sure as hell wasn’t with Myles, or any other ex, for that matter.
I smile softly at him, my stomach in a flurry when he reciprocates it, like he’s proud that I accomplished it. He really needs to reign it in, a girl would do unspeakable things for his praise.
“So, the music, I have to know. You’re probably the only man I know in his twenties who listens to the oldies.” I am genuinely curious where he got his taste in music from.
Swallowing, his eyes drift past me, as if he’s embarrassed to say. “You don’t have to tell—”
“When we came back from spring break, you were telling your friends you watched Dirty Dancing with your aunt.” Those blues slip back to mine. “You said you loved the movie and the music, and wished you could have lived during that time. I went home and watched the movie, and I took a liking to that time period myself.” He shrugs, as if this doesn’t mean anything.
My eyebrows hit my hairline with his confession. “You remember that?”
“I remember everything about you, Frankie.”
That shouldn’t make the blood pump through my veins the way it does. It shouldn’t make my insides quiver. Maybe I’m experiencing some form of Stockholm syndrome, because his criminal offenses are starting to pale in comparison to the way he makes me feel.
“Why me? I’m nothing. Women practically fall over you. Do you even realize that most of our co-workers don’t shut up about you? You’re a constant topic of conversation.”
“One, you are not nothing. Whoever made you think that way is wrong. When most of the people around me treated me like shit, you were the one person who—”
“But I never helped you!” I protest.
“I didn’t need your help. I needed one person to look at me like I wasn’t some poor boy who wasn’t worth anything. I needed someone to look at me like I wasn’t below them. And that was you. Every small smile you gave me in the halls was enough. I kept it from you for this long because I didn’t want you to see me as the weak little boy anymore.”
My pulse is fluttering in my ears. It wasn’t enough. And despite the circumstances, now that I know it was him all along, my heart aches. And it all makes perfect sense now. Why he was always quiet and detached. Why he never interacted with anyone. That was his defense mechanism. You learn to protect yourself with what you know best.
“You weren’t supposed to find the picture. You weren’t supposed to find out like that.” He pulls back, distancing himself from me, dismissing the topic.
"But you must have wanted me to piece things together. Why else would you send me the handmade valentine?" He doesn't utter a word, retracting further behind the wall he keeps up.
“Don’t, Noah. Please. Talk to me.” I whisper.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Help me understand. Why all of this? Why am I here?” I wave my arms, gesturing around the kitchen.
“I told you why.” He says calmly, like it should be as plain as day.
“No, you went all caveman saying they touched what doesn’t belong to them . What does any of that even mean?”
“It means I’m obsessed with you. It means all I see is you. From the moment I moved to that school fifteen years ago, nothing else has mattered. You think me working at Langley’s was an accident? I know where you live. I know where you work. I know what your favorite scary movies are and what your favorite song is. I know everything there is to know about you, right down to what size of tampon you use when you bleed or what kind of porn you watch when you touch yourself.”
Oh fuck! I know this is wrong. So, so wrong. Everything about this is a giant red flag waving in front of my face. But macabre things have always captivated me, and maybe Noah is no different.
The air crackles between us, like every molecule is charged. The tension is nearly tangible, but all I see is Noah. We’re smoldering cinders, one small breeze away from bursting into flames.
He prowls toward me like a panther, each stride eating up the space between us. I don't even protest when his body slams into mine, making me yelp. Those strong hands grab hold of my ass and hoist me up his body. Our lips collide and it’s explosive. There’s no easing into it. There’s no soft pecks or tentative nips. It’s carnal. It’s scorching heat. Our mouths meld together, tongues clashing, consuming one another, eating each other alive. Each swipe of his tongue, each tilt of his head sears me. I’m whimpering and moaning, but Noah never breaks the kiss, he swallows each plea my body makes and responds with more. More, and more, and more.
We’re a tangled mess of limbs in the middle of his kitchen. My hips buck up against him, grinding my core against the growing bulge in his pants, desperate for any friction I can get, to quell this ache that’s building in me. I know we’re on the precipice of something dangerous and all-consuming, and once we take the plunge, there’s no going back.
Hands digging firmly into my flesh, Noah carries me into the living room, my body sliding down his until my feet touch the floor. He leaves me breathless, trailing over to the record player and changing the song to Cry To Me by Solomon Burke. He drops to the couch, legs spread wide, arms stretched out on the back. My mouth dries at the sight of him. The heat in his gaze is stifling, roving over me, like his eyes can’t decide on what part of me to settle on.
“Take your clothes off. I want to see you,” he commands, the hushed tone of his voice making my skin flush.
And this is it. Is this what I want? My brain has a list a mile long of all the reasons why this is the worst fucking idea. But my body? It’s desperate to give in to the call of the void.
I start with my shirt. Tentative fingers grasp at the hem, sweeping it up and over my head. I shed my pants next, shimmying them down my legs. I kick them off to join my shirt.
Standing before him in only my bra and panties, every inch of me heats. The v between my thighs pulses as his eyes devour me.
“Bra and panties,” he says next, his Adam’s apple bobbing, the tendons in his neck straining.
Reaching behind my back, I unclasp my bra, sliding the straps slowly down my arms, I hold the cups to me momentarily, before adding it to the mounting pile of clothes.
His fists clench and unclench as my thumbs hook into the sides of my panties. Muscles flexing, veins protruding as he holds onto that last bit of control. Gliding my panties to my thighs, I let gravity take care of the rest as they fall to the floor. I straighten as he takes me in, his gaze locked onto the slickness between my legs, mesmerized by my body’s response to him.
We both are caught in the heated stare, daring one another to push this farther, past the brink.
Noah reaches for his zipper, the telltale sound of the teeth separating only dulled by the sounds of the arduous breaths that pass our lips. Blue eyes hold me captive, unblinking, popping the button of his jeans. Deliberately lowering his pants, his cock springs free, smacking against his abs audibly. Holy shit! He’s long and thick, the glossing head a rosy contrast to the flesh-colored base. My thighs clench as I imagine the grooves of the bulbous tip dragging along my inner walls, massaging all the magical spots deep inside of me that are yearning to be explored.
Saliva pools in my mouth as I take him all in. This Adonis of a man, leaning back casually against his couch, his perfect dick resting along his abdomen with strings of pre-cum at the slit, is staring at me with a heady mixture of lust and wicked intent.
Those glacier irises pin me, lighting my core on fire as he crooks his fingers in a come-hither motion, silently beckoning me, and I am lost to this battle. My feet move on their own accord, ever closer to the danger, and for some reason, I know one way or another I won’t survive this night.
His eyes track my every move, like a snake poised to strike. And when my body reaches his, he snaps his hand out and grasps my wrist, the force of his grip crushing.
“On your knees.” He pulls me down harshly, my legs left no choice but to fold under me and obey.
When he’s satisfied with my position, nestled in between his thick, muscular thighs, he hums, reaching out and sweeping a thumb across my cheek so gently my eyes briefly close. But then he thrusts that same thumb brutally into my mouth, hooking my lower jaw and bringing me so close to his groin I can nearly taste him.
“I’ve spent so many nights dreaming of fucking that pretty face of yours,” he growls, the low decibels vibrating through me.
“You’re going to choke on my cock until I spill down your throat. Then I’m going to fuck that tight little pussy of yours. In fact, I’m going to destroy every single one of your holes, fucking you so hard and filling you so deep that by the end of the night, there will be no mistaking who the fuck you belong to.” His words are lewd and vulgar, and seem to be a complete juxtaposition against his clean-cut image.
Wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock, he glosses my lips with the pre-cum, coaxing my lips to wrap around him. My lips part, tongue darting out and licking a new bead of moisture on the tip. Soon, I’m lapping and sucking at the saltiness, eager for more.
“Open wider, baby. I want you to take all of me.” His hands tangle into my hair and guide me to take him deeper. My heart is pounding wildly in my chest as I engulf the head of him with my mouth and ease him in. The first descent makes me gag, the sheer girth of him hard to get around. He gives me a few moments to acclimatize to his size, but with every suck and pull, his restraint is wavering. Soon, my hair is wound tightly in his grip, pulling desperately until it’s borderline painful. My scalp protests as he takes control of the movements, pumping his hips in swift, upward motions.
I brace my hands against his thighs and hold on for dear life as he fucks my face relentlessly. I’m a mess, drool dribbles down my chin, tears are sliding down my face, but I’ve never felt so sensual in all my life.
“Oh fuck, that’s it, Frankie baby. Suck harder, you’re doing so well,” Noah grunts, his thrusts becoming unhinged. I hollow my cheeks to create even more suction. Noah lets out a guttural moan, pushing into me as deep as my throat will allow, constricting my airways until I swallow the head of him down. That tips him over the edge. His hips still. He calls out my name. His cock pulses and jerks, hot spurts of come coating the back of my throat and tongue as he spills everything he has in me.