Chapter Twenty-One
Frankie
The rest of Monday drags. Tuesday is the same. Wednesday feels torturous.
The more time that passes, the more my chest feels like it’s been hollowed out. I watch the news constantly, but there are no reports of any arrests in town. How could he just up and leave? By the end of my shift, I’ve convinced myself to drive to his house. My memory isn’t great. The first time he drove me there I was drugged, and when we left, my nerves were on the fritz, but I have a vague idea of where it is.
It takes a while to find it, these wartime homes all look similar, but I remember the red brick with the added-on garage. Three twenty-two. The driveway is empty, no tire tracks or footprints. It looks like it could use a shovel after the recent snowfall we had. Parking on the street, I climb out of my car, up the stone steps, and knock on the door. I listen for footsteps, waiting for the door to swing open and be met with those blues I can’t get out of my head. Seconds roll into minutes. I’m chilled to the bone; my breath comes out in smoky puffs with every sigh. Admitting defeat, I pull my coat closed and walk back towards my car idling on the road.
A small terrier starts yapping at me, tugging a little old lady behind it. “He’s not home,” she says over the barking mutt. She wraps the leash around her hand a couple of times in an attempt to restrain it. Why is it always the little dogs that have the big attitudes?
“Do you know where he went?”
“Pepper, stop that.” She gives the leash a quick tug to no avail. This dog doesn’t like me one bit. “No, he came and shoveled my driveway Sunday evening. Said he would be gone for a while but didn’t tell me where.”
He shoveled a little old lady’s driveway? This man never ceases to amaze me.
“Okay, thank you.”
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I slump back against the headrest, letting the heat thaw my stiff limbs. Tears come before I can stop them. I swipe angrily at them with the sleeve of my jacket, but they’re coming in spades.
Pulling the pendant free from my shirt, I twirl it between my fingers. The blood warms under my touch, flowing freely up and down the walls of the hourglass. The guilt weighs heavy on me, thinking that I just tossed it in the trash.
I let out a shaky breath, checking my reflection in the rearview mirror. My eyeliner is smudged, my amber eyes rimmed red from tears. Licking my thumb, I try to right my makeup, wiping at the smears of black that streak across my cheek. I need to go home. Feed my cat. Wallow in self-pity. Then do it all again tomorrow.
Unlocking my door, I expect Cosmos to run towards me, bitching loudly that his food bowl is empty like he usually does, but when I open the door, I’m met with a silence so sharp it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand erect. The apartment is swallowed in darkness, eerily so. The light I leave on above the stove is off—not even the glow from the streetlamps streaming through the windows can be seen.
Maybe there was a power outage? Or a breaker tripped? But the halls in the apartment are lit, and I can hear my neighbor’s TV through the door.
“Cosmos,” I whisper-yell to him, hoping to hear his little mewls. Taking reluctant steps into the apartment but keeping the door propped open, I call to him again, making the universal psssp, psssp cat sound. Nothing. The room is lifeless. Terror trickles down my spine, column by column, making me shudder.
Shuffling in a little more, I overextend my body at an awkward angle, reaching for the light switch yet keeping my foot against the door. But just as my fingers glide against the cover, I lose my balance, tumbling to the floor. I catch myself with my hands, but my foot slips, the door clicking shut. Shit.
Pushing up on shaky legs, the palms of my hands throbbing in protest, I swipe blindly in the dark until I collide with the light switch and the light turns on. I scurry through the living area and kitchen, turning every lamp and light on until the apartment is illuminated.
Jesus, Frankie, you need to chill. I shake my head as I shed my coat and hang it over the kitchen chair. Faint scratching noises come from down the hall, and now I feel like shit because I must have locked Cosmos in my room this morning. I hope the little fucker didn’t piss on my bed.
My ears prick with the subtle sound of music, barely above a whisper, but my heart latches onto it like it’s the antidote to the ache I’ve felt these past few days. My hands tremble as I lean on the knob and edge the door open. Cosmos runs out, screeching angrily at me; I’ll deal with him later. Right now, I’m focused on the man sitting on my bed. It's so dark I only see his silhouette, but I know it’s him. The scent of linen and leather permeates my room.
Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers plays somewhere, and my heart pounds like a drum in time with the beat. I’m rooted to the floor, everything in the room disappears, all I see is a shadowy outline rising from the bed, slow and steady, every footstep making my breath hitch.
Soon, his face comes into focus, hard edges, soft lips, immaculate hair. A soft glint in his glasses obscures those blues I’ve been yearning for. God, I think my heart may jump out of my chest and lay itself bare on the floor for him to claim.
His fingers sweep mine, the gentle touch coursing with electricity. Threading them together, he pulls my body flush with his, warm, and solid, and strong. He guides my arms around his shoulders, his finding their way to my waist.
We sway to the music on the spot, his cheek against the crown of my head, mine against his chest. It’s offbeat, but fuck I don’t care.
“I’m so sorry.” It comes out like a shaky rasp as I swallow down the lump that forms in my throat, like a rock threatening to choke me on my own emotions.
He buries his nose in my hair, still up in space buns from work, and inhales me deeply. But he says nothing, his silence foreboding.
I pull back to look up at him. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that. I should have said—”
“Shhh…” he presses his index to my lips, “I’m glad to hear that, but if you thought for one second I was letting you go, you were sorely mistaken.”
“But—”
“Hush. I’ve always wanted to slow dance to this song,” he admonishes, pushing my face back against his chest. I let him. I let him rock our bodies to the music. I let his warmth and scent envelop me as his heart thrums steadily against my cheek.
The song comes to a close triumphantly, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Noah leans in to kiss me. His lips molding to mine, his tongue sweeping the seam before probing deeply and meeting my own. We crash against each other like waves on a rock, just as destructive, but fuck is it beautiful to watch.
He draws blood to the surface with the harsh nip of his teeth. “Get your ass on the bed so I can fuck you,” he rumbles. I scurry backward, and when my legs meet the bed, I tumble. Noah follows close behind, prowling towards me with single-minded intention, stopping briefly to flick the lamp on and discard his glasses.
My work shirt is the first to go. Then my pants are unceremoniously ripped from my body, leaving me in my bra and panties. Noah’s nostrils flare before he makes quick work of those, too, stripping me bare for him. I squirm under his perusal, every swipe of his eyes like a torch scorching my flesh.
It's then he notices the pendant hanging from my neck. Kneeling over me, his finger runs the length of the chain, grasping the hourglass and turning it over in his hand. He makes a low sound of approval, his gaze meeting mine.
“Push those pretty tits together,” he growls, standing and ridding himself of his own clothing. I grasp the sides of my breasts, squeezing them until the peaks meet.
Moving to stand beside the bed, Noah languidly strokes himself from base to tip, though he’s already like steel.
“Pinch your nipples,” he orders, pumping his cock as he watches me execute his charge. I roll each one between my thumb and index, arching into the sensation.
Mounting my chest, he takes control, spitting generously between my tits before he thrusts between the aching mounds. He spits again, adding more lube, gliding smoothly across my chest he rocks his hips back and forth.
“Fuck, Frankie baby. There isn’t an inch of you that isn’t perfect,” he says through gritted teeth. He thumbs my nipples, pushing my tits together so hard I’m sure they’ll bruise. I preen at his praise, and when the head of his cock breaches the swell of my breasts, I tip my chin and lap at the swollen tip. He rewards me with a bead of pre-cum at the slit and I happily lick it off.
Slowing his pace, like he’s trying to stave off coming too quickly, his grip releases and he’s lowering himself, lining up with my center. I scrunch my eyes shut, preparing for the fullness, but he braces his hand against the back of my neck, raising my head.
“Don’t you dare close your eyes. I want you to watch me take you and make this pussy mine.”
Fuck, I nearly gush at his words. Both our gazes are locked between my legs. With the tip of his cock barely breaching my entrance, he shifts forward, dipping in more, an inch at a time. We watch, breathless and enthralled as my pussy struggles to accommodate his girth, stretching around him as he pushes forward slowly.
I cry out when he’s fully seated, but my eyes can’t look away, can’t get enough of how erotic it looks—him between my legs, my wetness coating his cock, dampening the short, trimmed hair that surrounds it. His ab muscles contract with every breath he takes as we both just marvel at the sensuality of our connection. And then he moves. Leisurely at first, but soon he’s pistoning his hips, drilling me into the mattress with ferocity.
I can do nothing but hold on as he fucks me relentlessly. Each thrust forward, he swivels his hips and sweeps up, sure to bring me just as much pleasure as my clit grinds on his groin.
“Noah, fuck.” My legs tremble around him, my nails rake down his back, my hands grasp at any part of his body I can hold.
“You want to come, Frankie baby? You gonna come on my cock like a good girl?”
“Oh God, yes.” I’m shaking like a leaf kicked up in the wind.
He leans back on his haunches, his left hand pressing down firmly on my pelvis, between my navel and pubic line. His right forms tight circles on my clit, teasing the bundle of nerves with the pad of his fingers as he drives forward then back, dragging the head of his cock along my swollen walls.
An intense sensation takes over like I’ve never felt before. Pleasure so acute it blooms in the deepest part of my belly, bursting outwards. I’m writhing beneath Noah, each swirl of his finger across my clit, each punishing thrust pushing me closer to ecstasy.
“Come on, Frankie. Give it to me.”
The wave is instant, wrapping me in its grip as all my muscles seize simultaneously. My back arches as I contract around him, holding him to me in a vice-like grip. Screaming until I’m hoarse, I coat him in my release, it runs down my thighs, soaking the sheets.
Holy fuck. I think I squirted.
“That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Noah groans, gritting his teeth and burying himself to the hilt, tumbling off the cliff with me. He whimpers as his cock pulses, spilling inside me.
His weight comes down on me, pushing me further into the mattress. He’s solid and heavy, our bodies coated in sweat, our frantic hearts beating in time with one another. He doesn’t move to pull out, merely propping himself on his elbows so we can stare into each other’s eyes. I could get lost in those blue eyes; I’d succumb to whatever damnation they offered me.
My fingers reach up, pushing the damp strands away from his brow, absorbing this moment. It’s suicide falling for a person like him. He’s what goes bump in the night, the boogeyman your parents warn you about, but I’ve always been inexplicably tethered to the dark. I would rather live in the shadows with him.
“I’m sorry.” I want him to know I’m with him in this, even if I seemed uncertain at his home.
Furrowing his brows, he rests his forehead against mine. “Stop apologizing, Frankie.”
“I want to. Everything that happened at your house. It was so much to take in at once, and your methods for romanticizing a girl are definitely unconventional…” I trail off, my voice laced with humor. “But I feel the same. I know now you left the ball in my court when we went to the police station. And I waited for you outside. For as long as I could. I was worried you were arrested or decided to up and leave…”
I know he told me he couldn’t let me go, but I also think he wanted me to choose him. That’s why he kidnapped me. To show me what we could be if I gave him the chance. He’s a romantic, in his own twisted way.
His arms wrap around me in a tight hold, pulling me even closer to him.
“I knew you never told Barde anything. And then I saw you at my house today,” he whispers against my neck.
“How? Your neighbor said you weren’t home.”
“Cameras, baby.” I feel the slight tilt of his lips against my skin.
“So, you broke into my apartment?” My arms find their way around his sculpted back, rippling with muscles under my palms.
“Mmm.” Raising his head, he regards me carefully. “Three days away from you was too long. After having a taste, I’m even more obsessed, if that was even possible.” He nips at my jaw and down my neck to emphasize his words. “But I had some things to take care of, and I wanted to give you time. To choose for yourself. To choose me.” Nuzzling into him, I soak in his confession. “The new locks and security cameras your landlord had installed are crap, by the way. I was able to override the system in minutes, and the locks were too easy to pick. It’s not safe here.”
I can’t help but laugh. “It's not safe from monsters like you.”
“That’s right, and you’ll do good to remember that. You’re never safe from me. Nothing can keep me away.”
I squeal as he pretends to ravage me like the predator he is.
We tussle in the sheets. He feigns defeat as I roll on top of him, pinning his arms to the pillows, but it’s short-lived. Noah doesn’t give up control easily. Soon, I’m underneath him again, his legs wrapped around mine, my wrists pinned above my head. He’s semi-hard and lined up in just the right spot. If I moved my hips just a bit…
Noah groans, shifting on top of me, and peppering me with kisses before he pulls away.
Sitting up, I watch as he bends over the side of the bed to pick up his clothing. “What is it?”
“I have a body in the back of my truck I need to get rid of.”
“You what?”
“Yeah. Thankfully it’s cold, so it won't smell…”
“You’re joking.”
He angles his head towards me, a glint of mischief flashing in his eyes.
“Whose body?”
“Best not to ask.”