Chapter 13
Prudence
I must drift off for some time, because next thing I know, Rowley kisses my neck, his big hand stroking my side. I slide straight from a vague, sensual sex dream into real sex, and it’s smooth and perfect. He grunts when I move, sucking on my skin hard until I’m certain he’s left a mark.
“How do you feel?” he asks, his voice husky from sleep.
“No longer sleepy,” I admit with a smile.
I thought he would be gone. As I fell asleep, a gentle sort of sadness pulled me under, a bone-deep knowledge that we were done. I knew he would only stay as long as it was dangerous to leave, but as soon as the search for him was over…
He’d leave me. Just like everyone.
Yet he’s still here, and judging by the light, it’s past noon now. It’s probably pathetic, but I’m grateful. At least I’m not alone on Christmas.
I roll to my back and stretch while he takes my hand and kisses the inside of my palm in a surprisingly sweet gesture. He keeps going, peppering my inner forearm with kisses until I get goosebumps, my skin so sensitive under the heat of his mouth.
“I’m guessing you’re sore,” he says in between kisses, his dark eyes flicking up. “So we’ll do something else. Something just for you.”
I shake my head, uncomprehending. “Like what?”
His smile is quick and roguish as he sucks the skin on the inside of my elbow into his hot mouth, staining it red.
“Sort of like a Christmas gift, only, I will give it to you every day. I’m nice like that, see? A total keeper.”
His mouth moves to the side of my breast, and he leaves another mark, sucking just hard enough to sting a little. I stare at my arm. Altogether, I see three hickeys, and he’s busy leaving another one on my stomach.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, just giving you some friendly reminders. So when you see yourself in the shower, you’ll think of me.”
The fifth hickey lands right by my hipbone. When he’s done, he sits back on his heels and studies my body. His cock is hard, the root nestled in a thatch of dark hair. I gasp a little when I see it, my lower belly heating with expectation.
Rowley looks up and smiles. “You’re beautiful, Prudy.”
My cheeks heat instantly, and I look away, abashed yet pleased. “Um. Thank you?”
“You don’t have to thank me for stating a fact.”
He moves fast, palms settling on my inner thighs to push them apart. He crawls between them, long body lying belly-down, his legs bent so they don’t dangle off the mattress. He kisses my hipbone, then my thigh, and then, his fingers dive between my legs and spread me open.
“Oh!”
I stare, unsure what to do. It’s just so… So hot, almost depraved. His head is dark, his face right there, and I remember how wet I was, and how sticky it all is, and he…
And he licks me. His hot tongue slides right over my mess, and yes, his mess, too, and he hums with pleasure as he eats me in long, eager licks.
“Oh God.”
I let my head fall back on the pillow but raise it back almost instantly. I want to watch. He’s so gorgeous, his body stretched long, muscles playing in his back as he lifts my hips to get deeper. His ass is round and muscular, and I’m struck yet again by how hot this man is.
Who cares he’s a killer? No one who sees him will suspect him. Beautiful means good, and he has been very good to me. I’m probably flawed, broken somehow, but I care more about his kindness toward me than any cruelty or harm he’s done to other people.
“Rowley!”
He chuckles, not pulling away. My clit is in his mouth, and he sucks, thorough and greedy, until I shake, my hips undulating in search of more friction. He adjusts the pace, going faster, his tongue attacking me to the rhythm of his sucking lips.
I come hard and fast, lower back arching off the bed. Wet, sucking pleasure ripples through me, and for a blissful, impossible moment, it feels like his mouth is all over me. Like I’m inside him.
His lips glisten when he comes up for air, smirking triumphantly as he takes in the dazed look on my face.
“And now, you don’t have to shower,” he says with a mischievous grin. “I cleaned you up.”
I shake my head in disbelief, my thoughts spinning. “Shower. Right. I think I should.”
I don’t move, though. My body feels languorous and heavy, more relaxed than it’s been in months. Pockets of tension I’d carried around have melted away, and I bask in the feeling of just being enough. Rowley moves closer and kisses my shoulder, then playfully nips at me with his teeth.
“No, don’t shower. Throw something on so no one will see you naked through the windows, just in case, and let’s go. You need to eat.”
I let him pull me off the bed and throw on an old, stretched T-shirt that covers me to mid-thigh. Rowley puts on his black boxers and takes my hand, leading me down the stairs.
I stop halfway down, my hand flying to my mouth. Christmas lights twinkle everywhere, colorful and bright, and the banister is wrapped in tinsel garlands that sparkle in the light.
“Merry Christmas,” Rowley says, sounding smug. “Do you like it?”
I nod, running my hand over the tinsel. He laughs, picking me up in one swooping motion, and carries me down the stairs into a gorgeous Christmas wonderland.
He’s used all the decorations that were stored in the attic, and not just in those three boxes we initially got.
He must have gone digging for more when I slept, because I spot old elf figurines and tiny paper-maché snowflakes my grandparents stopped taking out years ago.
Lights blink and flicker everywhere around us, and evergreen garlands drape over every doorframe.
In the kitchen, big stained glass snowflakes hang low over the table, suspended on thin, transparent thread.
When he pulls back a chair for me, it rings with tiny bells.
I don’t sit down. Gratitude wells within me, but even stronger is confusion. I have an urge to understand why he did all this, because it doesn’t make sense.
No one has ever done anything like this for me. No one.
“Why did you do it?” I ask, grabbing his arms so he has to face me. “Tell me! I have to know.”
He grows serious, dark eyes searching my face until he finally nods.
“Because you said you wanted it.”
I shake my head, growing angry and frustrated, because it can’t be that. That’s not a good reason.
“People never do things just because I want them,” I say, and it sounds like an accusation. I think he’s lying, maybe trying to trick me somehow. And yet, is it a lie? I don’t know. This whole thing is impossible and crazy.
“I do,” Rowley says, voice low and calm where I’m growing shrill. “And I will keep doing things just because you want them. Don’t you see? I’m staying, Prudy. I’m yours. And I’ll do what I can to make you happy. The happiest.”
I shake my head in helpless disbelief. He sighs heavily and takes my hand, playing with my fingers.
“Is it the soulmates thing?” I ask, eyes narrowed. “You really believe that?”
He smiles, a bit sad, very much understanding, and confusing beyond measure.
“I do. You’re mine. Mine to take care of, mine to please, mine to love. Mine to heal, maybe. Mine to show how beautiful and important you are.”
“Love,” I echo, my voice hollow. “You can’t love me.”
“No?” His eyes sparkle with something secret and knowing, something I don’t understand.
“Tell you what, sweetheart. Let’s take it one day at a time, okay?
Just let me be around, let me cook you food, make you come, and give you what you want and need.
And you’ll tell me again in a month if I can love you or not. ”
I shake my head. “That’s crazy.”
But he only shrugs. “Then let’s be crazy. I was thinking scrambled eggs for breakfast, since eggs are the only edible thing in your fridge. You also have half an onion that’s only a little wilted, so I’ll use that. Do you drink coffee or tea with breakfast?”
I shake myself off, the insane conversation thankfully over. “Ah, tea. I don’t drink coffee. And I can make breakfast. You made food yesterday.”
In a manner both quick and confusing, Rowley has me deposited in a chair, a blanket around my shoulders, as he bustles around the kitchen.
I watch him with an idle sort of curiosity, thinking that I should do something, maybe throw him out of the house.
Or call the police, right? I still can. I probably should.
He’s a killer, after all.
But soon, I get my tea, sweetened with one teaspoon of honey just as I like it, and then there’s a steaming plate of well seasoned eggs in front of me, and Rowley makes a joke about the police having a shitty Christmas Eve because of him, and somehow, I don’t do anything.
And later, when he orders me to the couch, and we cuddle and watch a silly Christmas comedy, I still do nothing.
I most decidedly don’t stop him when he pauses the movie and kisses my neck, and then, after we lie on the carpet in front of the TV, both glowing and sated, I don’t even consider telling him to leave, because it would be rude.
Later, when he covers my eyes and pulls me upstairs, telling me to look up when we reach the right place, there is the mistletoe hanging over our heads.
He kisses me silly right there, telling me I’m beautiful and grabbing handfuls of my breasts until I’m hot and needy, and he fucks me against the doorway.
We do it standing under the mistletoe, and he whistles a carol afterward, pleased like a cat that got to the cream.
Christmas ends with us in bed together, both showered, lying in fresh sheets he changed for us, and then night falls and when I wake, it’s a new day.
He makes pancakes for breakfast. And I still don’t tell him to leave, even though Christmas is over.