Chapter Fifteen
Fifteen
Nicolas
My phone pings again and as hard as I try to ignore it, my efforts are unsuccessful.
What if more cookies were left for him? What if…
what if he ate them? I stayed away because I was a fucking coward.
Too damn scared to see if after he saw me at the hospital if he would stay away on his own.
I couldn't handle it. I wouldn't let him do it for long and I needed to stop myself from forcing something on him that I knew needed to be his choice.
I wanted him. There was no more questioning that.
I fucking need him. I'm unable to eat and sleep.
My last victim paid for all my lack of rest and my two different types of unsatisfied hunger.
He paid big time. Did he deserve it? Yes.
Did I need to make a huge ass fucking mess all over the restaurant he manages with a cooking torch and a a seven inch meat clever?
Probably not. It was a terrible mess to clean up and one I do not wish to do again.
Picking up my phone, I pinch the bridge of my nose and open the Onlyfans app. My heart thuds in my chest and my grip tightens on my phone as I read the messages that has my eyes glued to the fucking screen.
Me: I need you, Sheep Finder. I need you. Please come back.
After minutes pass, I set the phone down and pace the room before sending him another message.
Me: Come back to me. Not as Sheep Finder but as the man next door.
It's the last one that stands out to me the most. He knows who I am.
He knows it was me behind the break ins, the stalking, the cameras and everything in between.
He knows and he still wants me there. No, want is an understatement.
My chest tightens and my spine goes rigid when I think about how someone tried to hurt him once.
Those cookies weren't an accident. They wanted him dead and they'd try again. They won't succeed if I can help it.
Me staying away was more likely going to land him six feet under in front of a fancy plot in my brother's backyard, and if this is all to get to me then I need to be the one they reach first. I will be.
A bright light catches my attention as I'm pulling up to my house. I jump out of the truck as soon as I kill my engine. Glass shatters and a loud popping sound echoes around me that has me hauling ass toward Patrick's house. It feels like forever before I finally reach the front door, my heart pounding hard against my chest. The door is locked when I twist the knob and I slam my body hard against it, snatching my gun out of the back of my pants to shoot at the hinges. The door flies open when I shove at it again, and I run to where smoke is rising from. It’s coming from the kitchen floor, and I search for the fire extinguisher, wondering why the smoke detector hasn’t gone off.
He’s a heavy sleeper; I’ve noticed that first-hand. Patrick was right about me watching him every night, not only on camera but through the windows he leaves open for me too. I saw him shoving open all the blinds before our private chat. “Patrick,” I shout. “Where are you?”
After swinging open every cabinet, I finally find what I’m looking for and spray the fire.
I grab a towel lying under some drying dishes and use it in conjunction with the fire extinguisher, smothering and stomping out the flames.
A light flickers on and Patrick looks taken aback, holding his hand to his chest. “What the hell is going on?”
“There was a fire in your kitchen.”
His eyes are as big as saucers. “What? How?”
“No idea. Do you happen to have an angry ex boyfriend? Or like to fall asleep while candles are lit?”
With a bewildered expression, he shakes his head. “No. No one knows I’m here and I prefer incense but am completely out.”
“You should call the police and file a report.”
“I . . . Yeah, the police.” He’s so shaken up, grabbing onto the counter and staring past me. “I meant to do that earlier when I got that package.”
“What package?”
“Are you really here or is this some smoke hallucination? Did you really come back?”
“Patty, focus. What package, baby?”
His lips purse, chest muscles jumping. “I…someone mailed me a severed body part today. I…I thought maybe it got sent to the wrong address, and then I thought about calling 911 but…but…what if that leads to more body parts showing up?”
My jaw tightens. “Call them now. Tell them about everything.”
“The cookies too?”
My lips shift from side to side. “No. Not the cookies. Just the package and what's happening now. Hurry,” I shout. “I’ll be searching the perimeter while you do. In case it wasn't an accident. Never can be too careful.”
Throwing himself forward, he grabs at my arm. “No. Don’t leave me here alone.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right outside.” I grab his chin, looking deep into those piercing blues. “I need to make sure no one else is out there.”
“Okay.” He sniffs, rubbing his tired eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to nap this long. I must have slept through my alarm.”
“Something tells me you could be hogtied and hung upside down and stay sleeping.”
He rolls his eyes. “I'm not that bad.
“Hmm. We'll have to put that to the test tomorrow,” I say, rushing away before he has a chance to respond with that mouth of his gaping.
Walking out the door isn’t easy, not when he’s also shaking with fear, and not the kind he gladly welcomes either. The sooner I do a quick check around the house, the sooner I can get back to him. When I return, he’s laying the phone on the counter, staring at the blank screen.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. They’re on their way to take a report and do a walk through the house.”
“Good. I’ll wait with you.” I reach for his arm and he doesn’t pull away or jerk again. He throws himself against my chest, wrapping his arms around me, and I hold him back, rubbing his shoulder.
“You’re not going to go back home, are you?”
“I am, but not until the cops leave.” He stiffens in my arms. “But you’re coming with me.”
Looking up, his shoulders drop and a calmness washes over his face. “I am?”
“Yeah. It’s not safe for you stay in a house with a broken door.”
He looks toward the front of the house. “You did that?”
“Yeah. Didn’t have a choice.”
“Thank you.” His breath tickles my skin as he tries to whisper in my ear.
“You’re welcome. I don’t like the idea of you being here alone anyway. You might snooze through a bullet next time.”
He laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, let's not have that be something we put to the test.”
“Yeah, that'll be something we'll do our best to skip.”
“You were gone.” His expression turns serious.
“Yeah. Had a job to do.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“Mostly.”
“You got my message.” It's a statement, not a question.
“What message?” I say coyly.
“There are times I want to be left in the dark and not be sure of things, but right now I really need to be. I need to know today the way I needed to know last week at the hospital. Maybe even a little more.”
I let out a strangled breath, nodding. “Okay. Yes, I saw your message and yes it's why I'm here. It's also why I'm not leaving.”
“What about the reason you were gone so long? Why didn't you message me? And why did you also take Sheep Finder away from me?”
“I…” I lick at my dry lips. “We can talk about it over apple pie when we both wake up in the morning.”
“You haven't eaten it yet?”
“No,” I say without another beat. “I put it in the freezer because after you put the idea of us enjoying it together in my head, I was unable to picture another scenario happening.
“I get to finally eat in your kitchen.”
“Yeah…eventually but tomorrow it might all take place in my bed.”
He lets out a small whimper, rolling his ass against me and when I grab at his chin, he stands on his tiptoes, pressing a hungry kiss to my lips, his tongue darting in and out.
I lose myself in his warmth, and dive in deeper until we both need to come up for air.
Panting against my lips, nose rubbing over mine, he says, “What did you want me to do outside with the new phone you told me to buy?”
“If I tell you, you still have to do it, but no phone watching you, only me.”
“What was it?” His voice wavers.
“I was going to make you finger yourself on the boat in my pond while wearing that cowboy hat your viewers like so much.”
“How about when we finally start eating outside of your bed, I go for a walk after dinner and you come find me after I don’t return within thirty minutes.”
A groan crawls up my throat. “I think that’s a good idea.” I smirk and he kisses me again, breaking away when the cops flash their bright lights outside the windows.
“Oh, and you think you maybe can tell me your name now since I've practically had your cock down my throat? I'm pretty sure indents were left on the roof of my mouth too.”
With a half smile, I laugh and run a hand down his back. “Nicolas.”
Loud knocking interrupts us and I answer the door after seeing he's too shaken up to move. Two police officers step inside and ask both of us a list of questions. After jotting everything down, they have a look around, before getting in their car to leave. As soon as their car lights disappear down the road, we both walk across the way to my house with Mr. Wiggles trailing our steps. With no words exchanged between us, Patrick follows me to my room and tears off all his clothes before crawling under the covers with me. We both laugh as his dog curls up beside my cat, Silver, on the floor next to the door. Too exhausted from tonight’s excitement, we fall into an easy rhythm, and I lock my body around him, more positive than before that I’ll never be able to let him go.
Hours later my eyes flash open when a warm body wiggles against mine and a whimper climbs up Patrick's throat as he presses his hardening cock into my thigh.
Stroking his cheek, I bury my nose in his hair when he shoves his face in my neck. “What's wrong, Little Bo? You need help falling back to sleep?”
“Mhm.” He rocks against me, more cries coming from him. “I need it so bad.” His tip leaks over my skin and my cock jolts.
“Tell me how you want me to help you, baby,” I say lowly in his ear.
“My cock needs to be touched. It needs release.”
“Shh. I'll take care of you, don't worry. You want to remind me how you like to be touched again?”
Nodding, his eyes roll back as his fingers glide over his silky looking skin and after three long strokes, I take over for him, mocking his movements I've seen here and on camera.
His breaths stutter and he chases his pleasure, fucking up into my closed fist. Skin warming against my palm, he quickens his thrusts and I keep still to let him take what he needs.
“That's it. Release your bad day on me, sweetheart. Soak my cock with it.”
His breaths hitch when I slide my straining dick between his and my hand, hips moving in sync with his. His moans are like pretty melodies and I connect my mouth to his, licking inside his mouth as we move together, bodies pressed tight and creating wonderful friction.
“You feel incredible, Bo. So perfect and like you were meant to always be right where you are.”
“I'm going to come,” he murmurs. “It's….oh I like this way too much. “I don't think I can go back to my hand.”
I grind against him harder, rolling my fingers over the both of us as our cock heads brush together, creating paralyzing sensations.
Digging his nails into my hip, he comes between us and I follow behind him only seconds later, knowing I can't go back to anything before this.
Not my hand, not other guys and not sleeping in my bed without being pressed to his naked body.
“Now I can finally see why you made so many sounds while you tasted yourself.” Without another beat, I drop down on the bed to lick at his stomach, the both of us exploding on my tongue.
I lap at his cock, suckling on his head and he whimpers, arching his hips.
After cleaning up salty drops from the front and back of his shaft, I trail my tongue up his pubic area and lap my tongue along his happy trail.
I press a kiss above his belly button, saving his nipples for later and travel back up to where his mouth is.
Wanting to see if he moans loudly when he has both of our cum on his tongue as much as he does when he's eating his, I plunge mine into his mouth, twirling it around his while spitting down his throat.
His moans shift to animalistic sounds and he seeks out more, sucking at my tongue after licking over my teeth.
We share more bruising and rough kisses before his tip starts to dribble from needing attention again.
And I want to keep him like this. Wetting himself and preferring not to come without me telling him to show me.
We'll worry about where the fire and severed finger came from later and whether or not we should prepare for more of either soon.
It wasn't an accident. I'll find out who started it and make them regret their decision to mess with the wrong fucking house.
But right now, I'm going to keep letting my little Bo come until he can't anymore.