Chapter Eleven
ADDISON
Frankie’s smile drops and their face turns red with anger. I immediately backpedal, not expecting that reaction.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you’d mind,” I blabber, the words flying out of my mouth with no input from my brain as Frankie crosses the space with a few quick steps. “I don’t know what I was thinking, I didn’t mean to invade your privacy—”
Frankie cuts me off with a kiss and I freeze.
“Shh, Addison,” Frankie says, pulling back and swiping their hands over my hair. “I’m not mad at you, I like that you made yourself at home. I don’t have anything to hide and you can snoop to your heart’s content. I just realized something important.”
“Oh,” I say, my voice faint. This day has been the worst rollercoaster of all emotional rollercoasters.
They gently take the stack of envelopes from me, then turn to sit on the couch and lean forward. One by one, they take a folded paper out of each envelope and lay it open on the coffee table.
“Can you pull up that recording you took?” they say, gesturing for me to come sit next to them.
“Yeah,” I say, clicking into the video as I walk toward the couch.
I hand my phone over, and Frankie pulls me down next to them, tugging me close so our thighs line up from knee to hip. Their leg pressing into me settles the anxiety that had started to swirl when I first saw their anger in response to the envelopes.
“What are these?” I ask, realizing each piece of paper has a typed letter on it, then looking at the envelopes sitting face up above them with no return address, no stamps, and no delivery address either.
“Frankie?” I say, my gut churning as I turn to them for an explanation.
They grimace with a sigh, then run a hand down their face before explaining.
“I’ve been getting these letters for a few months now,” they say, gesturing to a handwritten date on the first one. March twelfth, just over three months ago. There’s a second dated from April, then two from May, and another two so far this month.
“Okay…”
“The first couple were just angry messages, but then they started to get threatening. I’d find them slipped under my back door from the alley, no indication of who it’s from and no way of seeing into the back alley since the street cameras don’t record there.
” They pause and crack their knuckles, tension lining their tattooed forearm.
“I thought about setting up my own camera out back, but I guess I didn’t think it was a big deal. I don’t know. Maybe I was in denial.”
They pick up the first June letter, dated about three weeks ago.
“Something’s been bothering me all day, and I think it was one of the things Derek said. It’s the same as what this letter says.”
They pass the note to me and I read it over.
You act all high and mighty. But you’re not tricking anyone with that nice act. We all know you’re not a good person. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You’re spoiled and selfish and this town hates you. You’ll see.
I gasp, re-reading the lines that must have stuck out to both of us.
“It’s been him, hasn’t it?” I say. “Leaving these notes?”
Frankie nods, their expression weary. “I think so, yeah.”
They play the video, skipping through the first part to right before I stepped in front of them.
“You act all high and mighty, but you don’t care about other local businesses. You’re just a spoiled, selfish, disrespectful—”
Frankie pauses the recording and I suck in a breath, my eyes sliding between the phone and the letter.
“He messed up,” Frankie says. “I always suspected it was him, I just never acknowledged it. I guess this is as close to proof as I’m going to get.”
“You have to show these to the sheriff, Frankie,” I say, my voice tight with worry. This borders on stalking, and would definitely qualify as harassment.
Frankie sends the video to their phone and nods in agreement, pulling up the non-emergency number for the sheriff’s office.
Frankie informs him that they have evidence they think incriminates Derek of further crimes.
They explain, and also mention a grocery shopping incident in which Derek refused to let them into the store. I frown, not having known about that.
“Well?” I say when they hang up.
“He said to come by tomorrow, that he’d like to see the letters and try to get a fingerprint off them. Either way, he said it doesn’t look good for Derek, and we can talk over some options tomorrow. I guess they’re keeping him overnight at the very least, since I pressed charges.”
“Good,” I nod, satisfied for now.
Frankie gathers the letters and stacks them with their respective envelopes, touching them as little as possible now. The silence stretches between us, and every time they move, their leg rubs against mine.
Skin on skin, I can feel the heat of them, and my eyes drop to trace the line of their bare leg against mine. Their caramel-brown skin looks so soft, I ache to touch it. To trace the tattoo winding up their calf, to explore the hint of one I can see peeking out from the hem of their shorts.
My eyes trail up their body, taking in their muscular form and slight curves, until my gaze snags on their eyes.
They’re watching me, and my breath catches at the heat I see reflected back at me.
Their hazel eyes look darker, here on the couch in their loft apartment, just the two of us in the quiet of evening.
A pulse of desire makes my heartbeat trip, and somehow I think they can sense it. Their eyes are burning, taking me in, observing every tiny response I make to them simply watching me. My eyes snag on their lips, their full, dark lips, slightly parted and slowly curling up on one side.
I know they’re smirking, perhaps satisfied with the easiest seduction of their life. I don’t care. I also know we’re both full of tension, from the events of the last two days, but also from this attraction that’s been growing between us.
I close the space between us, my eyes fluttering shut at the first sensation of their soft lips against mine.
Frankie doesn’t hesitate, either. As soon as I move, they meet me, with their hands gripping my hips and pulling my whole body closer, melding our chests and tangling our legs.
My hands fly to their hair and I tangle my fingers in their loose curls, anchoring myself to them as our tongues dance and explore.
Frankie’s mouth moves to the side, and they nudge my jaw up with their nose as they trail kisses down the curve of my neck. They lick behind my ear, then suck my earlobe into their mouth, and I ignore the whimper that slips from me at the sensation.
I feel them grin against my skin, and my hands grapple for purchase. I rake my fingers down their back, wishing I had skin under my palms instead of cotton, so I seek out the hem of their shirt and slip my hands beneath.
A huff of air escapes their lips, puffing against the curve of my collarbone when my fingers trace up their spine, pulling their shirt up as my hands explore. I want to see them, and I lean back, tugging on their shirt.
“Can I take this off?” I whisper, relishing their flushed cheeks. I’m sure mine look the same .
They nod, but don’t wait for me to do it, grabbing the hem and yanking it off themselves.
I suck in a breath and another wave of desire pulses through me.
More tattoos. I trace them with my eyes, the one on their sternum, mostly hidden by the binder they’re wearing. The fine black lines along their collarbone beg for my tongue.
“You’re so hot,” is my idiotic response, and I flush with embarrassment.
Frankie grins, looking pleased at their ability to render me stupid, but it settles my nerves all the same.
They tug me behind them to their bedroom, and my eyes are glued to the delicate ink curving down their spine.
I think Frankie might kill me tonight. I feel faint already, and we haven’t even started anything, not really.
Frankie spins around, taking in the needy, panting mess of a human that they’ve turned me into. They place a gentle hand on my chest and guide me to sit on the edge of their bed. Their fingers go to the hem of my shirt, barely grazing my skin, and I’m nodding before they can even ask.
Their hands are gentle but firm as they gather the material, slowly baring me to their hungry gaze as they pull it up my stomach, over my breasts and off. They hold my shirt in one hand, letting it dangle from their fingers as they take a half step back and bite their lip.
“Damn, Addison,” they murmur, eyes tracing a path of fire across my skin.
It gives me the confidence to straighten, to push my breasts out and reach behind me to unclip my lacy bra. I let it drop, then lean back on my hands, putting myself on display as their breaths turn shallow.
“Your turn,” I say, nodding to their binder.
Frankie doesn’t hesitate, whipping it off and letting me look my fill. The sternum tattoo takes my breath away. It’s an ornamental design, more fine lines that swirl up the middle of their chest and drip down toward their navel.
I reach forward, snagging a belt loop and tugging them into me.
My knees part, allowing Frankie to stand between them as their mouth meets mine again.
Our kiss is more frenzied this time, more needy as we both fumble with our shorts, sliding them off with hands from the other that aren’t helpful but feel necessary anyway.
I lay back and pull Frankie onto the bed with me.
Their hands roam, skimming up my ribs to cup my breasts and I arch into their touch, our mouths still melded together. They swallow my whimper, then pull back to look at me again, and their eyes snag on my hip bone.
“Addison,” they say, low and husky, dragging my name out so it feels decadent on their tongue. Their eyes pop up to mine and I bite my cheek to hold in my smile. I knew they’d like that.
“What is this?” Frankie says, one finger tracing the tattoo peeking out from the lace of my panties.
“Why don’t you find out?” I say. I’m momentarily astonished at my boldness, but it disappears when they grin and lean down, tugging at the lace with their teeth before their hands rip it down my legs.
Their fingers return to my hip bone, so lightly it raises goosebumps as they trace the small wave tattoo. My gaze turns from their fingers to their own underwear, and my hands reach to tug it down, but they strip it off for me.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” they say, leaning over me again and kissing across my collarbone. Their mouth presses into the softness of my breasts, and I groan at their teasing as they avoid my nipple.
“Frankie,” I say, grasping their hair and pulling.
They chuckle against my skin, then take my nipple in their mouth and suck, swirling their tongue around it before releasing it with a pop.
“Oh god,” I mutter, my hips already aching to grind against them as they trail kisses down my stomach.
“Can I lick your pussy, Addison?” they say, and my entire body flushes at the dirty words coming from that sinful mouth.
I nod, but they wait.
“Yes!” I cry. “Please, yes.”
And it’s absolute bliss. Their tongue swipes up my center, splitting me open, and they suck on my lips before dipping in to taste me.
I’m quickly lost in the pleasure, and I groan when they swipe my clit with their tongue and curl two fingers inside me, stroking that spot gently as well.
The pressure is perfect, and my brain can’t figure out which sensations to focus on.
“Where?” they ask, and it’s something I’ve never been asked before. My brain blanks, a lethal combination of surprise and desire.
“Tell me where,” they say, their tongue slowly moving across my clit. When it hits the spot that makes my toes curl, I gasp.
“There,” I say, my voice hoarse with pleasure. “Right there.”
Frankie sucks my clit into their mouth and strokes that perfect, mind-numbing spot.
I’m gasping, I can’t get enough air, and my fingers scrabble along the blanket covering Frankie’s bed.
They grab my hand and move it to their head, not letting up on the pressure of their mouth, and then their free hand goes to my breast, tweaking and pinching my nipple.
My eyes roll and my back arches, my body caving to the pleasure as my legs tense on either side of Frankie’s head. They hum, and it undoes me.
The orgasm crashes over me and I pulse against Frankie’s tongue, around their fingers, my body never having felt anything so intense before as it lasts for moments, minutes, ages.
My head is stuck in clouds of bliss as my body obeys Frankie’s wishes, succumbing to their desires, submitting to the rule of their mouth.