9. Sophie
9
SOPHIE
S oren rushes off to work. Of course, he had to leave the exact moment I felt ready to bring up the elephant in the room. Working up the courage to tell your serial killer you’ll suck him off is surprisingly difficult.
My serial killer. I like that. I spend the rest of the day wondering if I should include blowing him in the book I’m writing or if that will ruin the authenticity of my conclusions.
By the time he comes back home, I can’t bring myself to start up the conversation again. I’ll try again tomorrow. He scarfs down the orange chicken I ordered for us both.
“You’re quiet,” he comments with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s hard to ask you questions while you eat,” I joke. To be honest, it’s nice just sitting with him. Is that odd? Enjoying the silent company of a serial killer? He doesn’t respond, and I look up to see him staring into the black windows at nothing. There’s tension in his body. Something is simmering.
After dinner, he stays in his room. I move around the house on edge, wondering what’s going through his mind. I start to think he’s gone to sleep, he’s been so quiet. But he emerges from his room an hour later. The printer in the office comes to life. Papers spit out as Soren gets his boots on.
“Well… I’m going out,” he says before I ask. “To kill someone if that wasn’t clear.”
“Soren,” I sigh. “It’s been three days. It’s too rapid.”
“I’m just in that new hobby excitement phase.” He winks at me. “Why? You don’t want me to go?” He raises an eyebrow, and my face heats.
“The risk of getting captured goes up with every kill. You really want to increase your odds of capture this often?” I walk into the office to see what he’s printed out. Soren bolts up and runs at me. I gasp as he meets me at the printer. Suddenly, his body is pressing into my back as he grabs the papers before I can read anything.
He grips my hip for a moment. My heart thumps in my chest. A second later, his hand retreats, and he walks towards the door.
“Here I go!” He calls out. “Off to kill someone.”
“Stop!” I yell out.
“Huh? What was that?” He calls out when I damn well know he heard me.
“Soren,” I groan.
“Wow, if only someone could stop me,” he says. I run into the foyer to see him leaning half out the front door. He’s either trying to convince me to go with him or trying to get me to offer him another blow job.
“Shit,” I hiss. I guess it was time to have an embarrassing conversation.
“What was that?” He asks, leaning back in through the door.
“Did it help last time when I got you off?” I ask. He immediately comes back into the house, slams the door, and locks it.
“Yes,” he says seriously. I swallow thickly and back up into the living room.
“Come sit in here,” I say. A second later, he’s at my back. His hand settles on my hip, ghosting over the same place he’d touched in the office.
“I was being obvious, wasn’t I?” he whispers.
“Yes.”
“I really do want to kill.” His breath ghosts over my neck. I’m afraid he’s going to kiss me.
“So why aren’t you gone?” I ask.
“Because my therapist has convincing arguments for why I shouldn’t.” His chuckle rolls up my spine. I point to the couch. Soren sits down, spreading his legs wide as he watches me step between them.
“I’ve been putting off this conversation.”
“What conversation?”
“What I’m willing to do and what I’m not. How this situation is going to work.”
“Okay,” he says, eyes wide.
“This is a professional agreement.”
“Very professional,” he jokes.
“I’m serious, Soren.” His smile drops. He shrugs off humor and mimics my seriousness. A flick of a switch is all it takes for him to change his tone. I mindlessly twist the ring on my finger as I try to think of the least embarrassing way to phrase it.
“I want to help you maintain. I want you to keep functioning well.”
“Okay.”
“Not sex, though,” I say before dropping to my knees. He grabs my hands before I can pull his zipper down.
“That’s not going to work for me.”
“What?” I ask. “What part?” My heart pounds in my chest. Does he want to have sex? I can barely look in his intense, icy eyes as I wait for his response.
“This helps,” he says. His fingers slide under my chin, lifting my face so that I’m looking at him. His thumb drags across my bottom lip, and I swallow thickly.
“Good,” I whisper.
“But a good blowjob can’t replace killing.” He drops my chin.
“We can do more,” I rush out. “Play, role play.” I fumble over my words. I’ve captured his attention. The intense focus he’s giving me is overwhelming.
“What type of roleplay?” His fingers wrap around my wrists. “What sort of things are you thinking about letting me do to you, Sophie?”
“Chasing me,” I rasp. “Catching me.” He pulls my hands lower, forcing my palms on his cock. I can feel his excitement.
“And what do I do with you once I catch you?”
“Oral is fine, and hands,” I say. He keeps my palms pressed to his warm length, making me feel his growing excitement as I talk. “With force.”
“I see,” he rasps.
My phone rings, disrupting our conversation. I already know who it is because I’ve been ignoring their calls all week. It’s either my mother or my aunt.
How do I tell them I’m married to a murderer?
“You should get that. It might be a patient.” Soren drops my hands.
“It’s not,” I sigh.
“Even so. Get the call. I need a moment to think.”
I get up, striding towards my phone on the kitchen counter. It’s my aunt. I’m just going to keep avoiding telling them anything until it’s necessary.
“Your mother knows you got married,” is the first thing from her mouth.
“Shit.”
“I’m warning you because I’m a good aunt.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, looking around the corner to see Soren still sitting on the couch.
“Sophie,” she says, bringing me back to the conversation.
“Yeah, I know. I’ll call soon and explain.”
“You forgot, didn’t you?”
“Forgot what?” I ask. Cold dread builds in my belly as I remember. “Shit, we need to reschedule. A lot’s been going on.”
“It’s too late for that. The whole family is coming now. Your mother is pissed.”
“No, no, no.” I look around the corner again at Soren. “You can’t come here,” I whisper.
“You should have answered your phone last week, then.”
“It has to be canceled.”
“Not happening,” she says.
“I'll go there. I’ll get on a plane tonight.”
“No, you won't. See you soon, my favorite niece!” The phone goes dead.
“Who was that?” I jump. Soren is right behind me.
“No one.” I shove the phone in my pocket. How am I going to hide him from my family and my family from him?
“We're going skiing,” he finally says. He thrusts my coat at me and pulls me out the door without a word. His entire attitude has changed. He seems mad. I’ve only ever seen him mad at the people he kills. It leaves me anxious, so I don’t ask why we’re going skiing or what suddenly happened.
It's a short drive to the ski resort office. He buys us tickets, and we collect our gear and ride the ski lift.
The place is desolate. The ski resort has seen lots of activity with the early snow, but things won’t really kick up until mid-January. The slopes look abandoned after nightfall. Most everyone has already packed up for the night. In the distance, I see the kaleidoscope of lights where people can tube.
“Is something wrong?” I ask when we get off the lift.
“Let's go,” he says. Maybe he thought we needed fresh air after our conversation? I try to accept that’s his reasoning. As soon as I’m racing down the slope on my snowboard, I find myself unconcerned with his mood. A smile stretches on my face. I should get to the slopes more—my heart is pounding. I love this.
Soren skis with ease but suddenly weaves in front of me and into the trees. I make a sharp turn towards the woods and stop, balancing on my board while looking through my goggles.
“Soren!” Nothing. The moment I sit down, he bursts from the treeline.
“Are you hurt?” I ask. My eyes widen as he suddenly lunges at me. He tackles me, flipping me on my belly.
“What are you doing!” He unclips my snowboard boots and rips them from my feet. He’s freaking me out. He's been on edge all evening.
Soren throws my board back on the slope. I see it slide down and try to scramble out from under him. He lets me, watching as I crawl.
“Run,” he says in an icy voice. Not an ounce of his regular warmth or charm is present. This is the face his victims get before he kills them. I turn, and I run, no questions asked. I keep thinking about the dead look in his eyes as my feet grow cold. The thick socks only protected me for a few steps.
I gulp in cold air and feel the frigid burn in my throat. The trees are packed tight, and I can’t see another slope yet. That's my aim, find a slope and get down as fast as possible on wet socks. Then, the lodge. Then… what? What is going on with him?
It hits me. This is what I offered. Catching his prey.
I can't bet my life on it, though, so I keep running. The lack of surety has my nerves fraying and panic tightening my throat. I need to get away. That's the only thing I’m sure of because I don’t really know what's happening with him.
I hear the crunch of the snow behind me growing louder. It’s fast, not offering any playfulness. He’s coming at me full speed, completely determined. Soren collides with me, dragging me to the ground. I scream as loud as I can. He flips me over, and I see a vicious smile on his face.
I kick, and he grips my ankles. His hands slide up to my knees and then spread them wide.
“What are you doing?” There are tears in my eyes from the cold, and my question comes out ragged after the scream. His body slides between my thighs, weighing me down. If he was taking me up on the offer of playing prey, shouldn’t he be pulling himself out and making me suck his cock?
Instead, I feel his fingers slide into my snow pants and claw their way even deeper. Is he going to fuck me? It’s a white-hot realization. He’s captured me; now he wants what he wants. Desire blinds my logic for a moment. But only for a moment.
We have rules; we have to stick to them. I fight him as he pulls off my layers. His excitement makes him get sloppy, and I take the opening and kick him blindly. It hits his hip, sending him backward into the snow. I scramble to my hands and knees in nothing but socks and panties from the waist down. My pants dangle from my ankle.
I grab at pine saplings and baby trees sprouting up above the snow. When I feel Soren’s large hand on my ankle, I scream again. He flips me over and settles between my legs, holding them down.
He grabs my panties and pulls them aside. I suck in a breath of shock. The cold air fills my lungs. His arms slide under my thighs and wrap around them, tugging me against his mouth.
He licks aggressively, a determined greed taking over him. I cry out. He grips my thighs tighter, holding me down as he gives long strokes with his tongue.
I said oral and hands. I didn’t say who. I meant him, not me. I didn’t think he’d consider this. When he begins to suck, I feel white-hot pleasure.
“Wait,” I gasp. His eyes are on me, cold as ice. He flicks his tongue relentlessly. I try to squirm, but he just holds me tighter. It doesn’t take long. I feel it coming.
I whine, clawing at the snow. It hits me fiercely. No matter how I try to escape the orgasm, I can’t. All at once, pleasure weighs my body down. My mittens slide across the snow.
“No,” I moan, my eyes losing focus.
“Yes,” he responds. I try to catch my breath as my body relaxes after the high. Soren wipes at his wet mouth and chin. Then he’s on me again, mouth latching on. I whine, my mittens uselessly pushing his shoulders to get him away. My legs try to close.
“Soren, stop,” I gasp. His mouth unlatches from my pussy.
“Who was on the phone?” He asks, and my eyes widen. I stare at him silently. He gives me a harsh look and then dips his face back down, giving long, slow licks that have my body tensing all over.
“Stop,” I gasp.
“Oral and hands, right?” He asks. He bites off a glove. When he presses a finger into me, I gasp. Penetration was a line he told me not to cross, but now he’s inside me. Soren works his finger in and out while his tongue keeps flicking lazily.
I feel a second finger settle against my ass. I’m at his whims, a moment away from him owning my entire body. But he just teases it, never pressing in.
His lazy flicks are driving me insane. The second orgasm isn’t picky at all. He presses his finger deep inside my pussy and curls it. I’m lost to the orgasm burying me in its pleasure. It hits me hard enough that my vision goes black as I writhe on his tongue and finger.
“Soren,” I rasp, barely able to talk above a whisper. The orgasm has bled out of me, but he just keeps going. He wants more. I’ve never given more than that. I whine, pressing on his shoulders, trying to get away. I can’t do another. He’s more aggressive than ever, forcing it on me.
“I meant you,” I rasp, trying to explain. The third orgasm is coming, and he’s feral for it. I try to kick away from him in the snow, but he holds me against his face. He draws the next orgasm from me. I cry out, my body baring down and wetness gushing out of me.
“That’s what I wanted,” he groans, climbing up my weak body. I can barely move. He grips my jaw and stares down at me with hunger.
“Does kissing count as oral?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. Soren bends down, licking a feral line across my mouth before pressing his lips to mine. When his tongue fills my mouth, I taste myself. He gives a groan as he dominates me.
I’ve never been kissed this thoroughly. It doesn’t matter that I’m barely able to move. I wonder if that was the whole point, taking his time with multiple orgasms so that I become a puddle for him to play with.
He bites at my lips and licks deep in my mouth, holding me in place as he tastes and takes.
“I didn’t mean me,” I finally whisper between his overwhelming kisses.
“Hmm?” He asks, only half paying attention to my words. “I like you like this, Doctor Moore. So compliant.”
“Oral and hands,” I pant. Soren is everywhere around me, his coat blocking me in, his hand gripping my face to keep all my attention on him. “I meant me to you, not you to me.”
He pulls back, looking at me in shock.
“Guess we need to work on communication,” he says with a lopsided grin.
“You ass,” I whisper, my eyes closing.
“Who were you talking to?” He asks, gripping my chin.
“My aunt,” I sigh, trying to adjust more comfortably underneath him. The cold is starting to burn the back of my thighs.
“You said you’d leave.” His voice is cold, not an ounce of emotion present. I shudder.
“I…” I trail off, trying to think of how to explain.
“Do I need to do it again?”
“Do what?” I ask. I feel his fingers slide into my panties.
“No, shit. My family is coming,” I gasp as cold fingers circle my clit. “I was trying to stop them.”
Soren pulls his hands from my panties, and I pop my eyes open. He looks shocked.
“Your family is coming here?”
“They found out I’m married somehow. I have no idea how, maybe my office.”
“They know?” He asks. Have I broken him?
“It’ll be fine. They’ll be in a hotel?—”
“No,” he asserts. “They’ll stay with us.” I sigh.
“Right. Can you get off me? I’m not having the conversation like this.” He climbs off me.
“Here, you’re cold,” he collects my pants and offers them to me.
“My family will stay in a hotel, and you won’t meet them.”
“That doesn’t work,” he says, watching as I pull my pants back on.
I sigh and walk past him, back towards the slope. I start slowly walking down; my board isn’t as far away as I thought. My feet slip out from under me. Soren’s arm wraps around my waist, pulling my feet from the ground as he lifts me up easily.
“Be careful,” he whispers in my ear before setting me back down.
“There is no way in hell my family is staying with us.”
“We need to make this believable. If I was your real husband, I’d never force your family to stay in a hotel. There’s lots of extra bedrooms.”
“I’m in one already.”
“You need to move into my room. We can’t sleep in separate beds as newlyweds.”
“I’m not doing this,” I grumble, my face hot.
“Yes, you are.” His grip tightens around my waist. “Tell them they can stay with us, and when they show up, we’re going to act like a real married couple.”
“I don’t have to sleep in the same bed for that. I can sleep on the floor.”
“No one is sleeping on the floor. You’re sleeping in bed with me. And you’re going to pretend to be in love and horny as fuck.”
“Do we really need to go through all of this?”
“It could be life or death in court. Your family and friends need to believe this is real. So at night, we might need to make noises.”
“Noises,” I deadpan. He’s begun walking down the slope tediously slow. He has his skis in one hand and me in the other.
“We have to pretend to fuck each other,” he says. I’m speechless until I remember the other issue.
“What about the bodies?”