Page 76 of That Time I Accidentally Became A Serial Killer

“Oh. My. Turkey gobblers. That is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! How am I supposed to say no to that?!”

The entire room dissolves into laughter orawws. One of the techs scoops him up and hands him back, grinning.

“Oh, you’ll get used to it.”

I hug Dexter to my chest, his tail wagging like a weapon of mass destruction. “Doubtful.”

She was here. Just this morning, she was right here.

The air still holds her heat, her perfume, like the room itself is reluctant to let her go.

Stepping into her shower, I breathe her in—her scent still clings to the steam, faint but undeniable.

Coming into her home when she left this morning, I’ve been cleaning up the faint trail of trace DNA she couldn’t see.

I’m nearly done. Those moments ofshould I behere quickly overshadowed by my need to protect her.

I was almost done with the bathroom. The anthem I’ve dedicated to Poppy playing in my earbuds.

“I love you always forever

Near and far, closer together…”

With my UV specs, I look around for any final surfaces that needed my attention when I saw delicate handprint on the shower glass.

Small. Fragile. Hers.

My pulse kicks. I press my palm to the fading impression, aligning our fingers like I can hold her there. Naked. Vulnerable.

Mine.

I close my eyes, surrendering to the fantasy that’s devoured every sleepless night.

She stood here, where I am now—water trailing down the curves I’ve dreamed of, her breath catching, lips parted in quiet invitation. I imagine pressing against her, my palm sliding down her stomach, fingers circling just above where she wants them most.

She’d gasp. Shudder. So fucking wet for me.

The warmth, the slickness, her desperate need—it’s all there in my mind. She moans, arches, pushes back into me, trembling as I touch her.

The ache hardens into pain. I unzip, and wrap my hand around my cock, imagining hers instead. So small and perfect gripping me.

She’d turn and kneel, taking me into her mouth like she was made for it—but I wouldn’t come there. No, I’d need to be inside her.

I picture the moment I push in—tight heat surrounding me, her cry of pleasure as I fill her. That flutter of her pussy gripping me. That first thrust, deep and claiming.

Fuck. I need it like I need air.

I stroke faster, chasing the edge, lost in the thought of her—poised in court, fearless by day, undone under me at night. That contradiction wrecks me.

I want to protect her.

Own her.

Etch myself into every part of her.

She’d collapse against me, sobbing my name as I pull her back by the hair and drive her into oblivion.

The orgasm crashes over me, violent and consuming. I groan as release hits—hot jets splatter the glass. My knees buckle slightly. I brace myself, breath ragged, undone by a woman who doesn’t even know I’m here.

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