Page 10 of Room Four
I knew I needed to clean you up, but I liked looking at you like that. Marked by me. Covered in my cum. In my scent.
So I slid off the bed, and tilted your head to the side so you wouldn’t choke on my cum, and went to your laptop.
I wanted to know what all you’d discovered about my little secret. Life was good for me—I was secluded enough that no one thought to come here. And the people I killed, I’d talked to, just like I had you tonight. They spilled their secrets to me, that their pathetic lives were falling apart. That no one knew they’d come to Sunny Pines for a mini getaway, just to clear their minds.
No one knew to look for them here. So no one came here.
But you did.
And I wanted to knowhowyou’d come to the conclusion that they’d disappeared from here.
So I opened your laptop, and rolled my eyes at the password. I carried it to your unconscious body and used your index finger to unlock it. That was such a stupid design.
But I sat on the chair opposite the bed and propped it on my bare thigh. Immediately, the document you’d been working on filled the screen.
He’s artificially kind. Like he’s practiced exactly what to say and when. Nothing about him feels genuine. And yet…there’s something that calls to me. I don’t know if he’s guilty of being a serial killer, but there’ssomething. Maybe it’s just my penchant for emotionally unavailable men that has me drawn to him, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s built like a tree that makes me want to get to know him better.
He’s attractive—something that would make his whole serial killer schtick easier. Everyone knows attractive people are more trustworthy. All he’d have to do is flash his pearly-white smile, like he did with me, and I could understand how these women trusted him.
But there was this impenetrable wall around him. It was probably the wall all strangers have, but I watched him tense up when I mentioned the missing women. I watched him build that wall even stronger the second I mentionedserial killer.
So maybe he is innocent of being a killer, but he’s guilty ofsomething.I just don’t know what.
My blood was like ice. You saw more than I thought you had, learned more about me in our brief interactions than anyone else had. Or maybe I really was that transparent. Or maybe…
Maybe you saw me for who I really am, and it didn’t scare you away.
It intrigued you.
I set your laptop on the table beside me and leaned back in the chair. The drugs would wear off soon. I could wait.
SIX
I waited onlyanother hour before the drugs wore off and you awoke. At first, you didn’t move, but I saw the way your breathing changed. Slowly, you reached up, feeling the dried cum in your hair and on your face. You smacked your lips together, tasting me, then bolted upright.
I grinned at you from across the room, still lounging in the chair. I wore only my jeans now, no shirt. Your eyes were wide. Scared.
But there was still that smidge of intrigue in them that caught me completely off guard. Usually, at this point, women were scared. They were terrified.
They’d scream and scream, beg me not to hurt them, beg me to let them go. They’d promise they wouldn’t tell anyone, that they wouldn’t go to the police. And I’d just sit and bask in their terror.
But you didn’t give me that.
“So, it is you?” you asked, pulling the blanket up around your bare chest.
I tapped your laptop. “I think you already figured that out.”
“Not for sure.”
“You would’ve.”
Your chest rose and fell in a deep breath. Using the back of your fingers, you swiped at your cheek, wiping the cum that had spilled out away.
“Did you fuck me in my sleep?” you asked, the curse word startling me.
“Just your mouth,” I said, and, strangely, you nodded. That was it. Like you’d expected more and were disappointed when I’d just used your mouth.
“Are you going to kill me?”
