The Serial Killer Santa nuzzles his face into Sasha’s fluffy white fur while scratching under her chin and the bitch purs, she fucking purrs. This grumpy girl never purrs. What is happening here? Did I fallthrough the rabbit hole or something?
“What a little angel,” Cole admires. He slips his gloves off his hands to scratch Sasha behind the ears and I see another hint of tattoos peeking out from beneath his long sleeves at his wrists.
“She’s a demon from hell,” I admonish. “She probably likes the taste of blood and you smell like a fresh kill.”
“She just has good taste.” Cole proceeds to make little kissing noises toward my cat while she melts into his touch. Looking at those strong hands with defined tendons, I can’t blame her. I think I’d melt into him too. Cole looks like the kind of muscular that’s also incredibly comfortable to snuggle with.
“Does Sasha’s approval mean I can stay?” This man just killed someone a couple hours ago, he’s dressed for stealth, he has at least a hundred pounds on me and stands a foot taller. Yet he’s giving me puppy dog eyes over the top of my hypoallergenic cat in a silent plea to spend the night on my couch.
“Fine,” I give in with a weighted sigh. “You can stay. But at the first sound of a snow plow I want you gone.”
Cole raises both hands in the air as if I’m pointing a gun at him and not a finger. “Understood.”
Then he gently lifts Sasha from his lap, placing her on the top tier of the cat tree in the corner before walking toward the window.
“First things first,” he says as he switches the lock open and lifts the old window, “I need to get that heart.”
Chapter Six
Cole
On the off chance whoever was looking for Frank does call the authorities or gets into his apartment, I want to get that heart before it’s too late.
“Wait, you’re going back up there now?” Noelle steps closer in her cute little pajamas. I can see the way the cold air makes her nipples pebble. My gaze lingers on her a moment too long because she steps back and crosses her arms over her chest as if that will protect her from me. Hard nipples are one thing, her ass cheeks hanging out of her shorts are another. She’s dressed to provoke all the lustful feelings from a hot-blooded man like me.
I doubt she intended for anyone to see her when she put these on tonight but damn, it’s doing something to me.
“You’re not going to hurt me, right?” She takes a pointed step back.
Feeling a little bold, I stalk toward her with a hungry gaze that fixates on that beautiful face. “Why? Cause I’m the big bad serial killer who goes around raping women?”
For every step I take, Noelle takes another away from me.
“That’s not part of your MO.” I know that, but the way she says itmakes me wonder how much she knows about me.
“Have you been studying me, beautiful?” My mouth stretches into a satisfied smirk.
“Of course,” she fires back, so self-assured. “You’re one of Detroit’s most notorious serial killers. This time of year, it’s hard not to go down the rabbit hole. You can’t go online without seeing something about the Serial Killer Santa.”
“I see.” Every step toward her makes her scent grow stronger, cherries and vanilla. Fitting since there’s cherries on her pajamas. Although my eyes have been locked on hers, I don’t miss the way her chest is rising and falling with such intensity. It’s not rapid like a cornered animal afraid for its life. No, this girl is relishing the thrill of it. After all, it’s not every day you get a wanted murderer crashing in your apartment.
“Maybe you’re like some of the women in the Reddit forums,” I muse, thinking about some of the comments I see. “The ones who fantasize about me sneaking into their apartments and tying them up. The ones who want to know what Serial Killer Santa feels like inside them.”
At first I was just messing with her, but when Noelle’s eyelids grow heavy with the notion, I start to wonder if maybe she’s one of them. Maybe I don’t frighten her as much as she lets on.
Or even better, maybe I do and that’s a turn on for her.
With one final step, Noelle’s back hits the door jam to her bedroom and a startled gasp leaves those rosy lips.
“Is that what you want, Noelle?” I lower my voice to a gravely whisper. “Do you want me to take you? Bend you over the couch and have my way with you?”
“I–,” I seem to have a catatonic effect on this girl. She’s hardly able to form full sentences in my presence. “I–no. I don’t.”
I don’t believe her. Her pupils are dilated. Her nipples are still hard, and this close every breath she takes brushes her chest against mine. If she was really afraid of me, she’d be screaming, not keeping thoseenchanting eyes fixed on mine.
But I’m not a monster, contrary to my murderous hobby. I don’t take women without consent.
But if she did consent…No. I’m just here for the night and then I’ll go back to my mundane life until next December.
