by Rebel Farris
It didn’t make sense. He was gentle, kind, funny, and thoughtful… it just didn’t connect. I felt like I was missing something. Like I was at the butt of a grand joke but missed the punchline.
But I couldn’t deny the fact that there was a subtle shift in the air. A feeling permeated around me, trying to soak into my skin. It settled over me like a thick blanket, smothering. An invisible hand, choking me. I was never a guest—I was a prisoner. And this house was my prison.
I heard the door at the bottom of the stairs open, and I turned and dropped down onto my knees. My muscles locked up. Spraying the tub with the cleaning mixture, I used the other hand to scrub at the rust-colored water stains. They lightened a little, but I’d probably need a better cleaner to get the job done right. No, this task was selected for a specific purpose. As his boots thumped onto the landing, I arched my back, letting the sweater slide off my hips, exposing myself. I don’t know where I got it from—if it was learned behavior or common sense. But I knew if I wanted a man to stay out of my head, distracting him with my body was the surest way.
He paused at the open door. And though I wasn’t looking, I could hear his breath hitch. I focused on the task at hand, schooling my features into a neutral mask. Arch my back a little further, lean into the bathtub a little more. The calcium was cleaning up well, not that it really mattered what I was doing. I was on display for him.
The first touch of his hand sent tingles rippling through my body, leaving a wake of goose bumps in its path. I leaned into his touch, pushing my hip into his palm. God, his touch shouldn’t feel so good. I should be repulsed. But my brain and my body decided they were on opposing teams. His hand gripped the flesh of my ass cheek, exposing me further. I let out a moan and pushed back toward him. It wasn’t an act. I was addicted; the sensations he brought to life in me were beyond resistance.
“I was going to take a shower and see if you wanted to join me, but I have a better idea. How about we get more dirty first?” His voice was raw and thick with unguarded lust.
I groaned and rose, pulling the sweater off in answer. I didn’t turn to look at him. I didn’t trust myself not to betray my emotions. Somewhere inside, I felt as if I were selling my soul to the devil. Was I doing it for survival? Did enjoying it make me evil too? His belt jingled as he undid his pants, then thunked to the floor. I closed my eyes. It didn’t matter why. I was going to hell anyway and would gladly burn for eternity to feel this one more time. Wasn’t that fucked-up, for a lifelong loner to be affected beyond the point of rational control?
His hand wrapped around my ponytail, yanking me back against his chest. He kissed my shoulder, trailing lips and nips up my neck to my ear. I sighed and melted into his expert hands. His cock brushed against my inner thigh, and I shivered, mewling.
“Oh, God. Xander,” I gasped.
“Is my girl ready for me?” he whispered in my ear before tugging on my earlobe with his teeth. “I want to feel, but my hands are dirty.”
The vision of him standing there with blood-soaked hands flitted through my mind. I didn’t have to imagine too hard. After all, I’d seen him after he’d killed that turkey. I blinked and realized that’s not what he was talking about. His hand skated across my belly to cup my breast, leaving behind black streaks and handprints across my body. My heartbeat pulsed between my legs. This shouldn’t have turned me on.
I sucked in a breath. “Yes, take me.”
I would’ve nodded my assent, but his hand was wrapped in my ponytail, twisted into it, his grip firm. I arched my back, shoving my ass toward him for a better angle. He grunted and pulled back before pressing the head of his cock against my asshole. I whimpered and flailed my arms to stop him, but it was useless. I couldn’t reach him, my body twisted at an awkward angle.
“Anyone ever take you here?”
I shook my head, or tried to. His grip tightened and pulled my head back even farther. “No.” My eyes rolled back in my head. I’d always loved having my hair pulled. It didn’t hurt. And there was something intoxicating about the way he treated me as if he knew I wouldn’t break.
“It will be mine and mine alone, yes?”
I couldn’t answer him. I didn’t know if that was something I’d even like.
“Do you like giving me what I want, Rosie? Have I ever failed to make it feel good?”
“Yes, it always feels good. Please fuck me, Xander.”
“Please? Zvonová sklenice, you don’t ever have to beg.” He chuckled, shoving into my pussy forcefully. “It is my honor to pleasure you.”
He groaned in relief as he fully seated his cock inside me and paused. I was so wet for him there was no pain, no friction. White light speckled my vision. I was already on the edge of climax. It was like the fear heightened my awareness, magnifying every point of contact. I let out a low moan and shivered violently.
He moved fast and hard, his hand still firmly wrapped in my hair, pinning me in place. Sitting back suddenly, he pulled me along with him. His hips continued to fuck up into me with my back pressed firmly to his chest.
“You want to come for me, my Rosie.”
I exhaled a shaky breath. “Yes.”
“Good. Touch yourself.” He released my hair after laying my head on his chest. His chin pushed down on my shoulder as he leaned over my body to watch.
I wasted no time doing as he said. My fingers brushed past my clit to touch him where we were connected. He stopped, trapping my fingers between us.
“No. You do not want to do that, zvonová sklenice. I have a hair trigger, and I want to see you come apart first.”
He pulled back, and I moved my fingers to circle my sensitive nub. But the words hair trigger looped in my head. Pictures flashed behind my eyelids. The gun. Shooting the cans. Waxy, pale skin. A bullet hole between vacant eyes. And God help me, I came, shouting Xander’s name.
Clarity
I opened my eyes to find it still dark outside. Looking at the clock, I noted that it was five o’clock in the morning. I blinked several times to wash away the haze of sleep. Xander’s heart beat where my ear pressed against him. His chest slowly rose and fell with the deep breaths of sleep. He wasn’t awake, but my mind was already preoccupied with him.
I rolled over and attempted to get out of bed, but his arm hooked my waist, pulling me back to spoon. His breathing changed. I knew I’d woken him up. Sighing, I turned in his arms to face him. Blue eyes peered at me in the darkness, looking like the glitter of two jewels in the dim light of the alarm clock.
“I want to go find my cliff and get those sunrise shots.”
His dick was stiffening between our naked bodies. He grunted but didn’t offer any further commentary. He trailed kisses down the side of my neck and pulled me tighter against him.
“You know if we start that, we won’t be gettin’ out of bed for the rest of the day.”
We hadn’t gotten out of bed the previous day. Well, for most of it. He’d stepped outside to check on the chickens. They were toasty warm in their coop. I’d seen the steam rise when he opened the hatch to feed them and collect the eggs. The weather had gotten worse overnight with another cold front on the heels of the first. It was rainy and icy all day. The news had dubbed it the Ice Storm of 1989 already, like it was a grand weather event.
And in typical Texas fashion, the weather was supposed to warm up considerably. With highs in the mid-sixties, I was getting out of the house. Being cooped up had my hackles up. I was on the verge of screaming at the top of my lungs to let the pressure out. If I thought it wouldn’t freak him out, I would.
As it was, I’d plans to do just that as soon as I was far enough away that he couldn’t hear me. But I really just needed to think. The lack of movement only had me thinking about shit I didn’t want to think about. Being near him had my thoughts dissipating and my body leading me on instinct. I hadn’t had time to put my thoughts in order. And I really needed to think.
I knew I should, but it was hard to remember why with his
thick cock pressed against the curve of my hip. He’d asked if the burning need for each other would ever stop. I was jaded enough to know that it would, eventually. But I wasn’t stupid enough to think that it would happen anytime soon.
What would happen when it did wear off? Would that be the day he killed me? Ugh. I still didn’t know how I felt about what I’d found. I still hadn’t figured out the answers. And there was a part of me that doubted him—his motivations for keeping me there, his words about the necessity of fixing his truck. I couldn’t discern truth from lies as long as I was in this house and near him.
He stopped kissing me, and his hold relaxed. A feeling of dread swamped me, but I didn’t know its source. Why that would make me feel… off. I rolled away and got out of bed, and I borrowed clothes from him. My shorts wouldn’t do in this weather. I looked a bit ridiculous swallowed in oversized clothes and a fleece-lined jean jacket of his.
“Don’t forget to take the gun with you.” His voice broke the silence between us like a knife, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I offered him a half-cocked smile, which I wasn’t sure he could see with the light from the closet behind me. “I won’t. And maybe when you get the truck fixed, I can take the film to get developed.”
“It should be done by the end of the week.”
I walked to his side of the bed and leaned down to kiss him. “Sounds good.”
“Will you come back?”
“Of course. I’m just walking to the cliff to take some sunrise shots. Test out that UV filter I paid for and see if I can capture the new day.”
His brows drew together. “I do not mean that. What I meant was will you come back after I take you home?”
Oh, fuck. I am a shit liar. Always was. And I agreed to be his, here. But out there—back in the real world—that was a different story. I didn’t know the first thing about how to be in a relationship. I stood back up, putting distance between us. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
I tried to smile, but it felt forced, so I turned away quickly, shoving my feet in my boots. He didn’t respond. I had to get out of there. This wasn’t good, and he’d be onto me soon if I sat around being all transparent and shit. He saw too fucking much. Goddammit.
I grabbed my purse and pulled it over my head, stuck the gun in the coat pocket. “I’ll be back late. The house is clean. Nothing left to do around here, so I’m just going to take some pictures.”
“I never asked you to do that.”
“What?”
“The cleaning. I appreciate it, but it was never required of you to do it. Enjoy yourself. I will be here when you come back.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. So I just nodded and let my feet carry me to the kitchen. I packed a few boiled eggs and some bread, then grabbed the thermos I found in the pantry and filled it with water. The shower turned on just before I walked out the door.
It was cold. Texas cold. The temps never dipped that low, but combined with humidity, the cold seeped into your bones. My breath puffed out like smoke in front of me as I pulled my compass out and faced a direction I thought would lead me to the cliff. With my course set, I pulled the flashlight out of my bag and set off into the woods, one hand in my pocket, resting over the gun.
The farther I walked, the more the sky lightened and my thoughts cleared. The stifling miasma of bad memories stopped assaulting my brain, without the need for physical distraction from Xander. It felt liberating. Staying in one spot for too long just didn’t do it for me. I was grateful in that moment that Xander hadn’t kept kissing me. I wouldn’t have been able to say no. But with each step, the scream I’d planned became less and less necessary. I felt lighter than I had all week.
It was too dark to take pictures on the way, so the trip was fairly quick. My sense of direction astounded me as I arrived at the cliff, only about twenty feet away from the spot I’d lunch the first day. I stopped about three feet from the ledge, afraid to get any closer. My heartrate kicked up, but I felt at peace. The faint trickle of the stream below, the distant and nearby twitter of birds and other critters—it was all soothing.
I inhaled a deep breath and waited. The sun was nearing the horizon, turning the purple-black hues in the west a lighter shade.
I focused on taking it all in, experiencing the moment. There were no killers in that sunrise, no dead bodies or drool-worthy hot guys who may or may not be the actual killer. There was nothing but me and nature.
As the horizon started turning shades of pink and orange, I snapped a few pictures and then switched to the 35 mm lens and attached the UV filters. I’d two, and I was sure to need them since I aimed to take a picture while staring directly at the sun. I put my sunglasses on for extra measure. Then it happened, the first bright sliver of wavering light peeking up at the edge.
A buck stood at the top of the hill that formed the horizon, just where the sun came up. As the giant orb rose behind him, he was thrown into stark relief. Just a two-dimensional black shadow from the lens of the camera. But his head was held high, the large rack of antlers so clearly defined I could count the points. The rest of the hilltop was dotted with trees. It was such a pretty scene that when the sun got too bright, I stopped for a little celebration dance.
I turned and walked back into the woods to capture anything and everything that caught my eye in the dim morning light. It wasn’t long before I was switching to my last roll of film. I marched back up the hill to the cliff and set out the towel I’d stuffed in my purse. Leaning back against the tree, I sighed, looking out over the hills in the bright midday sun.
I pulled out the food and nibbled on the bread and eggs separately. Sipping the water, I pulled Midnight out of my bag. I’d debated on whether or not to bring it. It was my last book and the only thing to entertain me outside of daytime soap operas on the local TV stations we received. But the book won because I knew what I needed was some quiet time, alone.
Away from everything. Away from Xander. Because Xander made me think. But he made me think about the wrong things. He distracted me with his presence, and that presence seemed to dredge up memories of my past.
And I knew part of the day’s plans included doing exactly that—thinking. I needed to catalog every memory I’d had since arriving here, arrange my thoughts, and make a logical conclusion. I couldn’t let my issues or hormones cloud my judgment. So, the longer I stayed out there, the better.
The spine creaked as I opened the book. Just a few hours of peace, then the time for thinking would begin.
The edge of the sun was brushing against the tops of the trees, casting shadows throughout the woods. I knew it was getting late. Reluctantly, I shut my book and placed it in my purse. Xander. His name brushed against my conscious thought like a soft breeze. I was going to have to think about him soon. I was out of time—and options—to avoid it any longer. It was getting late. I needed to start heading back.
I took a deep breath, looking out over the landscape, as if the trees held my answers. They didn’t. But I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that not all the facts lined up. There was something I was missing. It was like I had half the pieces to a thousand-piece puzzle. I could see the scattered bits and pieces, but not the entire picture.
What I did know was that the missing pieces were askew. The whole picture was off. What I did have didn’t line up with the story he gave me.
And that was the other thing—he never really gave me a story. Just that he was retired and from a different country. He had a sister that he was reminded of by watching a chicken. It was pretty sad, that what I did know about him I could still tally on one hand, and I was fucking the guy. What the hell did that say about me?
Though now that I thought about it, the same could be said for every other guy I’d ever slept with too. Which had me thinking all sort of thoughts about myself. And not any of it good. I needed to derail that train of thought because the whole point of this was I needed to figure out what to do.
I needed to clea
r my head of all the bullshit and think. Just fucking think. That’s why I came out here—to get distance, and with that distance regain a clarity of thought. Clear my mind. Trees. Nature. Clean air. A soft breeze. Deep breaths.
I tipped my head back and let it rest against the tree trunk as I watched the white fluffy clouds roll by in the clear blue sky. I swear one of the clouds looked like a hand wrapped around a thigh. My thigh. His hand. I buried my fingers in my hair and squeezed at the roots.
A thought did occur to me then. It was in the surety that Xander had when we were together. The way he knew exactly what he wanted. There was a precision to our encounters—the precision that’d be needed to torture a man for weeks, yet not kill him. The surety that would be needed to coldly put a bullet between someone’s eye to take their life.
I sighed. I was being overly dramatic.
There were things he did that pointed to another conclusion, like the fact that he reminded me to take the gun before I left. Why would he do that if he was the only danger? Why would he give me the gun in the first place? He obviously believed there was a danger to me, other than him.
I hopped up, gathering my things to head back. I still had a couple of hours of walking to think it through. As I picked up my stuff, it struck me like a bolt of lightning. I needed to go back to the body. I didn’t want to. There was no telling what condition it would be in. But I’d been with or near Xander since that night; he never had a chance to go back to the body. So, if it was still there, untouched, then it was likely that Xander was the killer.
Who knew what had happened to my car. That man could’ve been a thief or some random stranger on the road. We hadn’t stuck around long enough, and I hadn’t noticed if there were any other cars nearby that he could’ve arrived in. I was too busy trying to survive to catch the details of my surroundings.
