"Who knew you live in the middle of nowhere. You have the cliche serial killer cop act down. Maybe I should background check you and make sure no one's limbs are in your freezer."
"You're mind is such a strange and magical place isn't it?"
"If you're going to kill me, make me your only victim. That way when they show my photo on the news, they'll say my full name and life story. I don't want to be just another picture among a few others. If I'm dying, it's going to be a show."
"I wouldn't expect anything less."
Dox pulled up in front of his little cabin looking home. A black metal fence surrounded it with spikes shooting upwards.
He came around to my side of the car and helped me out, attaching me to his hip while we made our way to his house.
The inside was cold against my feet. I was used to Daisy keeping the fire on and always ready for hot chocolate on cold days, but it's the middle of summer, so why the freeze?
"Why is it so cold in here? Are you really going to kill me?"
"Why on earth would I kill the woman I love?"
"You really should start reading some more books." I rolled my eyes wandering down the hall to his little lounge room with black leather couches, huge windows, and a grey blanket. "What is this?Poetry?"
"Yes, my mother's house warming gift."
"Then why is it still so cold in this house? Is it because she chose such a pretentious piece?"
"What do you mean 'pretentious' Riv?"
"All poetry is pretentious. I don't make the rules."
"What makes it so?"
"If anyone feels the need to set their words to rhyme and rhythm all contained in neat little verses, they are clearly stuck up."
"Says the English major and soon-to-be-published author."
"You've never read any of my pieces. How would you know if they would make it to publishing or not?"
"Because my faith in you is boundless and doesn't need reassurance. It's like how you can depend on the moon to sit up in the sky no matter if you can see it or not."
"You always make it so mushy."
"I just can't help it." Dox walked over to me with the grey blanket in hand and wrapped it around my body and pulled my back to his chest.
"At least it's not in iambic pentameter or else you'd be a Shakespearn pretenisousist."
"I take it you're not a fan of William."
"His plays are brilliant, I was still just shitting on poetry." I giggled leaning my head back under his chin. "You're so warm."
"I love you."
"What for?" I mused.
"For pretentious poetry and cold houses. For the world that you tell it to be and everything you see it becoming. For sweet kisses and words left unsaid."
"That doesn't even make any sense." I smiled.
"Neither do you, my love."
"So kiss me sweet with your warm wet mouth, Still fragrant with ruby wine, And say with a fervor born of the South, That your body and soul are mine. Clasp me close in your warm young arms, While the pale stars shine above, And we'll live our whole young lives away, In the joys of a living love."
YOU ARE READING
Old Money Madness
RomanceOne of his hands was snaked around my back while the other dragged up my spine into my hair. With one hard tug, my head fell backward and the shower water covered my face. Gasping for air I felt his mouth make its way around the base of my neck. The...
