Living in Derry Maine as a Bowers wasn't exactly a fairytale. Leslie Bowers was just trying to survive since her mom left, leaving Henry and her to their dad's vices. But Patrick Hockstetter happened. And he changed everything.
#1 in Stephen King ❤️...
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I could barley contain my smile from the moment i awoke to find Patrick underneath me, our naked bodies half exposed with a subtle breeze from my open window softly caressing my back. This was the very first time I ever saw him so vulnerable. He looked so innocent when asleep. But awake? He was a total nightmare.
"Keep staring at me like that and I'll have to go for round two Princess." I softly chuckled at him before raising up out of bed to greet the day ahead of us. That's when it dawned on me. He stayed. Something he never does. He always told me he wouldn't because it would only complicate things, ruin what we have going.
"You gonna be lazy all day lover boy? Or are you going to get your ass up out of my bed?" I scrummaged through my closet to find an outfit I could wear for the day, planning on heading over to what would be my moms new house, before settling on my usual type of style.
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"I don't know whether to find this new attitude of yours sexy, or really fucking annoying." I sent a little smirk his direction once I finally got my outfit on, before his arms suddenly laced around my waist, pulling my hair away from my neck to leave a little love bite with a hickey definitely forming as we speak.
"Good luck trying to hide all the hickey's I leave on you." He wanted me to get caught. That was his entire game. He wanted things to explode, the thrill of it more of a turn on than anything to him. He'd fuck me right in the living room if he could. Of course, he'd end up a dead man if my dad ever saw something remotely like that going on in his house. Patrick was one of his least favorite people on earth, constantly dealing with him since he was little. He always knew Patrick killed Avery. But there was no absolute proof. So they couldn't do a thing about it except chalk it up to an accident.
"Oh you'd just love for me to get my ass beat for it." He simply smirked in pure pleasure, the mere thought sending jolts of lust through him, oddly. He always got off on pain. That was his game.
"It mostly has to be by my hands." He suddenly slapped my ass so incredibly hard that I whined a little too loudly for his liking. That's when I heard it, my dad's heavy footsteps bounding down the hallway on his usual morning routine of waking our asses up, earning a scowl from Patrick for being too damn loud. Whoops.
