Sinnerman

Chapter 28 Other Halfs & Clandestine Liasons

*Trigger warnings; deaddovedonoteat non consensual sexual assault at the end*

Kitten never ran out of ways to surprise him.

She's been oddly uncommunicative all day. Usually a text passed between them both at some point in their separate work days. But today was her day off, and he's not heard a thing.

It ate away at him.

Not to say he was worried. But he had found himself reaching to look at his phone more times than was usual. Every time he saw it empty of notifications, he had to try and let his worries slip away quietly. He was Kylo Ren. He never worried. It was a waste of energy. This dependency farce was really a niggling little annoyance.

He wasn't paying any mind to the fact that he found he broke several speed limits getting to her place tonight. He grumpily pushes it out his head as he sped through the woods, bound homeward. Her cosy place came into view and his ugly rotten, paranoid instincts relaxed their grip on him. As did he unclench his death grip on the Aston's steering wheel.

He parks up and hauls his things inside. It was a still, cool evening. Not a breath of wind ruffled his clothes as he unlatched her front gate and strides through her neat lush green garden. He could smell the hyacinths she loves tending too so much. Always had vases of them dotted around the house. He steps up onto the porch, which creaks when he presses his weight on it. He's up and outside the front door. He doesn't stand on ceremony. He never does. He opens the door and walks right on in.

He'd barely got his feet past the doormat when a wave of heat and sweetness hits him. The smell was as heavenly and as domestic as it could get. Sugar. Peaches. Floury sticky pastry.

He inhales it and smiles. Smirking and stepping further in to look around her kitchen doorway. And there his simply sweet kitten was.

Up to her elbows in skinning peaches. Their sweet juices slippery wet on her hands. A mountain of them beside her still to do. Her hair was messily knotted atop her head. Some curls springing down where she's been working diligently. He supposed she's been at this for a while. Cause there isn't a spare inch of surface in her cosy kitchen that isn't covered by pies or cakes.

Something old and jazzy was playing through the radio. She's so concentrated on her task, she does a double take when she peers up at him. Her face breaking out into a smile when she does catch sight of him in her kitchen doorway.

He stares for a moment - just drinking in this sight. She's all rosy cheeked from the heat. In that blue flowery apron that's smeared in flour. She's in a simple white shirt and dark leggings - dusted with flour. Yet she's never looked more alluring to him. Especially with the collar of silver pendant she proudly displays around her neck.

The air is cloying saccharine. It smells sweet, hot, like juicy ripe fruit being baked. He hoped she never ran out of her traditionally unique ways of making him speechless with surprise.

Cause right now she looked like such a domestic little angel, it's making him stuck to the spot. Just drinking in the sight.

Irresistible. Sweet. Innocent. He wants to take her upstairs and corrupt the very goodness right out her entirely too lovely, charitable heart.

"If you dare tell me all this is for a church bake sale, Kitten. I'm going to have to put you over my shoulder, and take you upstairs this second, and fuck the living hell right outta you." He drawls as he chucks his jacket onto the dining table and comes close.

How was it the six foot, dark and dom ex-con had found the most goody-two-shoes, sweet and kindly homebody in the whole country to become obsessed with? He smiles. Shaking his head slightly in sheer disbelief of it all.