Hidden Sanity (Jeff The Killer Love)
- Reads 68
- Votes 3
- Parts 1
MatureOngoing53m
Last published Tue, Jun 25, 2013
As I slipped into her room, the darkness surrounded me. The light from the neighboring porch lights revealed her. Her breaths were slow, steady, and silent. Her skin was as pale as I remembered, but because of the darkness she looked lifeless. Her blonde hair covered her plush cheek as she laid there. I walked over and pecked her soft, flawless forehead. The sweet fragrant of roses swarmed her flesh. I pushed a strand of hair out of her face, then left. Is it even possible...she...I can't stay with her, I might harm her...I can't risk that, if I hurt her she might turn me in...
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"You gonna tell me your name?" he asked at last, his voice deep enough to crawl right under it. I shook my head. "No." Something in his expression sharpened-approval, maybe. "Good." He didn't come to me right away. He took his time, pushing off the door with deliberate slowness, each step closing the distance in steady increments. I didn't move. Couldn't. My back found the wall before he'd even touched me. He stopped just short-close enough for the heat of him to seep through the small space between us. His scent hit me first-smoke, whiskey, and something clean that didn't fit the chaos of the party outside. His head tilted slightly, studying my mouth, then my eyes, then my mouth again. His hand lifted-not to grab, not yet. Just to trace. The backs of his fingers skimmed my jaw, slow enough that I could feel every millimeter of skin they passed over. They trailed down the side of my neck, pausing in the hollow of my throat, not pressing-just resting there. "You've got that look," he murmured. "What look?" My voice was steadier than I felt. "Like you want me to ruin you." I should've laughed. Teased. Something. Instead, I held his gaze. "Maybe I do." The corner of his mouth twitched-not quite a smile, but something hungrier. Still, he didn't touch me the way I wanted him to. Instead, his knuckles dragged down my collarbone, over the bare skin just above my dress, grazing the swell of my breast without claiming it. "You sure you can handle forgetting?" he asked, his voice lower now, as if we weren't already breathing the same air. "Try me," I said. That broke something in him. His hands framed my face, thumbs brushing along my cheekbones, holding me still as his eyes searched mine like he was committing the color of them to memory. Then-finally-he kissed me.
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She looked very pretty, like a princess, without taking off her shoes or putting away her plate. He dropped his laptop and took the plates to the kitchen, then returned to the couch where Merry was sleeping. He sat down to remove her heels and took note of her dress, which was skimpy and revealing. All because of that guy , she has never dressed like that when she's out with me , and here she is going out on blind dates with a random guy. She even got herself hurt.He woke her up, and was greeted with a beautiful sight. She looked adorable, with her cute eyes, pink lips, and tousled hair. "A..are we going home already?" Merry asked. "It's too late to go anywhere. I'll show you to your room," Jean responded coldly. "Why are you acting like this? You've changed all of a sudden. I apologize already," Merry said, moving closer to him. Jean froze as their eyes locked. "It's fine, okay? You need to rest," Jean replied indifferently. Merry sensed something was wrong. "I want to go home. I don't want to stay here," she said, folding her arms and looking away. "And what makes you think I would let you go?" Jean responded. "I'm a grown woman, and you can't keep me here in your custody without my consent. That's kidnapping," Merry said.
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"You gonna tell me your name?" he asked at last, his voice deep enough to crawl right under it. I shook my head. "No." Something in his expression sharpened-approval, maybe. "Good." He didn't come to me right away. He took his time, pushing off the door with deliberate slowness, each step closing the distance in steady increments. I didn't move. Couldn't. My back found the wall before he'd even touched me. He stopped just short-close enough for the heat of him to seep through the small space between us. His scent hit me first-smoke, whiskey, and something clean that didn't fit the chaos of the party outside. His head tilted slightly, studying my mouth, then my eyes, then my mouth again. His hand lifted-not to grab, not yet. Just to trace. The backs of his fingers skimmed my jaw, slow enough that I could feel every millimeter of skin they passed over. They trailed down the side of my neck, pausing in the hollow of my throat, not pressing-just resting there. "You've got that look," he murmured. "What look?" My voice was steadier than I felt. "Like you want me to ruin you." I should've laughed. Teased. Something. Instead, I held his gaze. "Maybe I do." The corner of his mouth twitched-not quite a smile, but something hungrier. Still, he didn't touch me the way I wanted him to. Instead, his knuckles dragged down my collarbone, over the bare skin just above my dress, grazing the swell of my breast without claiming it. "You sure you can handle forgetting?" he asked, his voice lower now, as if we weren't already breathing the same air. "Try me," I said. That broke something in him. His hands framed my face, thumbs brushing along my cheekbones, holding me still as his eyes searched mine like he was committing the color of them to memory. Then-finally-he kissed me.
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