Page 45 of When Death Whispers

“Well, I’m also good at making PB&J sandwiches, and I’ve recently learned how to make a prettydirtycup of tea.”

His eyes sparkle with mischief when he says the worddirty.Maintaining eye contact, he grabs a tea bag sachet and slowly, very slowly, rips it open with his sexy-as-sin mouth, holding the corner with his teeth.

My imagination instantly runs completely wild about other little packets he can rip open like that, in very different situations.

And fuck me, my pussy weeps at the sight.

I need a cold shower, or a vibrator, or my vibrator in the cold shower. “I, uh… just remembered I left my phone in my room,” I blurt, barely stringing the words together.

Hudson doesn’t call me on it. Doesn’t laugh. Just leans casually against the counter and smirks like he is fully aware of what’s going on in my head. “Don’t take too long, or I’m eating the last of your peanut butter.”

And the fucker scoops a spoonful straight from the jar and slowly licks it with the flat of his tongue.

I run into the counter in my haste to escape. And then he laughs. A joyful, carefree sound that makes my heart squeeze and my insides turn as warm as liquid honey.

“Touch my peanut butter and die,” I yell over my shoulder as I head toward the hall.

His laughter follows me and I flee.

Sort of.

In my room, the heat follows. Lingers. Sticks to my skin like a second layer. I press a hand to my chest, trying to slow my pounding heart. I’m not even sure if it’s Hudson’s closeness, his cheeky innuendos, or the memory of himinsideme—of that dream, that forest, the shadows.

The wind picks up outside, whistling low against the windows like a warning. It’s subtle at first—a quiet hush pressing against the house in the night, then a softtap-tap-tapat the glass like someone’s fingers dragging slowly across it.

I freeze.

Something’s off…

The usual background noise—the hum of the fridge, the creak of the floorboards where Hudson moves—it’s still there. But distant. Muted.

Then my bedside lamp flickers.

Once.

Twice.

The bulb flares unnaturally bright… then goes out.

Darkness rushes in like a held breath finally exhaled. But it’s not the whole house—light still spills faintly from beneath the door. So, just my room. Just me. Fantastic.

A prickle of unease spreads across my skin.

The silence presses in, heavy and thick, like the walls themselves are closing in around me. Like I’ve been tucked into some hidden seam of space, pulled from the fabric of the house and folded somewhere else entirely.

And then I hear something. A moan. Quiet, drawn-out. Familiar.

Because… It’s mine.

The same sound I made in the shower when the shadows first touched me. The same breathless cry from my dream—when Hudson was deep inside me, and those same shadows wrapped around us both.

A wave of lust crashes through me, pulsing low in my belly. My legs squeeze together involuntarily, like they’re trying to contain something already unraveling. I feel Hudson’s warmth inside me, like an echo. The imprint of his hands. His mouth.

The stretch. The sting. The need.

I’m not imagining it.

And I’m not alone.

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