A Serial Killer's Obsession

My Serial killer walks away, his fingertips drifting across mine as he departs toward the pretty fool upon the balcony. The front door swings open and his dark locks catch on the draft, tracing across his otherworldly sapphires. His touch lingers in that last moment, and the alluring curl of his lips tells me he senses the way my breath hinges. He knows exactly what he does to me: his dark goddess on her knees.
He glides up the stairway toward her, flawless in his charcoal suit, yet still emanating the tousled sultriness of making love to a woman, hard, only minutes before.
Oh. The darling victim stiffens as he targets her and, with quick gulps, finishes her dark wine. A stained tongue flicks out excitedly as she realizes, He’s coming for me.
And what does she see as he eats the distance between them? Masculine beauty wrapped in wealth? That air of irresistible cockiness? She drinks in his velvety voice and her laugh wavers as tingles slide down her spine. His claws extend toward her tender flesh, so gentle they couldn’t possibly scathe…
What lies beneath his charming exterior caresses her killer instincts, but where she should be afraid, she’s excited. She can’t deny him, because she can’t think. She only feels…