19. Busted
Chapter nineteen
Busted
Haze
S al leaves the house for Sweet Alchemy after dinner, muttering about inventory and orders as the front door clicks shut behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on me. I find myself drawn to the computer. What is it about Anise that has him in such a chokehold? We haven't talked about what happened at Sweet Alchemy or the fire. The unsaid has become a living entity, a fog so thick neither of us can breathe in this house. Sal walks on tenterhooks. I'm tired of him observing me. He doesn't look at me anymore. What is it about her that's ensnared him so thoroughly? Unanswered questions line up and scream for answers as I log into Behind the Lens.
I log in as DarkandDisturbed, the anonymity of the screen name offering a sense of security and detachment. I scroll through the available rooms, my eyes landing on Anise Twist. The thumbnail image shows her in a black leather outfit, her pale skin stark against the dark material. I click on her room, the screen filling with the live feed.
The scene is dark, the lighting focused on Anise as she dances around a chair. A man sits in the chair, his hands tied to the sides, only the back of his head visible. The contrast of her pale skin against the black leather and wig is stunning. She moves with a grace and confidence that is captivating, her breasts pressed almost flat in the corset while her thick thighs and ass curve under the perfect cut of her shorts.
My periphery fades as my focus narrows to Anise's world.
She begins to strip, her movements slow and deliberate. Metal plays in the background, stimulating some primal part of my brain as she crawls like a spider toward the man. Her ass glows against the gleam of black patent leather. She flows up his legs, her body sinuous like a snake as she remains just out of reach of his restrained hands and his mouth. When she finally touches him, his head falls back, his shoulders and chest jerking with short, hard breaths.
My blood heats, my hand slipping down inside of my sweats. My cock is hard, twitching with each sway of her hips. When she draws her fingertips down his chest, I feel her nails scraping down mine.
Then she turns, rocking her ass, her hands on her knees as she grinds her way down over his lap. Her black hair is thrown back, and I can see the strain in his shoulders. His fists are clenched, his forearms corded as he strains against the bonds.
What would Sal look like, tied in a chair with her dancing around him?
I grip my cock, stroking.
The lights begin to strobe. She flips around, not facing the man but the camera. Violet eyes, bright against the stark scene, lock onto mine. My breath quickens, the speed of my strokes increasing.
She straddles him, leaning back as she undulates on his lap, one hand wrapped around his neck. Black nails gleaming, she produces a switchblade. The blade flicks out, and she slips it under the skin tight black swatch of fabric around her chest. With a flick of her wrist, her top falls away. Black straps crisscross her chest.
She catches her lower lip in one sharp little canine as she arches her back, grinding her pelvis over his lap. Ecstasy begins to burn her eyes as her gaze remains fixed on the camera.
She's challenging me, taunting me.
I can't decide if I want to be the man in the chair or the man hidden in the dark, watching the exquisite torture of her plaything.
She picks up speed, her movements hitching, her ass bouncing as she thrusts, rubbing herself over the length of his cock as her orgasm begins to unwind inside of her. My abdomen tightens, my fist squeezing as my balls tighten.
She never takes him inside. Although I doubt anything is dry, she uses him like a toy, not needing insertion to reach her peak. She’s so fucking hot.
She lifts the knife and licks the blade. A bead of red blooms on the corner of her mouth. The knife clatters to the floor. Licking the corner of her mouth, she never takes her eyes off me as she licks his cheek and explodes.
My dick jerks as I come, my harsh breathing and grunts are loud as the music fades and the lights dim on my screen. Carefully, I withdraw my hand from my pants, my fingers curling around the handful of thick fluid I've collected.
The door bangs shut. "What the fuck, Haze?"
Sal’s chest is heaving. His face is pure rage, but in his eyes…betrayal shines, glaring and blinding. I’m afraid to stumble and fall into the chasm of hurt beneath the surface. I swallow hard, reflexively, my brain scrambling as if there were anything I could possibly say while I sit here with a hand full of cum and his new girlfriend’s cam company on my laptop screen.
He storms into the bathroom, whipping a washrag at me when he returns. Then he disappears into the room he was staying in. “I’m going back to Albany’s,” he says loudly.
“Albany’s?” I parrot, confused. I wash my hand off and stand. I toss the rag into the bathroom as I follow him into the room.
He throws a shirt in his bag, then leans on his knuckles on the bed. “Fuck,” he mutters. “She’s going to kill me.”
“Who’s Albany?” I ask, my stomach twisting. My brain is shutting down. Something is familiar about that name. I’m unable to stop the questions from bursting from my lips, but my brain is shutting down. That name means something to me. I know it. Something, some memory, is clawing and thrashing in my head to get out while the rest of my mind is scrambling to lock me away. I lift my hand and rub my forehead between my thumb and my fingers.
Sal sees me struggling. “I don’t know what to do here. I’d ask you to tell me what you were doing, but I don’t believe you’ll tell me the truth. Are we gonna talk about what happened?”
“Will you stay?” I bite out harshly.
“I don’t know,” Sal admits. Sinking to the bed, he shakes his head, looking miserable. “Are we going to end up in the same place we always do?”
I wander over to the standard dresser he’s sitting in front of and casually lean against it. “I don’t want you to go,” I confess, my voice rough. “Having you home has been…really nice,” I finish lamely.
He gives me a look. I shrug helplessly. “You know I’m shit at talking about my feelings.”
“Were you always that way?” he asks. His eyes are clear. He’s genuinely curious. And I can’t blame him. I’ve never discussed my life before the accident with Sal. Just the bare minimum facts. I know my family has filled in a lot of the blanks for me. What was I supposed to tell him? That I doubt I’ll ever love anyone the way I loved Angie? That I was dead inside when I met him? That having sex became a method of self-flagellation?
“I didn’t have a lot of feelings I needed to talk about,” I say hesitantly, desperately scrambling for the correct way to say what I mean as he begins to shut down. “I lived a golden life, Sal. A very comfortable life. The worst thing that happened to me…before the accident...was my basketball career getting destroyed by an injury. Even when…Sydney got diagnosed…I never considered we wouldn’t beat it. I had the family business to fall back on, I was in love with my wife, and I had two children I adored. I had nothing to talk about.”
Sal’s jaw goes lax, dropping as I speak. Slowly shaking his head, his eyes fill with disbelief. “Haze. Your daughter had fucking cancer. You didn’t need to talk about that?”
“I talked about it with Angie. I didn’t need anyone but her.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I flinch, imagining they must be painful for Sal to hear.
But the confession doesn’t seem to faze him. He looks…thoughtful. I tilt my head, as if a new angle might give me some insight into what he’s thinking. Crossing my arms over my chest, I grip my elbows, willing myself to stay still when he speaks his truth about my family. If he says one word about my dead wife, I can’t guarantee I won’t fly into a rage.
“You called her Anise, Haze. You know who she is. What she does. What I saw today? You know where she works. Was that her on the screen, Haze? Did you jerk yourself off to her pretty face and that delectable ass?” He whips up a hand to stop me from speaking when my mouth opens. “How many times has she made you come without ever touching you?”
I gape at him as he stands. A few swift strides and he’s in my personal space, his hand down my pants. My cock is still semi-solid, still thick from Anise. His other hand grips my face hard. “How long have you been watching her, Haze? How long have you been captivated by her?” He kisses me roughly. “Did you watch her for me, Haze? Or did you watch her for yourself?” He squeezes, twisting his wrist as he strokes my sticky dick.
My heart is hammering in my chest. He hasn’t asked me if I love him. He hasn’t begged for affirmation. I grab his hips, jerking him tighter against me, inhaling the sweet, spicy cocoa scent that lives in his skin.
I want him. The urge to push him down and tie him to a chair in a dark room is strong. No, not a chair. Something…for three. I could bend him over a table. Yes. Order him to bow in front of her while I rail him. I could pull on his hair, force him to watch Anise touch her tight little pink cunt. I groan.
And then Sal chuckles. His plush lips travel up my jaw, biting my lobe as his sweet, cinnamon-infused breath is a heated whisper in my ear. “You can’t think about me right now, not without her, can you?”
Panic flares. If I admit to him that he is indeed correct, after what he just caught me doing, I’ll have lost all footing. I won’t have a reason to refuse him. I think about the naughty chameleon on my screen. How she looks different every time I see her. How her hair, her nails, and her outfits change color and theme every time I log on. But one thing never changes, and that’s her confidence. I’ve never met a woman so absolutely at ease with her own sexuality. My cock stiffens as I think about her.
“God damn Haze,” Sal hisses, his hand squeezing painfully. “Why is admitting you want her anathema? You can’t hide it, not when my hand is wrapped around your dick.” He withdraws his hand. “I won’t ever understand what you went through when your family died, Haze. No one can. But I can be here for you. I think I’ve proved I’m willing to walk beside you while you grieve. I can make space for them in our lives. But what I can’t do is suffocate in their shadows while drowning in the lies you tell yourself. Love me enough to be honest with me or let me go. Because I love you, Haze, but not enough to lie to either of us.”
He pushes me back out of his space, as if being this close to me makes him sick. My ass bangs into the dresser as he snatches his bag off the bed and leaves. He doesn’t look back. My cock throbs as he storms away, my fists clenching. Quickly, I close the door and lean against it. Because if I follow him, he’s going to find himself thrown over a table.
And I don’t know if I could take him the way I want to without silver hair and a pale pink pussy splayed wide in front of him.