5. Nikita #2
Making a quick stop to grab a pizza for lunch, I race back to my apartment.
I’m already sitting at my desk and starting on my second slice when I see Savanna walk out of her class.
The bag I’d bought her is slung across her chest, and I can’t help but notice the way she keeps running her fingers over it.
I’d grabbed the bag at the last minute. Unlike the brand-new equipment I’d given her, the leather bag is one of my old ones.
I thought she might like it, and I also really liked the idea of her carrying around something that belongs to me. It looks good on her.
I keep her in my line of sight, watching as she heads for her next class.
She has a thirty-minute break between them, so she finds an empty bench beneath one of the many maple trees that grow on campus.
I’m not at all surprised to see her start spreading books out and then carefully pulling her new laptop out.
She still looks scared to touch it, but I can tell she’s also excited to try it out.
A smile plays at my lips while I watch her use her finger to unlock it.
“You’re not going to break it, Van,” I whisper. “Use the damn thing, sweetheart.”
As if she can hear me cheering her on, she uses the trackpad, and then her fingers are flying over the keyboard.
I’m dying to know what she’s doing, so I tear my eyes from her and look at my other screen, the one that’s a mirror of the laptop in her hands.
I watch her move the cursor and open a new document in Pages.
She quickly starts typing up her notes from class.
I turn back to the live feed of her, grinning like an idiot because I’m damn proud of her.
I finish off my lunch while I watch her work, and when she only has about fifteen minutes before her next class, she stops typing and then stretches her arms up and rolls her shoulders a few times.
Reaching over to grab her textbook, she freezes, and even with the grainy image from the CCTV camera, I can see that she looks scared to death.
My first thought is Cupid has sent someone after her, but then she jumps up and flings her book aside.
The MacBook Air falls to the grass, pulling another horrified look from Savanna before I finally realize it must’ve been a bug that she’d seen.
A few students walk by, and Savanna laughs and points a finger at the bench before stretching her hands out in what I’m guessing is supposed to be a very inaccurate guess at how big the bug was. According to her, it’s of the dinosaur variety, and I laugh at how damn cute she is.
Dusting the laptop off, she runs her hand over it, and I know she’s sending up a prayer to whoever will listen for it to be okay.
I don’t give a shit about the computer, though.
I’ll just buy her another one if she breaks it.
She seems relieved, and since it still looks fine on my end, I’m assuming it’s okay.
After packing everything up, she jogs down the sidewalk, just making it to her next class with only a minute to spare.
While she sits through her educational psychology class, I dive back into the dark web.
All the joy that I’d just felt at seeing Savanna drains away when my screen is filled with images I’ll never be able to scrub my brain clean of.
Instead of her sweet, beautiful face, I see the faces of women who have been severely traumatized.
It’s the kind of pain that will never leave them, and I hate that I can’t erase what’s happened to them.
I hate that it took me so long to catch the bastard who’s responsible for this.
He finally fucked up, though, and now I have his identity and location. The file I’ve put together for Agent Jackson is thorough, and in sharp contrast to the sparse message I write to go along with it.
I’ve caught another one for you, Agent Jackson. Make sure you put this fucker away for life.
Talk soon,
—Nobody
By the time Jackson opens the email, the path it traveled to get to him will already be gone.
I take one last look at the images on my screen, knowing I’ll never be free of them, but also knowing it’s worth it if it gets these poor women out of the hell they’re currently living in.
I silently wish them a better future before I send it off and then hide my copy of everything in a password-protected folder with all the others I’ve sent to the FBI.
No longer having an appetite, I shove my leftovers in the fridge, and when Savanna is safely at her next class, I squeeze in an intense workout and a quick shower. I’m hooking the towel around my waist when a text comes in. I see my Uncle Vitaly’s name pop up on my screen.
UNCLE VITALY:
Don’t ask questions, Niki, but I need you to delete the footage from the elevator security camera. I highly recommend you don’t watch it.
I groan and send him a text.
ME:
Remind me to show you how to do this yourself.
UNCLE VITALY:
We both know I’ll just forget. This way is easier.
ME:
For you. It’s traumatic as hell for me.
UNCLE VITALY:
Only if you watch the footage. Don’t get nosy.
ME:
You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll erase it. Again.
UNCLE VITALY:
Thanks, Niki. Don’t forget about supper at our place this weekend. Bring Savanna.
I shouldn’t be surprised, I really shouldn’t be, but I am. If there’s any gossip to be had, my uncle will find it.
ME:
We’re not dating.
UNCLE VITALY:
That’s what you say, but I bet you anything your aunt and I will be getting a wedding invitation in a month or two. Bring her to supper. She’s a sweet girl.
ME:
I’m going to go erase the footage and pretend it’s not what I think it is.
UNCLE VITALY:
Probably for the best. See you both this weekend.
I ignore the assumption that I’ll be bringing Savanna and instead wipe the footage.
It’s not the first time he’s asked me, and I know it won’t be the last. The worst part is that he’s not the only uncle to ask me.
Thankfully my own dad knows enough to wipe it himself, but I’ve been put in charge of everyone’s security, so I’m left erasing everyone’s quickie footage.
I swear no one in this family can keep it in their pants, and I’m too busy being jealous to get pissed about it.
I’d give just about anything to be able to sink inside Savanna while we race against the clock.
The mere thought of it is enough to have me tenting the towel I’m still wearing, and to make the situation even more unbearable, I look over in just enough time to see her walking out of class.
Her long, blonde hair blows in the soft breeze, and I can easily imagine fisting the soft strands while I kiss my way up her delicate neck, sucking the soft skin while I feel her whimpers vibrate against my lips.
Sitting, I part the towel and fist my cock.
I tell myself that I’m not crossing the line.
I didn’t put a secret camera in her room, and I’m not jerking off to her while she’s naked and unaware.
She’s fully clothed for fuck’s sake, and it’s still more than enough to get me off.
Not even the blurriness of the image stops my appreciation of the view.
I don’t focus on her tits and ass, although I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love them both.
When I start to stroke my cock faster, I’m looking at the way she hooks her hair behind her ear and then brings her hand down to touch my old messenger bag, like she wants the reassurance that it’s still there.
Pre-cum coats my length while I work myself faster, watching her walk down the sidewalk.
Every few feet, she touches that bag again, and I groan while I imagine those same fingers stroking me.
The thing that pushes me over the edge, though, is knowing that every time her fingers touch that leather, she’s thinking about me.
Knowing I’m on her mind is what tips the scales.
I have just enough time to use my other hand to close the towel again before I’m groaning Van’s name as my body tenses and I come hard.
I pulse in my hand while my eyes stay locked on her.
“Holy fuck,” I groan when I’m finally empty. I lazily stroke my softening cock as she heads back to her sorority house. “Look what you’ve done to me, Van. You’ve completely ruined me, sweetheart.”
I’m not sure how in the hell I’m going to be able to look her in the eye after this.
I feel like I’ve crossed a line, one I should probably be ashamed of, but there was no way I could resist, especially after seeing her last night and then again this morning.
Besides, it’s definitely not the first time I’ve gotten off thinking about her.
This time I just did it a little differently.
Once she’s safely inside, I debate the pros and cons of texting her. Since I apparently have no willpower or pride where she’s concerned, I grab my phone, ignoring the fact that I’m still wearing a cum-soaked towel, and send her a quick message.
ME:
How are you liking the laptop?
VAN:
Niki?
ME:
Yeah, it’s me.
VAN:
How did you get my number?
ME:
Wow, you must really think I’m a terrible hacker.
VAN:
That’s not what I meant! I just thought maybe Cindy gave it to you.
ME:
Nope, I found it all on my own. So, the laptop?
VAN:
I love it so much. I didn’t realize computers could be this fast, and it never just glitches out and stops working. I didn’t realize how bad George was.
ME:
He was pretty bad. I’m glad you like this one better.
VAN:
I really do. I can’t thank you enough.
ME:
You don’t need to thank me.
I’d planned on asking her if she wanted to grab something to eat with me later, but now I’m worried she’ll say yes just because she feels indebted to me. I’m still debating what to do when her next text comes in, making me let out a relieved breath when I read it.
VAN:
Don’t feel like you have to say yes or anything, but do you want to get something to eat later?
I’m glad she can’t see the ridiculous smile I’m wearing when I tell her I’ll pick her up at seven.