Chapter 2
GRAYSON
Fuck.
Am I really doing this?
The words from the agreement ran through my head and they were so simple it was impossible to forget them.
Emme: You can do anything to me for a week. Anything. Even if I scream no. I want the scariness, you know? Just no permanent damage.
Grayson: Sounds good. Agreed. Anything? Really?
Emme: Yes. Though anal isn’t my kink.
Grayson: Okay.
She wants the scariness of not knowing who I am. Even if she says no…
Sounds good had been a fucking understatement. I would’ve paid a million to get this from a girl. I had tried a few times and nothing had come of it. And Emme just volunteered. As for anal. Anything means anything. My mind had been spinning since those texts.
The stark rap of my shoes on the pavement threatened the serenity of the street.
As I approached my car, I clamped my hand around my phone. The pain from the edge of the casing was an effort to summon some sense and morality, like a monk flagellating himself with a barbed wire flogger to absolve himself of future sins.
This fake abduction was almost too good to be true.
What I had overheard from the women’s conversation was close to sexual torture, for they’d echoed my own perverted fantasies. Except mine were a step further into the dark. Thinking about it was one thing, but actually doing it?
And here I am. She arranged for the devil and I had come, just minus the pentagram.
I shook my head, but the temptation she represented kept rattling around in there and wouldn’t fall out.
I’d played this as a game before, but like she’d said, knowing it was a game ruined it.
Sure it had been fun, but it could have been so much… more.
Anything. That word unshackled me from the average CNC as long as I did her no permanent damage. A written contract would’ve been sensible, because I’m not certain texting is legally solid. I would check with my lawyer, without getting too specific. Later though.
After I take her.
I had all the time in the world to indulge myself and the money to do it with. But did I want to do something that could get me in trouble if she changed her mind?
Fuck, if the real thing was what she wanted, how could she be upset?
What would I truly do with a girl who delivered herself into my hands like a sweet little angel, begging to be bent over and fucked in the ass?
I smiled.
When she turned to go order coffee, the sway of her hips had made her coat swish across her rear.
That dress was split in a few indiscreet places.
I’d glimpsed black panties and the curve of that ass, the crease where ass met leg.
Sumptuous was the word that had come to mind.
I loved a fat juicy ass. The rest of her body had begged me to run my gaze over it, so I had, all the way up to her vibrant red lips.
Imagining myself making her kneel and open that mouth was the cherry on the top of my accidental voyeurism. I didn’t even know her full name, my friend hadn’t said, just that her first was Emme, but I knew her soft voice and what turned her on.
Seize the day? I opened the car door.
As I slid in and shut the door, I retrieved my phone from my pocket. I pulled up what she’d sent me in earliest texts.
She wanted consensual non-consent, CNC, with a stranger. I was that. If I took her and pretended not to be him, what would the problem be? It was the ultimate mindfuck.
Sure, she might be afraid when she thought she’d been taken by the wrong man, but from what she’d been saying, unpredictability and some fear was what she wanted.
I might’ve been some sort of serial killer. I might’ve been anyone. Dave barely knew me, despite what he’d told Charity. At least with me she’d be mostly safe.
Mostly.
“Fuck. What am I thinking?” I stared out the windshield then at my phone. This was a bad idea.
It wasn’t too late to talk myself out of it. However bad was far more exciting than good.
I read through that last message she’d forwarded, my heart pounding, my cock straining at my zipper. They’d sent the codeword so she could tell she was getting grabbed by the right man. The question was whether to use it. I’d only told her I might use it, if I thought I needed to.
I could trick her by using it then later say I knew it because I hacked the encryption on the café wifi, but it would be more fun to not use it. To have her mindfucked right from the beginning.
That scare factor she wanted was a mindfuck wrapped in filthy, almost believable lies.
Hypothetically.
I wasn’t really going to do this, was I?
From the safety of my car, I watched the café. There were few lights this far along the street, and the darkness was thick enough to cut with a flogger. Idly my thoughts switched to wondering what noises Emme would make when…or if, I used one on her pussy.
Watching the two women drink coffee and talk felt like watching a boring porno with the volume off. Both were attractive and lit up in that artificial box of light created by the window frame.
The friend rose and left the booth—presumably to use the washroom. My prey jotted something down on a napkin and laid it at her friend’s spot, then picked up her purse and stepped out into the night, breaking the fourth wall of the show I was watching. She was in my world and touchable.
Adrenaline surged, and I sat up straight. My eyesight seemed to ratchet a notch higher in focus. As she sashayed on her high heels across the uneven pavement, this moment was seared into my memory and stamped with the date, the time, and the condition of my dick.
Prey, meet hunter.
She headed down the street toward the old docks at the waterfront, where the abduction was scheduled to happen.
I’d thought maybe her friend would go with her—at least to watch from a safe distance, to make sure nothing unexpected happened—but when she came out of the washroom, she read the note and shook her head.
I could almost feel her rolling her eyes.
My little target had told her to stay behind?
I started the engine and pulled out, driving past my delectable treat, in her silver-spiked heels and flirty dress and coat. We left behind the safer, brighter-lit zone where people might spill from the club and hear her screams or see her being dragged to the ground and into a car.
After a left turn around a corner, it was a short drive before I found an immense tree to park beneath, close to the river. The heavy shadows were perfect.
There would be no CCTV cameras. The businesses had gone broke, years ago.
The only warehouse remaining was a burnt-out wreck.
There was no one to see anything, nothing to steal, and nowhere for the homeless to live.
Even lovers would have to be desperate to use this area for a date.
On one side were the remains of a wooden fence that used to shield the warehouse.
On the other side, low grasses and shabby bushes lined the riverbank.
A pale concrete pathway went meandering along there, going nowhere in particular.
Even in daylight, I couldn’t imagine this place had much traffic.
The slim crescent of moon reflected off the occasional shiny piece of tar, stone, or fragment of glass. Wrestling anyone to the ground would mean risking laceration.
By the time she appeared, wandering along, my car engine was shut down and the inner light adjusted so it wouldn’t turn on if I opened the door.
I had to wonder if she would have second thoughts. I would, if I were her. This place was a shithole ready to be a headline about a murder in the news.
Her head swung toward me as though she was checking the vehicle for an occupant, but it was too dark for her to see through the heavy tint on the windows.
She crossed to the river side where she had arranged to walk.
From the way she studied the ground, it was either very rough or the poor lighting made her doubt. Once, she stumbled.
How far would I go? That question was going around and around like a feverish mouse running on a wheel.
From the comfort of my car, I could watch her pace back and forth, and imagine it all going wrong with a killer taking her—imagine myself playing voyeur as he took her roughly once or twice before throwing her in his car and driving off.
I could take a few minutes to jerk off, then just drive home and crawl into bed.
I could spend the day tomorrow puttering around the house looking for something to do.
Imagine it. That was safer, for me and for her.
Retiring so young wasn’t agreeing with me. Overcoming obstacles and outthinking people was what I lived for. I was only in my mid-thirties and had no interest in taking up golf or playing competitive chess.
But this?
I leaned into the door and the armrest, getting more comfortable.
I should head straight to confession and unburden myself to the poor, unsuspecting parish priest. Maybe I should answer some of the phone calls and messages from various tech firms looking to acquire my expertise at an exorbitant price.
That would be the normal thing to do. That would be safe, sane, and consensual.
My thoughts and my immoral cravings were none of those.
Emme constantly scanned her surroundings and the river, though after ten minutes of nothing happening, the river drew most of her attention. A few times, she removed her phone from a pocket to check it. If there were any messages, they changed nothing.
Even in the car, it seemed to grow colder.
What was she thinking?
If she wasn’t at least a little scared, or worried, she was not normal.
I played with that idea—that her fears were building, clawing themselves upward to dominate her mind. Scared was good. It made my dick pulse, and I pictured her struggling under me, her panties torn and shoved aside so I could get access to that sweet, biteable ass.
I did a deep breathing exercise to calm myself.
Inhale. Exhale. Her, on the floor, wet and begging after I switched her. Now crawl to Daddy and ask forgiveness. I grinned at myself.