10. Ivy
Ivy
I t’s been a week since Dutton’s party and Billie’s moving out, and I just returned from a four-day trip to Miami, where I worked on my tan and had a little fun. Coming home to an empty apartment, I decided to finish up two projects I took on during the week and then found myself bored.
It’s midnight on a Friday night. I’d usually be out partying, but since I spent the last four nights doing exactly that, I don’t feel the urge tonight, despite receiving multiple messages asking where I am from acquaintances who want me to join their party.
I tuck my feet under my ass, still wanting to cure my boredom.
I go to the kitchen to get a bowl of cereal and milk, then sit back down at my computer.
I push my hair to one side, thinking about a particular rabbit hole I’ve been trying not to fixate on as of late.
My friends’ privacy is important to me, and I’d never invade it unless I think it jeopardizes their safety in any way.
Although I have the power to hack any of their things, I’ve made a point not to.
However, there’s someone I’ve always considered an exception to that rule.
Hawke. Because he’d do the same thing to me if he had the ability to hack like I do.
Hawke appears easygoing and goofy, but people underestimate his sharp mind.
I bite my bottom lip, my hands moving over the keyboard of their own accord.
Maybe a little peek won’t hurt. It’s not the first time I’ve spied on Hawke, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. At this time on a Friday night, he’s probably not even home.
He’s most likely either on a job with Eli or partying.
Hawke once let it slip that he had cameras installed both inside and outside his home after Eli officially took over as the boss.
I can only imagine their underworld dealings heightened with that change in leadership.
He was bragging about installing the best of the best, which I took as a personal challenge to access. It wasn’t a challenge whatsoever.
The first screen I pull up shows his garage. His Range Rover is parked inside, which doesn’t necessarily mean he’s home. I swear the reason he picked that car is because it’s the only one that he fits comfortably in.
I eat a spoonful of cereal as I switch cameras. The kitchen is empty. Then I flick to his bedroom. Why he thought it was a smart idea to put a camera in his there is beyond me, but I’m not surprised at men in his line of work having paranoia.
I flick to the living room, and that’s when I see him. He’s naked and thrusting into a woman.
My, my, my, I couldn’t have picked a better time to stalk the big oaf.
He has the woman bent over the couch, and she hugs a pillow clutched tight to her chest, holding on to it for dear life as he fucks her from behind. His hand slides into her hair before he fists it and pulls her back by it, angling her head toward the camera.
Hmm, pretty. She looks like a sporty type. Most likely a gym girlie. I don’t recognize her, but then again, Hawke generally doesn’t have the same person twice.
Hawke isn’t aware that I have access to his cameras because, obviously, what I’m doing is highly illegal. Not that it’s a deterrent for anyone in my family or intimate friend group.
I take another mouthful of cereal, leaning back and enjoying the show. The man is built like a god, one carved out of a mountain with the amount of muscle he carries, especially in his arms and chest. He has a nice ass too, and it’s a shame I can’t see it from this angle.
A small part of me wants to tell him how easy it is for me to break into his security, but another part likes that I can hold this secret over him.
Something begins to stir in my stomach. Anticipation. Desire. I’m imagining myself in the other woman’s place. It’s a dangerous type of torture, especially since I’ve almost gone a month without a man’s touch, which is my definition of a midlife crisis.
I look down at the cereal bowl in my hands. Oh my God, I’m at home on a Friday night, eating cereal and watching Hawke fuck some random chick. Maybe I really have hit an all-time low.
That just won’t do.
I put the half-full bowl down and then grab my phone.
I scroll through my contacts until I find his name, hovering my thumb over the entry.
Sure, I might be bored at home right now, but there’s a reason why I wanted to spy on Hawke in the first place.
Because, at the very least, he always promises fun. I hit call, curious if he’ll answer.
I bite my bottom lip, continuing to watch the live footage as he smacks the woman’s ass.
That’s when his phone screen lights up on the edge of the couch.
He looks at it, his eyebrows furrowing, and he yanks harder on the woman’s hair as he leans back slightly to grab it.
He continues thrusting into her as he brings the phone to his ear.
“Lover,” he purrs into the phone as the loud slapping of him thrusting into the woman echoes in the background. “You miss me?”
I can’t help but smirk triumphantly as the audio filters through my ear.
The woman he’s fucking looks at him over her shoulder, and I just know she has a big smile on her face, thinking he’s talking to her.
Too bad for her; he doesn’t speak to many women like that.
He continues to slide his cock in and out of her, not slowing his pace, as he shakes his head at her, confirming it’s not her he’s speaking to.
“No,” I reply as I lean back in my chair and kick my feet up on the edge of my desk. “A lot of noise over there. You okay?”
As I watch, his pace picks up, and I focus on his labored breathing. It does more for me than it should, but that low thrumming tingles down to my pussy.
“Getting my dick wet, lover, though I wish it were you who was wetting it.” He grunts, and the woman begins to go red in the face from exertion.
“You’re disgusting,” I say, playing with my necklace because my fingers are tempted to play with certain body parts instead, and I refuse to give Hawke that satisfaction, even if he wouldn’t know about it. It’s torture denying myself, though.
“You love it,” he growls back and slams into the woman. She screams, and he grunts as he jerks into her, coming. I can see the vein in his neck pulse as he holds her in place by her hip.
He licks his lips, satisfied, and the woman smiles in pleasure.
“Two pump wonder at it again?” I snark, focusing only on him as he smirks and pulls out of her.
“Would you believe me if I told you I lasted more than three this time?” he asks, dropping the rubber to the floor and then wiping his cock with a shirt.
“Wow, even a caveman can improve,” I reply, and his smile grows.
The woman turns to face him, and I hear her say, “That was my shirt.”
He taps her on the ass. “I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.
You can clean yourself up in the hall bathroom.
I’m on an important call,” he tells her as he walks away, buck naked.
She looks confused as she watches him, but anyone who knows Hawke’s reputation knows not to get attached.
But there are always those women who think they’ll be different.
She bundles her clothes from the floor and heads for his hallway.
I switch cameras just in time to catch him entering the kitchen.
“Now, why did you call me? It’s not every day I get a call from the one and only Miss Ivy Walker. I must be in some serious trouble today.” He pulls a jug of milk from the fridge. “Everything okay in Miami?”
“How’d you know I was in Miami?”
“You think I’d miss the opportunity to stalk those bikini photos in your IG story? I liked the baby-blue bikini the most, just in case you’re wondering.”
“Lucky that’s the one I burned as soon as I got home.”
He’s smiling again as he puts the jug back in the fridge and then leans his elbows against the counter, stretching out in all his glory. The guy has no shame, but I can’t ridicule him since I do the same thing.
“If you’re back in town, is this a booty call?” he asks arrogantly but with a bit of hope.
I lean over my legs to grab my cereal bowl again and shrug nonchalantly. “Just wanted to give you some advice,” I say before taking another mouthful of my cereal.
“Oh, this should be interesting.”
I can’t help but follow the movement of his body, the bunching of his muscles.
Hawke is not easy to ignore with a body like that.
The vivid memory of when my hands once ran over every ridge comes back to mind, making me almost salivate for it again.
I ogle his tattoos; plenty more have been added since that night.
His brother is the only one who tattoos him, and I can appreciate the art form on such a big-ass canvas.
It’s a shame his obnoxious, cocky personality overrides his physical perfection.
Then again, it’s the part I like about him the most, not that I’ll ever admit it.
I’ve never seen Hawke in action, though I have heard stories that he can get crazy when pushed, I imagine it’s very terrifying.
“I just thought you needed some tips,” I force out, reminding myself I have to speak instead of drooling into my bowl.
“Tips? Now, what type of tips do I need?” he asks. His gaze flicks toward the living room, most likely to check on the woman he was just fucking.
“With fucking,” I reply.
He chuckles. “You know firsthand that I can fuck. You can say you just wanted to hear my voice, lover.”
“The memory is a little hazy; we were both drunk. But I think I recall wondering when your dick actually entered me.”
He laughs then, a monstrous boom, bringing a smile to my face. I like the way Hawke laughs. It always sounds so freeing, but lately, when we have outings, I notice he doesn’t laugh as much.
“I remember every detail of your body,” he purrs, and it goes straight to my already pounding pussy. “But enlighten me. What’s your first pointer?”
I bite my lip, trying to decide how much of my hand I should tip. Should I let him know I’ve been watching him? I could keep it as my little secret, yet Hawke brings out my mischievous side.
“The way you just grabbed her hair and pulled on it was all types of wrong. You need to grab it from the roots. You see, as a fellow blondie, my hair is fragile, so it’s imperative to take hold of it correctly. If you don’t, you could break it.”
His gaze immediately slides up to the camera, and he smiles. I bite the edge of my nail, grinning like a dumbass.
“Is it?”
Busted .