Chapter 4 Caleb
CALEB
Bet you jerk off watching her sleep.
Fucking Ethan Kane. I can’t get his dumb fucking words out of my head. They’re on a loop like a broken CD.
… jerk off watching her sleep… watching her sleep… watching her—
“Fuck,” I hiss, setting my beer down on the coffee table with a thud.
I need to take a shower and take care of this boner before I do something stupid, like telling her that the gray suit she wore today really brought out the gold in her hair. And how much I want to rip it off her body.
After turning off the TV, I double-check the locks. I should make sure Basia is alright too. It’s something I do a few times a night since I started sleeping on her couch. Not an anomaly. Nothing unusual.
But somehow, I find myself standing at the foot of her bed. Fucking watching her sleep. I haven’t allowed myself this before, knowing I’m like an addict and it’s my gateway drug. How long can I just watch her sleep, not touching her, not… claiming her?
My breathing grows deeper the longer I stand there. Her face is illuminated by thin lines of moonlight slipping through the slats of her blinds. She looks so innocent in her sleep—younger than her thirty-two years—and far too good for the likes of me.
I’m a washed-out Green Beret. They pinned the fallout from a bad call on my shoulders, and like a good grunt, I carried it. Rebuilding my reputation after that took a hell of a lot of work. The list of satisfied ultra-wealthy, ultra-powerful clients is a long one.
And yet, I feel like my hands are too dirty to touch an angel like her. She’s an Ivy League princess. I’m the bastard son of two nobodies. But despite that… I want her so fucking bad. More than I ever wanted any woman before.
I don’t even know when I moved closer. It’s like I’m in a fugue state, operating in a dreamlike haze. The backs of my knuckles hover over her soft cheek before I pull my hand back and clench my fist.
Basia makes a soft moaning sound, and that’s when I realize I’m harder than granite. My cock spurts precum into my pants in reaction, soaking the tented fabric.
For months, I resisted the pull, kept a professional distance. But she’s asleep. She’ll never know I’m here and so fucking hard up for her that my zipper feels like it’s lowering on its own.
I almost groan in relief when my dick is freed from its prison. My hand’s wrapped around the base before the object of my obsession takes another deep breath, and I throw my head back, stroking myself from top to bottom with firm, rough pulls.
Basia’s eyelashes flutter, but her breathing is deep and slow, and I know she’s sleeping soundly. Wonder what kind of dreams a girl like her has. Untainted. Unsmeared by the filth of life I know so well. The urge to dirty her up is overwhelming. Arousing.
I take another step closer and widen my stance, reaching down to tug on my balls.
The depraved things I want to do to her…
skullfuck her until she passes out from lack of oxygen.
Take her ass so hard she feels the imprint of my cock for days.
Tie her arms above her head and mark her unblemished porcelain skin with a flogger until every inch of her, every red mark, screams that she’s mine.
Pulses of electricity zap down my spine with every new fantasy, and I can feel myself hurtling toward a monstrous orgasm that’s going to blow the top of my dick off when it erupts.
“You’re mine, darling,” I whisper. “Mine to protect. Mine to corrupt.”
Two more strokes and my hips thrust forward. In the last moment, I cover my cockhead with my palm, intercepting the blasts. I clench my jaw hard to keep my growls down as I unload months of pent-up tension into my hand, wishing it were Basia’s sweet body I was filling up.
I come down all at once, clarity invading like a sledgehammer to the head. I look down at my scarred, calloused palm, overflowing with cum.
What was I thinking? She could’ve woken up, caught me with my hands on my dick, jerking off while watching her like a mouth-breathing creep. She’d fire me, and rightly so. I’m as much of a stalker as the person sending her threats. The difference is, I’d never, ever hurt her like that.
I take one last look at her before quietly backing away and out of her room.
Poe winds between my legs as we change places by her side. It’s like he’s telling me he’ll look after her now, that I can go to sleep. For a moment I feel guilty. What I was doing wasn’t protecting her.
But I’m already thinking about how I’ll do it again. Already addicted to the only release I’ll allow myself, but one I can’t deny now that I tasted it. I just need to make sure she never sees me in her room at night.
There are ways to ensure a deep, uninterrupted sleep. Some of them I’d never use on her. Anything that messed with breathing. Anything that lingered in the bloodstream. Anything that would leave her foggy in the morning. No, nothing unsafe, addictive.
I consider black market avenues I haven’t touched since my last contract overseas and immediately dismiss them. Anything bought in the dark is risky. I’ll never risk Basia.
Obviously, I can’t ask Damien—he’d cut my dick off at the root if he knew I wanted it to perv over his baby momma’s best friend at night. But I did make connections with various concierge medical services while working with my high-profile clients.
One quiet call is all it takes.
Soon, I have what I need, discreetly delivered the same night.