Chapter 9 Caleb
CALEB
Imade dinner for Basia, Coleman, and the nightshift Secret Service agent, Matty Wheeler. Basia relaxed with two glasses of white wine, laughing at more of Teddy’s wartime stories, most starring me.
In hindsight, I can see now why he insulted my intelligence. The man has been hyping me up to Basia like we’re in college and he’s decided that he’s my wingman.
I like Matilda, unfortunate name aside. Her brown hair and eyes, average height and stature, and plain clothes make her an excellent agent, completely blending in with whatever situation she puts herself into.
I also had Kane look into her, and he found nothing suspicious.
That goes a long way when it comes to earning my trust. Not that I’m any less alert with Coleman and Wheeler on the job too—I’m guarding Basia as completely as I did before they showed up.
Two hours later, Coleman escorts Wheeler down to the lobby on his way out, and I’m doing the dishes while Basia gets ready for bed.
My mind’s going a hundred miles an hour, like a hamster on its wheel, spinning, spinning, spinning.
And no matter how much I run, my destination is always the same: Basia.
I place a coffee mug on the drying rack with a thud that feels too loud in the quiet apartment. I can’t handle this lack of control any longer. I tried. I fucking tried.
After making a cup of chamomile tea, I knock on Basia’s door. Poe rubs against my legs, expressing his delight over the peace that follows guests leaving, before high-tailing it into the living room, ready to reconquer it.
Basia’s sitting on her bed cross-legged, reading something on her phone.
“I made you some tea to help you sleep,” I tell her, nodding at the steaming cup in my hand.
The gentle smile that appears on her face makes me feel guilty, my heart squeezing in my chest.
“It’s like you’re reading my mind,” she sighs, then places her phone down on the mattress so she can make grabby fingers for the cup with both hands.
“Careful, it’s hot,” I warn, looking anywhere but at her eyes.
Basia blows on the surface before taking a small sip.
“Mmm, perfect,” she moans, making my balls jump. “Everything you do is just perfect.”
The tips of her ears are red with her admission, and it’s like she swept any doubt I had away with her delicate hands. She wants me too, I know she does. It doesn’t mean she’d have me—I’m still so far beneath her. But the desire is there.
I watch her slowly drink her tea while making idle conversation, then point to the hallway with my thumb.
“I’m going to hit the shower. Sleep well, Basia.”
“You too, Caleb,” she replies in a husky murmur. Her eyes are already starting to droop. Perfect timing.
I wash myself perfunctorily, ignoring the throbbing in my shaft, then walk out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around me—Basia will be sleeping deeply by now.
Just in case her dreams start to blur with reality, though, I rifle through my tactical gear for something that would offer some anonymity. I settle on a compact gas mask.
Perfect. I shouldn’t be kissing her anyway… shouldn’t get attached.
Like you’re not over your head already, Ward.
Not for the first time, I ignore the inner voice that tells me this is a terrible idea and enter Basia’s room as she sleeps.
She didn’t even get a chance to get under the covers, lying on top of them in pale pink pajamas with tiny red tulips printed all over.
I glance into the cup—empty. That’s my good girl.
Taking a deep, bracing breath, I move her so she’s fully on her back, then slide her pajama bottoms down.
The little red bow on her white panties makes my cock tent the towel I’m wearing, coming dangerously close to unraveling the knot.
I lean in and lower the mask so I can inhale the clean, soft scent coming from her covered pussy.
I throw a leg over both of hers, kneeling over her so I can admire her comfortably. Her labia are juicy and pronounced, sloping down to the smaller bump of her clit. I press my thumb against it, gradually applying more pressure until she sighs in her sleep, her thighs trying to squeeze together.
I don’t let them. I dream about a world in which she’d consent to me trying her legs open in a frog tie, surrendering herself to my mercy for hours of delicious sensual torture.
When I lift my finger, it comes off glistening with her honey, and the panties have a wet spot where I pressed down. With a grunt, I lower my face and take as much of her pussy into my mouth as I can fit, sucking through the fabric.
So fucking delicious. But not enough.
I tunnel my finger under the gusset, dragging it over her lower labia, getting it nice and wet from the juices already pouring out of her.
My cock leaks as I slowly push the digit inside her, her velvet walls a maddening heaven I never thought I’d experience.
Not a man like me, with as much blood as I have on my hands.
Hands I’m now using to pleasure this beautiful angel as she sleeps.
Basia’s head tips back as I rotate my finger and find the spongy patch of overlapping nerves, pressing against it rhythmically, and I remember to position the mask back over my face.
The material of the towel chafes against my cockhead, so I pause just long enough to tear it off, freeing my dick, before I start massaging her clit over her now-damp panties.
She mumbles in her sleep, and I slow down, leaning closer to try and catch the words.
“Please,” she breathes, making my cock bob against my lower stomach.
“Please, what, darling?” I ask quietly, my voice coming out distorted through the gas mask. I thrust inside her with three rough, consecutive strokes. “More of this? Or… stop?”
I pull out and caress her thighs with one hand, wrapping the other around my shaft and squeezing hard.
“No, don’t,” she answers, her eyes still closed. I hold my breath, my hand frozen on my cock. “Don’t stop,” Basia breathes.
It’s like her words have power over my heart, restarting it and pumping blood into my veins, making my skin prickle with satisfaction.
“I’ll never leave you hanging, darling,” I promise her. “I’ll always make sure you’ve had your fill.”
The need to come fogs my head, making a monster I didn’t know existed inside me salivate to take her, fuck her, fill her insides with my cum. But when I glance up at her face, still so innocent-looking despite her softly panting breaths, I clench my teeth and hiss.
I can’t do it. At least… not tonight.
Instead of ripping off her panties, I move up until I’m over her thighs and my dick is level with where it wants to be the most. I grab it and tap my cockhead against her mound, right over her swollen clit, almost visible through the soaked material.
When a string of my precum and her arousal connects our sexes, I let out a grunt of pain.
“I want you so fucking bad, Basia,” I growl. “So fucking bad it hurts.”
I start thrusting my hips while pressing my cock down against her body, each upward stroke bumping against her clit, each downward glide dragging against it.
“I’m going to spank your pussy with a velvet flogger until you come just from that,” I say as I drive us both higher. “Then I’m going to fuck you with the handle until you come again.”
I move faster, my movements jerkier, less controlled. I’m so losing myself in her, in her body, her panties like a failed chastity belt between us. I’m going to paint them with my cum soon.
“Oh,” Basia moans, her body tensing under me.
“Are you dreaming of me, darling?” I hiss through my teeth. “Is it me you’re going to come for?”
I take one of her breasts in my hand, tugging on the nipple through her top.
“Tell me,” I order, the words sounding incredibly sinister through the filters of my mask. “Tell me who you want fucking you, Basia.”
“Caleb,” she says with a long, drawn-out moan, signing her fate.
“That’s right. You’re mine. All fucking mine.”
I punctuate each sentence with a hard thrust.
Basia’s eyelids flutter, opening just enough for me to see the sparkle of the muted lighting reflect on the glassy surface. Then her eyes shut tightly as her body tenses under mine.
“Oh fuck,” I groan when I feel the waves of her orgasm where we’re connected through her underwear. “Fuck, Basia!”
I don’t bother muffling my growls as I finally let myself come, painting the tops of Basia’s panties and her lower belly, just like I fantasized. I don’t stop squeezing my shaft until the last drop is deposited, then use my fingers to rub it in, enjoying the way it mixes with her release.
I’m still breathing hard when the post-nut clarity hits me.
“Idiot, idiot, idiot,” I berate myself under my breath and mop as much of my cum as I can with the towel I discarded earlier. What are the chances she doesn’t notice she’s wearing different panties tomorrow?
Fucking nonexistent.
Still, I tug them down, not allowing myself to really look at her sex like that’s a punishment for my extreme stupidity.
I grab a clean washcloth and gently cleanse her, then take a similar pair from the drawer I know she keeps them in, avoiding the lacy ones.
Finally, I pull her pajama pants back on and cover her with the throw she keeps on her reading chair.
My fists clench and unclench as I stare at her for long minutes in silence.
If I don’t control myself, I’m going to thoroughly corrupt her.
And I’ll make her thank me for it.
With a final longing look, I turn off the light at her bedside table, plunging the room into darkness.