7. Chapter 7 – Lincoln
Chapter 7 – Lincoln
I n the shower, I stood with one hand on the stone and the other wrapped around my cock. I didn’t stroke furiously like I normally would when I needed to release.
In a relaxed manner, I ran my hand up and down, gradually increasing the pressure around the tip of my cock before easing it back through my firm grip.
Peyton was going to be mine. Tomorrow.
Tomorrow night, I’d have her.
Not as Lincoln, but as Dane. She’d cower and hide from me if she knew the truth, but not in the way I crave. I needed her to give in to her deepest desires and instincts the first time I had her.
I needed her to be free and open.
Mine.
The plan was set; the pieces leading up to the actual main event were already started, and I longed to be able to fast forward to tomorrow night when I’d feel her fear and excitement in my own hands .
The buildup would have to do until then, though. Which was why I pulled my fist off my cock and took two long deep breaths, feeling my body give way to my mind and allow me to do what I wanted.
My whole life I’d been called unpredictable.
Dangerous.
Unhinged.
The problem with that was, no one even knew the depth of those words besides me.
I was a fucking monster inside my head. And I rarely kept myself in check and controlled my urges to do whatever the fuck I wanted to do. That was why I lived in absolute solitude, away from anyone who could get hurt if I let go of control and snapped.
I wasn’t normal, and I stopped longing to be years ago.
Normal was boring, and there was a part of even the most poised and perfect person who longed to taste the crazy occasionally.
Hence my particular sexual tastes being more primal than most. Who cared if I was a fucking animal in the dark, if that was what my partner craved.
Granted, usually, my partners didn’t understand the level of darkness they would get from me until it was too late. But for Peyton, I’d stay in control.
For her, I’d be the perfect fucking depraved gentleman, giving her as little or as much of my dirty tastes as she wanted.
She said she wanted everything, but I’d break her in slowly. Offering her glimpses into what she could have with me, before giving it to her.
Or taking it rather.
“Mr. Bryce?” My sweet Peyton’s voice called from my bedroom, and I grinned, shutting off the water and wrapping a towel around my waist.
“What, Ms. Everett? ”
“I was just checking to see if you were still in here.” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. It’s Thursday, and I thought you’d already be in your office, considering I have to clean your rooms.
“I’ll be out in a few minutes.” I called, silently stroking my still rock-hard cock through my towel. She couldn’t see me, but hearing her voice while I stroked myself was almost enough to push me past the restraint I’d mastered years ago until I was coming on the floor.
“Yes, Sir.” She called and then I heard the soft click of my bedroom door closing again.
That fucking title again.
Someday she’d stop calling me Sir, but until she knew the truth about who I was, I would have to deal with it.
I dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and then a long sleeve shirt to cover my ink and walked out of my bedroom. She was standing against the railing overlooking the grand foyer below with her head down as I stepped out.
When she heard me, she looked up, and I watched as her eyes traveled up from my bare feet over my legs and stopped at my groin. Because I was the worst kind of monster, I left my rock-hard cock free behind the thin fabric of my sweats and forwent underwear so she’d see how big I was.
Did she know I was hard because of her? No.
Did I care as long as she knew what kind of man I was beneath the belt? Also no.
“All yours.” I said, and she quickly looked into my eyes, her cheeks turning red as she realized she had been caught staring at my erection.
“Thank you.” She whispered, and I closed my eyes as I passed her, fighting back a growl at how good those words sounded on her lips. Someday she’d say them on repeat after each and every orgasm I gave her .
Friday, to be exact.
“You’re welcome, Ms. Everett.” I replied, walking down the hall to my office and scanning my finger over the biometric screen and entering as she stared after me.
She had no idea how close she was to being bent over the railing, staring down at the marble floor twenty feet below as I fucked her tight pussy until she came all over my cock while she hung precariously between thrill and fear.
That was where she would bloom like a fresh spring flower. She needed the bit of fright to lace with her pleasure and that was why she ached for a primal fucking. And I was going to fucking give it to her.
I watched Peyton through the security cameras in my home as she moved through the spaces, cleaning and tending to the tasks of her position. And I’d be lying if I wasn’t really fucking keen on her being in my bedroom.
Of course, it wasn’t her first time in there. The other night she had gone in and snooped before she masturbated in my hot tub. But she didn’t know I knew that, and I wasn’t going to tell her I knew. Yet.
But watching her move around the space, changing the sheets on my bed and pausing to run her fingers over the softness of my mattress briefly before shaking herself out of whatever thought she was hung up on, made me ache for her even more .
And not just in the usual way. Not just in an exchange of power and pleasure, but in my home. In my space.
In my life.
Which wasn’t something that could ever happen, because I’d destroy every bit of her if she dared to stay near me for too long. But I could still imagine it briefly when I watched her.
The joy of having access to her visually all day long was even better when I brought up the messaging thread again from the site and sent her a message from Dane.
Watching her read my messages and her reaction to them was a fucking drug for me.
I’ve sent you something. It’s at the post office in town under your name.
She was standing in my closet, hanging up my clothes that she had just washed, when the message pinged on her phone. She stared at the screen for a long time like she was trying to process the new information before her thumbs started typing.
I’ve never told you my name. Or what town I’m in specifically.
Your point? Do you want your gift or not?
She chewed on her bottom lip and then leaned forward to rest her elbows on the large center island in my closet. She didn’t know it, of course, but it gave me a perfect view of her plump tits through her cell phone camera I was also watching her through. I hadn’t planned to see them before she let me, but the other night in the hot tub I couldn’t help but stare at her big, full, perfect tits as they swung freely above the water while she orgasmed.
They would look incredible with my cock between them .
I could almost feel the heavy weight of them in my hands. Peyton was curvy everywhere, technically plus sized by society standards, but I was obsessed with every fucking inch. I craved the thickness of her body against mine.
I want it.
Good girl. You’re not allowed to open it until tonight when you’re solely focused on me.
This seems like a stupid question, considering the bad guys never admit they’re bad, but are you dangerous Dane?
Do you want me to be dangerous? Would that make it hotter for you?
I ran my fingers over my jaw as I watched her take a deep breath, still leaning over on the island. Her eyes were so full of wonder and uncertainty as she stared at my words on her screen and a part of me ached to see her green irises blurry with tears.
I just couldn’t tell what kind of tears I wanted to make her cry.
I want you to be dangerous. I want you to be bad. I want to be vulnerable. That’s so fucked up, isn’t it?
I’m a monster, the very worst kind. I don’t make promises to anyone, but I’ll promise you two things because I’m feeling generous. Promise number one, I’ll ruin you in the worst way possible. Promise number two, you’ll thank me for it when I’m done, because it’s exactly what you crave.
Okay.
Now do something for me.
What?
Take your panties off and send me a picture of them. Show me the fabric that’s been against your pussy all day.
She swallowed audibly and licked her lips as she looked around the closet as if I was going to materialize behind her while she contemplated obeying me. I didn’t think she was going to do it, when suddenly she set her phone down and lifted her skirt.
I forced myself to look away from the screen on my phone as I walked, sticking to my promise to myself that she would know when I was seeing her nudity.
A moment later, a message popped up on the app, and I clicked it.
Lace.
Of fucking course, she wore lace even at work; she was perfect.
Her white lace panties laid on the island in my closet and she followed directions perfectly. The small triangle of fabric that rubbed itself against her pussy all day laid on top so I could see exactly what I craved.
It was damp.
She was wet for me.
And obeyed me so prettily.
Unfortunately, now she needed to be punished for it by Lincoln.