Chapter 22 Cade
Chapter Twenty-Two
CADE
Short of being completely invasive and getting spyware for her phone to listen to calls, I’ve no idea what Violet and Lia talk about the night I rescue her. I just know there’s a phone call.
I say no idea, but come on.
It’s going to be Isaac, me, and I’m guessing The Ghost. Or maybe she’s told her friend all about that. But I doubt it.
One of the things with my kind of play is the secret level to it. Like a small club. Most people won’t understand.
But I watch her. I can’t stop myself.
I drive back to the event I’m meant to be at with Enzo.
He looks at my phone, where she’s sitting on her bed, touching her mouth. “You know, those cameras really are top notch.”
“Go suck a cock.”
“Is that an offer? Because, Cade? You’re not my type.” He looks around. “Any punters?”
“A few. You?”
“Yeah.”
We quietly compare notes.
The event is full of bratva and mafia, and your general white-collar types who want to make more money by investing.
We’re not running the scheme, we’re meeting, greeting, exchanging cards so we can hack in and see who’ll be best for the Belov Bratva and also for The Syndicate. The latter’s secondary in a way, but just as important.
If we find anything, they’re on our list.
“Can I see her again?” Enzo leans on the bar as we finish out wine.
We’re heading out after this because this is a science. An hour and a half is perfect. Any less and you miss people, too much more and you stand out.
“Who?” I set down my glass.
But I know who.
“That hot little boo you’re spying on?”
“Would you like me to get you a megaphone?”
“I’d love that!” And he grins. Then he checks his watch. “You know, my date’s got this hot friend…good for burning off some of that energy you’ve got.”
“No, I’ve got some shit to do at home. See you tomorrow.”
I hand him back his keys, and we head out and part ways. It’s a nice night, so I walk home.
What I wanted was to talk to him about the almost kiss…I think it was an almost kiss…That tension in the car, the reason why she touched her face.
Does Vi like me?
I don’t know.
It’s getting late, so when I get home, I strip off and shower, and then I get ready to do some work.
And I don’t look at the cameras.
I’m going to see how long I can last.
It’s Sunday night, and I’ve been glued to the fucking video feed for days. Nothing’s being recorded, it’s just a live stream, so if I don’t look, I might miss something, anything.
Recording her is a little wrong, but I also know it wouldn’t stop me, not if I wanted that kind of system in place.
But there’s something delicious about the fleeting glimpses, of missing things or suddenly being caught up in something if I’ve got the feed running and see her.
I watched her at work both Friday and Saturday as he had her in.
She hates him, that’s clear.
And for good reason.
He has bad energy, I picked that up when I went to the office. He hated me being there. And resented her for it.
He hovers. That much is clear anytime the cameras catch him close to her. And that is too fucking often.
He’s had a string of underage girls, some as young as sixteen, the youngest fifteen, and that turns me off. There are photos on the dark web. A number of years ago, he tried to pass her off as his niece. But she isn’t.
I don’t know where the girl is now, but some of the rumors are nasty, and I start gathering all the deep, dark web info I find, scraping all the dark corners, and I make a note of hacking his personal computer, too. Because fuck him.
I sit back and get a drink, returning to my bed.
She’s home, and apart from errands, she’s been home all day.
Watching her is fast becoming an obsession.
When I’m out on a job, I don’t get the chance to keep an eye on her, but when I work from home, she’s there, on one of the screens, either big or small, depending on how much work.
I love how she’ll sprawl on her bed and get her TV fix on the smaller screen, rather than on her actual TV. I’ve never seen her turn it on once.
I don’t know why, but it makes me smile.
Maybe because Jack’s pretty much the only one who used the projector TV.
I’ve had friends over before, mostly Enzo, and we’d sometimes watch something, but usually, we’re working or taking a break from screens.
I like we have the preference to the computer in common over an actual TV.
She ordered in tacos. Spreading it all out on a towel to cover her bed sheets, and eating them off the containers they came in.
But through it all, she keeps sneaking glances at her phone.
Looking for, I assume, correspondence from me.
The Ghost.
Her last real order, before I broke in and fucked her, was to not touch herself unless commanded to.
And as far as I can tell, unless she sneaks in a quick two finger slide at work, then I don’t think she’s taking care of her urges.
And Vi has them.
She presses her thighs together, shifts more than she needs to, and she keeps away from anything remotely erotic.
I get it. I’m feeling it, too. The need to jerk off. I didn’t do it a third time Wednesday, and not fucking taking my dick in hand and closing my eyes to access the spank bank gold members section named Violet so I can beat one out to her and what we did was beyond fucking hard.
It was almost impossible.
She’s like a nut buster with legs. I honestly don’t understand how my brother sat there for years playing video games instead of boning his hot little girlfriend at every opportunity.
Shit, I don’t understand how Jack didn’t uncover her desires. Didn’t they talk?
But they’re young.
I remember being miserable with a girlfriend when I was eighteen because even then I knew I was built differently. She was a hacker, too, and talented and so vanilla it broke my libidinous heart. Because it was never going to work.
I strayed.
Right into a sex club.
I didn’t do anything that night. Mainly because I was too scared to dive into it all and unleash whatever wildness was inside me.
It woke me up.
I didn’t cheat. Not because I didn’t want to…I very much did.
I didn’t cheat because I didn’t have the balls to reach for what I wanted.
I broke up with her a week later and haven’t looked back.
It might be the last real relationship I’ve had. The rest? All within the tight confines of contracts and my game play.
And now there’s Violet.
She’s redefining everything.
Oh, holy hell.
She’s stripping down and heading to the bathroom.
The camera in there is only facing the shower. And I never, ever watch unless she’s going in to shower. Which is easy to work out. She likes to leave a trail of clothes as she goes.
It’s hot, and my cock is fucking hard.
I unbutton my jeans.
She steps into the water, and her tits shine. Water rivulets down to her bare pussy, down that slit.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
Perfection.
I don’t think I could ever tire of watching her.
And every day, I seem to watch her more and more. Work, home. If I could follow her with a camera everywhere else, I would.
I’m very much aware I’m obsessed. And my obsession’s intensifying.
Watching her is like a drug,. Away from the screen, I’m irritated, edgy, and it’s why I linked it to my phone not long after I put the cameras in with Enzo’s help.
This obsession should probably worry me, and I should try and keep it under control. But then again, it’s all part of the game. The slow burn hunt. The built up to the chase.
This is primal play with an edge, that’s all.
Elemental, yet restrained. Until I’m not.
Besides, Vi wants this. She gets off on this as much as I do.
And as long as she wants it…
Somewhere in the back of my head, a voice asks, “What happens if she stops wanting it?”
I ignore it. Because honestly, I don’t think it’s ever going to be something I need to think about.
Violet’s like me.
Our dark urges feed us.
She wants this the same as I do. Her constant state of arousal, the pebbled nipples, her frequent checking of her phone.
I’ll get sick of this before her. And I don’t see that happening in the near future at all.
She turns in the shower, a scowl on her face as she looks around, likely trying to see if she can spot the camera.
She looks right at it.
While she can’t spot it, Violet’s smart enough to work out the most logical place for it. And it’s also where there’s no chance to catch the toilet or even her sink.
She gets out of the shower, and stops, wet and watery, across the tiles and then the wooden floor as I switch camera feeds. She snatches up her phone, looks around but the large room, she can’t quite work out where the camera or cameras are.
She types something on her phone, goes to her drawer, and grabs that red rose.
My cock twitches as her message pops up.
Vi2l: If you won’t take care of me, I’ll have to do it myself.
I grin, but don’t respond.
Instead, I switch back to the shower and pull out my painful, hard cock. I’m not going to last. But I still grip my rod.
She gets back in the shower, but leaves the door open. And she tips her head back, letting the water sluice through it.
Vi turns then, looks up at the spot where the camera is. Or near enough.
And she gives me a wicked look, turning on the rose because it disturbs the falling water.
She puts one hand against the wall and the rose between her thighs, moving the toy up and down her slit and then to her clit. Stroking herself in circles.
I don’t have sound, but I can imagine her moaning as she gets into it, working herself, rocking against it even as she moves the rose.
Watching her is fucking hot.
She’s lost in it now, basically riding the thing.
And I stroke myself, too, pulling the skin of my cock down, then up, squeezing and controlling the pressure, imagining myself in there behind her, pushing her down so she can work her clit, while I slam into her, hard.
Her pussy is so fucking tight and wet, taking her like that would be unbearably good. And when I’m close to coming, when she has come, I’ll fucking slam deep into her ass, taking her that way, too.