Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
CADE
After following her home, I kept the balaclava rolled up like a beanie on my head, gloves firmly in my bag, along with her bag in the computer compartment.
I stood on the other side of the street, on my phone like I was waiting for a ride, so any passerby would think nothing of me.
I watched her on the feed.
She’s on the phone. Guessing to her friend, since she’s apparently gone and forgotten about good old dependable Cade.
It kind of makes me smile. It did then and does now.
But I left, and now I’m home.
And I’m fucking hard again.
Shit.
I came twice, and I want more.
The whole encounter is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.
I have her up on my fucking projector, feeding the camera feed through my computer.
And I sit, cock out and in hand, masturbating as I look at her.
I need to feed on her, the memories.
The smell of the dirt and grass, the perfume and honey of her pussy.
The way her mouth felt, hot, wet, the scrape of her teeth and the way she swallowed and gagged on me, almost setting me off, tipping me over the edge.
And then…fuck, being in her. Pussy. Ass. Oh damn, that ass, so stretchy and tight and made for me.
And she came. Hard.
I felt the waves of her orgasm and how she shook with it.
I grip my cock hard.
I jerk myself watching as she strips off, her fingers creeping low, loving how hot it is when she stops herself.
She’s dazed, still aroused, and looking weirdly satiated.
I wish I was there now, between her legs, pounding her hard.
I run my thumb over the head of my cock, and start to work my dick in earnest.
Fuck, yes, I’d pound into her so hard she couldn’t walk.
I’d love to wrap my hands around her neck and put just the slightest pressure on so when she came, her orgasm would be out of this world. And then I’d let her go, flip her, and take her ass again.
I grab a tissue and cum, hard, into it.
Shit. I’m a fucking teen again.
I let it drop and tuck myself away.
Then I send her a text.
Me: Take a both with relaxing oils and salts.
She’s got a big T-shirt in her hands.
She frowns.
Vi2l: No bath. As you know.
I smile.
Ghost: Have a shower, pour a drink.
Her frown deepens.
Vi2l: I’ll shower in the morning.
Ghost: Have a drink, climb into bed. Sleep tight.
I watch as she does that, the thrill of her words making my cock swell again.
I could just give into it all, jack off once more.
But if I keep giving to the whole self-gratification, it ruins the game.
Last thing I want is to ruin anything.
Violet’s looking around for the cameras, but in the main room, she won’t find them.
I use the computer next to me to control which camera to go to next.
The minx drops the shirt, and parades through her studio naked, pouring herself a drink. She has some whiskey in a dusty bottle that she pours into a glass followed by some ginger ale that’s in her fridge. Of all things.
Violet wrinkles her nose and goes back to her bed, the soft light of her lamps making her even prettier, if that’s possible.
She sits, sipping her drink, clearly trying not to gag.
I could have told her she needed to use either Coke or a lot of ginger ale.
She’s a wine girl or a cocktail girl. This is one step up from on the rocks.
It’s past midnight.
She left Cade for The Ghost hours ago.
There’s no way I’d have ever waited this long to contact her. No way I’d not have turned up at her place, if I wasn’t The Ghost.
I know her.
A blind date I can see ghosting, but even then, I’m the type, if I do something rare like go on a date, to check in to make sure the girl’s fine.
While this wasn’t a date, and I can’t really remember the last time I went on a date, I’m still me. I’d check.
“Better late than never,” I mutter.
I almost text, but instead, I press call.
For a second, she looks horrified. Guilty.
Good.
I mean, I’m glad because she must like me. She’s into The Ghost, but the look on her face says she just might like me, too.
Will she answer or pretend she’s asleep?
Vi takes a big gulp of her drink. “Hello?”
“You’re alive. I was worried you ended up in a ditch somewhere.
I’d think I’d been Ghosted.” I smirk. “Are you okay? I’ve been so worried.
You left your bag. And you don’t seem the type to take off without telling me, without your bag.
I sat there for a couple of hours, thinking maybe you’d had to rush off to meet your friend, but then no, that didn’t make sense.
I just wondered where the hell you’d gone. ”
“I…”
“I thought I had to stay. I mean, your keys are in your bag. I tried to contact you, but you didn’t get back to me. I finally went to your place, stood outside until about midnight.” That’s when I told her to wear the top in the park. “Then I figured maybe you went somewhere else.”
There’s a long silence, and she’s gulping her drink, a blush staining her body. It’s beautiful.
No one told me riling her like this would be so much fun. I’d be honestly mad if I wasn’t The Ghost, but then again, there’s no fucking way I’d have lasted more than ten minutes. I’d have called or texted until I knew she was okay.
I’m a nice guy. And this double role I’m playing with her, for her, is the most fun I’ve had in… forever.
“I just felt really sick, I…I needed to get home.”
“Well, it’s late, I know, but I can be there with some soup, or if you need to go to the hospital…You might need a doctor.”
“Cade—”
I take in how stricken she looks. “You looked out of sorts at the bar. The way you were bright red, eyes out of focus, hunched over. The stealing of my cherry…Are you a serial cherry-napper?”
She pulls the cover up over her and finishes her drink, then drags the covers off the bed and trails them to her kitchen to get herself a second drink.
As a form of aftercare, it’s a little unconventional, but it’s working.
“No, I…” But she smiles, and her hand drops the corner of the covers as she heads back to her bed, her nipples tight. So there’s that. “I guess just everything got to me. The whole thing with Isaac, all the pressure…at work. I don’t think I ate today.”
“Well, I have your bag. Do you need it for work?”
“I can just collect it soon—”
“Vi? I’m thinking you need it. How about I meet you in the a.m., at your work with your bag? We’ll really cement the fake relationship with your boss if I bring it in.”
She flushes pink. “Like I left it at your place?”
“Yup.” I pause. “Unless you want me to take you to see a doctor?”
“No! No, no, please.” Her hand goes to her cheek, her phone still sitting on the side table, on speaker, and she looks so guilty it makes my heart wobble. “I’m feeling much better. I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. I just felt so bad, and I thought…I thought you’d hate me.”
“I’m not five. I get it. Life happens.” Then I let out a large, playful sigh. “You’re not the first to run, you won’t be the last…”
The word run makes her almost convulse.
“No, it wasn’t like that.”
I laugh softly. “I was only kidding. I’m a grown up. I get it.”
“I’m so sorry, Cade.”
“I’ll let you go, it’s getting late. I shouldn’t have called at this hour, but I was worried.”
“And I’m sorry, I just didn’t think. Jack…he’d never pay attention if I wanted to leave, and…actually, I don’t think we’ve been out in ages. And you don’t want to talk about him.”
“My brother’s got a lot of growing to do. I love him, but honestly, I think you’re way too good for him, Vi, and that’s the truth.”
“And you?”
There’s a breathless beat.
Dangerous waters. I almost say it but don’t. Instead, I ignore the question.
“As long as you’re feeling better. Did you eat?”
“Yes.” It’s a lie. There’s no evidence of food, and I don’t think she ate in the time it took me to get home. Still… I let it slide.
“Good.”
“Cade?” There is a note of vulnerability so sweet it slices into me, “Maybe we can try again another time?”
Heat blooms. “I’d like that. Now go to bed, and sleep well. I’ll be at your work with your bag in the a.m. To cement it all.”
“Good night.”
I know I should be careful, saying things to remind her of The Ghost, because he’s me, and I’m not using the modulator now. Out there, I used a low, harsh whisper, but she’s going to work it out, right?
Or maybe not.
I should be more concerned. But I’m not.
Surely, she’d have caught up by now if she was going to.
I say good night and in a fit of confidence, I decide to test the theory.
I ring her as The Ghost.
“H-hello?”
It’s the same voice, but this time, it’s soaked in something gutturally sexual, a need missing when she talks to me as Cade.
But, I do note there’s something in her tone with me. A yearning she doesn’t quite seem to know what to do with, because that yearning is in this, too, under all the sexual energy.
I’m not sure what it means, but it means something.
“You were such a good, filthy little whore of a girl tonight. My whore. My girl. So good. So sweet. So delicious.”
She doesn’t move, one hand gripped in the bedding, her tits totally exposed now, nipples tight and hard.
The glass is frozen, halfway to her lips.
I can even see the mad beat of her pulse, and the mess of her hair, the streak of dirt on her cheek I totally failed to notice before.
“Did you like that? You look like you did.”
She sucks in a breath, lips curling, eyes unfocusing a little as she rests the glass on her thigh.
“Yes. I did. I liked it a lot. I-I liked being used by you. Abused by you. In that delicious way.”
Fuck.
Her voice drops. “I loved it.”
“Good, sweet girl.”
“I can’t wait for next time.”
Oh shit.
I want to laugh, whoop, sing, but I don’t let myself, instead I just clear my throat. “Good. I like hearing that. I was…concerned once might be enough for someone as delicate as you.”
She swigs from her drink and squeezes her legs together. “No, no. If anything, tonight made me want it even more.”
And with that, I just hang up the phone.
The loft is clean, evidence of my masturbatory moment gone, and I watch Vi.
She finishes her drink, brushes her teeth, checks and rechecks her phone, and looks up, like she is trying to see the cameras.
But then she pulls on her shirt and climbs in bed.
When she’s finally asleep, I turn off the feed, there’s not much to see in the darkness of her room, because Violet likes to keep her room dark while she sleeps.
I don’t do any of my major work at home, that’s always in the basement set up at Enzo’s. But here, I always pull the blinds.
It’s habit. No one’s watching, but that could change if I get sloppy.
I never intend to get sloppy.
I get to work on my main computers.
It takes me a while to go through the ugly and invasive footage the doctor took. But this time, I watch. Not for the thrill of it, because there is nothing that turns me off more than watching someone get violated for real, but because I need the right footage to make the videos.
And I need to match patients to names and addresses. I can send the footage to each woman, and I’ve got it set up to do so. It should be the fucking hospital sending it to their patients. Or they need to send it to the cops.
However, I don’t trust anyone, so I send the raw stuff to the women, with the same message.
They won’t know who it’s from. No one will be able to trace it.
But they need to have it, because when—not if—there’s a court case, they should be fully informed of what exists.
And they should be able to choose whether to be part of it or not.
If it were me, I’d want all evidence about myself in my hands.
Then, I start editing all the bits and pieces that I chose from the footage and start collating them in a video until I have it just the way I want it.
And it’s bad.
Not to the women.
Nothing’s exposed.
But his dialogue, what he does, plans to do, is there. Choice snippets, leaving no one unaware of what crimes were being committed.
And I make sure not one woman is recognizable.
At all.
Then I log into the hospital system and release my video to every single employee.
Along with a note to the hospital board itself.
I have all the raw footage of his rapes and abuse of his patients. All of them are unconscious. All of his victims own the raw footage of their own assaults as of now.
This contains an encrypted file of the footage any good police department can get into.
If this is not forwarded to the appropriate authorities—police, FBI—I’ll release this as well as your names to the press. Try and come up with a cover story, and his crimes won’t be the only ones going public.
You have until 9 a.m.
The Ghost.
I sit back, like I’ve just eaten a good meal.
And I smile.
Fuck, yeah.
While I didn’t like sending those emails to the women, they’ll appreciate it in the long run. And they’ll have justice served soon enough.
But right now, I’m euphoric.
Ruining the lives of creeps like this prick is the best thing about my job.