Chapter 8 Seven
CHAPTER EIGHT
SEVEN
I manage to get through the work day—barely. I spend all my time watching the top of Grace’s head from his office, thinking of the different positions I would love to take her in, dreaming about what it feels like to be inside her.
When it’s finally time to go home, I all but sprint out of the building, desperate to get back to my apartment so I can watch Grace more intimately.
As soon as I step through the door, I dump my briefcase and hurry to the bedroom, my eyes hungrily taking in the monitors lining the wall.
Grace is in the kitchen, heating herself up dinner. My eyes track her every movement, loving the way she wiggles and dances around the kitchen while she waits for the microwave to beep.
So fucking cute.
I reach out, my fingertips brushing the screen where her beautiful face is projected. It’s not enough to see her on a screen. I want to be with her, touching her. Filling her.
Desperation pumping through my veins, I stalk into the closet, pulling out my tactical suit, gloves, and mask. Once I’m covered, I stand in front of the mirror, making sure everything is properly in place. I wouldn't want Grace to learn Archer’s little secret.
Grinning, I slip next door into her apartment, closing the door softly behind me before I go in search of Grace. I spot her out on the balcony leaning over the rail, her mouth working around a microwave breakfast sandwich.
And the best part—she has no idea I’m here.
Silently, I walk up behind her, leaning in close to her ear as I whisper, “Boo.”
Grace jumps, a scream piercing the night air as the burrito noodles go flying.
I roll my eyes, clapping my hand over her mouth to silence her before dragging her backward into the apartment.
Kicking and flailing, I throw Grace over my shoulder and walk into the bedroom, tossing her unceremoniously onto the mattress.
Before she has time to react, I lean over, holding her flat on her back.
“Get the fuck off me!” she cries. “Stop it! Don’t you dare touch me!”
I roll my eyes, holding her to the mattress by her neck while I drag the covers over her body. “I’m tucking you in. There’s no need to be dramatic.”
All the fight leaves her body as she gazes down, noticing the thick blanket covering her now. “You’re really tucking me in.”
“That is what I said.” I shove my fingers into the spaces between the mattress and her frame, making sure she’s nice and snug. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”
“Because you’re a serial killer!” Her eyes go wide, but the rest of her body remains frozen. “Oh my God… there’s a deranged serial killer tucking me into bed…”
I frown, noting her erratic breathing. “I’m not going to kill you, Grace. I already told you that.”
“Yeah… you said you’d do worse.” Her voice cracks on the last word. “Please don’t hurt me, Mr. Red 7. I’m sure you hear that all the time, but I’m really hoping you’ll make an exception.”
My chest shakes with silent laughter.
“You’re amusing. I’m glad I decided to keep you.” I lean in, pressing my mask to the side of her face in a gentle caress. “I won’t harm you, beautiful. Not yet. Not until you beg me for it.”
“I would never—”
“I’d advise against making vows you can’t keep,” I say. “Where I come from, a person’s word means everything. I take them very seriously.”
Grace shudders, but I’m delighted to find it’s not fear that’s making her react. “What do you want from me?”
“Right now? I’d like to sit here and watch you for a bit.”
“Why?”
“It makes me feel better. Less stabby.”
Grace snorts, snuggling deeper under the covers. “I don’t suppose I get a choice in the matter?”
“Not really.”
She sighs, her gaze trailing to the ceiling. “Didn’t think so.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes before Grace’s gaze trails back to me. “So… we're just gonna sit here in silence the whole time?”
“I was hoping you’d fall asleep.”
Her face scrunches. “I can’t fall asleep while you're here! That’s literally antithetical to my survival.”
“I’m not going to—”
“Kill me. I know. It just doesn’t make me feel all that much better, considering your history,” she says. “I’m a numbers girl, and my odds aren’t looking great right now.”
I lean forward in rapt attention, bracing my chin on my hands. “Numbers… like math? You like math?”
Her brow arches. “I guess so, yeah. I can tolerate it, at least.”
“You’re good at it. Is that why you became a financial analyst?”
Grace jerks, stunned by my question. “I, uh… didn’t know you knew what I did for work.
I’m not sure why I’m surprised…” She shakes her head.
“To answer your question—kind of. I had an adviser in community college who thought I’d be suited for that line of work.
I’m not a math whiz or anything like that—I’m just good at sitting for hours on end crunching numbers and looking at spreadsheets till my eyes cross.
It’s a gift, not a skill,” she adds, grinning.
Fascinating. My Grace is beautiful, kind, and a genius. “You went to college? What was it like?”
“Like… everyone else’s community college experience. Some good, some bad, some downright horrible.” She fixes me with a curious stare. “I’m assuming by your question that you didn’t go to college?”
“I never attended any formal schooling,” I say nonchalantly. Before I have time to ask her more about her life, Grace’s expression morphs to one of horror, making me forget whatever I was going to say.
“What did you say?”
I frown, confused at her reaction. “I didn’t go to school.”
“Any school?”
I shake my head.
“Why?” Her eyes widen. “Your parents never made you go?”
“They were not around. The people who raised me—the Sanctum—did not want to waste the resources it would take to educate me. Disposers are not worth much in their eyes, and I was always the least desirable of the bunch.”
Her lips part in a gasp. “That is… unforgivable. How could they do that?”
I shrug, struggling to find an answer other than, it’s just the way things were. “I found ways to learn on my own. I was not totally lost.”
“That doesn’t take away from how fucking horrible it was…” Her gaze shifts to the side as anger creases her brow. “I wish the world was different.”
“I do too, beautiful.” I reach out, placing my hand gently on her leg, feeling her through the thick duvet. “I’ll take you away from all this really soon. You won’t have to worry for much longer, my sweet girl.” My grip tightens on her thigh.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“I mean that soon, I’ll have you the way I’ve been dreaming about. Caged. Collared. Bred.” My cock hardens at the thought, and I have to focus on my breathing to stop from coming in my pants. “Fuck. I’m so obsessed with you. In the worst of ways.”
Grace’s gasp catches in her throat. “Why… why are you doing this?”
I lean in closer, my grin widening as her thighs rub together beneath the covers. “Does it matter? When you clearly want it as much as I do?”
I slide my hand up her body, laying it softly across her windpipe. It bobs beneath my palm as she swallows, and heat creeps up her neck to the apples of her cheeks.
“I don’t know how to respond to that…”
“Tell me the truth.” My grip tightens. “Do you think about me? Do you fantasize about me when you pleasure yourself, every night before you sleep, like I do you?” I breathe deeply, smirking as I scent her arousal in the air. “You do, don’t you?”
“I… of course not!” she says. “That would be wrong!”
“Those are the things that feel the best.” I press my fingers against her pulse points, slowly cutting off the flow of blood to her brain.
“Stop lying to me, Grace. I’m going to get the truth from you one way or another.
” I stare deep into her eyes, red crowding my vision as I resist the urge to squeeze.
“And I am not a patient man when it comes to you.”
From the bottom, I slide my hand between the sheets, resting my palm on Grace’s ankle.
I move higher, smirking at the feel of the raised goose bumps covering her heated flesh.
I reach the apex of her thighs, and Grace sucks in a breath, her hips shifting in an attempt to get me closer to her center.
“Greedy little thing,” I say, my thumb rubbing gentle circles through the thin fabric of her pajama shorts. It’s damp with her arousal, and I know if I pull it to the side ever so slightly, I’ll find her dripping and ready for my cock. “Do you want to come, Grace?”
“I… no.” She bites her lip, holding in a moan as I gently work her clit. Her chest rises and falls with each shallow breath, heat creeping up her neck and staining the apples of her cheeks.
“You’re lying again.” My voice comes out as a low, deadly rumble. “I can feel you. I can smell how wet you are for me.”
“I’m… I’m not.” Even as she speaks, her hips jerk, rubbing her swollen clit against the palm of my hand. “You’re insane.”
“You realize you’re trying to ride my hand as you say that?”
“I’m not—”
A sharp cry echoes into the room as I rip the fabric of her shorts from her body, giving me perfect access. “Your daddy knows what his sweet girl needs. I don’t know why you’re fighting it.”
“Daddy?” She jerks at my words, her eyes widening in alarm. “What the fuck?”
I look deep into her eyes as I work her clit, my smirk growing at the terrified expression twisting her features. “Just getting you used to the name. You’ll be calling me daddy a lot once I get you pregnant.”
“What? No! That is not happening.”
My fingers move faster, drawing a desperate moan from the base of Grace’s throat. “You’re such a bad liar. Look at how your body responds to the thought of me breeding you.”
To prove my point, I pull my hand out from under the covers, holding my slicked fingers up to the light for her to see. I bring them to my mouth to suck clean, and Grace watches me with rapt attention, her face heating at the sight.
My eyes roll back as Grace’s taste floods my senses, and a deep groan shudders off the walls of her bedroom. “You’re fucking delicious. So sweet. So perfect for me.”
“Wait—”
Grace lets out a squeak as I dive under the covers, but doesn’t try to move away as I position my head above her center. Leaning in, I take deep lungfuls of her scent, my mouth salivating at the thought of tasting her again.
“Fuck.” Her breath comes hard and fast, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away—and when I place my palms on her thighs to pry them apart, she’s pliant beneath my touch, as desperate to feel me as I am her.
The bottom half of my mask slides up, exposing my mouth, and I dip lower, dragging my tongue up the center of her slit. Grace cries out, her legs shuddering on either side of my head as I lap at her arousal, getting drunk off her taste.
She reaches lower, her fingertips curling in my hair. Grace holds tight, using her leverage to hold me in place as she moves her hips against my tongue, desperately trying to reach her release.
“Fuck!” she screams, her back arching as liquid explodes over my tongue.
Her release soaks my face and runs down my neck as she keeps riding me, her pleasure-filled cries sweet music to my ears.
I drink my fill of her, memorizing the taste of her on my tongue for later.
With a few more jerks of her hips, her fingers release their vice grip on my head, and Grace’s orgasm is over—which means I need to leave.
“I’ll be back for you,” I whisper, placing a long, lingering kiss at the apex of her pussy.
While she’s coming down, I slip out from under the covers, keeping to the shadows so she doesn’t notice me leaving.
Grace is still convulsing on the mattress by the time I’m out her door, whimpers that claw beneath my skin and into my heart.
It’s cruel, and a little vindictive, but I needed to get out of there. I was dangerously close to snapping, to wrecking everything I’ve worked for these past two weeks. Touching Grace, tasting her… that was not the plan for tonight. My lack of impulse control could have ruined everything.
I let out an angry snarl as I walk to the apartment next door to Grace’s.
When Viktor showed up at my apartment last night, I realized it would be a good idea to possess a different location where I could watch Grace with absolute privacy.
So early this morning, I broke into the unit next to hers and disposed of the current tenant.
Now, I have the perfect place to watch after Grace. I’m close by, so if anything ever goes wrong, I can be over in an instant. Plus, I like knowing she’s sitting somewhere on the other side of the wall. That I can go over whenever I want to watch her sleep.
With the smell of Grace still swirling around me, I make my way into the bedroom, sitting at the edge of the bed and staring at the wall filled with monitors. I click a button on my remote, and the screens come to life, each one showcasing a different angle of Grace’s apartment.
My eyes flick to the monitor sitting dead-center on the wall, hungrily taking in the image of Grace’s form. She’s sitting up in bed now, her features twisted in panic as she looks around the room, desperately trying to find me.
My chest squeezes with something like regret as I reach out, brushing my fingertips against the screen, imagining I’m caressing her face for real.
“Soon, beautiful,” I whisper to her. “You’ll be all mine very soon.”