Chapter 3
Three
Sugar Skull
I fucked up.
There’s no doubt about it.
I’m fucked up. But I already knew that.
Last night shouldn’t have happened.
If they find out what I did, it’ll be my head.
Leaning back in my chair, my eyes stay focused on the grids on the screen in front of me.
She looks otherworldly, like something drawn in an oil painting from eons past.
I don’t miss much, but it’s impossibly easy to see how hypnotizing those thighs move as Zee paces the bathroom. She’s still naked like I left her. Still breathtakingly perfect.
An angel.
A sin.
Whiskey eyes. Dark coils piled on her head like a crown. Coils I want to wrap my fist around before pulling those thick, heart-shaped lips to mine.
I know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t an obsession. It’s a task. I’m just the guy doing his job to keep his life together.
I don’t ask questions.
I don’t decline.
I know better than that.
But they shouldn’t have given this particular job to an addict. Not when she’s the subject of my task.
I’m already hooked on watching her.
This is a problem.
She’s a problem.
That slick mouth. Her bratty attitude. Those supple-looking curves I want to sink my grip into. My craving is worse knowing she’s better in person.
That was a mistake. I told you I fucked up. She came a day early. She came with him. The man who can’t even satisfy her with the basics. The man who acts like her body isn’t a gift. A privilege.
Drey.
He let an intruder into her home and slept through the entire thing.
Pathetic.
She deserves better than that. He can’t ever give her what she wants.
You can?
The stacks of books in the living room tell me I could. They’re all romance. About fifty of them. Old copies, all tattered. Captors. Kidnappers.
Stalkers.
Is it weird to fall for someone you don’t even know? I swore off ever finding a woman in Eastmount years ago. They’re not my type. They’re all the same. Sad, yearning, looking for someone to guide them.
With Zee, I finally found someone who interests me.
Zee.
Mine.
My cock hardens beneath the fabric of my slacks as I watch her finally climb into that tub.
I hope she never finds curtains.
The water flows over those round tits that fucker was an idiot to pass up. The women in this town are too obsessed with their forty-dollar salads to get the body Zee carries. And those legs? Long enough to keep me buried between her thighs while she wraps them around my head.
She steps out of the water before going back in, like she’s doing the Hoffman method… poorly. Don’t worry, my angel, you’ll feel warmth soon.
Her nipples harden, goosebumps on her arms as she rushes to lather her body. I’m mesmerized as her hands glide over her slick skin, but she’s quick, hasty, when all I want is to savour every moment.
My cock begs for attention when she steps into the water again, hardening the longer I stare.
She leans her head into the water, her coils falling around her in loose spirals that make her look like an Amazonian goddess.
She turns around, her back to the camera, revealing that cheeky little tattoo of a moth above her ass.
What I would give to be near it again.
I unzip my slacks and push my boxers down. My cock springs out. Stiff. Ready.
Taking it in my hand, a glisten of precum shines on the tip. I can’t hide it. There’s something about her that drives me insane.
That insanity drove me to do whatever the fuck that was last night.
She needed it.
I saw that fucker fall asleep right after she had him in her mouth. If she ever graces me with my cock down her throat, I won’t let her walk the next day.
My cock hardens more at the thought.
I should get a medal for my restraint. She was inches from me, following my every demand that I knew would get her there. I replayed it in my head all morning. Her soft sighs, her plump lips falling open. How soft her skin looked even in the darkness of the room.
Oh wait, just a second…
Is she thinking about it too?
Zee positions herself on the edge of the tub, spreading her thighs wide enough for her to reach a hand between them.
Fuck… yes.
Exactly like that, Zee.
I stroke myself, my shaft stiff as fuck as I watch Zee move her fingers over her clit in the same way I told her last night.
She’s quicker this time, progressing slowly, then speeding up. Up and down, up and down. Just like my hand on my cock.
“Keep going,” I groan, my pace quickening with hers as my abs tighten, my body as hot as it was last night when I was inches from hers.
Her sigh comes through the bud in my ear. I grip myself harder, my other hand bracing the arm of my chair.
I’m not deprived of porn. I know how to get a woman to come home with me. This is different.
Is it because she doesn’t know I’m watching her? Is it knowing that she’s doing this solely for herself? Is it knowing that she’s unhinged in giving herself exactly what she needs?
She rubs faster, her back arching, one hand gripping the curled edge of the tub.
Then she slows, her mouth twisting.
No, Zee, you’re almost there.
Her head drops as she stands up and rinses herself off.
Why the fuck would she deprive herself?
If I had a body like that, I’d be touching it every day.
My cock throbs against my palm as she turns the water off and wraps a navy towel around her waist. She leaves the room, my eyes moving to the next feed on the grid as she walks into the bedroom. There, she pulls on black panties similar to the ones she wore last night.
Her body stills as I reach into my pocket.
I’m not supposed to take anything. But I couldn’t resist.
The veins of my cock press against my fingers as I grip the soft fabric in the other. Bringing it to my nose, my abs clench, my cock aching for release.
Placing her panties over my face, I take in her sweet scent, and that takes me right to the edge.
“Fucking… Christ…” My body jolts forward as warm liquid spills over my knuckles. The smell of her rests in my nose as I continue pumping my cock until every last drop leaves me.
My body slumps back in my chair, my heart pounding.
It takes a second before the sharpness of the world comes back to me, and so does the room.
When I glance at the screen, she’s gone.
Looking down at my hands, my cock pulses within my grasp. With a deep breath to calm my racing heart, I let my head fall back.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I mutter.
Using her panties, I wipe my cum off my cock and hands, another deep breath forcing my heart to settle. But as my eyes narrow on her picture taped to the side of my screen, I can already feel myself hardening again.
“Big Brother Ambrose.”
Fuck.
Pulling myself under the desk, I lift my head to the door.
Either he still hasn’t learned boundaries, or just doesn’t give a fuck. I know it’s the latter as he steps inside my office.
“Father,” I greet, the muscles in my neck tightening.
He’s too young to have the title, but after Barry’s death, no one will say it out of respect for our fallen. His eyes are as dark as his designer suit, his cufflinks shining under the light as he adjusts them.
“Are you on track?” he asks, running a finger along a shelf by the entrance.
“I am.” I nod, pushing Zee’s panties back into my pocket, her scent still on my nose.
“Good. I expect you to finish what you’ve started.”
“I always do.”
He brushes at his suit, but it’s already perfect. Crisp. Clean. Pleated in all the right places. His wife keeps him well. “Broken people have a soft spot for broken things.”
My jaw tightens as he turns towards the door, ending the meeting I didn’t know we had.
“If you do not complete this task,” he says. “I’ll assign it to someone who will.”
My fists clench under the table, his back to me. “I’ll complete it.”
Next time I won’t be distracted.
Next time, I’ll really make her an angel.