Chapter 3 Fallon #2
For a moment, we’re both smiling, staring at each other like this is a normal father-daughter relationship, like he’s someone I can confide in, tell my secrets and my worries to.
I’d say the look on his face as he stares at me right now is something that looks a lot like pride…
but then his gaze shifts to my plum-painted lips.
His eyes tighten, his smile fading between one blink and the next.
“Could you not have picked a more classic color? For fuck’s sake, Fallon, you’re practically the face of this company. Don’t you realize the image you spit out to the media is the one that reflects back on me?”
I rear back at his sudden change in demeanor as if he’s slapped me. “I am aware. Of course, I’m aware.”
He rolls his eyes, but something, or someone, catches his attention from across the room, and that smile, that plastic, false fucking Ken-doll smile is back on his face. As easy as slipping on a mask. “He’s here,” Dad says, waving someone over to the table.
“Who’s here?” I glance over my shoulder, spotting a blonde-haired man in a pin-striped suit headed our way. I spin back to my dad. “Who is that coming over here?” I thought tonight was about us. I thought maybe he…
What? That he actually wanted to see how I’m feeling after a stressful week? Not fucking likely, Fallon.
Dad is still smiling, but he says without moving his lips more than necessary, “That’s Councilman Yeatts.” He stands, and then when he sees I haven’t moved an inch, leans down next to my ear. “Stand up,” he orders. “Do not embarrass me, Fallon.”
I want to rage, throw the rest of my wine in his face and scream. Instead, I numbly push to my feet and plaster a closed-lipped smile on my face as the more-than-likely future Councilman takes the empty seat to my left.
“Glad you could make it tonight, John,” Dad says, slapping Mr. Yeatts on the shoulder. “This is my daughter, my pride and joy, Fallon.”
Pride and joy. What a goddamn joke.
John Yeatts takes my hand before I can offer it, placing a kiss on the top. “What a pleasure it is to meet you. I’ve seen you in the news lately. I must say, the camera does not do your beauty justice.”
I extract my hand from his clammy one as quickly as I can. “Thank you.” The words come easily, but then again, I’m used to playing this part.
Dad and the future councilman get down to business and I signal the server over for another glass of wine.
Three hours later, I finally pull into the parking garage beneath my apartment building.
Does it make sense that my dad had Randy drive me to the restaurant and then back to Helix Enterprises after dinner when I have a perfectly good car that I can drive myself?
Absolutely not. But who am I to argue with Sebastian Helix?
Sighing, I press the lock button on my key fob and start for the elevator when I hear soft footsteps skidding against the pavement behind me. Gripping my key, I quickly glance over my shoulder, but there’s nobody there. I stop, then turn in a full circle, scanning the garage.
I swear I heard something.
There’s a flash of white between the cars to my left, and my pulse spikes. Is someone over there? Hiding? Watching?
Is it Cerberus?
I shake the question from my mind and power walk the rest of the way to the elevator with my heart in my throat. It’s not until I’m in the safety of my apartment with the door firmly locked that I start to calm down, questioning if I even saw anything in the first place.
After a long soak in the tub, I slip on my faded Sailor Moon t-shirt and roll into bed.
That anxious buzz still flows through my limbs, despite my exhaustion, so I pull out my Kindle and start reading the latest monster romance I downloaded the other day.
But not even a half-man half-siren king can keep my mind from wandering back to those masks I saw in the club, to the ones that chased me down at work. To the men behind them.
Since Quinn’s best guess is that the masked men I’ve been seeing are Cerberus, I’ve been avoiding watching the last part of their latest video. But tonight… I’m feeling restless.
I bite the bullet and finally pull up Cerberus’s video on my phone. I scroll past the sick fucks they outed and hit pause once three figures dressed in all black fill the screen. The camera is angled so that only their torsos are visible, all three of them hovering over the camera. I press play.
Standing side by side, the one in the middle splays his gloved fingers and a deep, warped voice speaks.
“These men and women made the grave mistake of thinking they were above reproach, that they were too far up on the ladder of success to be caught in their misdeeds, and they forgot we were here. That we were watching. We are always watching, and we’re going to continue to destroy the evil that plagues Axton Harbor.
And for those of you who think you are beyond our reach, think again.
” Slowly, the men step back, bringing more of their bodies into the camera’s range.
Three familiar skull masks come into view.
Tiny hairs rise on my arms. It’s them. The masks I saw at the club, the ones who chased me out of Helix Enterprises the other day.
“We are Cerberus,” the voice says, spreading his arms wide. “And we are coming for you.”
My thighs squeeze together at the threat in his voice. I toss my phone on the bed next to me and stare blankly at the ceiling. The idea of those men in masks wanting me for any reason sets my pulse pounding, and it’s not totally out of fear.
Something must be wrong with me.
And yet, I picture their broad shoulders, their obviously well-trained bodies from the video.
I imagine all three of them hovering over me like they were standing over the camera, imagine the feel of the one who danced with me at the club, his body so firm and solid against me, his erection digging into my ass.
The way they cornered me in the hall after, all three pairs of hands controlling me, touching me.
My nipples harden as the fantasy comes so clearly to my mind, and my hand brushes the skin above my panties, teasing the band.
We are always watching.
I turn my head to the side, spotting my laptop open and facing me on my desk. Could they be watching me now?
I slip my hand beneath my panties, finding the wetness there. I know it's wrong on so many levels, but the thought of them watching me now, watching me touch myself, pulls a low moan from the back of my throat.
I gather that wetness and rub slow circles over my clit. Do they like what they see? Are they stroking their cocks, wishing they were buried in my pussy right now? The thought makes me feel so incredibly empty that I plunge two fingers inside.
I stare straight at the laptop camera as I pump my fingers in and out, teasing my sensitive clit with my palm, and imagining the three masked men sitting behind the screen of their own computer, panting my name.
What would they have done if they had gotten a hold of me the other night at the office?
Would they have forced me to bend over my desk?
Would they have hiked up my skirt and found how wet I actually was from the chase, despite the fear and adrenaline pumping through my veins?
Maybe they would have torn my panties or even sliced them off with the knife they were chasing me with and then fucked me one after the other until I screamed in pain and then pleasure.
Their hands on my flesh, around my throat, marking my body with their fingers and their cum…
“Fuuuck.” I whimper, my hips moving against my hand, the image so clear in my mind. So deliciously dirty and wrong.
We are Cerberus. And we are coming for you.
I detonate, coming so hard and fast that my toes twist in the sheets.
Slowly, I sink back into my body, a little shocked by what I just did. Then I roll off the bed and slam my laptop shut.
The fantasy was hot in theory, but there’s no way I’d enjoy being watched or touched by those freaks in real life.
Right?