11. Him
brEAKING THE RULES
Micah knew what she was doing when she painted her toes my favorite color. When she came home from the salon and I caught the shiny candy apple red color glistening on her toes, I knew it was for me.
I watched from the other side of the camera and damn near came in my pants when she set up her little machine to fuck herself right after.
Her toes dangled perfectly in front of the cameras I installed in her living room, and she kept them pointed like a good girl as one orgasm flowed into another.
If that wasn’t for me then who was it for?
That fat pussy weeped like it was me fucking her and that’s when I vowed that it would be me one day.
I’ll never forget how I saw nothing but the whites of her eyes when she came down. She was the greediest woman I ever met and my dick gets hard every time my thoughts lingered too long on the flashbacks.
I have a bank of memories just like that.
I can’t count how many times I’ve watched her fine ass leave this office for the day just to rush home and spread her legs for relief.
How many times have I watched her push her favorite pencil skirt up over those voluptuous hips and yank her cotton thong to the side?
I’ve never met a woman whose appetite is almost as feral as mine. And I’ve never met someone I wanted to corrupt more.
And no matter how much I crave that woman like she’s my oxygen, she’s always been off limits.
She’s the best executive assistant I’ve ever had, and I promised myself I wouldn’t fuck that up.
So I arranged the odds in my favor.
Sent her an invitation I knew she’d be too curious to ignore.
Installed a chip on her home router so I could mirror every webpage she opened and dive into the fantasies she entertained on a regular.
And the best part is that I knew she would never suspect it was me. She thinks I’m too buttoned up to have her legs shaking the way I did. And as long as I need to, I’ll let her keep believing that. It’s easier that way.
By the time she showed up at that mansion Friday night, I knew enough to have her screaming for me. I know she needs penetration to come. I know she likes masked men. I know she likes pushing herself to her limits. And I know she’s greedy enough to want more even when her limit is reached.
I know everything about perfect little Miss Micah Shaw and I used all of it to give her a night she won’t be able to forget.
It doesn’t matter who she ended up leaving that party with. There will never be another man who rearranges her guts the way I did in that graveyard.
There will never be another man who bathes her the way I did after calling her my perfect little slut all night.
She might get different dick, but it’ll never be better dick. And I know that for a fact.
“Same time next year, pet,” I murmur to my computer screen.
Closing out of the camera feed after catching up on the rest of her weekend, I pop my neck then my knuckles.
She didn’t come home until yesterday morning. A full day after we said our goodbyes. Still dressed in the sweats I gave her at The Manor.
She looked sated and…soft. I guess I have Gabriella Corbin to thank for that. She took care of my girl all day Saturday, and from the look on Micah’s face Sunday morning, it’s what she needed.
Picking up my wire frames, I rest them on my face and exhale. Then I click over to the in-office camera feed.
Journey McIntire is posted up at Micah’s desk, and my good mood vanishes.
Picking up my desk phone, I watch the micro expressions that flit across my girl’s face until she answers.
“Yes, Mr. Carter?”
“Come see me in my office. We need to go over my schedule for the next two weeks.”
“Yes, sir. Be right there.” She hangs up, standing with her notebook and mug full of apple crisp tea.
I don’t miss how happy she is to have an out to get away from Journey and I bite back a smile as she gets closer to my office door.
Instead of knocking right away, she smooths down the barely bunched material of her dress and takes a deep breath.
Knock.
Knock.
“Come in.”
She walks in and the first thing I notice are the faint marks around her neck that I didn’t pick up on camera. The scarf around her neck is doing a piss poor job of hiding them and a territorial tug pulls in my chest.
I trace them with my eyes like I’m following a roadmap of the way I owned her. It’s the only proof I have and a souvenir I’ll savor long after they fade.
Micah pastes on a bright—fake—smile she reserves just for me. She’s so easy to read it’s almost laughable some days.
“Good morning, Tahj. How was your dentist appointment?”
“Fine,” I say through clenched teeth. “Close the door and have a seat, Ms. Shaw.”