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I press play on the video recorded by a hidden camera in the room’s crown molding, tugging the waistband of my joggers down and fisting my dick. I can’t help but suck in a breath, licking my bottom lip when I fast forward to right before I add the vibrator into the mix.
I watch her try to knee me in the balls, remembering the zip of fire that lit up my spine at the fight in her.And how badly I wanted to fuck it out of her.
But I couldn’t. Last night wasn’t about getting off. It was about power and control.
And showing Effie that I possess both in spades.
No matter how much time has passed, no matter what silly, little crush we may have once shared, I will not hesitate to make it hurt.
I stroke my cock, having no trouble getting hard watching her try to rear away from me, but I never let her get more than an inch away from my face. I groan, remembering the feel of her hot breath across my face as she seethed.
Christ, she was a goddamn vixen, getting so angry with herself for enjoying it. Just like I knew she would.
I don’t think many people know Effie. I don’t think she lets many people know her, not the real her. She has a good, kind heart—something I may have once sympathized with, not anymore—but it’s been crowded out by all the ugliness around her. She makes herself small to avoid the attention and thus ire from her father and men like him. Likeme.
But that’s a survival mechanism, not who she truly is. Who she truly is, is a fighter. She wants to fight back, be broken down, and then have someone care enough to pick up the pieces.
Maybe one day, I can be the kind of person who picks up another person’s pieces.
But not until I find out exactly whatLes Arnaqueusesare planning and make them regret they ever whispered the name Fox.
I shake my head and bring my attention back to the screen, focusing on the graceful muscles of her neck as I pull her hair back andgoddamn,does her neck look good with my hand around it.
She tells me to go to hell, and I stroke faster, harder, conjuring the feel of her pulse thumping beneath my fingers. Beautiful, delicate,butweak.
I rub my thumb over the tip of my cock, my balls drawing tighter the longer I watch her take it until her legs are trembling. She was trying so hard not to come, trying so hard not to give in, trying so hard to make me think she hated what I was doing to her. But then…
I watch myself slide my hand down the back of her panties and suck in a breath, my dick throbbing. She fuckinglovedit.
I throw my head back in the desk chair and squeeze my eyes shut, turning up the volume on the video. I pump my hand up and down my cock as I listen to her beg me not to stop.
Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.
I grind my teeth as tension builds in my groin, my balls heavy for release.
“Goddamn you, Finn. Please. Please don’t fucking stop.”
Her pleas are the strongest aphrodisiac. I grunt like an animal as I thrust into my fist and come hard to the sound of her breaking.
I grab a tissue off the desk to clean myself up, and like an addict, already craving my next fix before I’ve even come down from the last, I pull out my burner and text her.
I’m sitting at one of our bistro tables outside the Den, my finger tapping on the table while I stare up at Effie’s apartment. The angle isn’t great, I can only see if someone steps right up to the window. But I don’t give two shits if I can see them. I want them to seeme.
I light a cigarette and balance it between my lips while I send another text.
I’m waiting, princess.
And then immediately another one:
I bet you’re sore. Did I leave any marks? Step up to the window and let me see.
I snicker to myself imagining how riled up she’ll be reading my message. Just like I hoped, that last text gets her to respond.
Effie: Why the hell would I do that?
Me: Why the hell not? I thought we had fun last night.
Effie: I’m not your fucking puppet, Finn. And I sure as hell am not your “plaything.”
