When we’ve eaten and finished our glasses of wine, he walks me to the door of my apartment. I’m not sure what to do, but he clasps my shoulders and presses a kiss to my forehead.
It’s a chaste—if still inappropriate from my boss—kiss, nothing smutty in it. But my whole body responds in a way I never have before.
I’m buzzing even as he puts me away from him immediately, with a low, gravelly, “Goodnight.”
I guess it’s been a long time since anyone kissed me. And I’ve never had a proper kiss, so my internal standard for what’s sexy is probably misaligned. All it takes is Mr Anderson’s affectionate dad’s-best-friend kind of kiss and my brain thinks it is a turn on like a filthy romance novel.
It’s a good thing Mr Anderson bought me knickers though, as the next morning, I could swear I put the soaked white cotton ones I wore yesterday beside my other clothes on the chair in the bedroom. But they’re gone.
9
KANE
As I wash the blood off my hands and face, the water pummelling down from the shower, I tell myself I’m not going to do it. That I should grasp my cock here, away from her, and not push the boundaries. Again.
It’s been a good evening. Excellent, in fact. Lily went to Park Hill, and I followed at a discreet distance. When we returned, I made far too much barbeque and saw a little, secret smile on Lily’s face as she opened the door to find me confessing to my sin. I was hard as granite watching her lick sauce from her fingers as she ate, nibbling at the meat as though she’d never had something so easy and delicious.
Then I watched my angel sleep for a while. So sweet. She went to bed early like a good girl, not knowing that her boss, neighbour, and stalker was about to slip out to pay a visit to her family.
I thought at forty-two I might be losing my enthusiasm for being a mafia boss. That maybe the acquisition held more enjoyment than the power itself. But no. Not now I’ve found a use for it. The death gurgle of Lily’s cousin gave me a thrill I haven’t had from anything—except Lily—for years.
It doesn’t matter that she stole from him or that he scared my angel into my arms. He practically imprisoned her and would have hurt her if she wasn’t so resourceful and brave. And ultimately, she was afraid of him, and his mother.
I had to ditch my suit, packing it into a plastic bag for disposal by my men, but that’s a small price to pay for Lily’s safety and peace of mind. Haven’t had to do that for a while. Haven’t wanted to see the whites of my enemy’s eyes.
Lily gives me all the energy of being young and ravenous. Except, instead of for influence, I’m hungry for her. So it’s no surprise that, still with wet hair and having only pulled on boxers, I slip my key into her lock, and let myself silently into Lily’s apartment, padding through the familiar space.
It’s been a week since I met my angel, and every day brings fresh revelations that are even sweeter. I know now that she likes her morning coffee with lots of milk and two spoonfuls of sugar. I’ve seen her wriggle into her panties, and I know she puts on her bra by clipping it at the front and turning it around. I’ve stroked my dick at every time of the day and night while watching her.
I know she finds her prettiest shoes pinchy, and dithers about whether to wear them to work. I’ve watched her tend to her blisters and my fingers have itched to be the one caring for her. But even so, it pleases me that she hasn’t given in and gone for the flats she bought. My strong girl. And a part of me is savagely delighted that when she walks into the office, and my eyes drop to regard her gorgeous little feet in those strappy purple high heels, she blushes.
Because that makes me wonder if she wears them forme.
I, by contrast, am not wearing any shoes. I’m barefoot as I walk into her private space as though it’s mine. As though she is mine.
She will be. She already is in some ways. I control every part of her life, and watch her all day. Even when she thinks she’salone when she walks to the park or goes to a cafe to buy that hot chocolate she loves to indulge in.
It’s been close a few times in that cafe, but I don’t think she’s been certain it’s me. The jeans and hoody with a lowered baseball cap are far from my usual custom-tailored suit and tie.
But she turns and takes odd routes sometimes, almost like she’s testing me.
The curtains in her bedroom are open a crack, allowing moonlight to spill in. There’s the glow of her new phone’s screen as it charges on the bedside cabinet. Such a good girl. She’s taken it with her everywhere, just as I directed, and the app on it means I see where she is, tracked to within a few feet.
It’s the perfect accompaniment to the video surveillance, and while less necessary after my visit to Waltham tonight, I won’t remove it. If I know precisely where she is, I can keep her safe.
My breath catches as I see Lily. So small, curled up under the covers. That bed is like an ocean and my girl, with her toffee hair spilling over the pillows in a soft wave, seems lost. She’s wearing a little white strappy top and her little breasts peek out of the neckline. My imagination fills in the rest from what I’ve seen on the CCTV screens. That tease of a pair of shorts she put on an hour ago, pulling them up her perfect, smooth legs. Nothing underneath.
Damn. My cock was already hard in anticipation, but now it’s a heavy, heated steel rod. I move to stand over her. Her face is relaxed, her eyes closed and her long dark eyelashes fanning her cheeks. Her breathing is steady and deep.
I love seeing her like this, sweet and vulnerable, her arm over the covers. So damn cute.
My gaze snags on the pile of her worn clothes on a chair near the bed. They’re shoved on there haphazardly, in the order they were stripped from her warm, luscious body. And on the top lie her knickers.
I suppose she’d be embarrassed if she knew anyone saw that, but I adore it. I like everything about her. The lazy parts of her that can’t be bothered to do laundry, the unbridled enthusiasm as she gets a design idea. I love how bright she is, even though she doesn’t think so.
These are a pair that I gave her, and fancier than the ones I stole for my personal collection. I hook the little stretchy white lace knickers up, and hold them up. Inhaling deep and carefully, I savour her scent.
Keeping the knickers at my nose, I shove my boxers down, and release my aching cock. I take in her beauty in the black and silver of the darkness. Bleak, like my need.
