“You tell me the truth, Lily, or I force an orgasm from you.”
“You’re mad.” But a flush creeps up her neck.
I indulge in looking at her, not hiding that I’m lingering on the parts a man twice her age, and her boss, shouldn’t notice. In her little skirt and dark purple top, she’s damn sweet. With her tits almost on show, and her luscious, tanned legs draped on my bed, she’s a dream come to life. And naturally, my cock has responded. I palm it roughly.
My Lily, a perfect bloom ready to be plucked. Ripe and untouched.
“And you’re at my mercy,” I point out. “I think you have to play my game.”
Her mouth sets in a mulish line.
I sit on the edge of the bed, and stroke my hand down her side. She shivers. “I suspect I know what’s going on here, angel. But I want you to tell me.”
I’ve seen her growing interest, her online searches. And her in my apartment has lured me in further to what I hadn’t dared believe.
The object of all my desires—the woman I’ve been stalking—has begun to stalk me back.
That, or she’s working for my enemies.
“You’ll trade a truth for a truth?”
While that’s not exactly what I was thinking, I nod as I ruck up the top and palm her breast. I don’t restrain a grunt of approval when I find she isn’t wearing a bra and her nipple is puckered, firm and peaked for me. I rub my thumb over the little nub, and she lets out a shuddery breath.
“You said it was truthororgasm,” she protests.
“I think you’re going to lie.” I tweak her nipple. “So I’m getting you ready.”
Honestly, it’s more that I can’t keep my hands off her. Lily, on my bed? Lily, showing signs of being as obsessed with me as I am with her? How can she not realise that her wanting to know about me is the ultimate aphrodisiac? As though she weren’t the sexiest woman alive before, her creeping into my bedroom and lying on my bed is enough to make my balls tingle.
“I’m not going to lie,” she gasps.
“Very well. Let’s start off easy, shall we?” I roll her nipple. “How did you get in?”
“Your spare key.” She closes her eyes as I pinch my fingers together. “When you had me over for dinner, I found it in the bowl in your foyer.”
“Observant,” I concede. “I’d forgotten it was there.” Seems I made it simple for her. “You should have just asked. I’d have given it to you.”
Her eyes fly open.
“Your turn, angel,” I croon. Let’s see what she reveals with this question.
She blinks. “Those mis-delivered parcels. The money. The job.”
“Mmmhum.” I leave her breast and run my hand up to her shoulder. Relatively innocent touches, but they feed my soul. It feels like I own her as I caress the soft skin of her inner arm.
“How did you know what I wanted?”
“Clever. If I answer, I must acknowledge the premise as true: that I did all those things. You get both your inferred and direct question.”
“And?” I guess she thinks she sounds defiant and tough, but she’s tied up and so cute she might as well be a teddy bear.
“I’ve been tracking your phone.” Best to admit it. I shrug when she makes an outraged sound. “I have since the beginning. Strictly, it’s a work phone, so within my rights.”
“But…” It seems like she struggles with outrage and a touch of disbelief.
“The CCTV isn’t quite so legal,” I add.
“You were watching me?” Her eyes are so wide they’re saucers.
