“Do you have schoolwork to do this morning?” I ask, watching her bring the coffee to her lips and drink.
“Probably, although I’m so tired I doubt it’s going to make much sense,” she says, smiling sweetly at me.
“You should sleep some more. I need to speak to Clay and ask him to do a deep dive into Courtney’s family that will take him a couple of hours. Then we’ll have a psycho club meeting later to talk about your plan. You won’t miss anything,” I assure her.
Sipping at her drink, she lifts the mug and stares down at it, like she’s not sure where all the coffee has gone. “I just drank a coffee. All the caffeine is going to kick in, and I’ll be wide awake.”
“I made you decaf, you’ll be fine. But I’m more than happy to make you come. An orgasm will help you sleep,” I suggest, licking my lips as my gaze falls to her pussy, the remnants of my cum still visible at her puffy entrance.
“I don’t think I can come again. You gave me my quota for the month last night.”
“But that’s not your decision, is it?” I ask, lowering my voice to the tone I use when I have to remind her who’s in charge.
“Sebastian.”
“Hold your cunt open for me,” I order.
Instead of protesting, her hand drops between her legs, and she parts her folds, giving me the perfect view of her pussy.
I’d intended to use my mouth on her, but the sight of her spread wide for me, makes my dick twitch, and before I can stop myself, I fist my cock. Crawling between her thighs, I work my hand up and down my length as I lean down and thrust my tongue into her channel. She tastes like me, but I don’t care.
The sounds that fall from her lips only make my dick harder, and I fuck her with my tongue, finding her clit with my free hand and rubbing until she comes on a cry. Pushing to my knees, Iwork my fist up and down my dick until I’m on the verge of release, then I slam my cock into her cunt and fill her with my cum. Her eyes are glassy and her muscles are lax when I slide my cock out of her and shove a pillow under her ass, tilting her pelvis back.
“God, that shouldn’t even feel good anymore,” she says sleepily.
“If it ever stops feeling good, that’s when we need to worry,” I say, leaning down to kiss her.
“I think I might take a quick nap. But wake me up before you talk to the guys.”
“I promise,” I assure her, pulling the covers over her as I slip from the bed, pausing by the bathroom door as her eyes fall closed.
Taking a quick shower, I check she’s still sleeping peacefully before I pull on pants and a T-shirt and head downstairs. As requested, Armand has left both of our breakfasts in the kitchen. My smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel is wrapped in waxy paper in the refrigerator beside Starling’s acai breakfast bowl with fruit, granola, and some slivers of fresh coconut.
Making myself a coffee, I take my bagel and mug and carry them into my office, taking a seat behind my desk and bringing my computer to life as I start to eat. Checking my emails first, I find three from our lawyers, updating me on the suit they’ve filed against Tom. My family’s lawyers are known for being sharks, and now that I’ve given them a target, I know they’ll rip poor Tom to pieces and leave him nothing but chunks of bloody chum in the water.
As I’m reading through my other emails, my cell rings, and when I tap the screen, I see it’s Chief Turner.
“Chief Turner,” I answer.
“Sebastian, good morning. I apologize for the early call, but I wanted to keep you updated on the case.”
“It’s fine, I appreciate you keeping us in the loop.”
“Of course, I’ve known your parents for years. I practically watched you grow up.”
I don’t correct the chief. He has been acquainted with my parents for a long time. But it’s in the same way that I’ve known Dr. Harris and the headmaster at Green Acres Academy. Over the years my parents have donated to charities and causes that they’ve been involved with. People like Chief Turner are people we’ve had dealings with, but we certainly weren’t inviting them round for dinner and drinks.
“My detectives have spent several hours interrogating Mr. Underhill. He’s admitted to accessing your security systems and downloading explicit videos. He’s also confessing to taking explicit photos of you and Mrs. Lockwood without your knowledge.”
“Given the evidence, he could hardly deny it,” I remind him.
“Quite,” Chief Turner agrees. “However, he has adamantly denied uploading the videos and images to pornographic websites. He also claims that he isn’t the anonymous person who contacted you and that he has no knowledge of who it is.”
“And do you have the proof that he uploaded anything to those…websites?” I ask, lacing each word with disgust.
“We do. Our tech guys found his upload history on his laptop. He’d attempted to delete it, but my team is the best, so it’s cut and dry.”
“Do you think you have enough evidence to get a conviction?”
