“Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side
which he never shows to anybody.”
—Mark Twain
My strides are long, shoulders tense, as I stalk downstairs to the basement. I pass the closed door to my ... office ... and continue down the dark hall until I reach the camera room.
The door opens before I reach it. Aubrey’s on her game today.
She sits behind the desk, the control panels within reach. Her eyebrows are drawn, her green eyes flicking from the wide display of monitors to mine. “Master.” She sounds surprised to see me.
I rarely enter the camera room. But I need a favor, and Aubrey’s the only secretary I trust enough to keep it quiet. More accurately, to keep it from Raife.
“I need you to do something for me.”
“Of course.” Her gaze drops to my pants, where I feel my hard cock straining against the material. She quickly averts her attention, and she actually looks baffled. Certainly not the first time the girl’s seen a hard on, but it is the first time she’s seen one on me.
She’ll get over it. Just like I’ll have to.
“How long till Felix relieves you from your shift?”
She glances at the time on one of the monitors. “Twenty minutes.”
I nod. “I’ll cover for you. Get me all the files we have on Emmy Highland.”
She rolls the chair back and stands. “Right away.” She starts to walk around me, then pauses, glances back. “Master, if I may ... Raife’s just trying to get to you. It’s what he wants.”
I let out a breath of dry amusement, my gaze narrowing on the monitors before me when a certain petite girl with long black hair flits across one of the screens. Truthfully, Raife’s not my concern right now.
“Get the files, Aubrey.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then her heels click toward the exit, and the door locks behind her.
I continue to track Emmy as she enters the ladies’ quarters, probably checking out for the night. My feet are rooted to the floor, my entire body stiff and pulsing with an unrested sensation I can’t fucking shake.
Her warmth, her wetness, is still on my fingers, tucked inside my pocket where her scent can’t get to me. I should have stopped to wash my hands and rid myself of her completely, but my blood was boiling to the point I couldn’t see straight on my way here.
My worst case of blue balls yet, and I can’t do a goddamn thing about it.
Emmy stops before her door, then glances down both ends of the empty hall before opening it and stepping inside. She makes her way to the bathroom, the one place without a camera, and closes the door behind her.
I let out a frustrated sigh and take a small step toward the monitors.
I remember vividly the last time I fucked a woman, nearly six years ago—just like I recall the terrified look on her pale face. I had one hand locked around her throat with my knuckles going white, and the other holding a knife an inch from her stomach without me even realizing it.
And she was a professional.
By then, I’d already gone through unintentionally scaring the shit out of women when I needed a fix. I quickly learned I needed someone who specifically enjoyed, or at the very least could take it, when I hit that point of blinding release. Every time, I lost all sense of the control I work so hard at maintaining.
I can’t even use my own damn hand without losing myself, losing my barely-there sanity, in those final moments of ecstasy. However fleeting, it’s enough to give me a sense of what it would be like to lose it all. To threaten unleashing the demons of my mind forever and breaking me down completely. And time isn’t on my side. The longer I keep my past locked inside, the more difficult it becomes to contain. I won’t risk surrendering my control again.
So I abstain. Like a fucking priest.
With an unhealthy appetite for spilling blood.
The door opens, and I look over my shoulder. Aubrey sets two manila folders on the desk, then glances up at me. “Want me to stay?”
I shake my head, flicking my attention back to the monitor. “I’ll text you when I’m done.”
