Page 27 of In Love and Revenge

My hand is in my boxers in a flash, and I give in to the inevitable urge to wank over her again. It’s becoming a daily occurrence, like I need it to function. Wake. Workout. Coffee. Wank. Et cetera.

‘Beauty,’ I rumble, like she can hear me. Like she’s on the receiving end of my low rasp of appreciation as she turns, and I cop an eyeful of her curvy arse.

It’s as she spins back, and I wait to see those magnificent tits again, that something else catches my eye. A coat hanging on the rail behind her. A floral fabric. A distinct pattern. One I’ve seen before but can’t place.

She says something to the camera, and I turn my attention back to her face, tugging on my dick with increased urgency as the need to come overtakes everything else.

She’s a goddamn problem.

She’s fucking divine.

I bought that dress she’s wearing, and I’d rip it off her if I could.

Her father stole from me.

And she’s laughing at me ... with her fuckingboyfriend.

She shouldn’t be with anyone. No one should be touching her. No one except ...

I come with a grunt, thick white ropes splattering across my palm as I rush to catch them.

I hate her.

I clean myself up and tuck my dick away. It’ll be appeased for a few hours, at least. Until the urge to watch her again hits.

I rewind the video, the floral fabric niggling at something buried deep in the recesses of my memory. But it’s no use, I still can’t place it. Can’t figure out why it’s familiar. One thing I do know is that it’s not Aurora’s. I zoom in on the background, something sparking in my mind. I quickly select another of her videos, then another, then another.

‘You clever girl,’ I muse as I relax back in my chair.

She always films so you can’t see much of the dressing rooms behind her. Just the odd item of clothing on a rail. Maybe a shelfof bags or shoes. No one would notice anything wrong, unless they were looking.

Unless they were me.

I pick up my pen and slide it between my fingers as I think. Aurora’s filmed her content in at least three different dressing rooms, if not more. She’s up to something. And if I’m going to find out what that something is, I need to engineer a way to spend more time with her. Give myself an opportunity to discover the secrets and lies she’s hiding behind those deceivingly innocent-looking eyes.

Never mind dreaming up getting into her panties and punishing her.

I need to get into Aurora Thorne’s head.

I check my watch. I have fifteen minutes until my next meeting. Rolling my lips, I take my dick back out leisurely and click ‘play’ on the video again. My grip isn’t angry this time, like after I found the magazine with the devil horns on. And my strokes aren’t urgent, like a few minutes ago, picturing her with her loser boyfriend.

This time I’m measured and controlled.

Because finally I have something on her. Somewhere to start digging.

And it feels fucking fantastic.

‘Mm,’ I groan, stroking myself slowly as I watch her face light up modelling the black dress. ‘That’s it, Beauty. Sit on my cock and ride it. Let those little tits bounce in that dress I paid for.’ I chuckle darkly. ‘Enjoy it. Because once I’m done with you, you’ll know exactly how it feels to be well and truly fucked.’

Chapter 8

Aurora

‘You can do it. Just rip it off like a wax strip. Quick and painless.’

I snort at Dove’s description and shove another ready-salted crisp into my mouth.

She eyes me through my phone’s camera. ‘I thought you said you were meeting Charlie for dinner?’