Page 23 of Beast

For now, I’ll watch her come and come right along with her. My cock is leaking as I hold out, sensing she’s getting close as she begins to shudder and moan louder, arching her back. “Gaston,” she groans my name and my cock jerks, my release coming so fast and hard I can’t stop it. Cum coats my desk, making a mess.

I’m sure she’s about to come when a frustrated growl tears from her lips. “No,” she breathes, shaking her head and stopping.

My brow furrows and I stare intently at the screen, watching as she tilts her head back under the stream of water, eyes squeezed shut. I can see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she pants, her body wound tight. What is she doing? She was right on the edge of orgasm.

Why did she stop?

And then it hits me. She’s denying herself release because she’s fantasizing about me. Even in the privacy of her own mind, she doesn’t want to give me that power. She doesn’t want to come with my name on her lips, or have her pleasure be about me in any way. Her stubbornness knows no bounds.

I lean back in my chair, a satisfied smile spreading across my face. If she’s fantasizing about me already, that’s the first step.

She turns the water off and steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself. I switch cameras, following her as she enters the bedroom and starts rifling through the lingerie I’ve provided for her. She selects a lacy black bra and panty set, dropping the towel without an ounce of modesty.

Soon I’ll have her wrapped around my cock, screaming my name. I want to run my hands over every curve, discover all her secret places.

For now, I close the feeds and tuck my still semi-hard dick into my pants before cleaning up the mess I made. There’s a more important task at hand. Estrada. It’s clear he won’t back down over my land which he wants for his drug smuggling operations.

I straighten my tie and smooth my hair back. And then I get to work hacking into Estrada’s personal servers to learn his plans. I built my tech company from nothing so hacking a criminal like Estrada will be a piece of cake.

My fingers fly over the keyboard, probing into Estrada’s personal servers. This man clearly has no idea how to properly secure his data. It’s almost too easy for someone like me to slice through his meager defenses and access everything he wishes to keep private.

A few more keystrokes and I’m in, browsing through Estrada’s files and emails. Most of it is innocuous—schedules, memos, mundane business matters. But eventually I find a encrypted folder marked ‘Operation Green Gold.’ Now this looks more promising.

I crack the encryption in minutes. Really, Estrada should invest in better security professionals instead of showy cars and women. Inside the folder are schematics and plans for his smuggling operation in Mexico City, including detailed maps marking transportation routes and storehouses. Jackpot.

I lean back in my leather chair, steepling my fingers together while I ponder this new information. Estrada wants to use my land to move his drugs from his production facilities to distribution hubs across the country. Clever in its simplicity, but unacceptable. I refuse to allow my assets to enable this man’s criminal enterprise.

My land won’t become a highway for poison, corruption, and moral decay. Even if I myself have a questionable moral compass. Estrada wants my land but how would that make my corporation look if I sell land to criminals? QuantumTech Solutions obeys the letter of the law, even if at times I choose to operate in the gray areas, there are lines I won’t cross.

I close the files, wiping away all trace of my digital footprint as I withdraw from Estrada’s system. The man needs to drastically overhaul his security protocols if he wishes to keep his operation hidden.

But that’s not my concern. I know what I need to. Estrada cannot be allowed to use my land as part of his smuggling route. I’ll be firm in refusing any offer he may put forward.

My mind drifts to the security feed and I bring it up, drawn like a magnet to the image of Blake lying on our bed. Even in casual clothes, she ignites a hunger in me I’ve never known before her. Watching her, I notice the way her thighs squeeze together and she bites her lip. The girl is desperate for release but denying it to herself.

If she carries on like that, it’ll only make it easier to seduce her. To lure her to the dark side. I cannot wait to make her wholly and irrevocably mine. To strip away her layers of resistance until only raw need remains.

There’s a battle raging within my Blake between her defiant spirt and her dark hidden cravings. Soon her mind will surrender to what her body already knows—she was made to serve me.

10

BLAKE

Each day stuck in this apartment feels like hell. I pace the floors like a caged animal, my mind racing with no outlet. Gaston keeps me trapped here with my spiraling thoughts as my only company. I need to get out, to do something.

I make my way to Gaston’s home office, knowing he’s gone for the day. Maybe I can find something useful in here, anything to occupy my mind. I jiggle the handle and find it’s locked, of course. Frustrated, I search the apartment for a key. After a while I find a set in a kitchen drawer.

Returning to the door, I try the keys until I find the right one. The room is meticulously organized, not a paper out of place. I make my way to the sleek desktop computer on the desk. It whirs to life with a click of the mouse.

He obviously forgot to log out the last time he was on. I search through his files and emails first, looking for anything incriminating. If he has any shady dealings, I could get him arrested or something and then flee back to the states. However, I find nothing beyond monotonous business communications.

My eyes catch on a folder labeled “Security Feeds.” I open it to find live camera feeds from all over the apartment. The foyer, kitchen, living room, bedroom and even the bathroom. My hands tremble with anger. He could’ve been watching me this whole time.

And then I see a file called “Saved Footage.” In there are video feed recordings all of me. In the shower, cooking, sleeping.

Motherfucker.

This bastard is practically stalking me when I’m living under the same roof as him. Nothing screams psychopath more than that. Returning to the feeds, I select the one labeled “Office.” And there I am, sitting at his desk.

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