Page 8 of Command and Control: GHOST Operative

My clit is already throbbing when I slide it into place, the slightly flared end buzzing right against my G-spot as the other vibrates alongside my clit. It feels better than anything a man has ever done to me, and in under thirty seconds, I'm writhing on the bed, one hand tugging the chain draped between my breasts, adding another layer of stimulation. It’s fucking divine and sometimes makes me wonder if it’s even worth trying to find a man.

But then I imagine Vincent's expression if he could see me now. If he was watching me through the window the way he'd watched me through the computer screen. His eyes would narrow. His nostrils would flare. The hard line of his mouth would flatten, like he was pissed about how unashamed I am. How much I need to feel free. To feel excitement. To feel danger.

I open my eyes to stare out the window and catch a tiny flicker of light from the building across the pond. Almost like a pinpoint of a reflection that I canpretend is him. Watching me. Angry. Intense. Focused. Considering coming over here to show me how much better he could do.

And the Vincent in my mind could absolutely do better. He'd storm in, yank the vibrator out of my pussy and drop it to the floor, leaving it buzzing away as he replaced it with his mouth. His tongue would work my clit as his fingers fucked me relentlessly, his other hand gripping the chain of my nipple clamps.

Just imagining it sends me over the edge, shuddering almost to the point of convulsing as I come harder than I ever have. Dots dance in front of my eyes. My ears ring. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to wash my duvet.

And I still bet he could do it better.

Collapsing against the mattress, I fight to catch my breath as I switch off the vibrator and drop it beside me. Staring up at the ceiling, my brain circles back to the place it always lands.

Why couldn't Vincent have hired me? I feel like hacking into GHOST’s system was more than an acceptable audition. He was surprised. I saw it in his face. Maybe even a little impressed. I know he’s not really going to show up and fuck me silly, but the least he could do is offer me a job. Save me from a continued life of never-ending monotony. The most excitement I’ve ever had is masturbating in front of a window. I want more.

I deservemore.

Blowing out a final exhale, I collect the vibrator and head for the bathroom. The nipple clamps still feel good even though I just came, so I leave them where they are, because I take every bit of pleasure I can get now.

After cleaning the toy and leaving it to dry on a towelon the counter, I wrap myself in the fluffy terry cloth robe hanging from the back of the door and wander into the second of my two bedrooms. This one serves as my cramped, but functional, office. It’s got two desks, one for the job that pays not only my own bills, but also my two sons’ expensive as hell college tuition. The other desk is where I fiddle around with my hobby. The same hobby that brought me to Vincent.

I move to that one and drop into the chair, flicking on the monitors before indulging myself in a little peek. Is that little peek invasive? Yes. But I don't feel bad about it because I’m positive Vincent has invaded any sort of privacy I have. I know he's dug up every bit of dirt he could find on me, probably all the way down to my first-grade report card. It’s a little embarrassing considering he won’t come across anything interesting. No matter how hard he looks.

Vincent, on the other hand, isveryinteresting. When I heard about GHOST in one of the underground hacking groups I found my way into, I was intrigued. A privately held company with ties to the most secretive government branches? It sounded exciting as hell.

The people who work for GHOST probably never feel bored or like their life is going nowhere. I want that, and my options to have it are limited. I can't work for the government at this point. I'm too old to waste time working my way up that patriarchal ladder. But GHOST? I figured I might be able to find a way to work for GHOST.

So I did. I spent months circling them. Learning all I could about what they do and who they are. Then it was time to strike.

And when I came face-to-face with the man who is GHOST? Let's just say that was a two-round night too.

Opening up one of the many programs I've designed now that I have a nearly unlimited amount of free time on my hands, I log in and bring up the map identifying the single source the program is set to track. Leaning closer, I blink a few times. It seems like my eyes haven't fully recovered from the orgasm induced, temporary blindness I suffered a few minutes ago.

But the blinking dot is still in the wrong place.

I zoom in, bringing up a more detailed map.

And yelp.

Jumping up from my chair, I grip the front of my robe. Surely that can't be right. It's gotta be a mistake. The program must have become corrupted somehow. Or maybe it's accidentally tracking a different device.

I know none of those things are true or possible, but my brain is scrambling for any sort of explanation for what I'm seeing.

Because it almost looks like Vincent’s cell phone is right where I'm standing.

Not even five minutes ago I was wishing he was here, but now?

Now I think I might puke.

Vincent isn’t the kind of man who would casually wander into my neighborhood. If he’s here, it’s for one reason. And I can guarantee that reason is nothing like what it is in my fantasies.

I fan my face, suddenly so hot I’m starting to sweat. Panic has my underarms clammy and my post orgasm glow shriveling like a grape in the sun.

Forcing in a deep breath, I try to get a hold of myself.This was what I wanted. Even six months ago, when I pulled the trigger on my plan to claim a position at GHOST, I was trying to get Vincent’s attention. Trying to make him notice me. See what an asset I could be to his team.

But then nothing. No phone calls. No emails. The ass didn’t even pull my credit report. I assumed my feat of breaking through his firewall wasn’t as impressive as I thought it would be.

Except now he’s here. Or he was.

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