Page 87 of The Secretary Volume II

“Look at me,” he says.

She does.

Her mouth is open.Her eyes flicker, but she holds the gaze.

He thrusts deeper.Slower.

She comes again—writhing under him, breath hitching, her moan caught in the press of his palm.

He keeps going.

No rush.No softness.

Just control.Perfectly executed.

When he finishes, her face is already turning blue.He’s still watching her.

He doesn’t pull out right away.

He brushes her hair behind her ear.Touches her cheek like she’s a system that just passed a test.

She watches him like she knows better than to speak.

I pause the footage there.

Because it’s the look on her face I need to study.

Not her body.

Her mind.

Because that’s what he’s really after.

I unpause the footage.

Hate the way she looks at him.

Hate the way he looks back.

Like maybe this matters.

Like maybe it doesn’t.

I catalog the footage.

No labels.

Just date, time, and file number.

Then I watch it again.I can’t help myself.

50

Lena

Iwake up to the smell of bacon and the sense that I’ve overstayed.

The bed is made—half made.My side is still warm.The rest is tucked, fluffed, reset around me like I’m the wrong variable in a room built to run without one.

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