Page 2 of His Secret Toy
I press mute.
The girl is arching against the chair now. My chair. Her shirt’s loose again, hanging off one shoulder. She tilts her head back.
As always, she has no idea the cameras are on. No idea that I’ve seen every second.
How can she be so desperately insane? What if someone else walked in, having arrived early as well, perhaps a janitor, having to come into my office for whatever reason?
What if some other man took her, would she still come with my name on her lips?
I see red.
My jaw tightens. I’m hard, and for some reason, I find myself angry as well.
I’m done pretending this doesn’t matter.
I tap the screen once, minimized the feed and locked it.
My dick flexes as I watch her show, her free hand lifting to tease one perfect nipple as her fingers delved between her likely slick thighs. Every fiber of my being wants to be there to confirm just how wet she is.
“Take the lower entrance,” I tell my driver at last, eyes still on the screen.
He nods.
“And use the secure elevator. I’m going up alone.”
The building is quiet at this hour—just the way I like it. I walk through the underground entrance without a word. No greetings. No eye contact. Not this morning.
I scan my palm at the private elevator, press the key for the top floor, and wait.
She should’ve been fired the moment I saw the first clip. I should’ve deleted it from the system and wiped her badge access the same night. Instead, I exported the footage. Watched it twice, then three times that night. Turned the sound up on the last one so I could hear exactly how she whispered my name into the silence.
She’s not stupid. She had to know there were cameras.
Or maybe she wanted to be caught.
The elevator slides open. No sound. Just a soft shift in pressure. I step out, keys in my palm, heart steady but my body far from calm.
It stops today. Watching isn’t enough anymore. I’m not going to sit behind screens
like some voyeur playing god. I’m going to step inside and ask her what the hell she thinks she’s doing. Then I’m going to tell her to keep doing it.
Not because she should, but because I want to see it, closer and slower, and with my voice in her ear this time.
She doesn’t know it yet but I’m already inside her head.
And she’s about to learn what that really means.
CHAPTER ONE
POV: Harper
“Fuck…”
My hand flies under me, fingers pushing deep inside my cunthole, stretching it even wider.
My fingers dance over my clit with practiced ease, my eyes closing as I lose myself in the sensations.
The shirt I picked this morning was too thin on purpose.
