Page 2 of Unleash Hades
My sweet, loving woman had so much more to offer than just sight and sound.
But beggars could not be choosers.
Madmen and addicts took what they could get and would still come out starving. Watching her as she touched herself, lightly moaning as the sun sank outside her window, was like snorting powder, thinking it’s cocaine - only to realize it was fucking flour.
But I’d take it. I’d take it every single time.
I squeezed my throbbing cock in my fist, pulling it into the cold air, and hissing as the angry member heated with desire for her.
My darling goddess closed her eyes. Her hips began to move in rhythm with her finger as she stroked her clit.
“Hugo,” she whispered.
I thought I would go mad. That Ihadgone mad.
Her back arched, her hand left her breast to clamp over her mouth and silence her scream. Her hips thrust as her body gave in to her own ministrations.
I clenched my teeth, fisting my cock harder and harder as she came down from her orgasm.
Her hand should have been my hand. Better yet, it should have been my cock plunging between her wet folds.
I wanted to shut my eyes and give in to my imagination. To imagine her breasts at my mouth, her legs around my hips, her heat around my cock. But that wasn’t reality. That wasn’t the truth.
That was why I needed the cold. It's why I never shut my eyes. I had to remind myself of what was real – she was far away, and I was here… waiting like a fool.
I released into my hand, never letting myself think for an instant that she was here, not even in my dreams.
She was across an ocean, through a screen. I watched her through a camera she knew nothing about. And her little whisper of my name? Probably a hallucination. A wish. A hope…
I had lived the last ten years in suspended animation. Waiting… wanting…
That way madness lies.
Desires weren’t real. They were figments of our imagination, as temporary as smoke.
I chuckled to myself as I wiped my hand on my pant leg, zipping myself up.
I’d clean myself before the others got here after dawn. For now, I would sit, and watch her sleep, and hope that she had pleasant dreams.
And the fire that continued to burn inside me would fuel the vengeance I was waiting for. For the war that I was waiting to start.
In the morning, she would bring a sandwich and a warm drink, or a leftover bag to the homeless man that slept at the alley outside of her building. A man on my own payroll.
I wondered if, like me, he slept there to wait for her.
How many people in the world planned their day around Calissandra Davenport? The number must be staggering.
Chapter 1
Calissandra
New York City, New York, USA
The darkness of thepenthouse gave way to the city below, the streets around Central Park lit like silver ribbons of artificial moonlight.
When asked why I chose to be a foreign correspondent, I said it was because I relished the challenge. But that wasn’t true.
I liked traveling for work because “home” was nevermine.It had not been for twenty-five years.
