Page 46 of His Property

I can already tell I’m about to lie. Or not answer.

“Are you doing work on the side?”

I narrow my eyes. Guess I won’t have to lie, after all. “No.”

“Victor, please, just tell me the truth.”

“That’s the truth!” I throw my hands up and shake my head. “Jesus, why won’t you people just leave me the fuck alone? For God’s sake, I’m not stupid. I’ve been a part of the familia for nine years and have never gone outside the lines.”

Her eyes widen, and she stares at me like a puppy I just kicked. She blinks and tries to hide the hurt, but it’s too late. I see it.

She nods and faces forward. “Okay.”

“Emily…”

“Just take me to my car. Please.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine.” She waves her hand and grabs my phone from the glove box before handing it to me. “I’ll leave you alone.”

I open my mouth, but I can’t find the right words to say. Not right now, at least. Maybe not until Mae is out of my basement.

It’s unfair that the woman who can satisfy a need no one else can is also the source of hurt for the other women in my life.

I should let Mae go early. It’s so obvious to me, and yet, I know I won’t do it. I can’t. Mae matters to me.

And I think I might matter toher.

This has gotten way too complicated.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and leave it at that.

I drive Emily to her car, and my chest doesn’t loosen until I’m home and in front of my basement door. My cock hardens as I think about what’s to come, and I eagerly anticipate the escape from reality. Work. Emily. Gabi. My mother’s release tomorrow. Fucking everything.

I open the door and descend the stairs. Mae’s moans are music to my ears, and when she comes into my sight, I remember that I never turned the vibration down on the panties. She’s trying to hold still, but her orgasm has her swaying.

My muscles relax at the sight of her, and I forget everything else. It’s like a weight lifts and a layer of my exterior melts, leaving nothing but a raw version of me. No worries. No guilt.

I walk to Mae, and she opens her eyes as she comes down from a high.

“Hi, beautiful,” I say, pushing back a piece of sweaty hair that’s come free from her braid. I press a kiss to her lips. She’s at the same height as me thanks to the stool, and her head is tilted back because of the rope connecting her hair to the hook.

“Turn it off,” she says, although it’s more like a plea. “Please, Victor.”

“How many times did you come?”

“I don’t know,” she squeaks.

She whimpers and presses her legs together, but she immediately stiffens and whimpers again. I snake my hand behind her back and gently tug on the plug, not enough to pull it out, but enough to move it.

“You were supposed to count.”

She whimpers and shifts her feet. “I lost track. I’m sorry.”

I shift the plug again, and she squeaks. I brush a hand over her hard nipples.

“Please. I can’t take anymore.Please, Victor.”

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