Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“My…you put your tongue inside my…”
“Your ass,” I finish for her. “How did it feel?”
All she does is nod, her cheeks going red in that gorgeous, adorable way that she has, dark freckles punctuating her embarrassment.
“You want more?” I ask.
“I want to… Oh, God… I want you to take it, I want you to force me. I want you to take control…”
Suddenly, it’s like the spell is broken. She turns and drops her head, and even as I try to grab her chin she steps away from me.
“Sorry!” she says. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was saying. You’ll get in trouble. I shouldn’t do this. I don’t know why I… I’m sorry. Please, I’ve got to go.”
“Keryn, stop,” I tell her, but she’s already grabbing her dress. The thong is still on my floor, and without thinking I stoop, grabbing it, crushing the damp fabric into my palm as I tuck it down inside my pants pocket. “Keryn, we’re doing nothing wrong. Finish that thought, baby.”
She shakes her head. “No. I can’t. I want to, but…” Again, a little shake of her head as she pulls the dress into place, covering everything, fastening it hastily as she makes for the door. “I want to but I have to go.”
And just like that, she’s gone.
Five
Max
The sound of her voice is driving me fucking crazy.
We haven’t spoken for a week, and I’m trying to give her space to process the emotions she almost shared with me, but there’s giving her space and then there’s whatever the fuck I’m doing right now. The illusion of space, I guess you’d call it.
Am I obsessed with Keryn? Sure. I can admit that. It’s unhealthy, but it would be a fuck load less healthy to sit at home and brood, rather than sitting here in the apartment next door to hers, listening to her voice amplified through the speaker system I set up. I finger her thong in my pocket, pressing it against my hard-on as I watch her on the hidden cameras installed by the gas engineer I hired after I bought this building.
Gas engineer? Hardly. Private investigator would be closer to the mark, although you won’t find my guy in any listings. Strictly word of mouth, since his methods could get him arrested. We worked together a couple of times when I was special forces, and I always found him reliable and professional, and most importantly without a shred of moral fiber.
He is a qualified gas engineer though. I had him set Keryn’s heating so I could control it from here, since she and Cynthia have been avoiding using it because it costs them more than they want to pay. Fuck that shit, I own the building now and there’s no way I’m letting them go cold, either of them.
“How’s everything with your sister?” Cyn asks, but her voice is a distraction. I zoom the kitchen camera in on Keryn’s face as she looks up from her text book.
I’ve got to say, since our session last week, her studying seems to have improved. A little surge of pride spreads through me thinking about that.
“Aunt Lydia has actually found her a job. Maid at a hotel. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but Tabby is eighteen, she should be allowed make her own decisions. I need to pass this year, Cyn, so that there’s at least something for her to use as a defense. She already has a college place lined up! But I can see her pulling out if Lydia has her way.”
A third voice pipes up. “Your grades are improving though, right?”
That’s Brandon Nolan. He thinks he’s Cyn’s boyfriend, but from what I can tell she just lets him hang around with them, mostly because he’s a Teaching Assistant for one of her professors and she thinks being nice to him gives her an edge. Honestly, if that girl applied as much thinking to her classes as she does to using her looks to cheat on them, she’d be headhunted by NASA.
Keryn nods. “Yeah, this last week I’ve gone from—”
Her face drops as her head spins toward the sound. I hear it too, because it’s right outside in the hall between our apartments. Someone knocking on their door so hard it sounds like the whole thing is going to cave in. What the fuck?
I don’t have cameras in the hall, and now I wish I did. I’m torn between leaving my post to check through the peephole in the door, and staying here where I can watch what happens on my screen when—and if—they open it.
“Expecting someone?” Keryn asks, glancing between the other two.
“Nope.”
“Uh-uh. Nobody. See who it is, Brandon? Please?”
As I zoom out from Keryn, and add the living room camera to my monitor, Brandon screws up his face. “It’s your house, babe.”