Watching the monitor, I took a slow, deep breath, seeing things settle down. For all of, you know, two seconds. Because A chose that exact moment to press his thumb into my clit as two of his fingers slid inside of me. “Na-ah-ah, gotta keep breathing,” he reminded me when my body tightened and my breath caught in my chest at the sensation, making the numbers on the monitor go wonky again. And that was how it went. His fingers worked me until the monitor started to look a little threatening, then he slowed, waited until I tried to calm the chaos building inside my body. A task that got harder with each passing moment, as he drove me toward that edge. His thumb caressing. His fingers stroking. “There,” A murmured, voice soft, as my walls tightened around his fingers. “Come for me,” he demanded. And just like that, I did, biting down on my lip to keep from crying out as A’s fingers kept working me through it, driving me up. I didn’t fully notice the monitor letting out a little w

Got it,” I agreed. I was no stranger to security systems. “Prepare yourself,” he said as he unlocked the door. “For what?” But before he could answer, Val was running into the hallway so fast that he slid and fell on his ass when he spotted me and tried to turn fast. “He smelled you on me when I picked him up. Had to take off my shirt and leave it with him like a fucking security blanket,” he said as I reached out with both hands to rub the big guy’s head, wishing I could get down on the floor with him, but I wasn’t sure that I could get back up if I tried. “I missed you so much,” I admitted, actually feeling tears sting at my eyes as he tried to lick every available inch of skin on me. “Yeah, ma, I think he missed you more. Been moping and miserable since you left.” “Don’t tell me that,” I said, reaching up to wipe one of those damn tears as it escaped. “Now I feel guilty.” “I made you leave,” he reminded me. “Why did you?” I asked, following him inside. “Thought I was prot

Yeah?” “Yeah,” I said, nodding. “It was obnoxious.” “Hopefully, you won’t have to be worrying about me too much longer,” he told me. “But I should probably make it up to you,” he said, turning me, and pressing me back against the wall. “That would be the right thing to do,” I said even as I felt his fingers teasing up my thigh. “Think so too,” he said as his fingers pressed between my thighs, his fingers sliding down my cleft, then slipping inside as his thumb found my clit. “Ready for me already?” he asked as my hips rocked against his touch. “Always,” I admitted because I was pretty sure that was true. I was always ready to feel him touch me, to have him move inside of me. “Fuck,” he growled as a little moan escaped me. “I need to feel you,” he said as his fingers slid out of me. His hand lifted my leg on my good side, then moving inward, his cock pressed against my cleft, the slid inside of me. I was pretty sure we both gasped as the tip slid in, then as he filled me. Slowl

They had to fucking respect me. Only then could I move on. “Why are you still there, though?” A asked. “If Peter. hates you?” “Oh, because Peter. threatened to dissolve the office down if he fired me.” “Got it. So, if you do get their respect, then you move on? Or are you attached to the misery now?” “Ouch,” I said, wincing at how accurate that was. “Always gonna give it to you straight,” A said, shrugging. “I like that,” I admitted. “Are you closer to… King Johnson ?” I asked, not sure how to phrase all the torture and murder. “Yeah, ma. I’ll get some sleep, then tomorrow I will be close. If I don’t get him tomorrow, it will be the next day.” “You’ll have found all your snakes by then?” I asked. “Yeah, ma. No more worries going forward. You’ll be safe.” “I wasn’t worried about myself.” “Like that you worry about me, but you don’t need to,” he told me, turning his head to place a kiss on my forehead. There was no more conversation then, but we both stayed awake for a whil

I checked all the supplies in the cabinets. I washed the towels and clothes that were in the bathroom. I took the dogs to go potty on the roof. I played fetch with them inside when they started getting restless and tussling with one another. It was a big, open space, with lots of room for dogs to walk around. Yes, even fourteen of them. But they were dogs used to roaming the grounds all day. This was torture for them. Plus, well, they probably missed A and the rest of the guys who I’d seen sneaking them bits of food at meal times. I couldn’t help but wonder how many of those men I would never see again. How many of them had known, like King Johnson had known, that I was an imposter. Maybe, morally, I should have been appalled to know A had come home covered in blood the night before. That I’d washed it out of his clothes myself. That I was not telling authorities about what he was doing. But I’d been trained my entire life to understand that outlaw lives were different than nor