I am the devil standing on her shoulder, after all. I am her dark prince, leading her down paths she would never walk alone. Once upon a time, there may have been an angel standing on the other shoulder, but that guy is long gone now. And it wasn’t me who scared him away. Sloane chased him off all by herself. She liked the darkness. She liked the shadows and the adrenalin. Now breaking the rules and chasing down another thrill is all that’s left for her.
“Stop, Zeth. God, please…I have to go back inside in a minute. If you carry on doing that—”
“You’ll want me to fuck you?” I growl into the delicate curve of her neck. “You’ll want me to push your legs open and guide my fingers into your cunt. Don’t you want me to see how wet you are, Sloane? Don’t you want my fingers slick with you?”
“Fuck.”
“You said you had two hours until this guy shows up. It’s not going to take that long to move the kid into the basement.”
“I have other patients, Zeth. The hospital’s barely running as it is. I can’t—”
I smirk.
“What are you smiling about, you evil bastard?” She jabs me in the ribs, pretending to be mad.
“Well…” I rub my hand on her leg, my smile growing. “You say one thing with your mouth, angry girl, but your body is speaking an entirely different language.”
She looks down at herself and notices what I noticed just a second ago—that her legs are already spread wide open, the tight, professional black pencil skirt she wore to work instead of her scrubs riding up her bare thighs.
“Damn it,” she hisses.
“Mmm.” I trail my fingers lightly over her smooth skin, my blood surging around my body faster and faster. It’s shocking that I can even feel it moving through my veins at all; seems to me the majority of my blood is circulating primarily around my rock solid cock and nowhere else. “You’ve been working non-stop for days. You haven’t slept properly since you got sick. You should be kinder to yourself,” I say, grinning from ear to ear. “Or at least let me be kind to you. To your pussy specifically.”
She gives me a doubtful look. She wants me just as much as I want her, which is a fucking lot. I can tell by the way her full lips are even more swollen than usual. Her cheeks were already flushed when I sat down next to her, but now they look like they’re on fire, hot to touch. Her shoulders are rolled back, arching her spine, pushing out her breasts so that they’re straining at her pale blue cotton shirt. The swell of her tits is just visible, heaving against the material, and I have a mind to take hold of her clothing and rent it apart so they can spring free. It’s a fucking crime that they’re covered so efficiently right now. I want them bare and naked. I want her nipples peaked and hard against the fresh night air. I want her fingers in my hair, tugging on it hard as I massage her flesh there with my tongue.
My dick is throbbing, painful and demanding as Sloane tilts her head down to look at her bare, spread legs. “I suppose…” she whispers.
It’s all I need. I’m down on my knees before she can utter another word. I shove my way between her legs, ducking down so that she can put them over my shoulders.
“God, Zeth. I think…I think there are cameras out here.”
From my vantage point on my knees, about two seconds away from burying my face in the already wet material of her panties, I send her the faintest of smiles. “Now, now, angry girl. Don’t play games with me. You know it turns you on to think of someone on the other end of that camera, watching you come for me.”
She shudders, her legs pressing a little tighter around my head. Her lips are parted, the faint gleam of her teeth visible in the half-light. “Maybe you’re right,” she says quietly. “Maybe I do. Maybe…maybe you should give them something to see.”
She’s a wicked, wicked girl, and I made her that way. The thought gives me a grim satisfaction. I push her legs open further, sinking lower in between them. She should know better than to tell me I need to put on a show. Putting on a show is one of my favorite things in the whole world. I hook my finger underneath the fabric of her panties, pulling it to one side so that she’s exposed to me. “Lay back,” I tell her.
Sloane licks her lips, easing herself back onto her elbows, her pristine white lab coat draping onto the concrete. It’s going to be filthy by the time I’m finished with her. But then, so will she. “Put your feet here,” I tell her, taking hold of her by the ankles and placing the soles of her pumps onto the tops of my thighs.
With the patience of a saint, I allow myself to slowly lean into her. She’s trembling like crazy, making small, quiet, urgent sounds. Knowing that I have this much power over her is precious to me. Some people might say that thinking this way is toxic. That I’m toxic. But so fucking what? I’ve never given a single shit over what anyone else thinks of me, and I’m sure as fuck not going to start now.
I love that she obeys me.
I love that she gives herself over to me with perfect, unquestioning abandon.
I love that she trusts me.
I love that she loves me.