With that ache in the middle of my chest, the one that I couldn't rub away, I wasn't sure which it was. If she wasn't going to protect herself, she certainly needed protecting. And this way, I would know what she was planning. While I'd been at Ben's, I'd tracked her by phone. Like a compulsion.
As much as I hated it, as much as I didn't want to believe it, I’d trusted the wrong person. I had made that mistake. And now, it was coming back to haunt me.
My phone chimed again, and I glowered as I pulled it out of my pocket. When I saw Nyla's name flash next to the messages, my thumb hovered over it. I tried to talk myself out of doing what I knew I shouldn't. My thumb hovered over her name and I wanted to press it. I wanted to see what other lies she could spout.
Don't do it mate. Slide and hit delete. Ignore it. Like you have all the others.
Instead, I slid it to read her message.
Nyla: Are you watching me?
Instant fucking hard on.
Christ. Did she know I was there?
I glanced down to her flat. The lights dimmed and she strolled out from the bedroom.
Another text.
Nyla: I can feel you watching me.
Fuuuck. Beads of sweat popped on my brow. Could she feel my gaze now as it licked over her skin?
Nyla: Matter of fact, since you won't talk to me, I'm going to just go ahead and remind you of what you're missing by not hearing me out.
Jesus Christ, she thought this was some kind of joke? I’d trusted her. I brought her in to meet my family. I'd let her behind the shield. She knew more about the Elite than any non-member who wasn't married to a member. That could hurt us. And while we wanted to hurt the Elite, or rather specific numbers of them, it had to happen on our timeline and in the way that we deemed proper and necessary. I didn't want Nyla poking her head in because she would seek and destroy. Her cuts would not be surgical, and the blowback would land on Ben, Bridge, myself, and Drew. I didn't care what happened to me, but the lads, they had lives... families.
In the low light, I could see that she’d dragged over her loveseat so that it was in my direct view. She knew I was here. Fuck my life. How did she know?
Because you’re unoriginal, you knob. You’ve done this before.
Jesus fucking Christ, anyone could be watching. I quickly ran to my laptop, opened it, and with a few keystrokes, I was into that camera and shut it down. Even if only temporarily. I didn't need anyone else hacking into CCTV and seeing whatever the hell she was about to do. It was going to be my own private torture. My own private hell.
Nyla: Since you're not going to talk to me and just watch me, I want you to know that I still want you. But since you walked out on me, sometime real soon, someone else is going to make me feel good. And you won’t be able not to watch. And it will hurt. No less than when you walked away from me with no explanation.
My dick begged to be touched. Licked. Fucked. By her. Only her.
Too bad. He couldn’t have her.
She was on the loveseat now, and she was... Oh hell, was she dancing? There was a suggestive sway of her hips as she turned to face the loveseat and bent over. I swallowed hard as I watched her arse sashay back and forth, and then her thumbs hooked into those tight boy shorts as if to tug them down.
Oh, fuck me. I eased into the high-backed chair that I'd had brought into the flat. Why was she doing this?
She must know you're not strong enough.
Jesus Christ.
My gut knotted as my erection throbbed. I wanted her. I was so desperate for her. I could still taste her. Less than twenty-four hours without her, and I was jonesing like an addict.
I watched her arse sway, back and forth. Back and forth. I ached to slide those shorts down, so I could see her full curves and that delectable arse. I wanted to bite it. To slide my tongue through her lips and bury my whole face into her. Or even better, slide my dick home. Fuck, she was killing me. And she knew it. She gave a little sexy swish of her hips and turned. The subtle movement sent her hair swinging over her shoulders, cascading down. All I wanted to do was fist my hands in the lush fullness and tug it as I owned her.
She eased down onto the edge of the loveseat and then wrapped her hands around her waist and gently pulled up the camisole she was wearing just enough to show the undersides of her heavy breasts, and then she stopped.
Fuck me. Come on, show me what I need.
But she didn't. Instead, she opened her legs, showing me her secrets. Laying back on the loveseat, with one hand, she pinched one of her nipples, and my mouth watered. Her other hand slid down between the valley of her breasts, over her belly, to the juncture of her thighs.
I could see her mouth moving, dictating a message that pinged on my phone.
Nyla: I’ve got my hands full. If only you were here to help me.
Oh fuck.
I was at a crossroad. I knew what I needed to do and what I should absolutely, categorically not do. But Nyla Kincade was giving me a show. She knew what I liked. She knew what I needed, and she was giving it to me. With jerking motions, I reached for my belt. I yanked down the zipper on my trousers none too gently as I gripped my cock and yanked it out. He was bursting beneath my palm, screaming for freedom. I wrapped my hand around and slid up and down as I
