Page 13 of Unholy Vows

Malachai

“ T hat motherfucker!”

A smirk pulled up the corner of my mouth at the venom that laced Layla’s tone.

Once she’d found the first hidden camera, it didn’t take her long to realize who was behind the invasion of her privacy.

Good.

I wanted her to know that no matter where she went, no matter what she did, I would always be there.

Always watching.

From the very first moment, she had infected me. She was a slow poison that was sweet on the tongue but burned in your veins.

She was my obsession.

And it wasn’t delicate or gentle. It sank its claws in deep, twisting and tugging until it ripped your heart right out of your chest.

And I was fucking here for it.

Her very existence tormented me, and I wanted to inflict the same madness on her.

I couldn’t pull my gaze away from my computer screen as I watched Layla frantically search her apartment for more of the hidden devices I’d planted.

The feed from camera three went dark. She’d found the one tucked behind her antique copy of Pride and Prejudice. I leaned forward in my chair, fascinated by Layla’s chaotic beauty as she unraveled right before my eyes.

The camera concealed in the vent above her couch was the next to go. The feed blinked once before dissolving into static.

The one hidden in her light fixture — gone, disconnected.

Next, Layla moved to her kitchen. She located the device covertly placed alongside her refrigerator and atop her microwave in record time, surprising me.

An irate Layla filled my screen from the feed of camera one.

The bathroom mirror.

A predatory grin spread across my face. If she thought that was bad, wait until she found the other five devices concealed throughout the cramped space.

By the time she was done, sixteen of the seventeen cameras lay in a pile at her feet.

She’d missed the one above her entryway.

It was almost invisible. Perfectly angled, the wide lens gave me a generous view of her apartment.

And there she was.

She sank onto her couch, lowered her head, and let her dark brown hair cascade over her bare shoulders as she studied the cameras.

She wore nothing but a loose silken robe. Deep crimson. The color of blood in the candlelight. It slid from her shoulders with every movement, exposing her smooth, golden skin for my perusal.

And all I wanted to do was sink my teeth into her flesh. Marking her as mine.

Layla reached for her phone, and I tensed as she dialed a number before bringing the device to her ear.

Who was she calling?

Had I finally pushed my Little Sinner too far that she felt she had to alert the police?

That was going to put a serious dent in my plans if she did.

“At what point does a stalker transition from the good kind to the skin-wearing kind?” Layla asked, and my body relaxed.

That wasn’t something one would ask the police.

More importantly, there was a good kind of stalker? Now, that was interesting.

“For fuck’s sake, Margot! Can you be serious for one damn second?”

Margot.

The best friend.

I had done a cursory sweep of her background but found nothing of interest. She was a 30-something lawyer who lived in a penthouse apartment with her two cats. She was currently dating some high-flyer in the business world and was often photographed at charity galas and similar exclusive events.

Her life sounded positively tedious.

No dark and dirty secrets that hinted at hidden desires or less-than-kosher extracurricular activities.

Not like Layla.

My Little Sinner had a darkness inside her, and I intended to tease it out of her until she was reborn into my every fantasy.

“What the fuck am I doing?”

The sound of Layla’s voice pulled my attention back to the screen.

Then, as if shedding her vulnerability, Layla rose from the couch and scooped up the discarded cameras before heading down the hallway toward her bedroom.

Fuck.

I pushed away from my desk, frustration coiling my muscles tight as Layla disappeared out of my line of sight. I ran my hand through my hair as I contemplated where I would place the next batch of cameras.

A crackling noise drew my attention to the feed for camera seven. No longer stationed by her fire escape, the view that filled my screen was one I was intimately familiar with.

Layla’s bedroom.

She stepped back, and her sinfully perfect body filled the frame. I shifted in my chair, the temperature in the room rising with each passing second.

With deliberate slowness, Layla opened her robe. The silk parted like the Red Sea, exposing the black lace that clung to her like sin. It was the kind of lingerie that was meant to be seen.

Meant to hurt.

A dark chuckle rasped from my throat.

The little tease.

Layla pushed her robe off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet on the floor. All the while, she kept her gaze locked on the camera.

On me.

This was no accident.

This was war.

Her fingers trailed over her skin as she swayed her hips. Her gentle caress was every bit the taunt she intended it to be. She lifted her hands to her hair, driving her fingers through her silky strands as she bared her throat.

But her performance was far from submissive.

Layla wasn’t afraid of me. No, she was challenging me.

With every sensual rock of her body, I could almost hear her whisper in my ear.

“ You wanted to watch. Then watch. ”

Molten heat coiled low in my gut as I tracked her every movement.

Layla walked to the edge of her bed, and she stretched out slowly, languidly, as she posed for me. She lowered the straps of her bra, revealing her full breasts and perky nipples. Her fingers circled the peaked bud before she pinched it between her thumb and forefinger.

A low, sultry moan escaped her, and I unbuckled my belt. Her hand slid across her stomach and then down, pausing just above her lace panties.

I was hard. Achingly so as my cock pushed against my zipper.

“Is this what you wanted? To see me? To own me?”

I cursed my poor foresight for not getting a camera with a two-way mic. I wanted to demand that she touch herself. To bring herself to climax while she screamed my name.

Tugging my zipper down roughly, I yanked out my cock and began rubbing my palm up and down my length.

Layla rolled to her side and then reached into her bedside table, retrieving a neon pink dildo.

Her lips curled, and I leaned in closer, heat licking up my spine as desire and frustration warred within me.

Layla dragged the toy up her thigh, slow and deliberate, until it reached the thin line of fabric at her hip. Not quite touching. Not yet. Just close enough to make me feel the echo of it.

I pumped my shaft furiously, unable to bear the agony of my arousal for a second longer.

God, she was fucking destroying me.

And she knew it.

Layla lifted her hips and shimmied out of the black lace. Once discarded to the floor, Layla spread her legs wide, giving me the perfect view of her glistening, pink lips.

A low buzzing noise filled the room, and my breath hitched. Layla arched her back as she placed the dildo at the apex of her thighs. With slow, gentle thrusts, she pushed the toy inside her, crying out with pleasure as she fucked herself.

She was letting me watch, but only because she wanted to be watched.

Layla was reversing the game, reclaiming her power.

And it was the sexiest fucking thing I had ever seen.

With every roll of her hips, every moan that escaped her parted lips, I fell deeper into her trap. Layla’s breaths were coming hard now, and her eyes fluttered closed.

I pumped my fist up and down my cock, hard enough to hurt, as my balls tightened. With one last thrust, Layla cried out, her legs shaking as she came undone. I followed her a moment later, hot jets of my come coating my palm and hitting the screen.

For a second, the only sound that could be heard was our harsh breathing.

The buzzing noise died away, and Layla rolled to her side as she propped her head in her palm. Her body glistened with sweat, and that fucking smirk danced on her lips.

“I’m not calling the police,” she murmured, her voice so soft I had to strain to hear her. “But only because I want to see what you’ll do next, Father Malachai.”

I heard the taunt in her tone as my name fell from her lips. She thought she had outdone me. That she had discovered my secrets and now held all the cards.

If only she knew she had just invited the devil to play.

If this was her move, then I couldn’t wait to make the next one.