Page 57 of Shattered Queens: Veronica
If I were a better man, I’d find another person to watch over her and let her move on with her life, but I’m not that man. Like it or not, she’s stuck with me. This isn’t love; this is obsession, but to me,this is as close as I’ll ever get to that word. I’m looking into Frank, who I didn’t even know existed. I saw the way he looked at her. She didn’t notice the glances he gave her. He was practically salivating to be near her. I hacked into her phone after the whole condom fiasco and saw that he is the one she’s scheduled to meet. The text messages were innocent enough, but fuck Frank. He’s going to be stood up in a couple of hours. I can’t find anything on him. He’s too clean. That always sets off alarms.
Speaking of…I open her nightstand and pull out the box of unopened condoms. I walk to the bathroom and throw them in the trash. I know she’s clean. One thing about Veronica is that she never misses a checkup. She also hasn’t fucked anyone in months. Thanks to me.
She doesn’t need to worry about Gemma. I had Sebastian talk to her and explain that I won’t be seeing her anymore. I had to have him do it because she wasn’t responding to me. It’s better this way. I’m not worried about hurt feelings with her. I’m a job, and although Veronica was jealous of her, there’s no reason to be. Gemma is aiming higher; if anyone has anything to worry about, it’s her friend, Berenice. It’s something I’ll tell her in time.
“Aren’t you going to get some sleep?” I hear a groggy Veronica ask as she turns to face me.
“I don’t sleep much.”
“Well, I do, and I need you to close that laptop and try or leave.”
“Oh, I know what grumpy and sleepless Veronica looks like,” I say as I close the computer and set my glasses on the nightstand.
“I like you with glasses,” she admits, half asleep. “You have the sexy-nerd thing going. I think it’s hot.”
“Well, I’ll take note of it.” I lie down and pull her to me. She fits perfectly in my arms.
Her eyes are already fluttering shut as she pulls the cover up to her chin, but she can see the smirk playing on my lips. “You do that,” she mumbles, her voice trailing off into the steady breathing of someone sliding back into a deep sleep.
I lie there in the dark, the room’s silence amplified by the soft hum of the city outside. My mind usually races at this hour, but the weight of Veronica’s presence beside me anchors me to her side.
She thinks it’s a “sexy-nerd thing.” I think about how rare it is for anyone to see me with my guard down, let alone my glasses on. I don’t tell her that sleep is a luxury I rarely afford myself. Instead, I stare at the shadows on the ceiling; her warmth is a steady reminder of why I actually closed the laptop for once. For the first time in a long time, the quiet doesn't feel like a void to be filled with work. I don’t know when, but sleep takes over.
The last couple of weeks, there’s been an unspoken truce and acceptance of this thing that’s happening between us. She made it abundantly clear that we are not dating, and I’m free to do whatever I want or whoever I want. Interesting, because it was a one-sided conversation. She does her volunteer work, goes to classes, and in between, I fuck her senseless. Anywhere and everywhere I can take her. She was lucky that I didn’t fuck her on Andrew’s desk after our meeting today. When I took her to the construction site to check on some details, I couldn’t keep my hands off her.
“You should have told me we were coming here. I would have worn something more practical for a construction site,” she says, walking through the rubble in her tan ankle boots and a light-blue sweater dress.
I’ve wanted to bend her over since the moment I saw her this morning.
“It was last-minute. I need to make sure the building isn’t blocking out the sunlight for the garden.”
After I finish the task, I walk over to her. She’s standing next to a pile of building material. I grab her waist and bring her to me. My chest presses against her back and ass. I coil one arm around her, while the other trails down her side until I reach the hem of her dress.
“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about bending you over Andrew’s desk to fuck you?” I whisper in her ear.
She whimpers as my hand moves to her center. “I don’t think he’d mind the show,” she sasses back.
“You’re such a brat. That smart-ass mouth gets you into a lot of trouble.”
She gasps when my cold fingers tug her panties to the side and enter her warm and tight pussy.
“Miles.” She moans. And it’s all the encouragement I need. I lift her dress up, bunching it at her waist. She’s wearing a string thong. She might as well not wear anything.
“No more wearing panties with your dresses. Do you understand?”
There’s no response. So I slap her ass—hard. I see the handprint on her round flesh.
“Do you understand?”
Again, there’s no response, so I slap her other cheek. Fuck, seeing my handprint on her like this is making my dick hard.
“Fuck.” She moans. “Yes. But I want more.”
“Don’t worry, baby. I’m going to give it to you.” I make a quick job of unbuttoning my pants and push her legs apart, lining myself up at her entrance. “Hold on to the edge of the pallets,” I order her.
And she does as she’s told. Then I slam into her. With one arm still wrapped around her, the other moves to her pussy, and I start to rub her clit.
“Yes. Fuck me, Miles. I need more.” She’s a mess. My mess.
