Page 15 of Scarred in Silence
I lick my lips as I rub her swollen clit gently with my thumb. I glide my fingers down her folds, coating them in her arousal. I drag them back up, spreading it all over her sweet pussy.
“Do you remember?” I whisper as I stare into her eyes.
“Y-yes,” she says in a breathy moan.
I pull my fingers off of her and lick them clean. So fucking sweet.
“Good.”
I turn around and stop at the bottom of the ladder.
“Eat your lunch. Only good girls get rewarded.”
I creep up the ladder and remove it from the cell. She better eat her fucking lunch because I can barely hold myself together. Her attitude needs a fucking adjustment.
Closing the door, I open up my phone and watch the camera feed. I sit down on the floor above her as I watch.
She has her legs spread wide open. Her fingers dipping softly into herself. She pulls them out and starts rubbing her clit faster. Fuck. I tip the ladder over, letting it crash onto the ground above her. She jumps.
“Fucking stop!” I yell out above the floor.
I watch her as she scans the room, searching for the camera. She spots one and approaches it, as if she owns the place. Fucking Hell.
She removes her shirt, revealing her perfect tits, and she drapes the shirt over the camera. I would make a big deal out of it, but there are others.
I switch camera views and watch her as she returns to the bed. Only this time, she doesn’t continue what she was doing before. She picks up her bag of food.
Good girl.
* **
I’m actually surprised that she ate all of her lunch and attempted to eat all of her dinner. I added a slice of cheesecake to her dinner as a reward for eating her lunch.
I really wanted to reward her in other ways, but she’s not ready yet. She would still fuck anyone if it meant getting out of the cell and getting back to her precious drugs.
That’s not going to fucking happen. I will be the only thing she will beg for.
I watch her on the cameras as I scroll through the documents her father sent over. He sent me the Power of Attorney paperwork, as well as the Marriage Certificate. He forged her signature on it.
I read everything carefully and email him back. Letting him know I will meet him at the notary on Friday.
My phone rings on my desk, interrupting the camera feed.
“What’s up?”
“We need to do a run on Thursday. A couple of hours north,” Dante says calmly.
“Can it wait until next week?”
“No.” His tone shifts into a stern tone.
“Ronan and Jared can’t go?”
“They are coming with us. It’s a new client. Something feels off about it, though.”
“What feels off?” I ask.
“The name and address they gave me sound familiar.”
