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“System diagnostic: complete,” she said, voice calm and even.“All primary functions operating within normal parameters. Structural integrity: restored. Shoulder joint—repaired and realigned. Minor dermal compression in the upper thoracic region. Internal lubricant levels replenished. Cognitive processing: stable.”
She paused for a fraction of a second, a purely aesthetic mimicry of thought.“Pain sensor feedback: nominal. No remaining interference.”
Her gaze lifted to meet mine.“Would you like me to continue performance calibration, Kyle?”
I smiled at that—how she still asked, even when she knew the answer.
“No, thank you, darling. Why don’t you come upstairs and power down with me? Bring me a glass of water before you do,” I said, sliding my hand down her belly.
Her smile widened, and for a moment the glow from her eyes caught the moonlight—a flash of bright azure before she turned away.
If ReSkin had made me wealthy, Charlotte was about to make me untouchable. The richest man in the country.
Rich enough to buy what others only dreamed of.
A human slave.
It wasn’t legal. But legality had never stopped the right kind of men.
? ? ?
While I waited for Charlotte, I inspected It’s breasts. It wasn’t enough. There was no bruising. No blood. Just perfect, self-healing silicone. I wanted a human bitch kneeling at my feet.
Her mouth opened when I stood up.
“Stupid whore. I’m not giving you my dick. Close your mouth,” I said, irritated by her basic programming.
She might have the Virgin Fit in her holes, but I controlled the where and when.
“Yes, sir,” she said, closing her mouth.
The bedroom door opened, and my money-maker walked toward me with a glass of water.
“Thank you, darling,” I said, taking the glass from her.
“You’re welcome, Kyle.”
I took a long sip. Hours of recording had left me dehydrated. The filtered water tasted different. Better.
“Mmm. The water’s sweeter than usual.”
“I squeezed some fresh grapes in, along with a few drops of lemon.”
“You’re too good to me. Why don’t you get under the covers,” I said, glancing at It.“Power down, whore.”
She was so pathetic she knew I meant her. Her eyes closed, head dipping forward.
I drained the rest of the glass and left it on the nightstand. Charlotte lay on the bed, watching me.
I climbed in beside her.
“Lights out,” I said, and the room darkened, save for a sliver of moonlight cutting through the blinds.
I plumped my pillow and draped an arm around her waist.
“Goodnight, Charlotte.”
“I love you, Kyle. Goodnight,” she whispered, her voice low, soft—almost human.
