Chapter 35 Chapter 35

Chapter 35 Chapter 35
~BRIENNE VONBERG~

By the time I stepped out of the shower, steam still clinging to my skin and my robe wrapped around my body, Allister had already returned to the penthouse.

I saw him immediately through the surveillance feed opened on my laptop. He stood in the sitting room speaking to the maid I’d knocked unconscious hours ago, his expression unreadable while she explained something to him in rushed bursts. Every now and then she gestured nervously with her hands, and my stomach tightened because I didn’t need sound to know exactly what she was talking about.

Me.

I stared at the screen harder than I should have, pulse beating while paranoia slowly began crawling its way in. I had been careful hacking into his cameras. Extremely careful. But watching him stand there so calm while someone quietly reported to him made me suddenly feel reckless instead of clever.

Then he started walking toward his room.
Without even realizing it, I switched to the next camera feed and followed him there too.

The bedroom lights flicked on the moment he entered, flooding the room with bright light.

My fingers hovered over the laptop. I knew this was the moment I should close it and stop behaving like some obsessed idiot spiraling into self-destruction.

I genuinely intended to.

Then his jacket came off.

And suddenly my hand wasn’t moving anymore.

His shirt followed next, dragged lazily over his head before being tossed somewhere out of frame. My breath caught as his bare skin appeared beneath the light — broad shoulders, defined chest, hard muscle shifting beneath tattooed skin as he moved around the room.

The memory of the kitchen counter hit instantly—how he'd cuffed my wrists there, his mouth hot on my breasts, sucking and biting until I arched, his erection grinding against my core through his pants, and the way he’d dragged pleasure out of me slowly, like he enjoyed watching me lose pieces of my dignity one sound at a time.

Heat pooled low in my stomach before I could stop it.

'He is the target,' I reminded myself firmly. 'You are supposed to kill this man.'

The reminder should have mattered more than it did.

Allister kicked off his shoes before unfastening his pants, leaving himself in white briefs stretched tightly over powerful thighs and a body that looked carved specifically to ruin women. Then he disappeared into the bathroom and my eyes remained glued stubbornly to the empty screen like there was a chance he might come back faster if I stared hard enough.

God, this was pathetic.

Dangerous too.

And still I stayed exactly where I was.

Minutes passed before he finally emerged again, this time with only a white towel hanging low around his waist while droplets of water slid slowly down the ridges of his abdomen. My throat tightened, and something hot twisted deep in my stomach before sinking lower between my thighs.

He approached the bed, stopping right in front of the camera mounted at the headboard. Not near it or coincidentally in frame, but directly in front of it.

A shiver crawled slowly down my spine.

Did he know?

The thought had barely formed before his hand moved to the towel, tugging it free. A loud gasp escaped me before I could stop it as the fabric slipped from his hips and dropped to the floor.

My gaze betrayed me instantly.

It fell lower. Much lower. And there it was.

His cock.

Thick. Long. Veined.

It hung heavily between his legs, resting in a state of half-arousal that somehow made the sight even more devastating. Heat rushed through me as my eyes traced its impressive length, lingering far longer than they should have. It was massive, the kind that looked capable of stretching me wide, the flushed head promising all kinds of trouble.

My pulse stumbled.

For a moment, I simply stared, unable to look away despite every warning bell ringing inside my head. The sight of him stole the air from my lungs, scattering coherent thought and replacing it with something far more dangerous. Something hot. Something reckless.

My hand found its way to the hem of my robe, going underneath, and I hated myself thoroughly and completely and with great sincerity for what I was thinking of doing. Mainly because he was the one inspiring it.

My fingers itched, sliding down in-between my thighs and finding my slick folds, and I justified it to myself the way people justified things when they had already decided — he'd never know, it meant nothing, the body was a separate thing from the mind, from intention, from the plan. The body was just responding to stimulus the way bodies did. It wasn't personal.

Suspense coiled in my gut as he reached down, wrapping a strong hand around his shaft. He stroked slowly at first, thumb circling the tip, spreading precum. He was going to pleasure himself right in front of the camera. Was it a coincidence? Did he know i was watching? I thought.

Still, I mirrored the motion, rubbing my clit in tight circles, imagining that huge cock thrusting into my core instead of my own fingers. My walls fluttered, wetness coating my thighs as I pushed two digits inside, pumping them while watching him build speed. His abs tightened, hips rocking forward, that massive length swelling fully erect in his grip.

Pleasure built fast, but guilt twisted it— I despised this man for having this type of effect on me. I despised him for so many things. Still, my body betrayed me, hips lifting off the bed as I fucked myself harder, eyes locked on the screen, as I watched him pleasure himself. My moans were starting to fill the room, my free hand pinching a nipple, my eyes rolling backwards—

Then my phone rang. My entire body locked as I saw the name displayed on the screen.

ALLISTER.