Voyeur

by Candace Wondrak

  “She needs a reminder,” I told him, and he nodded.

  Carter strode before Zoey, a bit cocky, but that was just Carter. He’d always been a cocky son of a bitch, even when he was a kid. It’s part of the reason why he and I clicked so well, I think. I took him under my wing, showed him the ins and outs of the business, and I let him have his fun, as long as I got to watch. As the years went on, though, it became something more. Carter was a good friend to me, a business associate and a loyal companion. I was grateful that I’d taken a chance on him all those years ago.

  “You know what I think?” Carter spoke, studying Zoey’s stance, how her gaze twinkled with fire. “I think you like being put down, reminded of where your place is.” He moved around her, standing behind her, one of his arms snaking around her torso and pinning her arms to her sides. “I think you like it when Roman takes charge of you—” He leaned his head down, his nose brushing against her pink hair as he finished, “When he makes me touch you.”

  Zoey puckered her lips, but she did not struggle against his grip. She appeared so small with her back against his chest, her head resting on his upper pectorals, like she belonged there. Like this was just another day in the game we played.

  Smirking, Carter whispered, “Are you going to lie and deny it?” His other arm went up to her hair, pulling her head to the side, exposing her neck to him. He lowered his face to the crook of her exposed neck, running his tongue along a tender spot and causing her to shiver against him.

  She was silent, though her eyes remained on me.

  “Take her on my desk,” I said.

  And he did.

  Carter spun them both, forced her down onto my desk, her top half bent over the wood. He ran a hand along the curve of her ass, its roundness inviting and free of any panty-lines under the tight leggings. His hand followed the curve of her ass, between her cheeks, slowly drawing up and around her. I knew his touch wasn’t gentle, and I heard Zoey gasp when he found what he was looking for between her legs. Probably her clit, and I’d bet any money he pinched it.

  The moment he tugged down her leggings enough to bare her ass, I made myself at home on the small sofa, crossing my legs as I felt the blood start to gather in my groin. Carter once again touched her, but this time there was no fabric hindering his movements. This time, I heard him growl out, “Wet already.”

  That much didn’t surprise me. I knew Zoey was a masochist when it came to puffing herself up and trying to deny the way she felt about me, about her agreement with me. The girl certainly did enjoy being put in her place, being reminded that she had no choice in this. She might fight, but she wanted this just as much as I did.

  She liked being taken. She liked being used. Zoey Marbella was a naughty girl, and she was all mine. Mine to use, mine to take, mine to share, should I so choose. I trusted Carter; he would never cross the line when it came to her, even if he was alone with her, away from me. He was, perhaps, the only person alive I trusted so much.

  Carter slapped her ass once before reaching to undo his belt. His cock was already rock-hard; it could go from a limp noodle to hard steel in a matter of seconds, something truly astounding. His pants dropped to his ankles, and he fisted himself once before pushing in—and when he did push his cock into her, the sound she let out was a cry for the ages. A symphony to my soul.

  He fucked her against my desk, and he fucked her hard. It was exactly what I liked to watch, what I liked to hear. Zoey was such perfection, it was almost impossible to believe fate brought her here, to me.

  Fate had fucked her over first, with her boyfriend fucking her baby sister and causing her to leave all she’d ever known. Fate was a cruel master, but sometimes its cruelty paid off. Every now and then things ended up so perfectly you truly couldn’t ask for anything more.

  That’s how I felt right now, watching Carter take her against my desk, knowing his thick cock was inside her, causing her to cry out and grunt with every powerful thrust of his hips. Fate had plucked Zoey from her old life, hand-delivering her to me at the Dollhouse. What I’d thought would be just another night had become something else entirely, something I still played back in my head sometimes.

  Carter had Crystal on her knees, his dick shoved down her throat. Zoey had peeked her head in, unaware of what was going on—or maybe she did know, and she simply wanted to watch. Either way, she’d made an impression on me, and as I went home that night, I couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting inside me, the desire that filled me when I pictured the pink-haired girl at the club.

  I’d known from that first encounter she was different, saw the vacancy in her eyes, how she practically screamed, begged for someone to make her feel alive again. I would gladly become that man for her. Carter and I would make her feel alive again, make her realize there were still some things left that were worth living for.

  My desk shook with the force of Carter’s thrusting, the cries leaving Zoey’s chest ones of pleasure. She tried to hold onto the desk, to brace herself, but there was little she could do besides take his cock and milk it.

  This, I knew, would not be the last time we’d have to teach her a lesson, remind her of where her place was. I could treat her like a princess, like a fucking queen, or I could toss her into the mud and let her crawl to my side. Really, it was up to her how we would progress from here, but either way, she would remain mine. I was not about to let this peculiar, beautiful girl go.

  Later that night, after Carter had taken her home and I’d taken care of the erection pressing against my pants after watching him claim her on my desk, I sat in one of the many lounges in my home, a large flat-screen TV turned on. I sat in a leather chair, my suit jacket unbuttoned, a small glass of whiskey in my hand, resting on my knee.

  I didn’t really care about watching the news; I did pay a mind to it to make sure everything I did was handled how it should be. If you had connections with the police—or if you had dirt on them—you could get them to sweep anything under the rug, including a triple homicide.

  Bringing the glass to my mouth, I took a small sip.

  Carter walked into the dark room, sitting in a leather seat beside mine. He bent forward, arms leaning on his knees as his eyes studied the television screen. Some days he was with me, other days I told him I could handle the job myself. Really, I only brought him when it was necessary; you didn’t bring a hammer to a job unless you needed a hammer, and I had been at this so long, I knew exactly what I’d need, when I needed it. Bringing him along when I did not need him only put him in danger.

  “Zoey can certainly badmouth you,” Carter remarked, a smile creeping along his face. “It’s kind of funny, actually.”

  I glanced at him, frowning. “Did you egg her on?”

  He shook his head. “No, she shit-talked you well enough on her own as I drove her home. What I should’ve done was record it all, because, even though she hasn’t known you for long, she has you down pat.”

  Frankly, I wasn’t sure if I should take that as an insult or not. I just kept quiet. There was something else I wanted to discuss with Carter tonight—the whole keeping an eye on Zoey bit—but I was in no rush, because I knew he wouldn’t want to.

  No, watching Zoey for me would be the last thing he would want to do.

  “She is feisty,” I remarked, running a finger around the rim of the glass, absentmindedly wondering what it was Zoey had said about me. Odds were anything she’d said was said in pure reckless defiance, that she didn’t mean what she’d told Carter as she bad-mouthed me. “I like her, Carter. I like her a lot.” A more emotional statement I didn’t think I’d ever spoken, not lately.

  He harrumphed. “I know, boss. I know.”

  Silence overtook us, the television volume the only thing filling the room for the next few moments. Eventually, I heaved a sigh. “What do you think about her?” I didn’t care whether or not he didn’t like her; his opinion of her wouldn’t change how I felt. That said, it would be easier, I think, if he liked her too. If he cou
ld get over himself and, for once, allow himself to feel something for someone else.

  Some men, when they did what I did, chose to shut off their emotions. They believed their emotions made them weak, created a flaw for their enemies to take advantage of. I suppose that could be true, but if you were professional and kept your work life and personal life separate—if you instilled enough fear into your enemies, emotions were not a bad thing at all.

  Emotions made you stronger; I was a firm believer of that. Carter, however, was unaccustomed to it.

  “I think she’s a handful,” Carter spoke, choosing his words carefully. His emerald eyes twinkled in the darkness of the room, flitting between me and the screen hanging on the wall. He’d unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt, his clavicle moving with each breath he took. “I think she’s going to be trouble for you, and therefore for me.”

  Glaring, I said, “I didn’t ask you about her. I asked what you thought of her. Don’t try to mince words with me, Carter.”

  “She’s pretty enough, even with that fucking pink hair,” he grumbled. “Her cunt is—” He stopped that train of thought the moment my glare intensified into a sheer scowl; I probably looked like I wanted to lunge off my chair and strangle him. “I like her well enough, okay? You know I don’t do that shit.”

  I don’t do that shit, translating to: I don’t let myself feel for any of the women I fuck. I use their bodies, and that’s it. No needless complications.

  Hmm. What could I say? I guess I liked things complicated. I liked the uncertainty Zoey brought into my life, how wild she acted, how she crumbled when pushed. I was addicted to her in every possible way, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Well, whether you do that shit or not,” I told him, “I am going to have you keep an eye on her. She’s obstinate enough to try doing something I explicitly told her not to, so you’ll be my enforcer when I don’t need you by my side.”

  Carter’s mouth twitched, and he tried to hold back a frown. The man didn’t last long, though. “You’re making me watch her?” When I nodded, he leaned his head back, a groan escaping his wide chest as he stared at the ceiling, not bothering to hide how annoyed he was. “Great. Babysitting. My most favorite fucking thing in the whole world.”

  “You better take the job seriously,” I told him. “If she does something, if something happens to her—it’ll be all on your head.”

  He sat up, meeting my gaze. “My head? Oh, come on—”

  “I mean it,” I said. “I want no harm to come to Zoey, and I want her to stay away from that neighbor of hers.”

  Carter rubbed his hands together, an idea forming in his head. I could tell just by the mischievous smirk that grew on his lips. “Why don’t I just get rid of her neighbor now? Avoid all that trouble—”

  “No,” I cut in. “Not yet. I want to see what she does.”

  Waiting for her to mess up, to go against what I’d told her, might be considered manipulative, but I didn’t care. You didn’t get to where I was today without becoming calculating to a certain extent.

  We would wait and see what Zoey would do, if she would cross the line with her neighbor or heed my words, take them to heart.

  Chapter Nine – Zoey

  Crystal pulled me aside the next time I worked at the Dollhouse. Roman and Carter were there, though they hadn’t dragged me—or, by extension, anyone else—into the backroom. Instead, they sat at one of the side tables, away from the stage, where I had to cater to their every whim and wish all night. The bastards.

  But, anyways, Crystal got me when I was near the bar, getting refills on their drinks. Her blonde hair was wavy, kinky, falling past her shoulders. Her eyes were done in smoky makeup, their hue blue and sparkling. Her huge breasts were held back by a thin, shiny strap of fabric, just one bump or shove away from having a nip slip. Some of the girls worked topless here, but she didn’t do it often.

  “How’s it going?” she asked above the music of the club. She threw a look over her shoulder, staring at Roman and Carter, and I could’ve sworn I saw a wistfulness cross her gaze. “I haven’t really seen much of you lately.”

  As Jamie got their drinks ready, I forced out a smile. “It’s going good.” Good was probably an understatement; that, or good wasn’t a way to describe how things were going with me at all.

  “I can’t believe Roman owns this place now,” she muttered, and I nodded along with her. Really, besides my hours, nothing had changed. To the other girls who worked here, it was life as usual, but for me? Things were a little more complicated for me when it came to Roman. “I hear you’re the only one he wants now. How are you holding up?”

  I should be happy that I was the only one Roman wanted to see, but I was a strange type of conflicted. He was basically controlling every aspect of my life; how was I supposed to be happy about that? Granted, I came from a household where my parents chose all they could for me—they’d even tried to get me to forgive Bryan and Willow for what they’d done—so I should be used to someone else pulling all the strings.

  But when it came to Roman, when it came to Carter… things were different. I wanted to have a backbone, to be strong, to not let either of them control me like I was just some plaything they could use and eventually discard.

  I… I didn’t want to be tossed out like trash, once they were bored of me. Was that stupid? Was I only waiting for the inevitable when it came to Roman? Roman and Carter, because they were a package deal; you couldn’t get one without the other.

  “I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head once. “I’m sorry, I never meant to steal him or anything—”

  Crystal waved my words off, not even letting me finish before she said, “Don’t be sorry, girl. Every woman here knew Roman wasn’t forever. We just… we never thought a new girl would walk in and sweep him off his feet. The way he acts around you, the things he’s done since you started working here—I mean, it’s just crazy. He bought this place for you.”

  He bought this place for me.

  No, see, that’s where Crystal was wrong. Roman didn’t buy this place for me; he bought it to control me. There was a huge difference, but I could understand why she didn’t see it. Crystal wasn’t privy to all of the conversations Roman and I had, to how Carter had dragged me to his house the other night and threatened Lake.

  Poor Lake. I’d been avoiding him ever since that day he stayed with me, ever since we almost kissed. When Roman threatened him, it was the last straw. I liked Lake, he was super kind, super sweet, and ridiculously cute with his dimples. He didn’t act like a guy who’d use me up and dump me when he was finished with me, unlike Roman. Even though I had walls up, Lake seemed nice.

  Too nice. So nice he didn’t deserve to be caught up in my shit. I didn’t doubt that Roman would follow through with his threat, and something like that I didn’t want on my conscience.

  I shrugged as Jamie set two full glasses on my tray. “I’m okay, really.” This life wasn’t something I was used to, but I grew up around people who constantly thought they could use me or my family’s name for their own gain. I might be new to the slums, if that’s what you wanted to call this area, but I was not new to people trying to use me.

  What was new, however, was the fact that I wanted Roman to use me. I wanted him and Carter to help bring me back. I’d felt like such a zombie after discovering Bryan and Willow together, after my parents had tried to tell me that I’d get over it, that everything would just go back to the way things were before, when I was blind and ignorant.

  No. Things were different for me now, and even though I might take issue with how Roman went about claiming me, I couldn’t deny the heat that spread through me every time I thought about him or Carter, any time I pictured Carter bending me over the nearest table and fucking me senseless. There was an art to what that man did with his cock, and I had become a connoisseur of sampling it.

  Crystal lightly touched my arm, giving me a soft smile. “If you ever need anything, don’t be afrai
d to ask, okay? I’d hate to see those two swallow you up.”

  I said nothing as she walked away, returning to pick up the empty glasses two patrons had left near the stage after the last dance. Was she genuine in her concern for me? I honestly had no idea, and I didn’t really care.

  She didn’t want to see them swallow me up? I guess that’s the thing, huh? I wanted to be swallowed up, I wanted to forget everything I ever was and become someone new, someone who didn’t care about labels or boyfriends or anything like that. Where my last name meant nothing, and no one knew I was born and raised in green.

  Roman buying the Dollhouse didn’t impress me, but him making my heart beat again did.

  How fucked up was I to crave his darkness?

  I took the drinks back to them, and after setting them down on the small glass table near their seats, Roman grabbed my hand, stopping me from walking away. His eyes, pure black pits of void, stared right into my soul, reminding me of everything he’d said, everything he’d done to me—and everything he would do to me, if given the chance.

  “Sit with us,” he said, more of an order than a suggestion.

  I glanced to the tray I still held onto, and he probably figured I’d try to use that as an excuse to either walk away or ignore his order, so he grabbed it with his free hand and set it on the floor near his chair. Before I knew what was happening, he pulled me down—though not towards him. Roman tugged me down onto Carter’s lap, and Carter’s strong, muscular body accepted the embrace with a grunt.

  Roman released me, and I squirmed a bit, feeling anxious to be sitting on Carter’s lap in the Dollhouse, where anyone who was here could look upon us, but as I surveyed the area around us, I found no one was even paying attention to us. A Tuesday night, it wasn’t the Dollhouse’s busiest night by any means; a few men sat near the stage, a few talked near the bar, trying to get Ruby’s number, and a few were at the tables on the other side of the stage, far away from us.