I make it a habit not to hack the innocent.

But with her, I can’t stop myself.

Driving back again, she impales herself onto the pink dildo suctioned to the shower’s glass. Her phone lies on the counter where it always is—at a convenient angle next to the mirror facing the shower, granting me a full view of the delicious scene. Even over the thrashing of water, the mic picks up every one of her lustful moans.

As she sways forward ever-so slowly, her pussy lips grip along the shaft, until the tip kisses her entrance.

Fucking hell…

I mimic the motion along my cock, veins flaring atop my muscled, tatted forearm, imagining she’s wrapped around my skin instead of my hand. With eyes glued to the monitor in front of me, nothing could break my trance as she slams back once more. Nearby, the shower door rattles on its hinges, doing little to drown out her desperate cry. Then she slows her movements again, pulling out, inch-by-inch, teasing herself.

Gritting my teeth, I loosen up some pressure, slowing my pace. She’s such an insatiable little thing…

My obsession with Lauren started out as simple curiosity, hungering to know her before our paths are destined to cross. And while I realized it may be unfair when our time comes—as she’s unaware of my existence—I’ll know everything there is to know about her.

Initially, I was interested in her routine. Who she hung out with, her mannerisms, habits, and personality. That kind of stuff. Until my curiosity grew into something more, something I couldn’t hold the reins on.

The line between interest and obsession was first crossed the night I hacked into this exact predicament by chance. Catching the rising steam and spouts of water, I immediately went to kill the established connection, until I heard her inviting sounds, which were music to my ears.

And from then on…

I’ve been hooked.

Because this type-A, rich, smart-mouthed, preppy girl has quite the appetite, one that tells me her play toys aren’t enough to tame. So, I’ve taken a personal vow to learn her every tick, her every kink, even gone as far as hacking her porn accounts, only to fulfill her fantasies.

To hear my name on her lips.

Abandoning the dildo, soapy suds ooze from her loofah, traveling sinfully slow down the length of her arms… between the grooves of her breasts… across her belly, and… between her thighs. Water cascades from the showerhead onto her tight body like scorching rain, and steam rises along her wet auburn locks as she grinds her clit against the sponge.

Fuck, yes… I thrust into my fist. Show me how needy you get.

Picking up speed, she scrapes the loofah across her sex, back and forth, angling a parted mouth to the sky. In a mere minute, I spot her legs quiver, signaling her climax is near—but she never stops there. Her free hand clasps against the marbled wall as she bends herself over again and aligns up to the dildo, offering a mouthwatering view of her soapy pussy.

For a fleeting moment, before she makes her move, I imagine all the heinous acts I would inflict upon every one of her tight holes, if only I were in that bathroom…

A vivid scene unfolds in my mind, one where I lose control, taking her against the glass from behind. My name is on her lips, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough, not until her throat is raw and pussy is spent. Because that’s how she needs it. Only then would she know what it truly means to be filled to the brim, to be so full she’ll never want to come back up for air.

She impales herself once more, yanking me from my dream. And this time, she doesn’t tease or slow, but rides the silicone with full force, ass cheeks clapping and imprinting circular, wet suds against the foggy glass.

With a groan, I match her savage speed, using all my mental strength to wait for her arrival. I study the steam thickening around her body, painting a hazy silhouette through the glass. Panting in a wild craze, when her cries move up a subtle octave, I know she’s there.

Anticipation coils around me like a fiery band, rotating my grip as I pump harder, preparing to come with her. Then her head flies back, a sound emanating from her that can only be described as pure, heavenly ecstasy. Unrelenting, she drives hard against the glass, riding out the waves of euphoria.

When her movements slow, I keep my fist tight around my cock, not allowing myself to retreat while she’s still mounted. I shadow her movements across my now sensitive shaft, even as she rocks back and forth at a leisurely tempo. All the while, a single thought burns its way through the center of my consciousness.

Lauren Astor is mine.

By midday, I admire her at work through the camera of her desktop. Her fiery hair loops into an intricate low bun, as she buries her head amongst the thick law textbooks sprawled open on her desk.

Behind her, I recognize the skyscraper shining through the window as one of the beacons on Silicon Avenue—Astor Security. Although, I wouldn’t need that little fact to know exactly what firm she works at, what type of law she specializes in, among many other details regarding the youngest of the prominent Astor family.

She’s such an intriguing creature, with all the characteristics of an undeniable spitfire—driven and intelligent, headstrong and confident. Yet… damaged, in a subtle way that’s captivating, but a complete mystery to me. Maybe it’s because the answers she doesn’t know she should look for are right under her nose, weaved in the shadows of the monumental trial she’s spearheading.

Too bad she’ll never find them.

Or maybe that’s not the reason. One way or another, I’ll extract the source of the glimmering sadness and anger in her otherwise sharp gaze, as it’s my sole intention to understand her on a deeper level.

And what’s wrong with that?

No secrets should exist between a man and his cunning bride-to-be.

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