The line falls silent and I see him shake his head on the monitor. “I don’t like this. This isn’t fucking right. This isn’t a test, Mateo, it’s fucking entrapment. You’re not giving that girl a shot in hell.”
“Which is why she’ll talk,” I remark, with no small amount of patience.
“It’s bullshit. Why don’t you give her a real shot? Why don’t you stop what you’re doing to her and let her out of your room? That way she knows she doesn’t have to deal with you or Vince and she has a few days of safety to get her head straight first. I can put her in the room across from Francesca. At least stop abusing her before you send cops to talk to her.”
“Which is it, Adrian? You don’t think she’ll talk, or you’re worried she will to get away from me? You can’t believe both eventualities.”
“I don’t know what the fuck to believe,” he states, irritably. “I just know this isn’t right and I don’t like it. Let me take her out of your room.”
“No,” I say, immovably.
“Because you want her dead, or because you’re fucking enjoying yourself?”
I can hear how much he hates me right now—he usually keeps it toned down to gruff disapproval, but this Mia thing is pushing Adrian’s limits. He feels complicit in my crime, like he might as well be the one forcing his dick in her because he knows what he’s allowing me to do.
All it takes for evil to succeed is for good men to do nothing, after all.
On fairer grounds, Adrian can live with himself despite his complicity in my various shenanigans, but Mia isn’t an opponent. This isn’t a fair fight—it’s no fight at all, it’s just me mowing down a helpless target.
It’s cruel. I acknowledge that.
Initially, Adrian tried to stomach it with my promise that her suffering wouldn’t be drawn out, that I’d resolve the matter quickly and we’d put the poor girl out of her misery. Sure, I’m doing damage that could last a lifetime, but her lifetime expires within the next couple weeks; that’s not so long. He still thought it was inhumane. Kicking my food around before I kill it. It probably is. Can’t bring myself to regret it, though.
I might, when she’s dead and my cock is still rising at the thought of her. That’s going to be a bit disturbing. Maybe I should shop around for a girlfriend when all this is over. Perhaps Mia’s right; maybe I am a little lonely.
That’s a lot of work, though. I don’t know if I feel like doing that.
Switching the monitor, I focus back on my bedroom. Mia’s still in the bathroom. Faint annoyance moves through me at my inability to see her.
“Does she usually shower long? Maybe you should go check on her,” I suggest.
“What?”
“She asked for a razor. What if she wants to hurt herself? Go make sure she’s all right.”
Adrian pauses. I glance at the monitor again, then consult my watch to see how long she’s been in there. I didn’t check the time, though, so I look at my phone to see how long I’ve been on the phone with Adrian.
“You want me to bust in on the girl you’re planning to kill while she’s showering… to make sure she isn’t hurting herself? Wouldn’t that save us a whole lot of steps?”
“You can go check or I will. If I do, I’ll be staying for a while.”
Vaguely growling, Adrian hangs up on me.
I smirk, placing my phone on the desk and turning my attention to the monitor. Adrian heads into my room, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. It’s his tell. He always does it when he’s deeply uncomfortable. Poor guy. I’m probably taking years off his life.
He pushes the bathroom door open, but immediately hesitates and takes a step back into the bedroom. He takes another minute, then pushes the door open again and walks inside.
He comes back out a moment later, walking a little faster, rubbing at the back of his neck again. He glares up at the monitor and flashes me a sarcastically emphatic thumbs-up.
I chuckle to myself, pushing up out of the seat and retrieving my phone so I can leave the security room before I sit here and watch Mia all fucking day.
—
Mia gasps as I yank her head back by the hair, thrusting my cock inside her from behind. Her arms are pinned at the small of her back, secured there with one of my hands, but she doesn’t attempt to pull free. Her ass is up like a good girl, her perfect tits crushed and chafing the mattress as her body moves with the force of my thrusts. I really like this position—it’s reminiscent of the first time I fucked her, but she knows it’s me this time—the only problem is I can’t see her face. I don’t think I’m hurting her but she’s trying hard to be silent, so without seeing her face I can’t be sure if that was a gasp of surprise, pleasure, or pain.