Unethical

Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Maxim

S arah’s car rolls up to the stop sign at the end of her road. I’m hidden on the street adjacent to it, watching. Waiting. As soon as I spot her, I start my car and prepare to follow her.

When I’m not in an appointment with her or watching her from outside her home, I’m following her as she goes through her day-to-day activities. What else does someone like me have to do besides obsess?

The same day every week, Sarah goes grocery shopping at the same store at nearly the same time. Every other week, she goes to the dry cleaners with her pretty pencil skirts, dress slacks, and blouses. Same day. Nearly the same time.

This woman is so regimented.

It’s really sad, actually, and I can’t help wondering if she experienced an ounce of spontaneity in her life before I came along. Since entering the picture, I’ve obliterated her normalcy. I’ve infiltrated her job, her home, her sleep, and her routines.

I’ve infiltrated her .

But now that I’m finally getting a molecule of compliance out of her, what do I do about the masked version of me? I created him because I wanted to get closer to her without risk of discovery. Now I can’t ever let her find out that we’re one and the same.

Sarah pulls into a mall parking lot and slots her car near the entrance to Macy’s. This mall is in its death throes, and the large clothing store is one of the few venues left to stand vigil.

I continue past her car, driving up the row, then back down. Vehicles periodically block my view of her, but she eventually gets out of her fancy car and heads inside. I find a parking spot near hers and follow her, of course.

A blast of stale mall air rushes toward me as I enter the building. The scent of perfume mingles with the overwhelming odor of new clothes.

It doesn’t take long to find Sarah once I’m inside. She stands in front of a wall of shirts, her delicate hands moving the hangers across the racks as she looks at each tag to find her size. I hang back and observe her as she continues on, and she eventually settles on several shirts and a pair of jeans.

When does she wear jeans? I’ve never seen it. Maybe I’m fostering a new, more carefree Sarah. She’s already ruined her career. Why not say fuck it to her stuffy business attire?

Regardless of the reasons for this shift, I only know that I want to see her in that pair of jeans.

With her clothing selections thrown over her arm, she makes her way toward the fitting rooms. As she passes the lingerie department, she stops and backtracks to a rack with a purple bra-and-panty set. Her fingers caress the fabric, and I’m sure she’s imagining how it would feel against her most intimate areas.

Meanwhile, I’m thinking of how it would feel to rip it off her body with my teeth.

She flips a few hangers forward and grabs one off the rack. Who’s she planning to wear that for? All her bras and panties are shades of white, gray, and black, so the fact she’s chosen something so bright intrigues me.

I hope she doesn’t mind wasting money, though, because when she wears them, I’ll do more than rip them off with my teeth. I’ll steal those panties and bring them home with me so I can inhale her scent until it fades away.

Sarah turns toward the fitting rooms once more, still blissfully unaware of my presence. A hat hangs low over my eyes, but I pull it lower. I can’t risk blowing my cover now. Not when I’ve just come up with a wonderful idea.

I loop around so I can beat her to the fitting rooms, and then I wait in one of the stalls until I hear a curtain slide across its track. After a quick check for feet in the other stalls, I head toward the heels I know belong to her.

I enter the stall and put a hand over Sarah’s mouth as I close the curtain behind me. When I’m certain she won’t scream, I release her mouth, take off my hat, and hang it from one of the hooks still clinging to life by a single screw.

“Maxim, what are you doing here?” she whispers.

“I was shopping and saw you.”

“You just happened to be shopping on the women’s side of the store?”

I smirk. By now she should know that following her isn’t so farfetched.

“I saw you picked out lingerie,” I say. “Put it on for me.”

Her eyes go wide. “What? No!”

“I want to see that purple against your skin. Do I need to strip you and dress you myself? Do you want to be my pretty little doll, doc?”

She just stares at me as if she thinks I won’t. Time to prove her wrong.

I reach out, grip the bottom of her shirt, and pull it over her head before she can resist. Her hands fly to my wrists as I reach back to unclip her black bra, but she’s hardly fighting me at all, and I’m able to remove it with ease.

When I pull the lacy purple number off the hanger, she takes a sharp breath. I turn her around, make her face one of the three mirrors, and slip her arms through the straps. As I clip it behind her back, her breasts pull together and rise higher.

“Maxim . . .” she whispers.

“Shh, I’m not done dressing you up.”

I unclip her black slacks and slip them down her thighs. She’s wearing her full-coverage underwear. How someone can still look this fucking sexy in a pair of granny panties is beyond me, but she makes it happen.

Sarah leans back, her body resting against me as I work those panties off of her too. I help her into the purple lace and bring them up to her waist. They provide much less coverage, and I salivate at the sight of the cuffs of her ass.

She doesn’t say anything as I run my fingers through her hair and begin braiding it. She just stares as I cross one strand over the other. I reach the end of the first braid and gesture toward the black hair ties she keeps on her wrist. She hands one to me, and I tie off the end of the first plait before starting on the next.

“Where did you learn to braid hair? Prison?” she asks. There’s a surprising lack of sarcasm in her question.

“No, I had a sister in foster care.”

Her eyes lock onto mine through the reflection in the mirror.

“Did you?—”

“No, doc. I never hurt her.”

I run my hands along the braids and brush the tails over her shoulders. She looks sweet, like a perfect doll.

My little toy.

I put my back to the curtain and turn her, grip her head, and pivot her gaze to each of the three mirrors. I make her look at herself. Her muscles tense and tighten as she eyes herself from every angle, the insecurity evident in her eyes.

“Relax. Look at how sexy you are, all dressed up like a sweet little doll instead of my doctor.” My hand slides down her lower belly, and I slip my fingers beneath the waistband and discover how wet she is.

She whimpers as I lean down and nip her shoulder, but she doesn’t speak.

“I want to make you come,” I whisper against her skin. “I want to see your pleasure from every angle.”

I slip my fingers into the seam of her pussy, and her clit swells beneath my touch. After rubbing a few circles over that sensitive spot, I push my fingers inside her to gather more of her wetness before circling her clit again.

She closes her eyes.

“Keep those eyes on me,” I say into her ear. “Don’t look away.”

Her eyes open as her pelvis tilts at my words, chasing my touch and giving me more of her. My cock aches for my own pleasure, but that will have to wait. I love watching her dressed up and trembling, and I’m not ready to stop.

I bite her shoulder again, a little harder this time, but it turns to kisses as my lips trail up her neck. She can think what she wants about me, that I’m a hardened criminal with no feelings, but I do have a soft spot. It exists, even if it’s only for her.

Her moans grow louder, and I’m forced to cover her mouth with my hand. The last thing I need is for some nosey shopper to fuck this up.

My fingers sink inside her again, and a rush of wetness and heat clamps around them. Keeping a steady rhythm, I stroke within her until her thighs begin to tremble. Her hips buck, showing me the right tempo, and I gladly oblige. I follow her direction and am rewarded with a beautiful visual as her breasts begin to rise and fall with each rapid intake of air.

She’s so close.

“I want you to see how pretty you look when you come. No matter where you turn, you’ll see your pleasure on your face. And it’s all coming from me. You know that, right?”

She nods her head, and I release her mouth.

“Be quiet as you come,” I say.

Her lips part and her ass moves against my erection as her orgasm builds. I wrap an arm around her, just beneath her breasts, so that I can support her as she loses herself. She reaches back and clutches my jeans in an iron grip, pressing her weight into me, and I hold her as she opens her mouth in a silent scream when she begins to come.

I stare at the bright flush creeping over her cheeks as I force her to watch every motion of my hand, every tremble of her thighs, and every twitch of her face as she orgasms. I get to see it all too. In every mind-bending angle.

And she’s fucking incredible.

As she comes back down, she relaxes against me and closes her eyes. I wish I could see inside her head. What is she feeling? Acceptance? Shame? Or maybe she feels nothing at all right now. Maybe I’ve given her tired mind a moment of peace.

Sarah doesn’t realize it yet, but I do. She’s changing me. Maybe not in the ways she hoped, but it’s a change, nonetheless. I’ll never be a good man, and that’s something she’ll have to accept, but I could be good to her. Only her.

I rip the tag off the lingerie set and hand it to her as I release her. “Pay for the bra.”

She blinks and wobbles on her feet, but then her mind catches up to what I’ve said. “What about the underwear?”

After looping around her so I can look into her eyes, I drop to my knees and bring her panties down with me. She grips my shoulders and steps out of them without argument, and I look up at her as I bring the lacy fabric to my mouth. I suck and lick the nectar that has gathered there. She’s delicious. So fucking sweet.

“These are mine now,” I say as I stuff them into my pocket.

She stares down at me and says nothing as she tries to process what just happened.

“Fuck, I’m starving,” I say, leaning closer to her soaked pussy. There’s no way I’m passing up an opportunity to taste the height of perfection from the source when I’m this close to it, so I slip my tongue out and clean her up.

She jerks and whimpers as I replace her wetness with my saliva. When she’s been thoroughly cleaned, I lean over and grab the granny panties she wore into the store and pocket them as well.

“What are you doing?” she whispers. “What am I supposed to wear out of here?”

“You aren’t wearing panties when you come to lunch with me.”

“I’m not going to lunch with you, Maxim.”

I love that she thinks she has a choice.