How is it possible that a mere woman is undoing all that I am, all that I aspire to be? I am on the brink of kneeling—not to bury my face in her privacy, but to plead for permission to do so. Being with Elle isn't the same; I always end up craving more than what I have.
Here I am, in my office, attempting to design the piece for the Russian's daughter, but I'm so unsettled, unable to concentrate; my thoughts fixate on one thing only.
You might call me depraved, but my desire is insatiable if not satisfied by her. I doubt any other woman could make me feel all that she does.
With Jackie, I always want more, and without her, I yearn even greater. On top of that, my cousin Benjamin has arrived; he's taken up residence in the mansion, and my mother incessantly nags me to give him a job - not just any job. If it were up to me, I'd have him scrubbing toilets; I can't stand him, particularly after catching his eyes wander over Jackie’s backside. Worse yet, I can't tell him that he can't look at her, that she's mine.
Dammit, why can't I stop thinking about her? Her breasts, her flat stomach... This torment is unbearable; I'm ready to explode any moment if she's not beneath me, filling the void completely.
At night, I stay late in the office, biding my time. I leave for my destination, park my car, and wait for her to finish her classes. Fortunately, she exits alone.
She walks by, self-embraced, appearing forlorn. I might swear she's sad, but only I know how to strip away all that burdens her, for she craves me just as intensely. I’ve got her accustomed to a rhythm and vigor she won't easily surpass; she's likely more tortured than I.
Jackie lingers at the stop. I draw near.
"Good evening, miss. May I offer you a ride?" I inquire, her eyes lighting up before her gaze shifts.
"No, thank you," she turns away, ignoring me.
"Come on, my chocolate. Get in, I just want to talk," I implore, my words almost a plea.
"Fine, but we are only talking, to settle this matter once and for all," she concedes, entering the car.
We drive in silence. I'm not one for words; I prefer action. Her phone rings, and she smiles at the caller ID, eliciting an urge within me to toss the device out the window.
"Hello?" I can only guess what that idiot on the line might be saying. "I'm on my way home, thanks for caring," she says endearingly, and I can't help but scowl at her tone. "See you tomorrow. I'll try to come in earlier so you can help me with the dialogue." What the hell. "Okay, good night," she concludes, sparking my curiosity and irritation.
"Sure, he might be sweet and romantic, but he can't satisfy you like I can, leaving your legs trembling, begging for more," my inner thoughts betray me, voiced aloud.
"What's wrong with you, animal? All you think about is sex; it's all you care about," she retorts, irritation evident, yet speaking truth.
"And what else should matter to me?" I roll my eyes dismissively.
"Well, not just my body, but my feelings, my life, my things," she fires back, even more irate.
I park the car—"Baby, we both knew this was all between us—no feelings involved. Isn't it enough to know how much I want you each time I see you, when you are near?" Her gaze falls, and I can't resist any longer. I pounce like a starving wolf, devouring her lips as she enjoys it fiercely. I ache for her so badly; if only I could offer her what she longs for, to have her at my whim.
"Cameron!" she moans, driving me to the brink of madness. This isn't where I want her; it’s uncomfortable, and she deserves more—a proper thrill.
"Let’s go somewhere else, with more room to do everything you adore," I whisper against her lips, her desire evident.
The car roars back to life, we arrive at a hotel. I hurry inside, trying to hide my arousal, and request a room. In the elevator, our lips meet again. Once in the room, I give her the unimaginable; the woman unravels me, with her moans, kisses, orgasms, her very essence.
"Jackeline, baby, you're driving me mad. I've longed for this," I confess my intense desire.
"I want you too, Cameron. You can't imagine how often I've thought about entering your room, to be split open as only you can," her words fan the flames.
"Damn, baby, you just make me want you more."
We continue fiercely, roughly—it's our shared passion. Our bodies mingle beautifully, glistening with sweat, nonstop for hours on end. We haven't allowed a breath.
"Cameron, we should leave," she protests after our last seismic pleasure.
"Just one more, baby," I call her back for another kiss, my desire reignited by her swollen lips.
"Really, look at the time, Cameron!" she moans anew as I enter her.
We engage once more in a frenzy of kisses, unrestrained lovemaking in the bathroom before departing. This infernal woman has me mad.
We return to the house at a dead hour, confident we won’t be seen. She rushes out of the car near the mansion. I enter my room, disrobe, and slip into bed, but someone else is there.
"Cameron, is this the time you show up? Where have you been? With what harlot were you cavorting?" she bombards with questions, but I have only one on my mind, annoyed with this woman's intrusion.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I demand. "Don't you have a home?" It frustrates me to be hounded by my mother and Elle.
"Love, I'm your fiancee, how could you speak to me this way?" she starts to weep.
"Don't cry, I didn't mean to upset you. It's just infuriating to be smothered by you and my mother."
I exit the room, heading to the study. Why did I ever become engaged? My life was fine as it was.
By dawn, which comes swiftly, we gather for breakfast. Jackeline, as usual, is serving.
She spills a bit of juice.
"Clumsy negro, can't you see?" my sister screams. "Besides being black, you're stupid," she mutters.
"Mia," my father intercedes—"don't speak to Jackeline that way."
"It's such an annoyance. I don't know why you always stand up for her, always defending her as if she were your daughter," the ire apparent in my father's eyes.
"Excuse me!" Jackie interjects.
"You're not leaving," my father asserts with rage, outraged by Mia's foolishness—"Apologize to Jackeline immediately."
"No, no, no! I'd rather throw myself in front of a train than apologize to this negro maid," she retorts, arms crossed, making my chocolate increasingly uncomfortable; thankfully, my mother is absent.
"Alright, I'm cutting off your credit cards for a month," my father decrees.
"But daddy, you can't do this to me because of her..."
"What's going on here?" My mother arrives. "What's with the shouting?" Even Elle is stirred, and Jackie looks at me, baffled.
"Mommy, daddy's making me apologize to this maid, and since I obviously won't, he'll cut off my cards for a month," Mia complains, my mother always indulging her, not exactly fond of Jackie herself.
"Bruce, don't you think you're overreacting? It's too much drama over a servant, isn't it?" my mother challenges with her gaze.
"I'm not arguing with you on how to raise my children; this is why they are so entitled."
"My dear husband, my children don't think they're better, they are better than others," her smile is sinister.
I love my mother, but she can be so uncompromising.
My father leaves angered, and eventually so do I, ignoring Elle.
"Son," my mother calls out, commanding, "I need that position for Benjamin in the company."
Back in the office, I can finally work peacefully, having relieved so much stress with Jackeline. I discuss with my father; he's been down lately, always despondent around this time. I wish I knew what was troubling him.
"Dad, when will you tell me what's bothering you?"
"Son, I didn't hear you arrive. It's old sore that remains in the present."
"Dad, I wish I could help."
"Thank you, but... no one can. I've learned to live with it," he sighs sadly—"I don't understand why your sister must act this way. Your mother, I get—she's always been like that."
"Dad, you know mom has always spoiled Mia too much. Speaking of which, mom wants Benjamin in the company," I groan inwardly.
"I don't trust that boy; I've never liked him," my father admits.
"I can't stand him," I recall his lecherous gaze at my woman.
"Keep him close; find a position for him," my father suggests.
"All right, I'll get on it," I announce, heading to HR. I secure what's needed.
In the evening, I inform my mother that her dear nephew starts Monday in accounting; she's evidently pleased.
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