under his control

The Watchtower

Jace POV

The soft hum of the servers in my private study was the only sound cutting through the midnight silence.

I leaned back in my leather chair, grabbed a glass and poured the expensive scotch that was sitting untouched on the desk. I traced my finger in a circular motion around the brim of the glass, then took a sip of wine.

It burned in a bitter sweet taste... very satisfying. I dropped the glass and laced my fingers together as my eyes remained locked onto the glowing matrix of monitors mounted on the wall before me.

I was a man driven by greed. When I saw something rare, something perfect, I didn't just want to manage it. I wanted to claim it, lock it away, and ensure that no other living soul could ever touch it.

And from the second Kale had stepped into onto that California Got Talent stage for his audition, I knew he was going to be my ultimate possession.

My fingers moved across the keyboard, bringing up the encrypted, high definition camera feed from the downtown penthouse. I had planted them everywhere... hidden inside the sleek smoke detectors, buried in the corners of the living area, and, most importantly, tucked away in the master bedroom.

He thought he had privacy. He thought that massive skyscraper was just a luxury gift. The sweet, naive boy didn't understand that I didn't give gifts; I built highly sophisticated cages.

I watched the screen, my breath catching tightly in my throat as the live night vision feed showed Kale moving restlessly under the heavy duvet. Then, he tossed the covers aside, exposing himself fully to the lenses I controlled.

Damn. A dark, dangerous wave of heat flooded my veins, nearly driving me out of my skull. He was entirely bare, his skin looking like pale marble against the dark sheets.

My eyes greedily traced every single line of his silhouette. He had a slim, ridiculously sexy body, a tiny waist that my hands could easily crush, and a perfectly rounded, puffy ass that looked completely untouched.

Even through the digital lens, his face was breathtakingly beautiful, flushed and ruined with a raw, desperate need that I had intentionally planted inside him just hours ago.

I watched his hand slide down. I watched him stroke his c**k, his head rolling back onto the pillows as his lips parted.

My d**k throbbed violently against the fabric of my trousers, a hard, heavy ache that demanded immediate relief.

My hand hovered over my belt, the urge to rip my clothes open and find release while watching him almost overpowered my ironclad discipline.

But I stopped myself. I tightened my fist, my knuckles turning white as I forced my hand back down to the armrest of my chair. I didn't wank. I refused to give in to a cheap, solitary climax in the dark.

If I was going to spill my seed, it wasn't going to be alone in an empty office while staring at a digital monitor.

“Soon, kid,” I rasped into the quiet room.

I stared back at the screen, watching him collapse into the pillows, completely spent and ruined by his own hand.

A dark, possessive smirk spread across my face. I didn't just want his voice, and I didn't just want his contract. I wanted to break him down until he couldn't breathe without my permission.

I swore an oat in the empty room that I would make Kale mine, and mine alone. I would break that innocent shell, and when the time finally came, nobody else would ever be allowed to touch him. From this moment on, only Kale would be the one to make me c*m.