Page 78 of Fatality

My grip shifts from her hair to her hips, I use them to pull her back against me with every thrust.

Then it hits me.

The fucking image of that rich girl in front of the convenience store, running barefoot in a dress that probably cost more than my apartment.

The hair, the body, the height, the way she didn't back down from that bionic man.

That was her.

Those fucking pale eyes I only caught a glimpse of that night.

My rhythm falters then stops completely. My chest rises and falls with each ragged breath.

The realization makes me grin.

I pull out without even finishing, leaving the bitch aching for my cum that she would never get. I pull my pants back up and leave without saying a word.

Now I know where to look.

I walk back to my apartment, grim determination mixing with satisfaction.

I hack into the Upper Layers' security system, the one that registers every identity.

Ren made it possible.

He spent a month working on it, but he succeeded and installed his program on every monitor in the gang's network.

Ren is fucking smart when it comes to this shit, hacking the Upper Layers isn't easy.

It's almost impossible and if you get caught, they don't fuck around. He calculated everything, one hour per day, never at the same time. Always careful not to leave a pattern behind.

I know a little more about her now. I know where she was at a specific moment in time.

She must have been at an important party that night.

I just have to find it, using the date, the description, the place. The facial-recognition data from the Upper Layers' drones, which record almost every corner up there.

I just need the two to match.

I pace around my apartment, ignoring Lira's pleas to come over and fuck her.

I should—I should go to her and use her.

But right now, I want to discover who the fuck troublemaker is.

The way she defied me, the way she didn't care who I was, the fact that she headbutted me and kicked me.

That's all the reason I need to find her.

My nose isn't broken, but it still aches every time I sniff or sneeze.

Until the system finds a match, I'll take a shower.

The water is scalding hot, beating down on my back and shoulders.

My forehead rests against the cool tile of the shower wall, my eyes squeezed shut. My hand drifts down my stomach, fingers trailing through the water and soap.

I'm hard, I got fucking blue balls from not finishing with that whore.