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I’ve told myself I can hope he loses interest in a way that won’t end in my disappearance without a trace, but I’m beyond stressed out. Because if he gets bored, aren’t I a loose end?
When I leave the house, the blue SUV follows me.
After the gym, the donut shop is busy and I’m grateful there’s no small talk with Mr. Nguyen or his wife because I’ve been worried they’d ask me questions about my last visit, about Derek, who they seemed fond of.
I eat my soup from the corner table, facing the window and doing my best to pretend I’m not being watched by some guy out there named Kenny in a blue SUV. I don’t see it, but I’m sure it’s out there. I surprisingly get hooked into the book I’m reading. Before I know it, I’m a few chapters deep and my soup bowl is empty. I didn’t get an éclair this visit since they’re sold out, but got a cherry cruller for later.
Once home, I take a hot bubble bath with the curtain closed tight (just in case) and then I change the sheets and get into a fresh bed with the book and my treat and a grateful feeling that I haven’t heard from Derek today.
I’m feeling strange being alone, but it doesn’t take long for the book to hook me again and make me forget about the fact I’m likely being recorded or watched. After a few more chapters that get pretty steamy and leave me feeling a certain kind of way, I shut the lights out and then under covers, I stealthily fetch, then start to use my vibrator. I work at it for a while, but release is elusive. Probably because Derek’s face keeps showing up behind my eyelids. His face. His body. His voice.
I try to send my fantasies in the direction of the erotic scenes in the book I’m reading and very nearly get there, but then the character morphs to Derek, the cruel visions of him dancing in my mind like a cruel prank, so I stop, toss the vibe to the side refusing to come with Derek Steele’s face, mouth, hands, cock, or other body parts playing in my mind.
An hour and a half later, I slip into the bathroom and take sleep medicine that I use once in a while when a bout of insomnia hits me. Mercifully, it works quickly.
After pressing the four digits marking the date Chloe and Hallman got engaged into the smart lock on the door, I slip in and lock it behind myself. It’s just past one o’clock in the morning and the house is dark and quiet.
I’ve seen them enough times in the past week that I know what these shadows on her nightstand represent. Hand cream. Kleenex. Tablet. Charging station. A small dish for jewelry that currently holds a pair of hoop earrings, a bracelet, and two earring backs.
It’s fascinating to be here, in this space that I’ve been watching. Now I know what it smells like, and that’s a craving I had while I watched. To know the scents of this space. To feel the textures with my fingers. I run my hand along the wall and my finger hovers over the hall light switch. I smell Chloe’s perfume. And something foreign. Something that does not fucking belong. A primal urge coasts over me, the urge to mark with my own scent. Erasing his. Blanketing her.
I touch the light switch outside her door and leave the bedroom door open wide.
The hall light doesn’t disturb her, and it provides me with a great view of her sound asleep in the middle of the bed, one shapely leg outside the blanket, bent. Waiting for my touch.
Before giving in to that urge, I look at the drawer on the table at her usual side of the bed as it’s halfway open. I reach in and immediately find the piece of paper I suspected was still here. Not because I’ve seen surveillance of it, because of that first conversation I overheard where she told the blonde that the hall pass is in the bedside table drawer with her vibrator. I hold it out toward the light coming in from the hall and seeing it’s what I wanted, I slip it into my jacket pocket.
Again, I look down at her slumbering form. Her angelic face. Her dark hair fanned out across the white pillow. Her chest rises and falls steadily.
I touch her face.
“I’m going to give you everything,” I vow.
She doesn’t stir.
Emotion swells up big in my chest. Each time it happens, it strikes me as odd, but it’s happening more frequently, emotions welling up in me. For her.
I sift my hand through her silky hair. My girl is a deep sleeper.
I run a fingertip across her bottom lip. Still no stirring.
My cock twitches and then it drips, knowing what’s about to wrap around it. Chloe’s tight heat. So fucking tight and beautiful in there. Fuck, I could live there.
I grab my aching erection and squeeze it.
After a long moment, my eyes adjusting well to the dimness, I kick my shoes off, undress, and get into bed beside her. She immediately rolls into me, cocks her knee over me and moans in her sleep as her hand skates up my torso and stops over my heart.
She’s wearing the oversized T-shirt that I saw her wearing earlier on my screen, but it’s ridden up to mid-thigh and rises higher as my hand glides up underneath the soft cotton to caress her hip. No panty line. Goosebumps rise on my beautiful girl’s skin as my fingers slip between her naked ass cheeks and slide through her silkiness. Wet already? I get to my knees and throw one over her to straddle her body as I move her to her back. My knee presses against something hard. After digging into the bedding to find it, I lift it and inspect it. Is this what I think it is? I lean to the side and twist the switch for the bedside lamp. A rabbit vibrator.
“Ah. Little bunny,” I say and laugh low.
This sleeping girl makes me smile. She makes me laugh. She makes me feel things other than irritation or anger. I’m going to give her everything. And maybe one day I’ll know by how she looks at me that I’ve made her happy.
Setting the vibrator beside her, I line up as I move her legs further apart then slam straight inside.
Her back arches as she hoarsely mumbles, “Derek.”
This surprises me; she’s still asleep. This hot body knows it’s mine already.
