Page 32 of The Villain We Tempt

Scaring myself with shadows and ghosts that aren’t real.

And yet, here I am.

Breaking into a girl’s bedroom and watching her sleep.

Getting offon it, and not just because I can see her panties snug against the mound of her pussy between her slightly parted thighs, or because her nipples are tight and hard beneath the cotton tank top that’s so thin I can see the slight pink hue to them. Not just because as I watch her, all I can think about is the way she came on my lap, her hair in my fist as she soaked my erection with her cum.

No, I’m getting off on the fact that I’m hereat all.

Sneaking.

Watching.

Lurking.

Or is ithunting?

My jaw sets.

Believe me, trying to wrestle feelings of self-loathing, fear of a monster hidden in your DNA,anda raging erection is a confusing mix.

Zero out of ten. Would not recommend.

I pull my gaze away from Galina’s sleeping form and begin to prowl herincrediblyneat and organized room.

On the one hand, looking through someone’s personal shit without their knowledge or consent is uncool.

But so is breaking into their room to watch them sleep. Coercing them into giving you a lap dance with blackmail you don’tactuallyhave isn'tgreat, either.

So… You know.

Bridges have been crossed. Ships have set sail.

At first all I find isexactlywhat you’d expect. A vast closet full of pretty, tastefully classy clothes alongside her school uniforms. Framed photos of her dads, her brother Zane, and a group shot of her friends here at school—Yelena De Luca, Lucia Barone, Arianna Sartorre, and Wren Antonov.

The rack of vinyl next to the vintage record player is your basic collection of Standard White Girl music, with the addition of a franklycrazynumber of Billy Joel singles and full albums.

My tastes gravitate more to 90’s rap and hiphop, 70’s punk, and early 00’s indie rock. I'm pleased to note she’s actually got some gems mixed into the Taylor Swift and Lana Del Ray: some Roberta Flack, older Smashing Pumpkins, even The Fugees’The Score, which is supremely fucking cool.

But seriously.ThirtyBilly Joel records?

I take a moment to paw my way through her underwear drawer—and, okay, steal two pairs of panties for, you know…reasons.

But at the end of the day, there’s nothing shocking about her room or its contents. I mean, yes, the fuckton of spicy romance paperbacks. But that’s it.

Everything isexactlywhat you’d expect to find in this girl’s room.

And that’s what bothers me.

Something’s missing.

My brow furrows as I drag my gaze around the room, looking for something,anything, that would give even the smallest hint thatmultiple times a week, this girl puts on bondage gear and kinky lingerie and?—

That’s what’s missing.

No, not a big neon sign flashing “VELVET VILLAINESS LIVES HERE”.

The clothes.