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CHAPTER TEN
SAINT
For a woman obsessedwith true crime, Briar certainly has no conception of self-preservation. Leaving her second-story windows open while her vibrator drones? Any creep could be out here listening. She’s lucky I’m the only one out here.
I want to know which book of mine she’s reading, which scene has gotten her so wet that she needs a vibrator pulsing against her clit to come to my words.
To get her to fall for me, to be my muse forever, I need to prove my devotion to her. Learn everything about her, exactly what makes her tick. What makes her smile, what makes her laugh, what makes her wet, what makes her come. What she loves, what she fears, what she desires. Whether she prefers my fingers, my tongue, or my cock.
Luckily, I already know which books she loves and everything about her favorite author.
Once she falls asleep, I’ll enact step one of how I’ll learn the rest.
Her moans when she comes sing out the window, and my cock throbs.
“Fuck, Briar,” I hiss, fists clenching as I fight the urge to scale this house, climb through that window, and make her come again on my cock.
Soon enough, she’ll get that lucky.
Her light shuts off. Maybe she’ll peer through the window again, scoping out the yard to find her masked savior waiting for her in the dark.
A smile pulls at my lips at the memory of her yelling at me from the window. My balls tighten at the thought of being the only one who could break her. Tame her. The only one for whom she would drop to her knees.
Saliva floods my mouth, envisioning the way she’ll fight against me until she finally gives in.
Tonight, she doesn’t come to the window. After fifteen minutes of waiting in silence, I try the front door, and I’m relieved when the knob doesn’t turn. She’s smart enough to lock her door at night, even if she’s not always smart about who she lets waltz through it.
But when I nudge a window, I shake my head. Getting in her house shouldn’t be this easy. A simple matter of popping off the screen and sliding the window up.
I grit my teeth. Doesn’t she know there are deranged people who could hurt her? The least she can do is lock her windows.
Unless this is her way of inviting me in.
In the darkness broken up only by the occasional nightlight, a cat darts away from my feet. I quietly kiss at her, but Cookie hides until she hears the crack of a tuna can opening. I dump the food into her bowl and scratch her back while she feasts.
“When I return, make sure you let your mom know that we’re friends,” I murmur.
While Cookie devours her tuna, I examine the layout of Briar’s home. I need to place the cameras strategically to obtain the best angles, where I’ll get the most footage of her without herspotting them. Luckily, the ridiculous amount of clutter in her house presents the perfect opportunity for discreet placement.
I plant a camera in the kitchen and another in the living room before heading upstairs, managing to ascend in total silence until the top step creaks beneath my foot.
Any moment now, Briar will leap out of her bedroom, screaming and swinging a bat.
Three seconds tick by.
Four.
Five.
Other than the jingle of Cookie playing with a toy in the living room, the house remains silent.
Briar’s bedroom door is wide open. She’s asleep on her stomach, mouth ajar and drooling while her vibrator charges on the nightstand next to her. I bite back a chuckle. She has no idea the kind of restful sleep the future holds once I get my hands on her.
Her soft snores make me want to crawl into bed and pull her close, but that will need to wait. Another night.
I hide the final camera, pointed at her bed and monitoring her every breath.
On my way out, I scratch Cookie behind the ears and lock the rest of the windows. I slip out the way I came in and pop the screen back into place.
