My lips stick together when I smack them. I reach for the nearest Red Bull can, take a swig, and immediately regret it—warm and flat, like stale piss. Speaking of…
After I’ve taken care of that and grabbed a long, sanity-restoring shower, I pull on clean jeans, a T-shirt that isn’t cum-stained, and my Sleep Token hoodie. What? It’s not just for chicks.
I fire off the intel I dug up before passing out—details on Black Ash’s China operations—to Cross, crack my neck, and reach for a fresh box of surveillance gear. State-of-the-art. Undetectable. Definitely overkill for Barbara’s apartment. But hey. Only the best for my girl.
I spread the surveillance equipment across my desk, like the guts of some digital beast. Micro-cameras, pinhole mics, signal dampeners, and a tablet with live monitoring software. This isn’t just for me to get my rocks off. It’s to keep her safe. We know Black Ash has eyes on us—when they kidnapped Emily, they showed they’re not above getting personal. But, yeah, from a safety perspective, putting a camera in her shower is ludicrous, and if the boys ever find out, I’m never living it down.
I pack everything up and loop her building’s shitty security feed before grabbing my toolkit. On the elevator ride from the penthouse to the garage, I ponder the morality of my actions. It lasts as long as the smooth elevator ride—I never was overly burdened by a conscience. By the time I slip into my Audi RS7, I’m whistling Barbara’s favorite Blackpink song and fantasizing about seeing everything I’ve only been able to hear through her phone until today.
I walk into her apartment building like I belong there, smiling at an old lady walking her dog. Charm is the lube that smooths the way through most situations. It also helps that I made an imprint of both keys—the main entrance and her front door—a month ago during a holiday get-together Emily threw, much to Killian’s consternation.
My dick was already at half-mast from anticipation, but as soon as I enter and her perfume invades my nostrils? Rock. Fucking. Hard. I adjust myself and take a look around, deciding where to start. The pink throw blanket on her couch makes me smirk—I love predictability. It can be translated into numbers, and I’m good with those.
There’s one of those mugs that changes when heated up on the coffee table: a sleepy kitten when cold, a happy kitten when hot liquid is poured inside. I was watching her buy it online a few weeks ago—a perk of having her phone cloned. Picking it up, I eye the lipstick stain on the rim, then bring it to my mouth. Mycock twitches in my pants as I lick off the makeup, my lips where Barbara’s lips were not long ago. After putting it down, I run my fingers over the sleeves of her cardigan draped over a chair. This is how my girl lives. Cozy and soft, never expecting a monster to come inside and mark its territory.
I crack my knuckles and get to work. I take a mental snapshot to ensure I’ll put her furniture exactly how it was before I start climbing it like Everest, then select the perfect piece for each location. The living room vent first.
One under the smoke detector in her kitchen. I check her fridge and pantry to see if she has any eating habits I’m not familiar with yet. My rumbling stomach reminds me I haven’t eaten since last night’s dinner, so I stuff a few handfuls of her cereal into my mouth.
Next one goes in the light fixture in the bathroom. I squirt some of her body lotion onto my palm and rub it into my skin. It’s her pussy I want to smell like, but this will have to do.
Fourth camera in the shower fan. I have to swallow down a moan when I check my phone for the positioning of that one. I can’t wait for the next time she puts her showerhead to good use.
In her bedroom, I make sure to place the state-of-the-art directional microphones in the right spot to pick up even a whisper from under her comforter. The first camera I hide under a painting above her bed, the second one in the old defunct motion sensor in the corner. Good thing she doesn’t need a security system anymore—she has me now, and I’m the only intruder this place will see. I’ll fucking make sure of it.
I can’t resist lying in her bed. Facedown, I breathe in her scent off the pillow, groaning as my lungs fill with the best-smelling air they've ever had. I picture her coming home, catching me like this. She’d gasp, those perfect lips parting as her eyes dart around, realizing what I’ve done. I’d talk her down. I’d make her understand.
The thought alone makes my whole body tighten. I press my face deeper into her pillow, breathing her in until my pulse drowns out every rational thought. The scent of her shampoo and skin clings to me, sharp and sweet. My hips move before my brain catches up—slow, desperate, mindless.
The mattress creaks under the motion as I hump it, a muted rhythm that matches my heartbeat. My cock rubs against the zipper of my jeans, hard, throbbing, and leaking, making a wet spot on the fabric I can’t bring myself to regret right now. I don’t fight the release. I let it build, let it happen, pretending she’s already here with me, soft and warm and safe and pliable.
“Ah, fuck, Barbara,” I groan into the pillow as my spine ignites, my body locking in a thrusting position like I’m balls deep inside her, breeding her with my cum.
When it’s over, I stay there, motionless, chest heaving, shame and satisfaction mixing until I can’t tell them apart. I stare at the ceiling, knowing I’ve crossed another invisible line and already planning how to pretend I haven’t.
I pull myself together, fix the covers, and double-check that every camera angle is perfect, then slip the hair tie she left on her nightstand into my pocket. Souvenir. By the time I step back out into the hallway, the mask of the friendly neighbor is back in place.
Ten minutes later, I’m back in my car, laptop open on the passenger seat as the feed flickers to life. First the living room. Then the kitchen and the bathroom. Then the bedroom. I look at my tracking app to see where her phone is located. She’s on the subway, on her way home. With a perfect view of her building, I wait to catch a glimpse of her. It’s been a few days since I last cracked and followed her in person.
My spent dick twitches back to life at the thought of us seeing my girl, and I wince at the cold sticky mess in my pants. Haven’tfelt this since I was a teenager, dry humping with the girl next door, then running off before her parents could catch us.
And there she is—my girl. My Barbara. I only see her for a minute before she’s inside the building, but the sight is enough to make every nerve in me hum. I disable the loop and follow her progress through the building’s cameras. She walks into her apartment with her coat still on, shaking the melting snow from her hair, humming under her breath. The feeds catch every angle, every movement.
“Home safe,” I murmur, watching her stretch and toss her keys onto the counter. “Always will be now.”
She doesn’t even glance toward the vent camera as she moves through the room, shedding layers, oblivious to the eyes already watching.
I settle deeper into my seat, crack open a fresh Red Bull, and grin. I can’t wait to log intoFae Nightsin a few hours, tease her again, drag her deeper into my web. And all the while, she won’t know she’s flirting with her shadow. The obsessed man who’s watching her every move.
3
BARBARA
Ising to myself in the shower, surrounded by the smell of my favorite cotton candy body wash. I have an entire line with the same smell, and I practically drown myself in it every day. The nearly-boiling water is warming up my half-frozen bones; I hate winter and can’t wait for it to be over. Even if Valentine’s Day is rapidly approaching and I’m going to be flying solo for it. Especially since my BFF Emily is getting hitched to her grumpy new man, Killian, on the day.
Normally, I might consider seducing the best man. But in Killian’s case, one of them is freshly taken as well, and the other is a dickface. Ugh. Fucking Ethan and his arrogant smirk and that insufferable god’s-gift-to-women behavior. He’s so crass. Nothing like the charming player I met inFae Nightslast night.
Sebastian.
