AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She’d likely scream, then her mom would come. Not the best way to introduce myself, I suppose.
I have work to do before I can get to the pleasure part of the evening anyway. I have my phone, but I don’t want to risk waking her up, so I move around carefully, searching out the things I need.
Her schoolbag is on the floor against the wall. Hugh took a picture of it earlier so I’d know which one it was since I haven’t actually seen her at school, and I wasn’t sure how many bags she might have lying around.
I ease down on the floor, keeping an eye on the bed to make sure there’s no movement, then I open her bag and start going through her things.
I could get her class schedule and syllabus digitally, but I prefer the personal touch of going through her copies of her papers. More informative, it turns out, because Sophie’s a doodler.
I have to turn the flashlight on my phone to read them, but as I flip through Professor DeMarco’s psych syllabus, I don’t just see the suggested reading and weekly breakdown of the textbook. I also see how she highlightedhisoffice hours and email which she didn’t do on any of the other packets she has from other professors.
My eyes narrow as I see the copious highlighting she’s done to this syllabus. Far more than she has done to the others. I suppose she could just be inordinately interested in the class, but she’s studying the actual sciences, not the social sciences. I expected her to be more interested in Darwin than Jung and Freud.
Not to pigeonhole her, of course. Sophie can be interested in whatever she’s interested in.
Just not Professor DeMarco.
I’m probably overthinking it, so I pull up the university website and search for DeMarco to see what he looks like.
Well, that’s unfortunate.
He’s not some stodgy old bastard like I hoped he might be. Instead, he’s young and handsome, radiating the kind of smug arrogance I could easily see my Sophie falling for.
Well, that won’t do at all.
With renewed interest, I slip the spy pen in her bag with the rest of her pens and highlighters. She has a little case of them, so I expect she takes the whole case out of her bag when she’s preparing for class.
I take quick pictures of each page of her marked-up syllabus just to be thorough, then I flip through the rest of her notes before closing her bag and putting it back exactly where I found it.
I slip the second pen in a little rose gold pen holder on her desk in case she comes back here after school tomorrow instead of her well-surveilled dorm room.
I’d also like to get into her computer, but I don’t know the password yet, and I don’t want to risk the screen’s brightness waking her up.
I don’t love leaving so many corners of her life unmonitored or only poorly monitored, but this will have to suffice until I can make more suitable arrangements.
When the work is done, I kick off my shoes and lift the covers so I can slide under them with her. This is risky as hell, and I really don’t want to wake her up… at least, I don’t think I do.
No, I don’t.
I’m not prepared.
I even drove myself here, and if the absolute worst came to worst, I don’t know how I’d get her out of the house and back tomine without her waking someone up or getting us killed on the road.
Definitely not prepared to take risks like this, but perhaps the risk-averse part of my brain is more relaxed than it should be because I do it anyway.
Maybe she can ask her fucking Professor DeMarco about it, I think sourly.
The sourness doesn’t last, though.
It’s impossible not to get lulled into the peace of lying beside her in bed. She smells fucking fantastic. I don’t know what kind of scent she rubs on herself or soap she uses. I caught a faint whiff of it in the escape room and in the limo last night, but here, in her bedroom? It’s everywhere. I inhale the scent like a fucking addict, my eyes drifting closed and my fingers itching to reach out and touch her.
I want to press my lips to her skin and drink her in. I want to dive beneath the covers, between her pretty legs, and bury my face in her pussy. I want her to wake up flushed and confused and then be consumed by pleasure and happy I’m here.
Probably a long shot, so I don’t take thingsthatfar, but I can’t resist touching her.
My eyes have fully adjusted to the dark, so I can see her peaceful face as she sleeps. I can see the mounds of her lovely breasts somewhat flattened since she’s lying on her back, the pale blue cotton of her sleep shirt against her bare flesh.
A swatch of her stomach is exposed above the waistband of her shorts.
