Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
Sam
Four Years Ago
I pull my hood over my head, trying to conceal my face as much as possible. I should have pulled on a thicker coat, but I was already out of the apartment when the cold started to seep into my bones. I guess I'm not thinking straight. I'm only thinking of one thing: getting to Bree's house.
I followed her home one day, so I know the way.
I had wanted to follow her home—just to see if I could—but I didn't think I'd do it so soon. It was risky as hell. She suddenly packed up her things soon after arriving in the clearing and shot off. Was it because of me? Did she finally notice me in the trees? I had to know. And the few hours in the forest are all I have.
I couldn't stand the thought of losing my time with her.
And I wanted to make sure she would come back.
I think her parents had called her home for something. They live in a huge house in the suburbs. It's brown with huge windows. Looks traditional, like a well-to-do family lives there, having dinner around the table, celebrating holidays with warmth and laughter, supporting their little girl's every dream. Guess this is what it looks like when your parents love you more than they love booze.
A bitter taste had pooled in my mouth at the thought.
Finding her room was easy. The first time I crept into her backyard, heart pounding as I peeped into the windows, I expected a neighbor or—worse—her dad to catch me.
No one did.
Her bedroom was the one with lace curtains.
I hung around until I could catch sight of her face again through a gap in the curtains. She didn't seem distressed, not like she'd caught a guy peeping on her in the forest.
I wanted to stay. Right there was a new world, right in front of me. I could have seen what she acts like when she's behind a locked door. But I went there without thinking, without even realizing the risk. So I left just as quickly as I came.
And I vowed not to go back. I wanted to do things more carefully. I might have gotten a chance to see the inside of her room, but I hated the feeling of things being so out of my control.
But getting there just the one time was enough to infect me with the idea of returning. At home, I'd lie on my bed, eyes staring into the ceiling as I fought off the urge to go back. I could gain so much more from having access to her room. What would it smell like in there? Does she keep journals?
What's her panty drawer like?
What was I doing, just waiting around for the right opportunity to fall into my lap? I'm the one in control.
I need to start acting like it.
So here I am again, hugging the wall of her house below her window, straining my eyes in the darkness. The light is on above me, but I'm listening, looking out at her neighbors' houses. I didn't notice before, but the trees in her backyard make it difficult for anyone else to look in.
Good for me.
I release a breath and continue listening. Her parents could still enter the backyard for any reason under the sun. I need to be ready to get the hell out of here without being seen. So I keep my ears peeled, trying to identify the sounds of steps approaching me in the grass, but something else catches my attention.
A soft feminine sound.
It's coming from behind me.
I soundlessly turn back to the window and peep in, keeping my head as low as I possibly can. There's only a small gap in the curtains, but it's more than enough.
Bree's room is pretty simple for such a huge house. A sturdy desk sits in the corner, neatly housing her school supplies and books. The chair sitting in front of it is empty. A white fluffy rug stretches across the floor beside the tall bed in the other corner, and there must be a set of drawers in front of the window because assorted possessions just in front of my eyes provide more obstacles to look around.
But I manage to see her form clearly. She's on the bed, lying on her back, and her hands are busy between her legs, which are stretched wide open. Her panties dangle around her ankle as she feeds a slender purple toy into her wet depths, pumping it in and out steadily, slowly, deeply.
The sound comes again, a moan, something stifled and filled with yearning. But she doesn't fuck herself faster. She keeps up the achingly slow pace, teasing the same spot within her until her hips squirm.
Bree turns her cheek to her shoulder, her mouth opening in a cry I can't hear. She's holding back, doesn't want anyone else to know what she's doing to herself, how wet she's making herself.
Her hips start to jerk up to meet the purple toy. She's getting more impatient about her pleasure. I can feel the tension in her body. She wants to come.
She wants to be fucked.
I'm hard as a fucking rock. I touch myself over my pants and let my eyes shut heavily. Fuck, I want to be in her room, sliding into her slowly. I want to make her look at me as I give her every inch of me, make her drip with need.
My eyes snap open when she lets out a needier moan before trying to swallow it down. Now her hand is moving faster as it stuffs the toy into her greedy hole, her free fingers rubbing her slick clit furiously. She's getting close, I can tell by how her hips are humping. Her legs are so wide apart, it's a lewd scene, too much to ignore.
I get my dick out and start stroking fast. I can't catch up, I know she's going to come before I do, but I want to share this moment with her.
I'm right here with you.
I can hardly blink, afraid I'll miss the spectacle unfolding before me. My lips part as I breathe through my mouth, my tongue licking at the back of my front teeth. I want to taste her, lick up every last drop of her. I want her hips bucking in my face like that.
Suddenly, her knees slam together as her hips jerk hard. Bree does the best she can to muffle her cries, even going so far as to bite her finger, but I hear it, the whimpering moan of sweet release. She comes with the toy buried deep inside, then lets her limbs collapse heavily to the bed.
My heart is pounding so loud that I'm afraid she'll hear it.
I tuck my dick away as a sprinkling of dread pours down on me like rain. If she knew I was here, if anyone caught me right now, my plan would blow up in my face. She'd get a restraining order against me, they'd take me to jail.
Fuck.
I'm fighting a panic attack as I creep away from her window and barely get around the side of the house when I hear her bed creak loudly. Was she heading for the dresser by the window? Is she going outside for any reason?
My heart is hammering hard. I edge off the property, slinking between the trees near the fence that divides the neighbor's yard from theirs, and take to the sidewalk, hunching my shoulders. I need to get away, but not too fast. So I try to make like I'm just taking a casual walk, but I don't belong here, not with these clothes. Any sane person would be wearing a thicker coat.
I'm burning inside with regret. I shouldn't have come. But the need that drove me here overpowered all my thoughts.
Bree is starting to overpower my thoughts.
This little dose of her tonight, I can already feel it worming its way into my brain, etching itself there permanently. I still hear her moans in my ear. I can still see her legs spread wide.
And I know I can get her to do that for me. I can have her eating out of the palm of my hand.
But not like this. Not by sneaking around outside her home. It was stupid to come, and I have to get ahold of myself. It was driving me crazy having to keep my distance—I thought I'd have cracked her by now. And after tonight, I know my options have run out. I thought her home was going to be a gold mine—and it is. But I don't have access to it, not the way I want to.
"Shit!" I swear and kick a trash can into the street.
My fists clench in my pockets.
What else am I supposed to do?
She hardly has an online presence, and I can't get closer without tipping her off. Not to mention it's only getting colder. She's going to stop coming to the forest any day now.
I feel her slipping away. Have I even gotten any closer, or did I just convince myself these bits and pieces were leading somewhere?
No.
I steel myself and walk faster.
I'm not letting her slip away. I'm not going to let her forget about me, discard me, treat me like I'm nothing.
I just need to find a way to be a fly on her wall, some kind of sponge soaking up her innermost thoughts and desires. Obviously, a journal comes to mind, but it's too risky to break into her room, and I don't even know if she's that kind of girl.
Maybe I can turn her into that kind of girl. Maybe she'd do something like that if it was the latest trend. Not with a boring journal, though.
Something else.
That's my problem. I'm thinking too much in the moment. I need to be planning ahead, much further ahead. And maybe I do want her to forget me. Won't that give me the best chance to lay out my trap? It'll give me the time to make a better plan, something concrete.
The initial anger at losing control starts to fade, and in its place is a little realization. I may not know much about Bree yet, but after tonight, one thing's for sure.
I know how she likes to be fucked.
I've still gained something, added to a picture that will become clearer with time. I'll know what to do in every situation if I can just be patient.
And if I can find a way to become that fly on the wall.