Chapter 21
twenty-one
THE WATCHER
It was three in the morning, and he’d woken up after only two hours.
He wouldn’t sleep again until she was in his sight. He knew that. The fear that she was unprotected in the blizzard-like conditions was debilitating.
He’d spent a few hours dreaming about all the things he had planned to do to her the moment she agreed to be his.
What bit of skin would his fingers or lips touch first? He’d pictured tracing his fingertips across her full lips and down her neck to follow the line of her collarbone.
Whispering all the dirty things he wanted to do to her. What he wanted her to do to him.
He would tell her that he lived for her pleasure.
Through a camera, he’d seen her face in the throes of passion.
He knew exactly what she’d look like when he played with her body.
Picturing her bright, whiskey eyes wide, looking up at him, her body quivering as he laved and then sucked a nipple into his mouth had him grinding his hips into the rough canvas of his cot.
She had the best nipples. Her areolas were a stunning deep brown and the size of a fifty-euro cent.
In his dream, her nipples would make a decadent popping noise as he lifted his head and allowed them to pull free of his mouth.
He was sweaty and panting as he woke from the erotic dream. Groaning into his blanket, he realized he wasn’t too old to make a mess in his boxers.
He cleaned himself up and now stood at the lone window watching swirls of snow batter the landscape.
She was out there. Alone.
“You’ll never be alone again, baby.”