Page 45 of He Sees You When You’re Sleeping

Chapter Seventeen

Jack

Yup, I’m going to hell on a sleigh ride. I’m double-fisting my ticket to hell.

I swore to myself over and over that I’d resist the urge to log on to the hidden nanny cam. I swore that even though I installed it, I wouldn’t watch her.

And yet, here I am.

The soft glow of my laptop screen illuminates my guilty face as I stare at the live feed.

There she is, sitting in front of her computer, chatting with me but knowing that I am WinterWatcher, and slowly moving her hand between her legs.

I stare at my phone where I’ve been chatting with her—username: BlackAsChlo.

I know it’s her. She just doesn’t know I know.

My finger hovers over the X to close the window, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m transfixed, watching her every move like some digital voyeur.

The guilt gnaws at me, but the thrill of this forbidden knowledge is heady with lust. I watch as she leans back in her chair, her eyes closing briefly in pleasure.

Take off your clothes, I type. I want to imagine you sitting there, naked, as we talk. No camera. Just you and me... and our fantasies.

I don’t want her to go live so everyone can see her. I want her all to myself. Alone with my secret camera stealing this scene before me.

My heart races as I watch her comply, slowly undressing even though no one is technically watching—that she is aware of. She thinks she’s alone, and yet she still does what I ask.

She sits back down in front of the computer. Done, she types.

Good girl, I reply. Now spread your legs. Wide.

She slowly spreads her legs, performing like a true submissive would.

They’re spread, she types, licking her lips.

Perfect. Now I want you to touch yourself. Slowly.

Iwatch, mesmerized, as her hand drifts lower. Her fingers trace delicate patterns across her skin, teasing herself. My breath catches in my throat.

I wish you could see me, she dictates into the computer. I’m doing as you ask.

I don’t need to see you to know you are being the perfect good girl you are. Move your fingers nice and slow over your clit.

On the screen, I see her head tilt back, eyes fluttering closed as she follows my instructions. Her chest rises and falls with quickening breaths. I’m torn between watching her face and watching her hand as it moves in steady circles.

It feels so good, she says. I wish you could see how wet you make me.

My pulse races as I read her words, knowing full well that I can see exactly how wet she is. The camera’s high-definition image leaves nothing to the imagination. I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry.

Tell me more, I type back. Describe how it feels. It’s here when I decide to do the same thing she wisely did and turn my typing into voice control. I want my hands to be free.

As I wait for her response, I watch her hand trail up her body, cupping her breast. She pinches her nipple, and I see her bite her lower lip to stifle a moan.

It’s like electricity, she replies. Every touch sends sparks through my body. I’m imagining it’s your fingers instead of mine.

I’m directing this private show, orchestrating her pleasure from afar. Faster now, I instruct. Circle your clit faster. Use your other hand to slide two fingers inside.

I lean closer to the screen, captivated as she follows my commands. Her back arches slightly, her movements becoming more urgent. I can see the flush spreading across her chest, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts as her breathing quickens.

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