Page 74 of He Sees You When You’re Sleeping

Two minutes. It feels like an eternity. My body shakes, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. I count the seconds in my head, trying to keep my breathing steady. One hundred and twenty seconds. That’s all.

All this counting, all these numbers.

I hear the door open, then close. Footsteps, slow and measured, make their way through my house. My heart pounds so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. The footsteps pause, then continue, growing closer. He’s in the bedroom now. I can sense his presence, feel his eyes on me.

“Good girl,” he says, his voice low and husky. It almost sounds as if he needs to clear his throat or cough. It’s not natural. His voice is familiar, but different than when I heard it at the club. I can’t quite put my finger on—

The bed dips as he sits beside me, his warmth radiating against my skin.

I spread my legs even wider, showing off how much of a good girl I am.

His hand touches my cheek, fingers trailing down my neck, across my collarbone. I gasp at the contact, my body arching involuntarily toward him. His hand moves lower, tracing the curve of my breast. I bite my lip, stifling a moan. Every nerve ending in my body feels like it’s on fire, hyperaware of his touch, his presence.

He isn’t speaking. I wish he was. Maybe I should speak. What will I say?

My breath hitches as his hand splays across my stomach, the heat of his palm searing my skin.

He shifts on the bed, and suddenly I feel his breath on my inner thigh. I tense, anticipation coiling tightly in my core. His lips brush against my skin, soft at first, then more insistent. He kisses a path up my thigh, maddeningly slow, each touch sending sparks through my body.

He spreads my thighs apart even wider. His hands grip my thighs firmly as he settles between them. I can feel his hot breath against my most sensitive area, making me squirm with need. But he doesn’t touch me there, not yet. Instead, he places light, teasing kisses along my inner thighs, occasionally nipping at the tender skin.

I whimper, frustrated by his teasing. “Please,” I whisper, my voice breathy and desperate.

His tongue finally makes contact, a long, slow lick that has me gasping and arching off the bed. He takes his time, exploring every fold and crevice with meticulous attention. It’s maddening and exquisite all at once.

As he works me with his mouth, one of his hands slides up my body to cup my breast. His thumb brushes over my nipple, causing it to harden into a tight peak. He pinches it lightly, the slight pain mixing with the pleasure building between my legs.

I’m lost in a haze of sensation, my hips moving of their own accord as I chase my release. Just as I’m about to tumble over the edge, he pulls away. I cry out in frustration, my body nearly vibrating with need.

I hear the rustle of fabric, the clink of a belt buckle. He’s undressing. Oh God, if only I could see. The wait is almost unbearable as I lie there, listening to the soft sounds of clothing hitting the floor.

The bed dips again as he positions himself over me. I feel the heat of his body, so close but not quite touching. His breath fans across my face, mingling with mine. The scent of him fills my nostrils—a mixture of cologne and something uniquely male that makes my head spin.

His hand cups my cheek, thumb tracing my lower lip. Without thinking, I part my lips, my tongue darting out to taste his skin. He groans softly, the sound sending a pulse of pleasure straight to my exposed, and very wet, pussy.

His lips crash onto mine, hot and demanding. The kiss is intense, passionate, stealing my breath away. His tongue invades my mouth, exploring, tasting, claiming. I respond hungrily, my hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.

This kiss will be my undoing. His lips move against mine with a familiarity that catches me off guard. There’s a tenderness beneath the passion that I wasn’t expecting. My mind races, trying to make sense of the conflicting signals.

His hand slides down my body, fingers trailing fire across my skin. He positions himself between my thighs, the hard length of him pressing against my entrance. I arch up, silently begging him to take me.

“Not yet,” he whispers against my lips. I can barely hear him as he issues his command.

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