Page 11 of Peep

I watch through the glass-panelled door as his shoulders sag like he’s defeated. Did I take it too far? I’m tempted to bust in there and ask him what’s wrong and how we can get back ontrack. I genuinely thought things were moving forward with us. I wait for a few minutes, but it’s clear he’s waiting for me to leave before coming back out.

What on earth am I doing?

I have so many secrets, and I’m supposed to be laying low. Why am I trying to weave my way into this volatile man’s life? What I’m doing could border on harassment. I'm seizing every opportunity to speak to him when he’s clearly not interested in playing my games. A guilt-filled cocktail swirls in my empty stomach.

I know the feeling he’s probably experiencing. The feeling that someone isn’t hearing your words, isn’t backing off when you’ve said ‘no’ more times than you can count, yet I’m becoming the very thing I despise. The same thing I once feared and vowed to destroy—a predator.

I abandon ship and head back up to my apartment. I remove my coat and shoes, take care of business in the bathroom and then strip off. Turning on the shower, I look at my reflection in the mirror as it begins to fog. My finger comes up, and I unconsciously trace an A and J in a heart on the mirror, smiling to myself like I’ve lost it. Why is he under my skin? Why can I feel him around me all at once? I’ve always felt his presence, his subtle stare. Anders is sneaky, though. He’s great at darting his eyes away just in time before I catch him.

After showering and brushing my teeth, I step into my bedroom. I need to clear my head; maybe a quick orgasm will do the trick. I’m all pent up. It’s been a few days since I got off. Blue balls can’t possibly be helping my current infatuation with Anders.

Rivulets of water trail down my body, creating a little puddle on the floor. I whip off the towel and lazily pat myself off before putting on deodorant and lathering my body in cocoa butter.

A little thrill rushes through me at the thought of climbing into bed and giving my hole some well-deserved attention. I pull the covers back and jump in, kicking my legs out excitedly because I’m all snug. There’s no better feeling than getting into bed after a night shift.

As my head slams back on the pillow, I flinch at the hardness under my head. I lean up, slinging the pillow away to discover my purple dildo under the pillow on the side of the bed I usually sleep on.

“What the hell?” I’ve never, not once in my life, left it under that pillow. It’s always on the left side. Why would I sleep with a dildo under my head?

Someone was in here. Fuck…Anderswas in here.

No wonder he was so freaked out and defensive; the little shit was rifling through my stuff, after all. He must be suspicious of me if he’s going through my things. The dead body in the trunk joke really didn’t land. His whole reaction makes perfect sense now.

Part of me is low-key buzzing that Anders has a mischievous side. Knowing he’s seen my dildo and has probably imagined all the naughty things I do with it kind of turns me on. I should be embarrassed or furious, but I’m not—I’m rock-hard.

Was it the first time he sneaked into my apartment? Is he a boxer sniffer? A lustful shiver travels down my spine.

I fling my legs over the side of the bed and climb out, shoving on some underwear. I search my place for any other signs that he was here. After ten minutes, I give up, flopping onto my bed and switching off the light. Feeling a little flustered from searching my apartment, I reach for the ceiling fan remote and point it towards it. As it starts to spin, I watch the arms of the fan flash by faster and faster. The sound is soothing, like white noise. As my eyes flutter shut and I focus on the centre of the fan, I notice a faint glow behind the plastic centre. I’ve nevernoticed that before. I scramble for my phone and put on the flashlight. Turning off the fan, I impatiently wait until it’s no longer violently spinning. Standing on my bed, I flash my phone light onto the fan and gasp. There’s a tiny hole, almost invisible to the naked eye, but I can see it up close. I peel the centre of the fan away and flip it over to find a small camera.

Holy shit, he’s watching me.

My skin pebbles, and my dick throbs behind my boxers. No fucking way. Anders, who just told me to keep it ‘professional’, is a pervert and potentially stalking me. That makes me smile more than it should. Shit, I think I’m swooning. Swooning over being stalked, I am not ok. Any scrap of sanity I had has left the building because the thought of him watching me has my cock ready to spill.

I knew he was a little suspicious of me, but this is next level. He messed with my dildo and set up a camera right above my bed. Wow. He's obsessed with me. Why does that make me giddy?

Anders wants to watch me in my most uninhibited way. He wants to watch me pleasure myself—fuck, maybe he even wants to just watch me sleep. He might be as fucked up as me, and it only makes me want him more.

Hold on a fucking minute. How long has the camera been here? Did he see me with my ‘patient’? He’s a stalker, so maybe he got off on it. If he did, that would be pretty wild, even for me.

I hastily put the fan back together and fall back onto my bed with a flop, slipping my boxers down and palming my straining cock. Well, if the little perv wants a show, he’ll bloody get one.

Chapter 7

Anders

Ididn’t remove the camera because I’m a dirty liar who lies. I’m sitting in my car outside my Mum’s house, hovering my thumb over my security app, willing myself not to check Jahmar’s camera feed. I’ve avoided clicking on it all day because I know as soon as I do, I’ve crossed the line into psychopathic stalker territory. I’ve always kept this odd urge to watch people under wraps…until him.

Jahmar’s a smart guy; I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already discovered the camera. The suspicion surged off him in thick waves, drowning me in paranoia.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Even if I found out he was up to something shady, it’s not like I could report him. I’d literally be handing myself in to the police for invasion of privacy. Deep down, I know this has nothing to do with wanting to find out if he’s some criminal. This was about my twisted desire to uncover this captivating man. He drives me fucking insane with his chirpy disposition and shameless flirting. But he also gets me hard and makes my stomach do pathetic somersaults whenever he’s near. His very presence transforms my dull world into technicolour, so bright he could burn away my retinas.

If I let my guard down with him, even just once, he’d eat me alive. Skin, bones, and all, leaving nothing but scraps. Yet, as worrisome as that may seem, I can’t help wanting to be his favourite snack.

I flinch as someone taps on my window. “Fuck,” I hiss, watching my phone tumble into the footwell.

Looking up, I find my brother grinning at me. I roll down the window with a dramatic huff. “You scared me, dickhead.”

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