He Sees You When You're Sleeping

by Alta Hensley

I reach up and unfasten his shirt, revealing the muscular chest beneath. And tattoos . . . holy shit . . . so many tattoos. My fantasy truly coming to life.

Well fuck

His pants have to go, however. I glance back at the window and give a smirk to the viewers. Yeah, that’s right. He’s mine for the night.

Chloe’s back arches off the bed as she cries out, “Jack!” even though she doesn’t realize it’s me. Wait . . . did she just call out my name? I freeze, and she sits up, eyes wide. Her gaze darts to the window, back to me, and she clears her throat. “Make them jack off to what you’re doing to me,” she clarifies.

I lean against the grimy brick wall, trying to get my bearings. What the hell am I doing here? This isn’t me. Or is it? The line between who I thought I was and who I’m becoming is blurring more each day.

she was just with another man. Wait . . . no. She was with me. But she didn’t know it was me. And then she leaves one man to come to me. This twisted mess is getting more tangled by the second. I collapse onto my couch, head in my hands. What am I doing? What is she doing? This double life, this obsession—it’s consuming me. Am I jealous? Jealous of myself?

The disappointment in her voice just now, thinking I wasn’t home. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep living two separate lives, torn between the man she thinks I am and the man I become in the shadows. But I’m in too deep now. How can I possibly explain any of this to her? Oh hey, Chloe. Guess what? I’ve been stalking you for years. Yeah, no big deal. I’m not a psychopath. Promise. But anyway, wanna date now?

then there’s Jack. Sweet, funny Jack who I still thought of as WinterWatcher had his fingers buried inside of me. I don’t want to admit that fact, but it’s true. Jack remained. And when I found myself standing at Jack’s apartment building last night, had he been home . . . I would have fucked him. I needed to fuck him.

“I know, I just . . . I feel so conflicted. It was amazing in the moment, but now I’m questioning everything.” “That’s totally normal,” Sloane reassures me. “First time experiences like that can be overwhelming. But hey, you’re a consenting adult. As long as you felt safe and respected, there’s nothing wrong with exploring your desires.”

“Honey, passion can be cultivated. If Jack’s the one you want a future with, then you two can explore and grow together. Who knows? Maybe he’s got a kinky side waiting to be unleashed.” There’s no way I can’t laugh at that. “Maybe you’re right.” “Of course I’m right. I’m always right,” Sloane says smugly.

“I get that. But who says you can’t be both? You don’t have to choose between being ‘good’ and being ‘dirty.’ The right person will accept all sides of you.”

I’m frozen, caught between desire and rage, unable to look away but hating the idea of anyone else watching. Possessive. That’s how I’m feeling.

I think you’ve given them enough, pretty girl, I find myself typing. I don’t want to share. Call me an asshole, but I don’t want anyone seeing her pussy but me. Or at least without me being there making it obvious to all who are watching that though we may be showing her pussy . . . it’s still mine. Possessive jerk? I guess so.

she laughs, a sound that I will never tire of hearing. “Well, well,” she purrs, addressing her audience. “Looks like my mystery man has decided to join us after all. And he’s feeling a bit . . . possessive.”

No. Fuck that shit. I quickly type a warning on the public feed for all to see, BlackAsChlo . . . naughty girls get punished. “Hmm,” Chloe muses, tracing lazy circles on her thigh. “It seems we have a bit of a split decision. I might like what my WinterWatcher has in mind for my punishment. I’ve never claimed to be a good girl.”

“But you know what? I think I’m going to listen to my mystery man tonight.” Relief washes over me, quickly followed by a surge of domineering pride. She chose me. She listened to me. “Don’t worry, though,” Chloe continues, her voice a seductive whisper. “I promise we’ll make it up to you next time. Maybe with a special guest appearance?”

Don’t like sharing? I’m treading dangerous waters now, but I can’t stop myself. No, I don’t like sharing, I type back. Not unless I’m there to make it clear who you belong to. There’s a pause, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far. Then her reply pops up. Mmm, jealous possessive. I like it. So tell me, WinterWatcher, how would you claim me?

If only she knew how good she already was, how perfect she is in my eyes. But I can’t tell her that. Not yet.

Every fiber of my being aches to fully possess her, to claim her as mine.

I grind against her, hitting that perfect spot inside while my fingers work her clit. She’s writhing beneath me now, her body coiled tight like a spring about to snap. And then something wild and insane comes into me. It’s time. It’s time to reveal who I truly am. Before I lose my courage, I reach for her blindfold.

Her lips part, forming a silent “oh” of recognition. I hold my breath, waiting for her reaction. Will she push me away in disgust? Scream? Call me a pervert and storm out? But then, something unexpected happens. A slow smile spreads across her face, her eyes lighting up with a mixture of surprise and . . . is that delight? “It’s you,” she whispers, her voice filled with wonder. “I should have known.”

“Are you mad?” She reaches out, tracing my jawline with her fingertips. “Mad? No, not at all,” she says softly. “Surprised, yes. Extremely confused. But . . . pleased.” “Pleased?” I echo, hardly daring to believe it. She nods, her fingers still caressing my face. “I’ve wanted this,” she confesses. “I wasn’t sure you felt the same way.”

“I’ve wanted this. Longer than you know,” I murmur against her hair. “To finally be able to touch you, to show you how I feel.”

“So you’ve been WinterWatcher all along, huh? The masked man.” “Guilty as charged,” I admit, searching her face for any sign of anger or disgust. But I see only curiosity and a hint of amusement in her eyes. She props herself up on one elbow, regarding me with a raised eyebrow. “So all those chats, those steamy messages . . . that was you the whole time?”

“I was torn between you—Jack, and WinterWatcher.” “Torn how?” “Between good and bad,” I admit. I take a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. “You were the safe choice, the sweet guy that rescues kittens from trees and shovels my neighbor’s walkway. But WinterWatcher . . . he represented everything exciting and forbidden. I never thought they could be the same person.”

“But why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why go through with this?” I gesture vaguely at the rumpled sheets, the lingering scent of our passion still heavy in the air. “Being a masked man was a fantasy of yours,” he reminds me. “My goal,” he lifts the red blindfold and dangles it in front of me, “is to grant you every single fantasy you have.”

“What happens now?” I ask, my voice barely audible. Jack’s arms tighten around me. “That’s up to you,” he says. “We can take things slow, figure this out together. Or—” “Or?” I cut in, my heart racing. A hint of that dominant energy flashes in his eyes. “Or we can dive in headfirst. Explore every fantasy, every unexplored passion. No holds barred.” “I vote for package number two,”

“I want to explore everything with you, Jack. No holds barred.” A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. “That’s what I was hoping to hear from my good girl.” “I like being your good girl,” I mewl, running my hands down his chest. “But I also like being very bad too.”

It’s quite the scene watching four firemen in their casual uniforms moving about the kitchen with grace. The food smells amazing and I can’t help but be impressed by their culinary skills. Jack notices my gaze and leans in close, his breath warm against my ear. “Firefighters make the best cooks,” he whispers with a wink. “We’ve got plenty of practice feeding hungry crews after long shifts. It’s a requirement of the job.”

“I feel like you and I both are Jekyll and Hyde. We have the good side—the firefighter and jewelry influencer—and then we have the very bad side—WinterWatcher and BlackAsChlo.”

A primal surge of possessiveness rushes through me at her words. I’ll be her first, claiming a part of her no one else has touched.

“I think I’m falling for you,” Chloe whispers suddenly, her voice barely audible. My heart swells at her words. I’ve waited so long to hear them, dreamed of this moment countless times. But the reality is so much sweeter than any fantasy. “I’m already fallen,” I admit, tightening my arms around her.

“Mr. Haven smiles. “He’s a great guy. It was also kind how he fixed your fire alarms.” I start to nod, then freeze. “What?”

Jack’s attentiveness had always seemed sweet, but now a seed of doubt has been planted. He was inside without me knowing . . . I shake my head, trying to dismiss the warning bells going off in my head. Is it a coincidence that he happened to be dog sitting in my neighborhood? Coincidence that he happens to frequent my favorite coffee shop? Coincidence that he happened to be on Dark Secrets and discovered my secret account? Coincidence right? Coincidence . . .

horrified at the thought that just crossed my mind. The realization of how far I’ve gone, how deeply my obsession has warped my sense of right and wrong, hits me like a physical blow.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. I’m not sure if insanity has truly taken hold or not, because for a moment I wonder if I’m seeing things. Jack. Jack bursts out of the elevator, taking in the scene in an instant. His eyes lock onto mine, filled with a mix of concern and rage.

“He . . . he found out about my account. On Dark Secrets,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “He was trying to blackmail me into . . . performing for him.” Jack’s face darkens with fury. He turns back to Tyler, his fists clenching at his sides. “You piece of shit,” he growls. Tyler scrambles backward, his eyes wide. “Now, let’s not do anything rash,” he pleads. “I said I was sorry. We can work this out.”

“Okay. But he doesn’t just get to walk away from this. I understand what you want, but no way can we trust this fucker.” I turn to Tyler, who’s watching us with a mix of fear and hope. “Jack . . . I want this awful night to end.” “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says, his voice steadier than I feel. “You’re going to resign. Effective immediately. You’ll cite personal reasons, health concerns, whatever. But you’re done at Moth to the Flame.”

“Why didn’t you just talk to me? After the accident, why didn’t you reach out normally instead of . . . watching from afar?” “I tried, at first. I visited you in the hospital, but you were still in and out of consciousness. By the time you were lucid, I . . . I didn’t know how to explain why I felt so connected to you. I was afraid you’d think I was crazy, or worse, that you’d reject me.”

“Look, I appreciate what Jack did, okay? But that doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t erase all the other crap he’s pulled. You don’t find it sick as hell that the man has stalked me for years?” “I think it’s kind of romantic. Sexy even,” she admits. “Sorry, but I don’t think I’d be throwing away the man because he’s obsessed with you.”

“You’re unbelievable. Since when are you Team Stalker?” “I haven’t met the man, but he sounds like a catch.” “A catch! He’s been standing outside my window without my knowledge. How in the hell is that considered a catch?” Sloane holds up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it. You’re not ready to see it from another perspective yet.”

“Like the fact that this man has only had your best interest in the forefront of his mind.” “He let us meet, connect, and made me believe it was all . . . He’s been lying this entire time.” “People do crazy things when they’re in love, Chloe.”

“He’s not in love with me. He’s obsessed. There’s a difference.” “I want the insane asylum kind of love.” I stare at Sloane incredulously. “The insane asylum kind of love? Are you serious right now?”

Before I can stop myself, I’m walking toward the station. My heart races as I approach, half hoping and half dreading that I might catch a glimpse of him. I tell myself I’m just curious, that I’m just double-checking that he isn’t outside my window again, but at work, a safe distance from me.

As I near the station, I hear the sound of laughter drifting from an open door. My steps falter, and I find myself ducking into the shadows of a nearby alley. What am I doing here? This is ridiculous. I’m acting like . . . like Jack. I’m about to turn and leave when I hear a familiar voice. Jack’s voice. My breath catches in my throat as I peer around the corner.

As Jack turns to leave, his eyes sweep across the street. For a heart-stopping moment, I think he’s seen me. But his gaze passes over my hiding spot without pausing. I watch as he walks away, his broad shoulders beckoning me like a god damn beacon. Without thinking, I step out of the alley and begin to follow him. What am I doing? This is insane. I’m stalking my stalker.

Part of me hopes he’s heading to his own apartment, while another part dreads the possibility that he might be going to my place. Or do I? My traitorous heart quickens at the thought of him watching me, his obsession, his need to be outside my window all those nights. I should be sickened by the idea, and yet I’m not. I’m actually . . . excited.

“I . . . I was just . . .” I stammer, feeling my face grow hot. Jack takes a step toward me, his brow furrowed with concern. “Are you okay?” The genuine worry in his voice catches me off guard. “I’m fine,” I manage to say. “I was just . . . passing by.” It’s a weak excuse, and we both know it. Jack’s lips quirk into a small, sad smile. “Passing by, huh?” he says softly.

Jack leans back in his chair, studying me with those intense eyes of his. “Chloe,” he says softly, “what’s really going on?”

How can I explain something I don’t even understand myself? “I don’t know,” I admit finally. “I saw you at the station and I just . . . I followed you. I don’t know why.” Jack’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You followed me?”

“I know, I know,” I say quickly, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. “It’s crazy and hypocritical and—” “And a little bit flattering,” Jack interrupts, a small smile playing on his lips. I glare at him. “This isn’t funny, Jack.”