Page 51 of Watching Her

Going through her things had been an excellent resource and reminder never to judge a book by the exterior, however beautiful or polished. She wasn’t a typical anything.

Not in her collection of shoes or purses, which were limited. Not in her selection of food and treats, which weren’t entirely healthy. Hence the colorful bags of Twizzlers in several flavors I’d found in her small pantry.

For the first time that I could remember, I’d felt odd about invading her privacy, ignoring her lingerie on purpose. Maybe I preferred the element of surprise in seeing her in them with my own eyes. Mine only.

Yes, there was something spectacular about studying someone as if under glass, but with her, I had more of a desire to discover her likes and dislikes more naturally.

Her security on the house left much to be desired, which had allowed me to gain easy access. Granted, she lived on a quiet cul-de-sac in a safe neighborhood far removed from typical dangers. Little did she know how easy it had been to access her privacy. While she had utilized a two-tiered passcode system with her computer, I’d easily bypassed it without any issues.

I’d also hacked her Kindle, which had presented me with a better taste of her preferred reading enjoyment. She was a complex young woman, perhaps too young for me, but since when had something like an age difference between adults stopped me?

How ironic that when in college, I’d generally went after older women, those more comfortable in their sexuality. With Penelope, I craved just the opposite.

The result in having what my buddies would call a crisis of conscience was that I’d left, leaving only the single camera inside her home. Even after sharing in a very intimate act without her knowledge and with another opportunity allowing me to gain entrance to her home, I’d foregone adding any additional cameras at this point. Granted, I’d learned very quickly she spent the majority of her time behind her desk or in the comfy overstuffed corner chair where she read for a little while every day.

I’d been more fascinated witnessing her various emotions from her day-to-day tasks versus her more intimate activities. Even though I’d found two vibrators in her nightstand.

As with so many women of her age, she likely kept her photographs on her phone or in the cloud. Except for one. A framed photo of her with an older man. Maybe her father or brother. Maybe a lover. Whoever he was, she obviously looked up to him.

My guess was her father given she seemed to have little family but looks could always be deceiving.

At some point, I’d learn who he was and if considered a threat, he’d need to be handled.

While I’d purposely sat in the back of the church, wanting nothing more than to enjoy watching her, the connection we’d shared had allowed her to realize she was being watched.

Here I was nursing a drink while gazing at her across the ballroom floor, as if right back where I’d started this charade. Although not entirely. She’d enticed the beast with her smile and her kiss. That had made for a difficult few weeks of wanting her.

She was the only thought my mind would entertain, an anchor and a tempest all at once. The desire for her didn’t come in waves; it was a constant, suffocating pressure in my veins. Every second spent away from her felt like a wasted breath, a relentless hunger that threatened to unravel my control entirely.

Even from where I stood, I could almost hear her laugh, the soft vibes that held complete joy for the couple recently married.

But at the same time, I’d sensed sadness, a longing for everything she’d yet to experience.

Now was the perfect time to begin phase two.

Seduction.

CHAPTER 12

Christian

The art of seduction was something I’d learned from my father as a teenager.

When most fathers were offering advice on the first fuck, mine had insisted I understand how much power was in the art of seduction. Or as he called it, the art of full domination. Body and soul.

He’d also taught me that if my heart was ever involved, the tables could and usually would be turned, leaving me the victim in a brutal game.

I’d taken his tutelage to heart, never once losing.

Daughters. Wives. Female enemies.

Even influential friends.

If handled well, what I gained from the days or weeks invested was well worth the effort and the money. If I handled the situation correctly, I’d at least be rewarded with physical satisfaction. If I was very good at what I did, I would leave the tryst with no hard feelings.

My success rate was high.

However, even at this point, I could tell spending time with Penelope would be different. This wasn’t like the others, more of a very personal game than about anything she could provide. Although I continued to pursue the knowledge about how she’d worked for Covington.