Then I’ll find you.
Serena: This is one of my fantasies...
I know, baby. You told me
So, let’s play.
Even in the dim lighting, I can see her cheeks redden. Placing her phone on the counter, she rips a chocolate out of the box and plops it into her mouth before grabbing the two lingerie options and disappearing into her downstairs bathroom, where I didn’t put cameras.
A few minutes later, she emerges, and I nearly bust through the seams of my boxers. Her curves fill out every perfect inch of the red lace bodysuit in ways I couldn’teven imagine. When I picked it out, I knew it’d look great on her, but, fuck, I wasn’t ready forthis.
Her full tits are sheathed beneath the thin lace, her nipples barely covered by red hearts. She looks like the sexiest valentine I’ve ever seen, and I can’t wait to open her right up.
She also let her hair down from her hair claw; messy and loose curls now flow down her shoulders and back.
I am going to lose my goddamn sanity in her tonight.
Walking over to her phone, she taps the screen, but I haven’t sent her anything new. She sends me a message instead.
Serena: Ready or not, here I come
Oh, My Little Cupid, you have no idea just how many times you’re going to come tonight
Serena: Promises, promises …
Tiptoeing across the floor, she tries to conceal her location, as if I don’t have access to nearly every inch of her home with my phone.
She heads toward the laundry room, opposite the direction of where I’m hiding. I decide to send her a little hint.
Colder
She jumps, clutching her phone like a lifeline before realizing it’s just a text, filling the room with a chime.
Serena: Oh, so you’re a polite, helpful intruder?
I don’t say anything, even though I have the urge to tell her I’m hiding in her closet. I wasn’t prepared for the anticipation to eat me alive as much as it’s devouring her.
Gently, she spins on the bare heels of her feet.
Warmer
She mumbles something, and I pinch myself for not bringing my earbuds along. But I’m scared to leave anything that could be traced back to me, anything that would somehow lead her to finding out my true identity.
A tentative step forward brings her closer in my direction. She pads across the hardwood, stopping in the crossroads. One path leads to her back door. Another leads her down a hallway toward a spare bedroom. The opposite way is where she came from. The final path—the one she needs—will bring her to her front door, to the stairs, and up to her bedroom.
I can practically see her heart beating out of her chest. Her face lights up as she rereads my message. She looks like a kid in a candy store, and I’m suddenly realizing that she may be pure, dark, twisted desire, wrapped in a pretty, innocent-looking red package.
She mutters under her breath, and I can’t take not being able to hear it. I call her before I can even question myself.
“Hello?” she whispers, answering the call and putting it on speaker.
“So slow,” I tease her.
Her sassiness comes out to play. “Aren’t I the one hunting you? You’re not being a very good prey.”
“I never said I was the prey.” My deep voice is barely audible as I do my best to stay quiet. “Maybe it’s all a trap.”
I hear her quick inhale. “Maybe I want to be caught.”
