For two hours I stared, watching the traffic that pulled into the side of the police station that obviously led to a parking area for the cops. First, I saw Rogers’s partner, the handsome blond, and about five minutes after him Ifinallysaw my policeman driving his four-door blue truck. The sight of him behind the wheel was an attractive one.
My cock twitched and I slid my palm over it, surprised.
No specific person had turned me on like this. I watched porn and penetration was hot—as long as it was rough and possessive—but there hadn’t been a time when someone had interested my cock. I didn’t know what it was about Rogers. His presence alone had me breathless, and I needed him to fuck me and control me. I imagined him grabbing me by my throat, squeezing, as I forgot about emotions and pretending and all that mundane bullshit while he fucked his thick cock inside me.
I shuddered and jumped to my feet, then made my way across the busy city street, avoiding the traffic, and got to the other side. Taking the alleyway to the left of the building, I was careful not to attract attention. As long as I paced myself and acted like I was supposed to be there, I’d be fine, and that was exactly what I did.
There was no one around to watch me, and as I reached the back parking lot I checked for cameras. There were two, both aimed at the row of vehicles. I hummed and yanked up the hood of my new black hoodie—if they couldn’t see my face, they couldn’t find me. Carefully walking toward Rogers’s vehicle, I crouched and moved around the back. I smoothed my hand along the underside of the bumper, finding the perfect area for my tracker before I brought the device out of my pocket. Once I had the film off and stuck it to the metal, I headed straight out the way I’d come, pulling back my hood when I got around the side and out of camera view.
I was fucking proud of myself and couldn’t help but smirk in triumph. Now that I had the tracking device on Rogers’s vehicle, all I had to do was wait, and I knew it would take a while.
Boredom struck and I ended up hitchhiking back to the shelter, this time getting a ride from a young guy who couldn’t stop saying “dude” and telling me about his hot new girlfriend. I was glad to get back to the shelter. Unfortunately for me—or maybe it was fortunate—Donny wasn’t in until this afternoon, and the woman at the reception desk let me through instead. They hadn’t asked me to leave yet, which I thought was suspicious, and I wondered if Donny had anything to do with it, but I didn’t want to risk my luck and ask.
I stayed in my room until 10:00 p.m., and that’s when my phone made a noise, letting me know Rogers’s truck was on the move. I sat up fast on the bed, thankfully not waking Tyler as I unlocked my iPhone and checked out the app. I watched and waited, staring intently as the little figure kept moving. It took twenty minutes for the truck to finally stop, and the map told me Rogers was in a suburb in the south.
I grinned. Perfect. His location was only an hour of walking from here, if I didn’t screw around, which was nothing. Sneaking out past the reception desk wasn’t hard—there was a ten o’clock curfew and I didn’t want them to kick me out—and they hadn’t locked the front door yet. I slipped away before anyone noticed, and I followed the app on my phone.
It was a warm night, so it was nice to be outside, and in almost no time at all I was standing in front of a medium-sized two-story house built with brown brick on the first floor and white siding on the second. Two brick pillars at the front held up the roof of a small portico, and someone had recently painted all the windowsills white. The lawn that surrounded the house was trimmed, and from my snooping it seemed like maybe there was a decent amount of space out back, along with a garage and shed. Everything about the house fit in with the homes surrounding it, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but his neighbors had no idea who lived inside—a man who belonged tome.
I walked forward, glancing around to ensure I was alone, and crept in front of one of the windows, careful not to step on anything sharp with my broken shoes. I couldn’t afford to get new sneakers and these ones were falling apart. When I glanced inside, I grinned. The lights were on, giving me a perfect view of a neat living room with wooden floorboards, a blue couch, a TV on the wall beside a white brick fireplace, and a bookcase off to the left side. It was perfectly... normal.
I snorted at the irony; Rogers was anything butnormal. Did he keep his house this way for guests? I hoped not many people dropped in, especially lovers. If I found anyone visiting him in his bedroom I’d slit their throat—not because they did anything wrong, but because they were screwing my police officer. Fuck them. He belonged to me, and they would die if they touched him.
I dropped my head a little when Rogers came into the living room with a bottle of beer in his hand. I couldn’t see what brand the brew was, but he popped the lid with a bottle opener and dropped onto the couch, his back to me and the window. He clicked a remote and the TV flicked on. The local news was airing another story about the trucker I’d murdered, and Rogers stiffened almost immediately. While I couldn’t see his face, I imagined the curiosity on it.He’dappreciated my work.
I smiled and touched my fingers against the window. At least he knew how much effort I’d put into it. He hadn’t admitted it at any point, but after he’d followed me to that rich, fancy suburb, his interest was clear. He liked what I was doing, and I would do more for him if it meant him appreciating my art.
I stayed there and watched him for hours, until he finally turned off all the lights and went upstairs. There was no way I could see him on the second floor, so I took off. I’d come back tomorrow.
* * *
For three nights I waited for him at his home, hiding in the bushes in the neighbor’s yard as he drove into the driveway that led past his house to the garage at the back. I hadn’t fully investigated the rear of his home yet because right now I was only interested in him. I had plans to go into his house when he had a night shift so I could check out his possessions, understand who he really was. So far, I’d only seen the persona he wore for the normals.
Tonight was no different from the others. I crept to his window and watched him in his living room. He moved to sit on the couch, beer in hand, and it almost seemed like a nightly ritual. I wanted to ask himwhyhe did something so trivial, but I merely stared.
When he rose, I sighed sadly. It was earlier than usual, but I assumed he was going upstairs, like he had the last two nights. To say I was disappointed was an understatement. Maybe I’d need to find a spot where I could watch him through his bedroom window, wherever that might be. I glanced around the front yard, but there was only one tree and there wasn’t a good sitting position among its branches.
The front door opened, and I froze as he stalked outside and stood on the porch, arms crossed. The lights from the house lit him up like an angel—or maybe a devil with the fires of hell behind him—but he didn’t appear angry, rather amused.
“Are you going to come in or not,Aramis?”
“Ari.” I exhaled when he raised his eyebrows. “I go by Ari. I don’t know your name.”
He smirked. “Jules. Come inside.Now.”
He turned and stormed back into his house, and I had no choice but to follow. I didn’t know what his plans were for me, but I couldn’t wait to find out, whether it be death or something more pleasurable.
5
JULES
Ari wascute.That was a strange thought for me, but I couldn’t come up with any other way to describe him right now. Normally he didn’t have much emotion in his expression when we were alone together, mainly because I thought he’d finally realized he didn’t have to pretend with me, but his cheeks were a vibrant pink right now—as if he was embarrassed. He glanced all around while he crept into my house. A thrill sank into my bones at seeing him slightly off-kilter. He walked directly to a small table I kept in the entryway to plop things on when I came in the front door and began to rifle through the mail there, as if this was his house. I didn’t say anything about it because I honestly didn’t care. He threw all the envelopes down except for one and began to rip it open.
“This isn’t what you’re here for, is it? My electric bill can’t be that interesting.”
He scowled like maybe he didn’t quite agree but reluctantly dropped the envelope. “It can tell me a lot about your habits,” he murmured.
Crooking a finger at him, I walked backward down the hall and past the doorway to the living room. I hadn’t done much with the house when it came to decorating, so the rooms were the same bland colors they’d been when I bought the place—mostly beige. “Come on. You’ve been doing a lot of spying. Have you had time to eat anything?”
