Page 30 of The Watcher's Bride

I hear her breath as she lies there, pretending to try to sleep, playing her part in our nightly performance. My cock twitches in anticipation of what’s to come. Tonight, I’m changing the script.

I quietly turn the key in the lock, the one I had cut from the spare set after she changed them. Despite Max’s best efforts, she only ever locks the main one, making it easier for me to slip in quietly. I’m familiar enough with the layout of her place now to move around in the darkness without stumbling. It’s only when I reach her bedroom door that the squeak of the hinges gives my presence away.

Nora’s breath hitches in surprise when she sees me there, my shape just a silhouette in the shadows. When I don’t move, she calms. Thanks to the streetlight that bathes her bed in soft glow, I can see her perfectly while she cannot see me. I’m dying to move closer, to touch her, to taste that perfect cunt I know is already wet for me, but she has to be the one to lead this. It has to be her choice.

I can see that she’s desperate to give in to her base desires. She bites her lip as she contemplates it and I let out a low, rumbling growl of arousal at the sight.

“I don’t like to be touched. I mean, I can’t be touched,” she says, the words coming out in a rush.

“Why?” I ask.

Her eyebrows jump up, whether from the question or surprise that I can speak English, I can’t be sure.

“My father molested me when I was young. Ever since then… I can’t. He didn’t rape me or touch me down there or anything, but he made me do things to him. I don’t like being grabbed or feeling trapped by a man. It’s complicated…” She trails off, appearing confused by her admission. As if wondering why I would be the first person she’d share this with.

“I won’t touch you,” I reply, though I want to say that I will kill her father for harming her. Yet another reason I want Eamonn Quinn dead.

I didn’t think it was possible to hate that man any more than I already did. I try to control the murderous rage I feel. I will take care of her father in time. Right now, I need to focus on Nora, on what she needs. What I need.

I move toward the chair at the end of her bed where I have the perfect view. I watch as she wrestles with whether or not to ask me any questions. However, we both know what I’m here for.

“Take off your clothes,” I say, keeping my voice low to not spook her.

She barely hesitates before doing as I command. Her nipples harden, and I see her reservations over what she’s doing melt away as she gives in to the pull of sweet release.

True to my word, I don’t touch her. I simply watch as she pleasures herself.

By the third night, Nora has grown more confident, more eager for me.

“Touch yourself, I want to watch you too,” she begs, and I’m happy to oblige.

I watch as her eyes widen, taking in my length, how thick and hard she makes me. I take my time, stroking my shaft as I watch her fingers delve into the warmth between her legs. With the gloves I can’t feel myself and I can almost believe it’s her soft hands touching me. I can smell her arousal and it’s fucking divine.

It takes every ounce of control I have not to take her right now, but I know it will be all the sweeter for taking my time.

After all, Nora isn’t just some girl.

She’s mine.

Nora moans and shudders as she brings herself closer to orgasm. She’s grown more adept at pleasuring herself, but I can’t wait to show her just how much better it will get with me. After she crashes over the edge, I throw myself over with her, coming hard into my hand.

This woman has no idea the effect she has on me.

By the sixth night, Nora says the words I’ve been yearning to hear.

“Touch me.”

But I know my Nora. Such a strong yet delicate creature, likely to bolt if spooked or pushed into too much too soon. So I limit myself to purely pleasuring her in the one way I know she hasn’t been touched.

Nora’s experiences of intimate contact have been controlling, forceful, and for a man’s pleasure only. She has no idea what she can be given. That sex isn’t just for taking.

I move to the curtains, pulling them closed, removing what little light remained in the room before. Nora’s breath quickens, a mixture of fear and aroused anticipation for what’s to come.

“Move to the edge of the bed and spread your legs,” I order.

She does as she’s told without hesitation. I know she’s fearful that she won’t be able to handle it, that my reaction won’t be as gentlemanly as Max’s. I think part of her finds that thought arousing. She likes the threat I pose, the risk involved with this game we’re playing.

I drop to my knees before her and breathe in, savoring the delicious scent of her. My cock immediately springs to attention, and I make a low rumbling sound that comes from deep within.

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