He Sees You When You’re Sleeping: A Dark and Steamy Holiday Romance of Obsession and Secrets – Where Desire Meets Danger in the Heart of NYC

Yup, I’m going to hell on a sleigh ride. I’m double-fisting my ticket to hell.

I swore to myself over and over that I’d resist the urge to log on to the hidden nanny cam. I swore that even though I installed it, I wouldn’t watch her.NôvelDrama.Org copyrighted © content.

And yet, here I am.

The soft glow of my laptop screen illuminates my guilty face as I stare at the live feed.

There she is, sitting in front of her computer, chatting with me but knowing that I am WinterWatcher, and slowly moving her hand between her legs.

I stare at my phone where I’ve been chatting with her—username: BlackAsChlo.

I know it’s her. She just doesn’t know I know.

My finger hovers over the X to close the window, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m transfixed, watching her every move like some digital voyeur.

The guilt gnaws at me, but the thrill of this forbidden knowledge is heady with lust. I watch as she leans back in her chair, her eyes closing briefly in pleasure.

Take off your clothes, I type. I want to imagine you sitting there, naked, as we talk. No camera. Just you and me . . . and our fantasies.

I don’t want her to go live so everyone can see her. I want her all to myself. Alone with my secret camera stealing this scene before me.

My heart races as I watch her comply, slowly undressing even though no one is technically watching—that she is aware of. She thinks she’s alone, and yet she still does what I ask.

She sits back down in front of the computer. Done, she types.

Good girl, I reply. Now spread your legs. Wide.

She slowly spreads her legs, performing like a true submissive would.

They’re spread, she types, licking her lips.

I watch, mesmerized, as her hand drifts lower. Her fingers trace delicate patterns across her skin, teasing herself. My breath catches in my throat.

I wish you could see me, she dictates into the computer. I’m doing as you ask.

On the screen, I see her head tilt back, eyes fluttering closed as she follows my instructions. Her chest rises and falls with quickening breaths. I’m torn between watching her face and watching her hand as it moves in steady circles.

It feels so good, she says. I wish you could see how wet you make me.

My pulse races as I read her words, knowing full well that I can see exactly how wet she is. The camera’s high-definition image leaves nothing to the imagination. I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry.

Tell me more, I type back. Describe how it feels. It’s here when I decide to do the same thing she wisely did and turn my typing into voice control. I want my hands to be free.

As I wait for her response, I watch her hand trail up her body, cupping her breast. She pinches her nipple, and I see her bite her lower lip to stifle a moan.

It’s like electricity, she replies. Every touch sends sparks through my body. I’m imagining it’s your fingers instead of mine.

I’m directing this private show, orchestrating her pleasure from afar. Faster now, I instruct. Circle your clit faster. Use your other hand to slide two fingers inside.

I lean closer to the screen, captivated as she follows my commands. Her back arches slightly, her movements becoming more urgent. I can see the flush spreading across her chest, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts as her breathing quickens.

Oh god, she says, her fingers caressing her flesh. I’m so close.

My cock painfully presses against the fly of my pants. I free it from its confines and begin pumping the length of it, matching the rhythm and pace she’s set. My own breaths become shallow and quick, trying to mimic hers.

She’s beautiful, by far the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen—even more so in this vulnerable and erotic state. I can see the glisten of her arousal on her fingers as she continues to touch herself, her eyes closed tightly, lost in the throes of her own pleasure.

My own release builds, matching the pace of her fingers. My breath hitches as I watch her, my gaze locked on her hand guiding her closer and closer to the edge.

Don’t come yet, I demand. Not until I tell you to. With one hand clutching my throbbing cock and my mind consumed by the sight of her pleasuring herself, I send a commanding message, Spread your pussy lips wide apart for me. I want to imagine how wet you are. How slick you’d be for my cock that is so fucking hard for you right now.

I watch as she follows my instructions, her fingers opening herself up for me, her lips parting and her juices coating her delicate flesh in the light of the screen. My heart pounds with excitement and anticipation. I’m one step away from finding release, and it’s all thanks to this incredible performance she’s putting on for me, unaware of how transfixed I am.

Now, touch yourself faster, I urge. Imagine my hands and fingers on you, guiding you toward the edge.

Her breathing is ragged, and her moans are growing louder with each passing second. I’m so close to climaxing myself, the grip on my cock tightening as I imagine feeling her flesh beneath my fingers, her wetness enveloping me, her body buzzing with pleasure.

I know we are both so close, but I need to do one more thing. I need to see how much dominance I have over her. Just how submissive is my Chloe?

I want you to lick your fingers and rub the wetness on your tight little asshole, I confess.

I can feel my heart rate increase, my breaths quickening as I watch her pause for a moment before following my command. Her hesitation only fuels my desire to see how far I can push her. She licks her fingers, her eyes fluttering open briefly to look at the computer screen, then she resumes her pleasure, sliding her fingers between her legs and gently probing the sensitive skin around her entrance. I feel like I’m in control, like I’m the one setting the pace of her desires.

Good girl, I praise. I know you like that, don’t you.

She hesitates for a moment, but it’s clear that she’s trusting me and this distance game we’re playing. A moment later, I see her finger disappear into her tight opening, and I moan softly. Her fingers splaying open, spreading herself for me, it’s an intoxicating sight.

I wish you could see me, she leans forward, giving me a peek at a different angle.

Then we’ll make that fantasy a reality someday, I promise. But not yet. Tonight, you get to come because you are such a good girl. Pump your fingers in and out, just like I’m fucking you. I issue another command. Imagine my cock sliding in and out of your tight hole, filling you up, stretching you wide.

She obeys without hesitation. The sight before me is a potent mix of vulnerability and strength. The surge of my own climax builds within me, and I know it’s only a matter of time before we both reach the pinnacle of pleasure together.

I watch as her breaths become shallow, her hips rising and falling in perfect harmony with the movements of her fingers. She’s so close. I can see it in the way her chest rises and falls, the glistening sweat upon her skin. She’s on the precipice of orgasm, just as I am.

My words seem to ignite something within her, and her body responds with a wild intensity. Her hips buck wildly, her fingers moving faster. I can see her eyes closed tightly, and her mouth wide open in a silent scream of pleasure.

I’m coming, I’m coming! She moans.

The moment of her release is matched perfectly by my own. I grip my throbbing cock tighter, my body shuddering with the force of my release. I can feel myself coming, my hot seed spilling onto my hand, my breath catching with the force of my climax.

Oh fuck, I groan, my voice hoarse from the intensity of the moment. My hand goes limp, and I look down at the mess of my release, feeling both satisfied and a bit dazed.

As the waves of pleasure subside, reality crashes back over me like a cold wave. What have I done? The guilt that had been simmering beneath the surface now boils over, churning my stomach. I quickly close the laptop, unable to look at the screen any longer.

My hands shake as I clean myself up, disgust and self-loathing coursing through me. I’ve crossed a line I swore I never would. I’ve violated her trust, her privacy, in the most intimate way possible.

The phone buzzes with a new message from her. That was amazing, it reads. Thank you for making me feel so good.

Each word is a dagger of shame. She has no idea of the depths of my betrayal. I can’t bring myself to reply, to continue this charade. But if I don’t, I could fuck with her head and give her self-doubt—the last thing I want to do to her.

I force myself to type a response, my fingers heavy with remorse. You’re welcome. You were perfect. Such a good, good girl.

I’ve turned off the camera, and I can no longer see what she’s doing. I desperately want to see her. I already miss watching her, even though I know it’s wrong. My finger hovers over the laptop, tempted to turn it back on. Just one more look, I think. But I know if I do, I’ll be right back where I started.

The room feels too small, suffocating. I need air. I stumble to the window and throw it open, gulping in the cool night breeze. But it does nothing to wash away the stain of what I’ve done.

My phone buzzes again. It’s her. Are you still there?

I hesitate, unsure how to respond. Part of me wants to confess everything, to beg for forgiveness. But I know that would only hurt her more. So I type back, Yes, sorry. Just got distracted for a moment.

I was worried you’d left, she replies. I always feel a bit needy after . . . you know.

Her words twist the knife of guilt even deeper. She trusts me, feels safe with me, and I’ve violated that in the worst way possible. I want to comfort her, to reassure her, but every word feels like a lie.

I’m here, I type back. You’re stuck with me.

There’s a pause before her next message appears. I should get some sleep, she types. Work tomorrow. But this was . . . incredible. Can we do it again sometime?

My stomach churns. The thought of repeating this violation makes me sick, but I can’t let on that anything is wrong. Of course, I reply. I want to hear more about your fantasies.

I hesitate, my fingers hovering over the keys. How much further down this rabbit hole am I willing to go? But I can’t stop now. I’ve already crossed so many lines.

Sweet dreams, I type back. We’ll talk more soon.