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

I shouldn’t be doing this while I’m at the station. I know this. It’s not breaking rules or anything or grounds for termination. What firefighters do in the privacy of their bedrooms at the station once they go to bed is on them. As long as we are prepared to spring to action the minute the alarm goes off. But tonight has been extremely quiet, and I’m hoping that I can log onto my laptop undisturbed.

My fingers hover over the keyboard as I glance toward the door, half-expecting Chief to burst in, somehow knowing I’m going to log into the nanny cam and spy on the girl I’ve been stalking for years. But the hallway remains silent, save for the distant snores of my fellow firefighters.

With a deep breath, I type in the password and wait for the feed to load. The familiar layout of her bedroom appears on the screen, dimly lit by the glow of a computer left on. My heart races as I scan the room, searching for any sign of movement.

There she is. Curled up on the bed, fast asleep. Her long dark hair cascades over a pillow, and I can barely make out the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. I put my face closer to the screen, drinking in every detail.

I know I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m not completely delusional. But I can’t help myself. I’ve been watching her for so long, learning her routines, her habits. In a way, I feel like I know her better than anyone else in her life.

A creak in the hallway makes me jump. I quickly minimize the window, my pulse ringing in my ears. But it’s just the old building settling. I let out a shaky breath and return to the feed.

A voice in my head screams that this is wrong, that I’m crossing a line I can never come back from. But another part of me, a darker part, whispers that this is the closest I’ll ever get to her.

That I need this.

Chloe stirs in her sleep, and for a moment I’m afraid she’ll wake up. But she just rolls over, pulling a blanket tighter around herself. I wonder what she’s dreaming about. Does she ever dream about me? The nice firefighter who bought her hot cocoa. Or does she dream of WinterWatcher, not knowing that we are the same person but offering her something completely different.

I know it. I see it.

Jack offers her light. WinterWatcher offers her dark. The question is, who is the real me?

I shake my head, trying to clear these thoughts. This has to stop. I need to close the laptop, delete the app, and forget about her. But as I try to bring myself to do the right thing, she mumbles something, rolls over and reaches for her phone. I freeze, captivated once again by this woman.

My hand hovers over the laptop, ready to close the window at a moment’s notice. But Chloe doesn’t wake fully. She fumbles for her phone, squinting at the bright screen before dropping it back onto the nightstand. I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

The soft glow of her phone illuminates her face for a brief moment, and I’m struck again by her beauty. The curve of her cheek, the slight pout of her lips as she drifts back to sleep. I’ve memorized every detail but seeing her like this never fails to take my breath away.

I glance at the clock. It’s well past midnight now. I should try to get some sleep in case we get a call. But I can’t tear myself away from the screen. Just a few more minutes, I tell myself. Just a little longer.

Suddenly, Chloe sits up in bed, fully awake now. My heart races as I watch her get out of bed and head over to her computer.

Is she going to log on? To chat with WinterWatcher? The thought both delights and terrifies me.

I’m not prepared for this. I haven’t planned what to say, how to act. But as her fingers move across the keyboard, I find myself reaching for my own. Ready to become the persona she knows online, to step into that dark world we’ve created together.

My phone buzzes with a notification. I glance down at my phone, my body tensing. It’s a message from Chloe to WinterWatcher.Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

Are you there? she types. I can’t sleep and was hoping you’d be awake. Actually, I have no idea where you even live. It could be midday where you are.

I type back, I live in New York. Maybe it’s dangerous sharing that fact about me, but the words come out before I can truly process the ramifications.

Part of me wants to backpedal, to lie and say I’m actually in California or Europe. But another part, the part that’s been yearning for a real connection, pushes me forward.

What a coincidence, I type back. Small world, huh?

I watch her smile on the screen, her face illuminated by the soft glow of her computer. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture I’ve seen her do countless times before.

Very small, she replies. What part of New York?

Manhattan, I type. It’s vague enough, I reason. More than a million people live in Manhattan.

I work there. Her excitement is obvious, even through the screen. We could have passed each other on the street and never known it.

If only she knew how many times that has actually happened.

I’ve been thinking of you, I type.

I watch as Chloe’s eyes widen at my words. She bites her lip, hesitating before she responds.

I’ve been thinking of you too, she types back. More than I probably should.

My heart races. This is dangerous territory we’re entering, but I can’t stop myself.

What have you been thinking about? I ask.

There’s a long pause. On the screen, I see Chloe take a deep breath, steeling herself. When her response comes through, it’s more forward than I expected.

I swallow hard, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. This is escalating quickly, and a part of me knows I should put a stop to it. But the darker part, the part that’s been watching her all this time, urges me on.

Tell me about these fantasies, I type, ignoring the hardening of my cock.

On the screen, I see Chloe blush. She takes another deep breath before responding.

I imagine meeting you in person, she types. I picture you in a mask. A mask that is almost pagan in style. It will have horns or something demonic in nature. I imagine it covering most of your face. But not your lips.

Go on, I type, my fingers feeling heavy.

I watch as Chloe shifts in her chair, clearly affected by the fantasy she’s sharing. She bites her lip again, a gesture that never fails to drive me wild.

In my fantasy, you approach me slowly, she continues. I can’t see your eyes clearly, but I can feel the intensity of your gaze. You don’t say a word, but your presence is overwhelming. When you’re close enough, you reach out and touch my face. Your fingers are cool against my skin, and I shiver.

My breath catches in my throat. I can almost feel her skin beneath my fingertips, can almost smell her perfume. The line between fantasy and reality is blurring dangerously.

What happens next? I ask, both dreading and craving her answer.

There’s a pause as Chloe considers her words. I watch her chest rise and fall with quickened breaths.

You lean in, she types slowly, and kiss me. It’s gentle at first, but then it deepens. Your hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. I reach up to touch your mask, but you catch my wrists, pinning them above my head.

I groan softly, thankful that the walls of the station are thick. The image she’s painting is vivid, and I find myself lost in it. For a moment, I forget about the camera, about the distance between us. In this moment, we’re together, sharing this fantasy.

Do you want me to stop? Chloe asks after a moment of silence.

No, I type back quickly. Don’t stop.

On the screen, I see her smile, a mix of shyness and desire. She takes a deep breath before continuing.

You press me against the wall, she types. Your body is hard against mine. I can feel every inch of you. Your lips move to my neck, and I gasp. Your teeth graze my skin, and I beg you to fuck me. I plead for your cock.

I exhale sharply.

On the screen, Chloe squirms in her chair, her cheeks flushed. She hesitates before responding.

Not right away, she types. You tease me first. Your hands roam my body, touching me everywhere except where I need it most. I’m whimpering, begging you to take me.

My cock strains against my uniform pants. I shift uncomfortably, trying to focus on the screen and not my own burning desire.

Tell me how you beg, I type, my breath ragged.

Please, she types. Please fuck me. I need you inside me. I need to feel your cock stretching me open. Please, I’m yours. Take me. She continues to type. But you won’t. Not yet. You’re waiting for . . . them. They haven’t arrived yet.

Who are they? I prompt.

The others, she finally types. The ones who watch.

How many others? I type.

A roomful, she responds quickly. I want everyone to see my pussy as you spread me.

I stifle a groan, my arousal almost painful now. On the screen, I can see Chloe’s breathing has quickened, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

You fuck me with your fingers, slowly at first, then faster, she continues.

I’m lost in the fantasy now, picturing every detail. The heat of her skin, the sound of her moans, the feeling of her tight around my fingers.

And then? I ask, desperate to know more.

Then you pull your fingers out, she types. You bring them to my lips, making me taste myself. And finally, finally, you unzip your pants and pull out your cock.

I watch as Chloe’s fingers hover over the keyboard, her chest heaving. She’s clearly as aroused as I am.

You tease me with the tip of your cock, she types. Rubbing it against my clit, making me whimper. The crowd watches, their eyes hungry. You ask me if I’m ready, if I’m sure I want this.

The need to be inside her is unbearable.

I beg you, she replies. I tell you I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life. I wrap my legs around your waist, trying to pull you closer.

I need to fuck her. I need to fuck her now.

You thrust into me in one smooth motion, she types. I cry out, overwhelmed by the feeling of fullness. You start to move, slowly at first, then faster. The room is filled with the sound of skin on skin, of my moans and your grunts. You’re fucking me hard now, she continues. Your hands are gripping my hips so tightly I know there will be bruises tomorrow. I love it. I want everyone to see the marks you’ve left on me.

I’m so hard it hurts.

Suddenly, the fire alarm blares through the station. I jump, slamming the laptop shut instinctively. My heart pounds as I hear my fellow firefighters stirring, boots hitting the floor as everyone rushes to respond.

I can’t simply leave Chloe wondering where I had to run off to, so I quickly type, I have to go, pretty girl. Someone is at my door. I’m sorry. But know that I’ll be jacking off to this later.

I scramble to my feet, adjusting myself and trying to compose my thoughts as I rush to join my team. This girl is going to be the death of me, or at the very least, the giver of some gnarly blue balls.