Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 24966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
The faint smell of age from the crumbling apartment was mixed with something sweet lingering in the air.
The sound of water running was soft and distant, coming from down the hall, and I saw the hazy glow of the bathroom light from the partially open door across from what must’ve been her bedroom.
I moved through the living room and down the short hallway until I stood in front of the bathroom door. It was cracked open just enough for me to see inside. Steam billowed out, fogging the mirror that hung above the ’70s era yellow linoleum sink.
I glimpsed her through the transparent but water-droplet-covered shower curtain. Her back was to me, the spray cascading down the length of her spine, along the small of her back, and caressing the perfect mounds of her ass.
I felt that consuming pull again. The need to watch her, to stalk her… to get closer. But I didn’t move. I just stood there, hidden in the shadows of the hallway, and watching as she washed her lithe body.
The longer I stayed there and stared at her the more I felt something shift inside me. The hunger for death and blood and pain was there, gnawing at me like it always did, yet it wasn’t exactly aimed at this delectable creature. And although that hunger was potent as fuck, I felt something else, something different, brewing right below the need to kill.
She fascinated me in a way that made me uneasy.
I stayed there until she cut the water off, taking a pace back when she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself. I stood there a second longer before turning and slipping into the lone bedroom in her apartment.
My heart beat steadily in my chest as I went to her closet and deftly hid inside, closing the door just enough to watch her without being seen.
I was still, my breathing even as I leaned against the frame and waited for several minutes. When she finally entered her room and turned the bedside lamp on, I took a step back farther into the shadows. Her skin was flushed from the heat of the shower, and even though I wasn’t close to her, I smelled the sweet scent of green apples clinging to her.
She dropped the towel, and I took in every inch of her slender, nude body. My cock had been hard while I was stalking her through the streets, but right now, the fucker throbbed painfully behind my jeans.
I watched as she grabbed a pair of underwear from her dresser, her movements unhurried, her expression showing she had a lot on her mind. She bent over to put her panties on, and I stared at her pert little ass, thinking about how that fucker at the diner had touched her there. My nostrils flared with that weird-feeling spark of… rage?
That feeling mixed with the fact that she didn’t know I was there, hidden and watching her every move, made me salivate to fucking burst out of the closet and just take her right now. I wanted to claim what I fucking wanted, no matter what.
But I stayed still and quiet and got off on being a voyeur.
Once her panties were on, she climbed into bed, pulled the covers up to her chest, and grabbed the book she had on her bedside table. It was about twenty minutes of me watching her read before her eyes fluttered shut.
With an exhale, she set the book aside, reached up to shut the lamp off, and curled up to fall asleep. I waited, staring at her still by the faint glow coming from the light in the living room, as the minutes passed and her breathing slowed.
The apartment was silent now, save for the soft sound of her breathing.
Only when I was confident she was asleep did I slip out of the closet, careful not to make a sound as I moved toward her side of the bed. I looked around her room and noted the little details.
Her clothes, her tattered book that was dogeared, and a few small trinkets scattered on her dresser. I turned and silently opened the drawer she’d been in, tracing my fingers over the folded underwear and matched-up socks inside.
I hooked my finger under the elastic of a small pair of black panties and brought them to my nose, inhaling deeply. I shoved them in my back pocket—even though they only smelled of laundry detergent and just because they were hers—and closed the drawer.
She had a cheap plastic bracelet sitting atop the dresser, and I pocketed that as well. I was taking souvenirs. Proof that I’d been here and that she was part of me now, even if she didn’t know it. Her wallet was also on the dresser, and I scanned her ID, memorizing her name and all the little details that made her… her.