He Sees You When You’re Sleeping Read Online Alta Hensley

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic Tags Authors: Alta Hensley Advertisement

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Mine? I type. Mine is . . . complicated, I type finally. It’s about control, I guess. Being seen, but on my own terms.

Interesting, WinterWatcher responds quickly. Is that why you do this? The cam shows?

I consider his question, surprised by how perceptive it is. Partly, I admit. It’s liberating in a way. To be desired, admired even, but still maintain distance.

I can understand that, he replies. The power of being watched, but still being untouchable.

What about you? I ask, deflecting. What’s your fantasy?

There’s a long pause before his response comes through. To be close to someone. To know them completely. Every detail, every secret. Not just know what she presents for the world to see, but really know her deepest and darkest desires.

How close is too close?

There’s no such thing as too close, he replies almost instantly. Not when you truly want to know someone.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. And how would you go about getting that close?

Carefully. Patiently. Building trust, piece by piece. Learning every detail, every habit. Watching. Studying. Becoming a part of their world, even if they don’t realize it at first.

I pause, unsure how to respond. The rational part of my brain tells me to end this conversation, to log off and forget about WinterWatcher. But something keeps me there, fingers poised over the keyboard.

And what if the person doesn’t want to be understood that deeply? I ask.

Everyone wants to be understood, he replies. Even if they don’t know it yet.

Yup, I have to be drunk for me to have the courage to type, Is that your fantasy? To watch?

Yes.

And what about me? I type, my heart racing. Am I part of that fantasy? Do you like watching me?

There’s a pause that feels like an eternity before his response appears.

Yes.

I stare at the screen, my mouth dry. The single word “Yes” seems to pulse with an energy of its own. I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or the late hour, but I feel a strange mix of fear and excitement.

I studied you, he types. We like the same videos. We have favorited a lot of the same pics.

Is that so? I like knowing this. My kinks are eclectic. Give examples.

Well, WinterWatcher types, there’s that video of the woman tied up in shibari rope, suspended from the ceiling. You favorited it and five others just like it.

My breath catches. He’s right. I had been mesmerized by that video, the intricate knots, the vulnerability and strength of the model.

And then there’s the album of vintage pinup photos, he continues. You’ve favorited almost every image.

Again, he’s correct. I’ve always been drawn to the tease and glamour of those old photos.

And the spanking videos. You love those.

You’ve been doing your homework, I type.

I have, he responds quickly. I find you fascinating.

I pause, unsure how to proceed. Part of me wants to shut down the conversation, to log off and pretend this never happened. But another part, the part fueled by the battle I’ve had inside of me of danger vs. safe continues on.

Is that what you want to do? I type. Spank me?

Is that what you want? WinterWatcher replies. To be spanked?

I hesitate, my fingers hovering over the keys.

Maybe, I type finally.

I actually think you want more than that.

I stare at his words, my heart racing. He’s right, of course. I do want more. But how could he know that?

What do you think I want? I type.

There’s a pause before his response comes through. You want a man who doesn’t ask. He just does. You want a man who takes control, who knows what you need before you even realize it yourself. I see a woman who craves intensity. Who wants to be pushed to her limits, to experience everything life has to offer. But I also see someone who’s afraid. Afraid of losing control, of being truly vulnerable.

His words hit me like a physical blow. I feel naked, stripped bare by his perceptions.

I get up from my chair and pace my room, trying to sober up some. This is unlike me. I never peel back the curtain. And yet, here I am.

Something about WinterWatcher’s words has me captivated.

I sit back down, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Are you the kind of man who can make all those fantasies happen?

Yes, comes his swift reply.

How? I type, my fingers shaking. How would you do it?

There’s a pause before his reply comes through. First, I’d make you wait. Build the anticipation. Make you think about all the possibilities until you’re practically begging for it. I’d want your pussy wet without me even touching you.

Oh Jesus. Here we go . . . Is this officially sexting? I don’t even know what to call this!

Then? I prompt, barely breathing.

Then, WinterWatcher types, I’d blindfold you. Take away your sight so every other sense is heightened. You’d feel the brush of my fingertips along your skin, never knowing where I’d touch next. The anticipation would drive you wild.

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