Heathens Read Online Alta Hensley

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

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Taking a chair onto the porch to stand on, I reached up and unscrewed the red bulb from the overhead light fixture. Torn between my desire and my word, I stood there for what felt like hours. It was as if my body knew what was about to happen, and it was trying to stop me from making a grave mistake.

But then something caught my eye.

Don’t look to the furthest corner of the porch awning, my mind screamed.

I think I always knew it was there. Deep down. But I didn’t want to face that reality. Face what that meant, and face if I liked it or hated it.

The video camera.

There was a video camera hidden on my porch, tucked away just enough behind a beam that I had never seen it before.

He was watching. He had always been watching.

There wasn’t a question in my mind that Locke had installed it. That he was keeping tabs on me. I knew.

I knew.

My heart pounded in my chest as I turned to face the camera. The cool night air seemed to disappear as a wave of heat washed over me, and I felt sweat begin to bead on my forehead. The camera sat there, quietly watching me as it had always done. It was like a silent sentinel, something that had always been there but was never acknowledged. Something that was always present, yet never spoken of.

I couldn’t help but feel exposed, like all my secrets were suddenly laid bare for the world to see. I thought back to all the things I had done in the privacy of my porch, all the things I had said and the secrets I had shared. All of it had been caught on tape.

Violated.

My own private space, my own little world, and he had been watching it all.

But why? Why had he been watching me all this time? What did he hope to gain from it?

The questions swirled around in my head as I stood there, staring at the camera. I knew I needed to destroy it, to destroy the evidence of my life being watched and recorded. But something held me back.

Was it a sick game? A twisted form of pleasure? Or was there something deeper, something that he was too afraid to admit?

I should be raging. Livid.

But why wasn’t I?

I took a step closer to the camera, examining it carefully. It was a small, inconspicuous device, almost invisible against the backdrop of the porch awning. But it had been there all along, silently watching and recording my every move.

I felt a strange pull, an inexplicable attraction to the man behind the camera. It was as if my anger had been replaced by a strange sense of connection, a bond that I couldn’t explain. I knew it was wrong, I knew I was supposed to hate him for what he had done, but I also felt safe. Protected.

No.

This was wrong.

Wrong.

Locke couldn’t just put a camera on my front porch and not expect me to be mad when it was discovered.

Were there other cameras?

Knowing him? Yes.

Was it endearing? Just a man determined to watch over me?

I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away. This was not normal; this was not healthy. But as I looked back at the camera, I felt a sense of longing, of desire.

I wanted to be seen.

Did he see me?

I reached out and gently touched the camera, as if trying to form a connection through the cold metal casing.

Was he watching now? Was he waiting for this moment? Was he watching to see if I’d take down the red light?

And what if I didn’t?

Would he come?

The thought of him coming to the porch made my heart race with anticipation. I wondered what would happen if he showed up, what he would say or do. Would he be angry with me for not removing the red light bulb?

Would he punish me again?

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of those thoughts. I couldn’t allow myself to be tempted by him any longer, and yet I was.

This was a game to him. I knew it.

Well…

If he wanted a game, I’d play. I peered into the lens and said, “If you want the red light to come down, do it yourself. Otherwise… The Hunt is on.”

Challenge accepted.

I waited for a response as if one would come, my heart pounding in anticipation. The silence was deafening, and I wondered if he was even watching. Maybe I was a fool to believe the camera was even his. Maybe it had been left by the tenants before.

No.

I knew Locke well enough. This was all him. I could smell his scent all over this.

I hopped off the chair, defiantly flipped the red light on, turned and walked into my house, my mind racing with thoughts of what was to come if he didn’t come. What if he didn’t care?

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