The Whispers of Silence

By FoxyBooks All Rights Reserved ©

Thriller / Erotica

Chapter 9

X

I started every morning by staring through the window—into Nora’s apartment.

She wasn’t a morning person, often getting up later than noon, and grumpily walking around until she had her first dose of caffeine. The girl was addicted to her coffee, making cup after cup. The worst thing though was that she drank a horrible, cheap instant mix. I made a mental note to tell her she was better off not having any at all if she wasn’t ready to splurge on the good stuff.

Despite her horrific coffee habit, she was a mesmerizing sight in the morning. A completely different woman to the dressed-up party girl who left the apartment in the evenings. Morning Nora wore thick, fuzzy socks and a fluffy black and white robe with panda ears. Party girl Nora guzzled alcohol, morning Nora nursed the hangover.

Party girl Nora made my cock twitch, and the vulnerable morning Nora made my heart hurt because I fucking wanted her, yet I knew I could never have her.

No one could. Not after I was finished with her.

It had been two days since I’d given her the show she hadn’t wanted, and my gift for her was almost ready. I’d successfully kept my distance, knowing I was getting unreasonably attached to something that wasn’t even mine in the first place. I didn’t seek her out, didn’t call her, and she stubbornly didn’t even text. She was sulking, I could tell. She barely glanced out the window, and she kept her curtains shut a lot of the time, only opening them to tease me

She would wear the sluttiest lingerie, waltzing around her apartment and making damn sure I saw every lace-covered inch of that tight little body. And it only made me want her more, of course.

She’d look through the window hastily, hoping I wouldn’t notice, or watch me out of her peripheral vision, making sure she had the effect on me she wanted. And I couldn’t help myself. Not just because she was a hot piece of ass, but because she was somehow irresistible in all her sarcastic, bitchy glory.

I had a Skype call with my client that morning, just like I did every Thursday.

“Is it done?”

“It will be.”

“That’s not good enough! What is taking so long?” He was getting agitated clearly.

I stared.

I knew better than to tell him the truth, and he knew better than to pry.

I adjusted myself in front of the camera, my eyes glancing behind the computer and towards the window. Nora’s curtains were shut.

“I want it done.”

“And I told you it will be. What’s the rush? She doesn’t seem to be of any harm.”

Something wasn’t right, he looked ready to murder. Knowing his reputation I was shocked when he approached me instead of getting the job done himself, but I didn’t give it much thought then.

What could Nora possibly have done to someone like him?

“Get.It.Done.” He gritted and hung up.

I stared at my blank screen for a second, looking at my own reflection in it.

As badly as I wanted her in my fucking arms, bouncing up and down on my cock, this was more important. I needed Nora to believe it, because if she did, maybe it could hurt lesser.

I texted her that afternoon because I was getting way too fucking restless. I’d spent all day doing work stuff, trying to ignore her presence right across the street. But she was like an itch I couldn’t scratch—omnipresent and gnawing away at me until I finally gave her the attention she so badly craved.

She’d been walking around the apartment sulkily in a silky robe, not giving me a single look, pretending we didn’t share a history anymore. My text would see to that right away.

Hope you’ve had enough time to rest, sugar. Your new toy arrives today.

She didn’t text back. The little slut left me waiting for two hours before she graced me with a reply.

What makes you think I still want you to play with me?

I grinned to myself and my fingers worked on the screen to send her a reply right away.

Because the second you got my text, your little fingers went straight to those panties. Don’t lie. I saw it.

She got up to her feet furiously and I laughed in her angry little face as she shut the curtains. She knew I was right, but she wasn’t ready to admit it just yet. She was also in a bit of a mood, but I didn’t give a shit. The online tracking number for what I’d ordered her showed me the delivery man was only 10 deliveries away. Soon, she’d have my gift, and we’d be able to play again.

I watched the tracking number like a hawk, and once her delivery was up next, I looked down on the street to find the van parked on the pavement.

A middle-aged man rang her doorbell and a minute later, she opened the front door, shivering in the cool evening air. She signed for the package, completely oblivious of the man’s stares. I wanted to fucking throat punch him but I convinced myself to keep my cool. Instead, I watched impatiently as Nora went back to her apartment. I waited until my phone rang. She was calling.

“Hello, sweetness,” I greeted her.

My cock was painfully hard before she even opened her mouth, but the second I heard her speak, it twitched for more.

“Why did you get me a camera?” she asked.

“I want you to take some photos for me,” I told her. “I’ll text you a connection code to input into the camera for sending direct to my computer, so whatever you film or shoot will come straight to me.”

She was silent for a second, making my heart pound nervously. I could hear the shakiness in her voice when she spoke up again.

“What do you want me to take photos of?”

“Everything,” I told her. “I want to watch you live your life. I want to watch you go out. Come home. Strip down. Get dressed. I want to see it all.”

I kept staring at her window, watching her pull the curtains open slowly. She stood in front of the glass, her body illuminated by a streetlight and her face curiously beautiful. God, she was fucking incredible. A mystery, a precious little whore who was going to do my bidding, whatever the fuck it was. I was in deep, probably too fucking deep, but it was too late to get out now.

“But won’t that be boring?” she asked me.

“It won’t be boring for me,” I told her.

She didn’t need to know the whole truth.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yeah, sugar,” I muttered instead. “Now turn it the fuck on.”

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