It’s not difficult to find the house. Buried at the end of a tree-lined, no-outlet street, the home is in a perfect location.

No one driving or walking by to see a lone man standing here in front of an innocent, little white-picket fence.

I arrived hours ago to watch her here from the pavement. I tuck my hands into the pockets of my jacket, warding off the chilling breeze.

She changes for bed in the room upstairs, foolishly believing the elevation offers privacy. It doesn’t. Not even the euphoric glimpse of her perfect body that I’ve been dreaming about for half a year is enough to calm me down. Any man could’ve seen her.

Seen what’s only mine to see.

Fairy lights drip from the eve above the front door. A rushed, last-minute attempt at decorating. The empty cardboard boxes by the rubbish bin are a telltale sign she’s just moved in.

This is her fourth move in the last three years. She’s travelled halfway across the country this time. Doesn’t make any difference to me where she’s moved. I’d find her whether she went halfway across the country or halfway across the world.

She has to be asleep by now. Her light has been out for long enough.

I’m not supposed to be here.

But now I am, there’s no going back.

I lift the hinge on the gate. The metal gives a squeak, but in a second, I’m inside the front yard and slinking around the house to the back door. The key is easy as pie to locate above the doorframe.

She’s nowhere near careful enough, my girl.

The back door doesn’t so much as groan as I let myself in and lock the door again behind me. The mixed scent of fruit and spices hits me on the way through her kitchen. Someone has been baking for the holidays, it seems.

My stomach growls, but it’s not her Christmas treats I’ve come here for. I’m already hard, and I haven’t even made it to the second floor yet. The stairs are at the front of the house. I test my weight on the first riser. The staircase is firm and doesn’t betray a single sound. My pulse starts a rhythmic thud deep in my chest. I can’t believe I’m really here.

Really doing this.

And the excitement makes me feel indestructible.

I envision the house from the outside and know her room has to be the second on the right. My palm’s slippery on the handle as I enter her room in the dark.

The thud in my chest becomes a boom, boom, boom.

I smell her the second I’m in. Fuck roses. She smells like springtime really should. Like fruit and sweetness.

My cock swells against my fly.

Haven’t even seen her and I’m ready to go. But then I’ve been waiting far too long for this. The bed is a shadow in the center of the room. I ignore it for now because if I glimpse her, I’ll lose all control. I close the drapes the way they should’ve been closed the moment she stepped in here.

Can’t have anyone witness the things I’m about to do.

I turn, and it’s an effort to breathe. My pulse roars. She’s so close. I’m so close to her. We’re in the same room.

She’s all I think about. Terrible, terrible things swirl through my mind. Terrible things I’ve seen and done. She’s the rainbow that comes after the hurricane.

My reward for being strong.

To say I’m obsessed is like calling the sun lukewarm. Nothing else matters, now I’m here. She’s going to make everything better.

I reach her bedside.

The even sound of her breathing filters through the darkness. There’s a lamp next to her bed, but I won’t risk waking her.

I hit the button for the flashlight on my cellphone. A soft, gentle glow illuminates the room. I set the phone on the bedside table.

Fuck.

My balls throb, they’re so freaking full. Since the moment I planned to come here, I haven’t so much as touched myself to ease the pain. The flashlight app’s light reaches across the room. Not enough to wake her. Enough to illuminate the fucking magnificent vision on the bed.

My gaze eats her up.

A sensation hits me that’s a lot like diving out of an airplane. The ground seems to rush toward me. I catch myself and begin breathing again.

Have to remind myself to do that before the anticipation kills me.

Just look at her—hand under her face, sweet cheek smooshed against her palm. Curled up all innocently. As if she’s an innocent girl.

When her and I both know she’s anything but.

The ache in my balls threatens to have this all over before I’ve touched her. I tug at my belt buckle. That’s not going to happen; everything I have, I’ve saved for her pussy.

She’s a wicked little tease, and she’s about to be treated like one.

I remove my clothes as quietly as possible but loop the belt in my hand and take it onto the bed with me. I’m going to have to keep her in line.

She releases a gentle sigh. Happy. Content. When I’m in fucking agony. My nerves threatening to burst and cripple me for life.

I crawl over the bed to her. Her five-foot, compact, little body is lost in a king size. It’s just right for me, though. I’m big enough to dominate the bed and everything in it.

Six months.

For six months, she’s tormented me. Driven me crazy. For six months, I’ve teetered on the edge of combustion.

Been an aggressive monster of her creation, unable to have the one thing I need.

Her.

She’s made me crazy. This is her fault.

Her hair makes a dark halo on the pillow around her.

All my plans get lost. What do I do? My hand shakes. Don’t know where to touch first. Lust trembles my pulse. Anticipation contracts my thoughts to the single-minded need to fuck her until we both explode.

I tug at the sheet covering her. A groan escapes me. I could hit myself for the way the sound cracks through the room.

Her full tits nearly spill out of the neck of her nightgown. There’s a hint of dusky areola peeking out of pink lace.

The pressure of my erection forces a bead of semen from my tip. I shut my eyes, taking a moment to picture something nasty to regain control, then open them and ease the sheet and blankets all the way off.

Fuck me sideways.

Little hussy. Not wearing underwear. The nightgown bunches at her waist. I’m consumed by the vision of full hip and the creamy expanse of thigh. My heart pounds all the way to my aching balls.

It’s like she wants something like this to happen.

She lays peacefully on her side. Bottom leg straight, top one bent, her toes pointed down as if she’s dreaming about being a ballerina.

My chest tightens. She’s lucky I can’t see pussy with her laying like that, or I’d have woken her up with my cock in it already.

Now, though, I take a moment to appreciate what I’m about to have my fill of.

My grip clenches on the looped belt.

She may be short, but that doesn’t mean she’s insubstantial. This woman is all substance.

Hips, thighs, booty, tits—she’s a wet dream.

My wet dream, and I’ve got months of fantasies stored up, and I’m going to exact them all on her.

I take her knee and tip her gently over onto her back.

Her eyes fly open, but I’m on her, free hand clamped over her mouth before she can let out a squeal.