Page 2 of His to Watch
And I realize, with a mixture of dread and something else I can't name, that we're completely alone in this massive building.
Just me and the silent giant who's been watching me for months.
two
. . .
Gerald
Fuck this goddamn storm.The alarms scream through the building like they're inside my skull while the lockdown protocol slams every door shut. Trapped. I'm trapped here with her all night. Tatianna. The little mouse of a woman who's been torturing me for eight fucking months without even knowing it. Every shift spent watching her delicate fingers caress ancient artifacts, her pink tongue darting out when she concentrates, her soft curves hidden under those modest blouses that make me want to rip them open with my teeth. The security cameras have recorded me following her movement through this museum like a wolf tracking a rabbit. If management ever reviews the footage, I'd be fired on the spot. But I can't stop. Not when she's everything I've ever wanted to possess.
I punch the security panel with more force than necessary, the emergency lights painting my scarred knuckles blood red. The system's completely dead. No override possible. Nothing but static on the radio.
Just me and her until morning. Maybe longer.
My cock stiffens painfully against my uniform pants at the thought. Eight months of torture, of keeping my distance,of watching other men—curators, professors, even the fucking janitor—speak to her when I've denied myself the pleasure. The things I've imagined doing to her in every exhibit of this museum would get me arrested in all fifty states.
She's standing by the staff exit, her back to me, shoulders trembling slightly. So fucking small compared to me. So delicate. The perfect size for me to pick up, to control, to protect. To breed.
Jesus. I adjust myself through my pants, grateful for the dim emergency lighting that hides my obvious arousal. I've jerked off to fantasies of her every morning and night since she first walked into this museum, but nothing compares to the real thing. To her scent when I stand close enough. To the sound of her soft breathing when she doesn't know I'm nearby, listening.
I move toward her like I'm being pulled by a goddamn tractor beam. My boots echo against the marble floors—no point hiding my approach now. The red emergency lights cast her in a bloody glow that makes my primitive brain howl. Mine. Mine. Mine.
She turns, those big doe eyes widening when she spots me. Fear? Surprise? I don't fucking care. I'm done pretending I don't want to devour her whole.
"System's completely locked down," I say, my voice rusty from disuse. I rarely speak to anyone, especially not her. "Storm took out the power grid for six blocks. Backup generators only run the emergency lights, not the security systems."
Her lips part in surprise at hearing my voice. Those soft, pink lips I've imagined wrapped around my cock more times than I can count. Those lips I've pictured gasping "Daddy" as I thrust into her tight little body.
"I-I didn't know it would do that," she stutters, pressing back against the door like she's trying to melt through it. "Lock down completely, I mean."
"Safety protocol." I step closer, towering over her five-foot-nothing frame. God, she's perfect. "Protects the artifacts."
She nods, her eyes darting around like a cornered animal. I could snap her in half with my bare hands. The knowledge makes my cock throb harder. Not that I would—I want to protect her, possess her, keep her forever. Not hurt her. Never hurt her.
"What do we do?" she whispers, and fuck if that breathy little voice doesn't go straight to my groin.
I stare down at her, letting myself really look for once without pretending I'm checking the displays behind her. Her dark wavy hair is coming loose from that prim bun she always wears, framing her face in soft tendrils I want to wrap around my fist. Her modest blouse does nothing to hide the gentle swell of her breasts, rising and falling rapidly with each anxious breath.
"Looks like it's just you and me tonight, little girl."
The words slip out before I can stop them.Little girl.The name I call her in my filthiest fantasies while my hand works my shaft in the shower each morning.
Her eyes widen at the term, a flush climbing her neck to stain her cheeks pink. She doesn't correct me. Doesn't run screaming. Just stands there, looking up at me with those innocent eyes that make me want to corrupt her in the filthiest ways possible.
"We should…we should check the other exits," she suggests, voice barely audible.
I step closer, deliberately invading her space. "They're all locked. Emergency protocol." Another step. "Nothing's opening those doors until the system resets or the power comes back."
She swallows hard, her throat bobbing in a way that makes me want to suck marks all over that pale skin. "How long will that take?"
"Morning, at least. Storm's supposed to last all night."
All night.Eight hours minimum of having this perfect creature all to myself. No interruptions. No witnesses. Just her soft body and my hard need in this massive empty building.
My hand reaches out of its own accord, almost touching her face before I force it back to my side.
"We should find somewhere comfortable to wait," I tell her, my voice dropping an octave lower than usual. "Staff break room has a couch."
