Authors: Rhiannon Jean
Copyright © 2016 Rhiannon Jean
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This story contains sexually explicit material and is intended only for persons over the age of 18. By downloading and opening this document, you are stating that you are of legal age to access and view this work of fiction. All the characters involved in the sexual situations in this story are intended to be 18 years of age or older, whether they are explicitly described as such or not.
Editing Services Provided by Michelle Jacksier
Cover Created by Imagination Uncovered
Formatting Services Provided by Rene Folsom
To My Hoochie Mamas: Mandy, Cindy, and Dawni—
Without your love, enthusiasm, and endless stream of GIFs, The Watcher would have never been a reality. I love you.
“Life is not lost by dying; life is lost minute by minute, day by dragging day, in all the thousand small uncaring ways.”
– Stephen Vincent Benét
After my last final of the semester, which was on a Monday evening, ugh! I stood up and stretched. I was almost the last one left, because I compulsively re-checked each answer. I turned to collect my things off the floor and caught a glimpse of the guy in the back. Dressed all in black, the hood from his sweatshirt pulled up and hair hanging in his eyes, he was openly staring at me. The intense glimmer in his green eyes startled me and I almost dropped my backpack. I’d noticed him a few times, only because he was late to class on a regular basis and stood out by dressing in all black. I’d never even made eye contact with him, let alone seen him staring.
His pencil was down, his test still sat on his desk, and I could feel the seconds ticking by. The professor cleared his throat, reminding me I still needed to turn in my own test. I lowered my eyes to the floor and shook my head slightly, trying to clear the fog that had just settled. I picked up my backpack, dropped off my test on the professor’s desk and made my way to the door. I glanced to the back of the classroom and saw those green eyes still staring at me, making me blush slightly. I rushed out into the hallway, suddenly in need of fresh air.
Outside I took a deep breath and continued to my VW Bug parked in the furthest lot from the building. The parking here was a joke, but it was a great way to keep me in slightly better shape. I saw my reflection in the driver’s side window and took a second to really look at myself. I too had green eyes, but more of a hazel color, nothing like the Ireland green of his eyes. I had plain, dark brown hair, curvy hips and thighs, and a few tattoos. I’d grown to have a love/hate relationship with my curves. Really though, I wasn’t special; I didn’t stand out in any way. Why was he staring at me like that?
I climbed into my car and turned on the engine only to hear my favorite Blue October song,
. I sat there, taking a few deep breaths and listening to the lyrics. Lately I’d been in a funk, my relationship with my husband was stagnant, my mother was driving me crazy as usual, and every day I mentally promised myself that I’d quit my job. I hadn’t had sex in months, I’d been unable to write anything of substance, and I was pretty sure I had just barely managed to squeak by the semester with a C. I was tired; I was bored; I was frustrated; I was stuck.
Was this normal? I was about to turn 35 and I felt like I hadn’t accomplished anything. I was married, but had no children. I already had a bachelor’s, but I was still working on figuring out what I wanted to be when I grew up. I had a full-time job as a receptionist/admin, so I was basically someone’s bitch. Most days I felt old, washed up, and like life had come to a complete standstill.
I had gone back to school to try and better myself. I wanted out of this hole and I was hoping that getting my MBA might be the path leading to a better life. My husband had been supportive in the beginning, but now he was hardly home enough to have dinner with me after class. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to go home or take some “me time” and go out. I was hoping that maybe he’d have dinner waiting with flowers and candlelight. Secretly I was hoping he remembered this was my last final and that he’d want to celebrate with me. I’d been working so hard and I wanted him to be proud. Part of me knew, though, that none of that was going to happen. It was wishful thinking and getting my hopes up yet again was only going to crush my spirits. I was a hopeless romantic, always wishing for what I couldn’t have.
I opened my eyes, took one more deep breath, and began to pull out of the lot to head home when all the hairs raised up on my neck. My windows were down and a slight breeze sent a chill down my spine. Staind was playing
It’s Been Awhile
and my head was bobbing to the guitar strains. I looked around the mostly deserted lot and noticed a figure sitting on a bench waiting for the bus. It was dark out, the sun just having set, so I couldn’t make out the facial features, but I recognized that black hoodie.
My headlights had hit him dead on and those haunting green eyes were once again following me. I drove by slowly, heading towards the exit, breathing a little heavier, and watched him watching me. I’d never had a man stare so openly at me, like he was drinking me in and savoring every sip. The right side of his mouth curled up into a hint of a smirk and the deepest of dimples showed itself. He was bobbing his head in time to Staind and mouthing the lyrics just as the lead singer crooned about remembering how his girl tasted. My face turned deep red and I hit the gas a little harder and sped away.
My palms were sweating and my breath was coming in short gasps. I had finally made contact with her. Even though we hadn’t spoken, the moment she looked into my eyes I felt it. That zap of electricity when like recognizes like. God she was fucking beautiful. The terrible part was, she had no clue.
Her dark hair and pale skin matched my own, but her eyes were what stole my breath the first time I ever saw her. That greenish-brown color reminded me of the forest that I loved so much. But it wasn’t just the color, it was what flashed in them. I could feel her pain and her longing for something...more. She was hiding her true self from everyone and I wanted to bring that out of her. She was so quiet and reserved, but those eyes told a different story.
It had taken months for me to get up the courage to make myself known to her. I thought it would be best to blend into the background for a while, so I attended one of her classes. I knew it was the last one she needed this semester, so I wanted to move faster than the snail’s pace I had taken so far. I sat in the back, dressed all in black so as to seem unassuming and mysterious. For weeks, she barely looked my way. She was so absorbed in her studies, which made me fall for her even more. Every time she put her glasses on and pulled out her laptop to take notes, I wanted to smile. God, she was sexy when she concentrated. All kinds of bad thoughts would cross through my mind while the instructor droned on and on about plots and characters. I wanted to know what her hair smelled like and what the skin under her ear tasted like.
Finally, on the last day of classes, I knew I had to make my move. I wanted to see her outside of class, but in order to do that, I had to make her notice me. She stood up and stretched after the final and I caught a glimpse of that beautiful pale skin as her shirt lifted slightly. Her white cotton panties peeked out from the top of her jeans and my thoughts went to even darker places. I had a fetish for white cotton panties. I wanted to rip them from her luscious body with my teeth. I must have made some sort of noise while imagining this because as she began gathering her books and computer, her eye caught mine. Shit, I was staring again. I looked straight into her eyes, silently willing her to see the thoughts racing through my head.
I watched her breath catch and her bag slip in her hands. I sat perfectly still while celebrating that small victory in my head. I had affected her. She had noticed me. My plan had finally been set in motion. She threw everything into her bag, turned in her test and lifted her head to look at me once more. The blush that crept up her gorgeous neck and face made my dick hard instantly. I had to have more of those eyes looking into mine.
I gave her a few minutes to get to her car and made my way to the bus stop in the school’s parking lot. I knew she drove by it every night after class. She was blasting
It’s Been Awhile
by Staind and I smiled to myself at the perfection of her song selection. She had amazing taste in music and it actually mirrored my own. I wondered what she’d think if I sang to her. I watched her sit in her car for a few minutes, knowing that she was dreading going home. That prick she was married to didn’t deserve her. I knew he took her for granted and couldn’t care less about all that she was. Someday I wanted to show her how a real man should treat her.
She started the car and drove towards me. I could tell she saw me, even though it was dark, as I could see that gorgeous blush creep up her skin again. Staind was singing the perfect line about remembering the way his girl tasted as she drove past me. Never taking my eyes off hers, I sang the lyrics to her with a silent promise to taste her someday soon.