He Sees You When You’re Sleeping: A Dark and Steamy Holiday Romance of Obsession and Secrets – Where Desire Meets Danger in the Heart of NYC

I blame Tyler for the fact that I am once again standing outside her window in the fucking cold. I swore to myself the stalking would stop but old habits die hard.

My jaw clenches involuntarily. My fingers are numb inside my pockets, but I barely notice.

I had to make sure she was safe. Something about seeing Tyler in the coffee shop touching Chloe didn’t sit well with me. Could it be because I wanted to tie him to coffee shop chair and slowly chop his hand off with a butter knife? Maybe. But regardless, I couldn’t resist the urge to return to her house to see she got home okay.

So here I am again, breath coming out in puffs, watching her once again.

The soft glow from her bedroom window casts a faint halo on the frost-covered lawn. I can see her moving around, probably getting ready for bed. My heart races as I imagine her slipping out of her clothes, her smooth skin bathed in the warm lamplight. It’s later than I normally come to watch her, so late that I had to unplug her Christmas lights so I’m not lit up. I hope she doesn’t notice. I hope that I can simply watch her in peace. Watch her slide into bed and—

I shake my head, trying to clear those thoughts. I’m here to protect her, not . . . whatever this is. But deep down, I know it’s more than that. It always has been.

A car door slams nearby, startling me. I duck behind a hedge, my pulse vibrating in my ears. Footsteps crunch on the icy sidewalk, coming closer. I peer through the branches as I wait for everyone to settle for the night. Settle so I can watch Chloe.

Chloe appears in my view again, and I hold my breath as I notice something different about her. She’s not in pajamas as I expected. Quite the opposite. She’s wearing a raven-black wig, bright red lipstick and a tight, revealing black dress I’ve never seen before. What the fuck?

Where is she going at this hour?

I watch as she applies more makeup, her movements hurried and nervous. She keeps glancing at her phone, as if waiting for a message. My stomach churns with a mix of jealousy and concern. Is she meeting someone?

She applies jewelry I’ve never seen before either. It’s a choker . . . no . . . it’s a collar. It’s gothic in style, with a small silver ring dangling from the front.

She then stands in front of her mirror in all her mysterious beauty, and I barely recognize her. In fact, if I didn’t know it was Chloe, I’m not sure I’d be able to pick her in a lineup.

She’s fucking stunning.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

My fingers twitch with the urge to grab my phone and snap a picture, but I resist.

She then moves to her computer and sits down. With a couple of clicks, a website is pulled up. I squint to get a better look, and I instantly recognize it.

Holy fucking hell . . .

My heart nearly stops.

I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Chloe, my sweet, innocent Chloe, is logging into a Dark Secrets account.

I have a Dark Secrets account. But Chloe? My sweet, angel Chloe?

I watch in stunned silence as she adjusts her webcam and begins to type something. A chat window pops up, filling with messages from eager viewers.

Unlike when she does her influencer jewelry videos, she doesn’t turn on her ring light. She’s shadowed by a flickering candle nearby.

Chloe takes a deep breath, visibly steeling herself. She applies a lace mask over her thick eyelashes to hide her identity even more. Then she smiles at the camera—a sultry, confident smile I’ve never seen before. It’s like she’s transformed into a different person entirely.

She starts to move sensuously, running her hands over her body, cupping her breasts, caressing her pussy, and spreading her legs as she speaks to her audience. I can’t hear what she’s saying as she has put sexy music on in the background, but I can see her lips moving, forming words I never thought I’d see coming from her mouth.

I’m frozen in place, unable to look away as she slowly starts to unzip her dress. Part of me wants to rush in there and stop this, to protect her from the prying eyes of strangers. But another part, a darker part I try to ignore, is utterly captivated.

How have I missed this? Years of sitting outside her window, and this is the first time I’ve seen this? It’s obvious this is not her first time on this site. Clearly, she does so much more once I leave her for the night.

As I watch, transfixed, a flurry of emotions courses through me. Shock, arousal, jealousy, and a twisted sense of pride all war for dominance. My sweet Chloe, the object of my obsession for so long, has depths I never imagined.

The chat window explodes with activity as Chloe—no, her alter ego—begins her performance. I can almost feel the heat of the laptop against her skin, the hungry eyes of faceless strangers drinking in every curve and gesture. My fists clench in my pockets, nails digging into my palms.

She moves with practiced grace, each motion calculated to tease and entice. The dress slips lower, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of lace underneath. I’m torn between averting my eyes and drinking in every detail, committing it to memory.

A car engine rumbles to life down the street, snapping me back to reality. I glance around nervously, suddenly aware of how exposed I am. If anyone were to see me now, lurking in the shadows, watching this private show . . .

When I look back, Chloe is holding something up to the camera. It takes me a moment to recognize it: a hot pink dildo, thick and large. My mouth goes dry as she runs it along her thigh, her lips curving into a wicked smile.

Holy shit this escalated quickly!

Is this what some melted chocolate does to a girl?

This is too much. I need to leave, to process what I’ve seen. But my feet feel rooted to the ground, my eyes locked on the window. I’ve watched Chloe for years, thinking I knew everything about her. Now, I realize I know nothing at all.

I took the girl out for hot cocoa like she was a virginal eighteen-year-old. Jesus she must think I’m a goddamn Boy Scout. Had I known . . .

She leans back further so I can get a better view of exactly where she plans to put that dildo. My legs go weak, and I have to grip the hedge to stay upright. I thought I was protecting her, keeping her safe from the darkness of the world. But she was already deep in it, reveling in it even.

I watch as she positions herself, ready to give her audience what they’re clamoring for. My fingers twitch toward my phone again, this time to open the Dark Secrets app. I could join the stream right now, be one of those faceless usernames cheering her on.

Will she see the light from my phone if I do?

I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the app icon. The temptation is overwhelming. But something stops me. Maybe it’s the last shred of decency I have left, or maybe it’s the fear of being caught. Either way, I force my hand back into my pocket.

The music changes into something lower. Enough so that I can actually hear her speak now as she inserts the dildo past her silky folds.

Holy shit! I’m staring at Chloe’s bare, and absolutely perfect pussy.

“Something happened today,” she says. “Something that got me in the mood to fuck myself for all of you to see.”

I press my face to the glass, straining to hear every word. My curiosity is piqued, overriding even my arousal.

“I saw someone today,” Chloe continues, her voice husky and breathless as she works the toy inside herself. “I had the most perfect day. Something right out of a Hallmark movie.” She giggles and then moans. “But it was very G rated.”

Fuuuuuuck me. She’s talking about me. About out meeting over cocoa and whip cream!

I lean in, my heart constricting as I strain to catch every word. Chloe’s voice is low and sultry, punctuated by soft moans as she pleasures herself.

“It was so innocent,” she continues, her breath catching. “We had hot chocolate and walked in the snow. He was such a gentleman.” She laughs, a sound caught between amusement and arousal. “If only he knew what I really wanted. You all know exactly what I want, don’t you?”

My mind reels. I struggle with a surge of conflicting emotions—shock, jealousy, arousal, and yes . . . embarrassment. How did I not pick up on this? My Chloe. My Chloe is . . .

“I wanted him to push me up against a wall,” Chloe gasps, her movements becoming more frantic. “To rip my clothes off and fuck me right there in the snow.”

Part of me wants to burst through her door, to be the man she’s describing. But I’m rooted to the spot, a voyeur to her darkest fantasies.

“But instead,” she pants, “I’m here with you. My faithful viewers. You know what I really need, don’t you?”

The chat explodes with comments. I can only imagine what they’re saying, what they’re asking her to do. Chloe reads a few aloud, each one filthier than the last. She complies with their requests, her body writhing on her black leather office chair.

I’m trembling now, from both the cold and the intensity of what I’m witnessing. This is Chloe stripped bare—not just physically, but emotionally. The sweet, pure girl I thought I knew is gone, replaced by this seductive creature who knows exactly what she wants.

As she nears her climax, Chloe locks eyes with the window. For a heart-stopping moment, I feel like she’s looking right at me. Like she knows I’m here, watching her most intimate moment. It’s as if she knows she should have pulled the curtains shut to give herself privacy, but she never does. Never. It tells me one thing. She likes to leave them open . . . tempting the universe. Inviting . . .

“Oh god,” she moans, her back arching, eyes closing. She thrusts the dildo in all the way and cries out.

I fixate on the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, mesmerized, as she shudders through her orgasm.

My legs nearly give out as I watch Chloe climax, her body quivering with pleasure. The intensity of her orgasm seems to radiate through the window, electrifying the cold night air around me.

As Chloe comes down from her high, she slumps back in her chair, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. She reaches for a towel off-screen and begins to clean herself up, still engaging with her audience.

“Thank you all for joining me tonight,” she purrs, her voice slightly hoarse. “You know how to make a girl feel special.”

She leans in close to the camera, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Same time next week? I might have a special surprise for you all.”

With a wink and a blown kiss, she ends the stream. The window goes dark as she shuts off her computer, leaving me standing in the shadows, my mind reeling from what I’ve just observed.

I stand here, frozen. The silence of the night seems deafening. My breath comes in short, ragged gasps.

What do I do with this information? The Chloe I thought I knew is gone, replaced by this sultry, confident woman who bares her soul (and body) to strangers online.

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I need to leave before someone spots me. As I turn to go, my foot kicks a rock, the sound seeming to echo in the quiet night.

Suddenly, Chloe’s bedroom light flicks back on. I freeze, my heart tightens. Did she hear me? I press myself against the side of the house, praying she doesn’t look out the window.

I hear the soft creak of her window opening. “Hello?” Chloe’s voice, tentative and slightly fearful, cuts through the night air. “Is someone there?”

I hold my breath, not daring to move a muscle. Seconds stretch into an eternity as I wait, praying she’ll give up and go back inside. When I don’t hear anything, I quickly leave, running down the street to where my truck is waiting.

I slide into my truck, hands shaking as I fumble with the keys. My mind is racing, replaying every moment of what I watched. The image of Chloe, transformed into her vixen alter ego, is burned into my retinas. I can’t shake the sound of her voice, husky with desire, as she described what she really wanted from our innocent cocoa date.

I know I shouldn’t, but before I can stop myself, I’m opening the Dark Secrets app.

My fingers hover over the search bar. What name would she use? Something mysterious, sexy as fuck . . . I search through the most recently uploaded videos and streams, my heart racing with each attempt. Finally, I see her.

The profile picture is a close-up of red lips and a hint of that lace mask.

Username: BlackAsChlo

I click on her profile, scrolling through the content she offers. My mouth goes dry as I see thumbnails of her previous shows, each one sexier than the last. There’s a button to subscribe to her channel, to gain access to exclusive content. There’s no fee attached which tells me one thing. Chloe does this by choice. Not for monetary gain.

My thumb hovers over it, trembling slightly. This is a line I never thought I’d cross. If I do this, there’s no going back. I’ll be one of them, one of the faceless usernames cheering her on, asking for more.

But isn’t that what I’ve always been? A faceless observer, watching from the shadows?

Before I can change my mind, I hit subscribe. The screen loads, and suddenly I’m in, privy to Chloe’s secret world. I scroll through her posts, each one revealing a side of her I never knew existed.

She likes toys. I like toys.

She likes kink . . . so much kink. I fucking adore kink.

One video catches my eye. The thumbnail shows Chloe—no, BlackAsChlo—in a dimly lit room, her wrists bound above her head. The title reads, “Punish me, Daddy.”

My finger hovers over the play button. This is wrong. I shouldn’t be seeing this. But I’ve already crossed so many lines tonight. What’s one more?

I press play.

The video starts with Chloe struggling against her restraints, her eyes wide behind her mask.

“I’ve been a bad girl,” she says.

Her latest video is there, the one I saw in person. I hit play, my breath catching as I watch the scene unfold from a new angle.

Chloe’s voice fills my room, erotic and alluring. “I saw someone today,” she purrs, and I shiver, knowing she’s talking about me. I watch, transfixed, as she pleasures herself, describing in vivid detail what she wished I had done to her.

My hand drifts to my lap, almost of its own accord. I know this is wrong—

I can’t do this. Not yet. Not yet . . .

I shut off my phone, my hands shaking. The night’s revelations swirl in my mind. As I sit there in my truck, I realize that everything has changed. The game has shifted, the rules rewritten. And I’m not sure if I’m the protector anymore, or just another moth drawn to Chloe’s flame.

I start the engine again, my mind made up. I need to see her again, to look into her eyes knowing what I know now. To see if I can spot a glimmer of BlackAsChlo behind Chloe’s innocent facade.