4. Chapter 4

A light gust of wind blows a few rogue snowflakes across the frosty pane of the windshield, as if promising a much stronger return. I glare at them. I will not tolerate having my plans ruined. Mother Nature better keep herself in check. My body is running on autopilot again today as my hands wrap around the cold shifter, putting my truck in drive. For now, there’s no telling how much of a window there is, and the sooner I get ahead of the storm, the easier it is to maintain once the snow starts falling again. The eye of a blizzard can sometimes last hours depending on the size of it. This is exactly why I got up early. I have an entire mountainside to plow. In the distance, the sun threatens to attempt a morning appearance. So far, despite the effort, the sky remains an uncomfortable dark—overcast and gray—as the intensity builds for round two of our pounding. I can’t help the ridiculous grin forming on my lips. The mountain isn’t the only thing that’s going to be getting a pounding this week. Is it too soon to be thinking about that? Do I care if it’s too soon? I think long and hard about it, mulling things over. Nope. And this is why the therapist said I’m a psychopath—or maybe she said I had psychopathic tendencies? I shrug my shoulders. It didn’t matter once I realized it was her who wrote the recommendation to HR, giving them everything they needed to fire me. I made sure she learned an unfortunate lesson about what happens to dirty fucking snitches. Come to think of it, she was my first kill. My cock strains against my jeans, suddenly awake. Fuck. Am I really turned on from just remembering that night? I guess whatever she said about me was right because here I am plowing my way down the mountain to succumb to my darkest desires while acting out my ultimate fantasy.

The drive down to Hazel isn’t terrible. The truck slid a few times, but that’s because the ATV in the truck bed makes it extra heavy. I pull up in front of the cabin, if you can even call it that, because all the cabins on the mountain are really just mansions made to look like giant oversized cabins and wood lodges. Time to mentally prepare myself, but the gorgeous architecture distracts me. Uncle Dex really knew what he was doing when he designed all of them. Not a single one is the same. Each one is completely unique, customized by their original purchasers. I take a moment to appreciate the stone work and sloping wood beams that frame the oversized front porch. I wonder if she even realizes, yet the property she inherited is worth millions. She’s a lucky girl, I hope she knows that. I pull on my extra thick gloves. It’s time to get to clearing the snow. I’m not a slumlord, after all. Normal people would probably contract out the work. It’s not like I can’t afford to. It’s a choice. I find plowing the mountain soothing, and it gives me something better to do with my time.

The plow on the Polaris makes clearing the entire giant driveway easy. All the driveways up here are heated, too. Before I leave, I’ll slip inside and turn on the timer to make things easier. Once I finish the driveway, I return to the truck to grab my shovel. I don’t want to wake her with the snowblower. This morning is for me. It’s an excuse to sneak inside and watch her. I crave companionship like my lungs crave air, and Hazel has always been the one. The fact that I’ve spent my entire adult life knowing she was made for me, that we were destined to meet as young children, to be one another’s first crushes, and then end up together, speaks volumes. I’m borderline obsessive. Another label from the dead doctor’s notes. While she’s right about my obsessive, stalker-like tendencies, I’m not convinced my behavior is harmful if I care about the person I’m hyper-fixated with. No, I’m only fucking harmful when you’ve personally wronged me. Just like Dex’s wife. That bitch thought she could blackmail me into not telling Dex about the little affair she was having. Fuck around and find out. I didn’t have to tell him. I simply cleaned up the mess by eliminating the person hurting him. Why’d I do it? I guess because Dex really was a good guy. He was a good friend and he deserved better.

After finishing the front, I bend over with my hands on my knees to catch my breath, and pull the ski mask from my face. I run my hand through my hair to calm my thoughts. This is exactly why I have to test myself. I’m not sure if I can trust the darker side of me to be around her. The urge to collect her is already nipping at the edge of my thoughts. If I can make Hazel fall in love with a monster like me, then maybe, just maybe, I can bring this holiday tradition to an end.

I toss the shovel over my shoulder and whistle a Christmas tune as I work my way along the service sidewalk that leads around to the back. Once I finish the steps leading up to the deck, I take the shovel back to my truck, tucking it away for later. I can’t make trying to escape the house easier for her. One way in, one way out. From the passenger seat, I snatch the gift basket filled with muffins and gourmet coffee, along with a red gift bag full of specialty handmade soaps. They were crafted with care and an extra special ingredient—a trade my mother taught me. We used to bake and make soap together all the time, even after Dad’s accident. I don’t want to think about those memories now, though. Not when I’m turned on, knowing that later she’ll be washing with my cum. The thought of it coating her body has my cock throbbing and straining against my pants. I imagine the suds running over her breasts and peaked nipples. My erection is so hard, it’s painful. I set everything back down on the passenger seat. One hand reaches above me to steady myself against the door frame while the other unzips my pants, sliding inside to grip the base of my cock. My balls tighten in excitement. They know exactly what’s about to happen. With my back to the house and the door of the truck blocking everything else, I work my hand firmly over my dick. As I do, I close my eyes, imagining Hazel in the shower again and the soap running over her breasts before cascading down to drip across the slit of her pussy. I use my thumb to rub the pre-cum leaking out over my swollen head, then spread it down my very erect shaft, allowing my made-up scene to continue playing out. The soap covers her hands in thick suds as she rubs it over and through her folds, working my spent cum all over that tight pussy. I can’t wait to make her mine. Fuck, I’m going to come. I keep my rhythm, stroking myself over the edge, watching as the warm cum shoots from my dick, melting into the snow. Once I’ve pumped my dick dry, I return it to my pants, zipping them and no longer burdened with an insatiable need. It was probably best I got that out of my system before being so close to Hazel.

Recovered from my fantasy session, I grab the gifts and head up the front path as if it’s just a normal day checking on the property. It’s much lighter now as the sun works its way out, still fighting to burst through the thick, heavy snow clouds looming overhead. More neighbors—or vacationers, in the case of my multiple rental properties—could be awake and watching, so I move about casually and as quietly as can be, using my key to slip inside the cabin effortlessly. Am I so desperate and insane that I’ll risk everything just to get a closer look at her? Fuck yes, I am. All those years of earning her uncle’s trust have finally paid off full circle.

Inside the house, I am caught off guard when I round the hallway leading from the entryway to the kitchen and oversized, two-story living room. I did not expect to find her sleeping there, curled up beneath a warm blanket while a cheesy holiday romance movie plays in the background. I thought she glimpsed me last night. Hazel must have been too shaken up afterwards to sleep in the bedroom. Honestly, I can’t blame her, but finding her here like this was an unneeded ego boost. Now I’m not sure if I should feel bad about the situation or be proud of myself. My cock twitches and I glare down at it for a moment. Go to sleep. We do not need another session. Fuck, I can’t believe I’m talking to my crotch like this. How fucking embarrassing. It’s a good thing Hazel is sleeping and no one else is around to see this. It’s only been a few minutes alone together and I’m struggling to control myself.

I place the gifts on the kitchen island. A special treat for a special girl. I’ll be back later to make sure she fully enjoys the basket. I want her to feel right at home here. A smile spreads across my lips as I slink back through the kitchen, slowly backing my way into the living room—forgetting she’s on the couch—until I realize I’m standing so very fucking close to her. The warm, sweet notes of her vanilla, maybe coconut, shampoo taunt me, urging me to take another deep breath. I can smell more than just her shampoo. The lingering scent of perfume mixes with it, and fuck if she doesn’t smell like goddamn temptation. A sweet, spicy, erotic scent tickles my nose. I love the way she smells. I can’t get enough. Inhaling deeply, I savor the scent of her. I’m already this close. I may as well get a closer look at my prize.

She’s so fucking beautiful, curled up beneath the giant knit blanket. Her hair falls in wisps across her rose-tinted cheeks, flushed from sleep. I can’t help but stare—like the silent stalker I am. When she accepted the stipulation of staying up here to take possession of the cabin, I knew it was my one and only chance. The chance I spent years putting in the work building a relationship with her uncle for. A once- in-a-lifetime opportunity to make the first girl I ever loved mine. I’ve waited so long to claim Hazel; she should have been mine from the start. I waited, summer after summer, doing everything I could to forget about her, but I never did. No girl ever compared to her. It wasn’t without effort either. I dated, I fucked, but it was always emotionless. They meant nothing to me. Unable to connect with women on an emotional level left me fucking for my pleasure and my pleasure alone. I became more and more dangerous, especially after my mother’s death, and even more so after I made my first kill. It wasn’t until then that I started enjoying women for sport—never appreciative of who they were—because I gave no fucks about them. There could only ever be two women worthy enough of my love—and one was already dead and gone. But Hazel, she’s finally here. Right within my reach. What I wouldn’t give to hold her in my arms, caressing her supple skin with my greedy fingers.

Hazel would be different. I need to promise to stay in control. Then when I take her—when I splay her tight pussy across my waiting cock—I’m going to feel satisfaction and emotional connection for the first time. I’m going to feel every fucking stretch and squeeze, as well as each and every emotion that I’ve ever denied myself. It’s going to be so fucking goddamn glorious. And I am also hyper-aware of precisely how cautious I will need to be. The slightest fuck-up and my entire plan will be ruined. My hands ache to touch her, but I deny myself the gratification. It’s not worth it for a few feels. It would only be a tease at a good time. For Hazel, everything has to be perfect. No mistakes. No rushing. No fucking impulsiveness.

My eyes drop to her plump pink lips, and my own let out a husky, needy sound. My dick flexing in response. I imagine they will feel like heaven once they are wrapped around my throbbing cock while I fuck her throat, until I spill every last drop of my cum into her. Satisfied, I smile at the thought of her choking on it, as I glide it through her tits, fucking them and her mouth at the same time. I’m nearly panting at my lucid thoughts, which leaves my cock aching and full of desire. As much as I want to stand here watching her sleep until she wakes up to stare into my eyes like a frightened little deer in headlights, it’s time to go. The sun is making its presence known, threatening to spill in through the slats of the blinds. She’ll wake up anytime, and when she does, the sooner she will discover the gifts I’ve left for her on the countertop. I can only guess how emotionally and physically exhausted Hazel is, so to help the process of waking her along, I stride over to the wall with the thermostat, then crank that sucker down to sixty degrees. The storm brought with it bitterly cold temperatures, meaning with the heat cranked down the oversized, open-concept mansion-cabin, will get chilly fast. Once again my imagination wanders off on me as I picture her waking up confused and groggy, her nipples peaked and hard beneath her shirt as she scrambles to the thermostat. I look toward the camera I planted earlier, calculating whether or not it will capture the scene I just played out. Before I leave, I adjust it ever so slightly, then slip back out the front door just as quietly as when I entered

The massive oak door closes softly behind me on my way out, turning the lock gently, then walking to my truck with a jaunty skip in my step. I can’t wait for my little obsession to see what I’ve left for her. I whistle another Christmas-themed tune to myself before climbing inside and turning the truck around so I can plow the rest of the road leading down the mountain and into town. I have a few things I need to pick up for later, in anticipation of what’s coming, and what I have planned for my sweet temptation. The cameras are on, ready to record, and waiting to alert me as soon as they sense movement. Hazel looked so peaceful laying there resting. I can’t get over the sight of her. In good time, I remind myself.