7. Chapter 7

The keys to Hazel’s front door clang in the cupholder as the truck bounces down the curving dirt road, leading from the back of my property to the lake along the edge of hers, where a connecting easement spits drivers back onto the main road. The storm is picking up again, and there’s at least three inches of fresh snow. I bet we get at least another foot by the end of tonight, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that stop me from spending time with Hazel. My tires skid over a slick spot and the truck slides around a curve in the road. S nowflakes dance around the windows of the truck, swirling as if trying to fight me off, but there’s nothing that can keep me away from my temptation. Instinctively, I lower the plow and let it run as I drive. Nothing about hiking home in a blizzard sounds fun to me. It’s much easier to keep this part of the road clear. The town plow can worry about the rest of the road for all I care, and I won’t be disappointed if he can’t make it out this way for several more hours… or maybe even days. The snow crunches beneath my tires loudly, as if trying to warn Hazel I’ve arrived. Before I get out of the truck, I swipe open my phone and check the cameras. She’s still asleep. Good. It hasn’t been long enough for all that Ambien to wear off. I shut the truck off. Time to act normal. I’ve got to sell it so that if anyone notices me shoveling in the middle of the day, they won’t think twice to question why I am here. Nonchalantly, I step out of the truck and my boots plummet into the powdery fresh snow. My breath hangs in the frosty air as I stomp over the snow to grab a shovel from the back of the truck. Then I set to work, clearing myself a path to the door. If she wakes up in time to see things are shoveled, I’m sure she’ll just assume it’s the property management company without further suspicion.

Once I’ve made it to the front porch, I lean the snow shovel against the side of the house and check the cameras. Still sleeping. I glance at my stopwatch timer, mentally setting a time limit of an hour until it’s safe, then I can retreat up the mountain and wait for her to call for delivery. Oh, what fun it’s going to be tonight. I turn the key in the door for a second time and step inside. It’s warm again. I leave the thermostat alone and side-eye the dying fire. Before I do anything, I head to the garage to disconnect her battery terminal. There’s a screwdriver in one of the shop cupboards at the back of the third bay. I retrieve it and breathe a sigh of relief when I find she’s left the car unlocked. This is going to be easier than I thought. I release the hood, then slide out to pop the terminal off. I arrange it so, without inspection, it appears to be in place. Perfect. What will she do when she realizes her car won’t start? A maniacal grin spreads across my lips as I put the screwdriver away and return to the warm house.

The first thing I do inside is slip off my boots on the entry rug before stepping onto the carpet. No need to leave any evidence that I’m here. I think about carrying them with me, but instead decide that I will leave before she wakes up. Stealthily, I creep my way across the soft plush carpet to the fireplace. The fire is dying down, so I place another couple of logs on it to keep the flames burning. She looked so happy building it—who am I to take that from her? I’d much rather take her lying next to it. My dick agrees, blood rushing to it as I engross myself in a momentary fantasy. Once it’s done playing in my head, I finish out the task. I would hate for her to catch a cold. Who am I kidding? That’s a lie. I would love to watch those perky tits bounce around, nipples hard all over again as she coughs from sickness. I stare at her, imagining she’s riding my cock with her tits bouncing in my face for a few minutes, then shake my head and get down to business. Get it together. Stop getting lost in your thoughts.

Pulling my attention away from her is hard, but I have several tasks I’m hoping to accomplish. It’s so hard to leave her when all I want to do is sit down and watch her. I check my settings, making sure all my alerts are on. Humming a Christmas tune, I pop one earbud in my ear so I can listen for alerts and leave the other ear to listen to the sound of silence inside the sprawling cabin. I return to the entryway where her luggage lays hastily abandoned, likely from her little scare of catching my shadowy outline last night. I had a feeling she saw me. The least I can do is help her unpack. I stack a few pieces on her suitcase plus grab another duffle bag, looping it over my shoulder, and rolling it all down the hallway to the main bedroom.

The room itself is gorgeous. Her uncle spared no expense when he was renovating this place. I should know I helped him do everything. We talked often about how he didn’t just want it to be an easy income generator, but part of him hoped he could win her over with this one last attempt. I think he secretly hoped she would either decide to live up here, or at the very least come back year after year, the way he always dreamed she would one day. It’s sad how hard he tried to mend their relationship, and she dug her heels in resisting every attempt. I hated her for it at first, but when he showed me the will and explained he finally left the cabin to her, I let those feelings go. I knew some way, somehow, I could lure her up here—right into my dangerous arms. People don’t always make good decisions when they are hurting, and I intended to capitalize on all of Hazel’s pain for my own gain. I make a second trip back for the rest of her stuff, carrying it effortlessly. I grab the first suitcase, fling it onto the bed with a plop and unzip it. Her clothes are neatly folded and organized. They smell of fresh laundry detergent. I pull out a T-shirt, running my fingers over it, inhaling the smell of her. One by one, I moved each item out of her suitcase and into the drawers, emptying all her luggage and stacking it nicely next to the closet door. I saved her panties for last. They lay in a pile on her bed, waiting for me. I drop all but the last pair in, choosing to slip the lacy black material into my pocket, then slide the drawer closed. Next, I walk into the bathroom, checking to make sure the additional special soaps I made for her, candles, and towels are how I left them when I set everything up. I even stocked the shower full of several shampoos and conditioners, and took the liberty of filling them with an extra special ingredient: Cand a la Kane. My girl is going to bathe in my cum. Before I leave, I check the camera placements on my phone app and hurry back to Hazel. Everything on my to-do list today is complete and I’ve been dying to touch her—I need to know she’s real.

The cameras on my phone show her right where I left her snoozing away in her Ambien-laced slumber. In the living room, I lean over the back of the couch, admiring the shape of her. Her ashy-blonde hair is strewn across her face, scraping it back gingerly. I tuck it behind one ear. My fingers reach around her ear, then trace her jawline tenderly. I run the back of my hand across her shoulder and down her arm. She moves into my touch, groaning softly as if she’s aroused. I do it a second time, but on the next pass, I drape my fingers down to her hipbone. She moans again in her sleep and I suck my breath in, trying not to pant. Dare I take another pass? When I tested the dosing on myself, I was out for about four hours. I check my master timer, which tells me it’s been five hours. My second timer shows it’s been two hours. Time flies when you’re having fun, I guess. My time is up, but I’m not ready to go. One more touch, I decide, and then I must depart. I run my hand back up her body from her hip, slowly curving across her waist, then dipping a finger across her breast, swirling around her nipple one time, dragging it up her neck, and brushing my thumb across the swell of her bottom lip.

She moans, pulling my thumb in between her soft plump lips, giving my thumb a nibble. Oh my fuck. If there is a God, then I consider myself blessed. I bite the knuckle on my finger to keep from moaning. My cock wakes, ready and at attention. I glance down at her hard nipples and fuck, I’m about to throw the entire plan out the window. It’s time to go but she’s swirling her tongue across the tip of my thumb, and everything is getting hazy. My other hand loses control, making one more drag down her chest, cupping her breast as my thumb runs across her pebbled nipples. When I’ve had my fill and can’t stand it any longer, I continue my descent as she rolls her hips into my touch, moaning beneath me. Leaning over her like this has my cock throbbing, begging to take more from her.

Stop! I mentally scream at myself. Stop before you lose control. I can’t stop though, my hands aren’t listening. One is running down her thigh while her pretty lips suck and tease the other in her sleep. Mustering all the control I can, I yank both hands away and take several steps back. Fuck trying not to wake her. I suck air in and out, panting loudly as I try to keep from coming in my pants. When it finally passes, I chastise myself for almost losing control and force myself to walk away. I have to leave. My time is more than up. I grab the menus off the small entry table and place them into the empty wooden mail holder on the kitchen counter near the coffeemaker. She’s going to think she’s more tired than she realized, not noticing and remembering things. When I’ve finished arranging them, I pull the card with a note out and use a magnet on the fridge to hang it up front and center. My poor little deer in headlights is going to think she’s losing her mind. I can’t wait to swoop in as the good guy caretaker tomorrow. I take one last look over everything, avoiding a glance in Hazel’s direction, untrusting of myself and my intentions. Satisfied with a job well done, I slip on my boots and sneak back out the front door. There are four inches of fresh snow built up on the ground. I shovel my way back to the truck, once again concealing my footprints to be safe. When I climb inside, I turn the key over and let the engine warm up. While I do, I check the cameras to make sure she’s still asleep.

My truck is facing the opposite direction of home, but I’m not touching that part of the road. I drive down to the next house, then use their long driveway to turn around. It’s getting late and the plow still hasn’t been by. I’m not disappointed if it keeps up. We’re going to be trapped on the mountain in need of extra food. I set the plow down, clearing myself a path back up the mountain to my empty mansion to wait for her phone call. A dinner delivery is in my near future and I can’t fucking wait.