𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛?

His name is Cove.

You lay curled up on your bed, phone pressed to your ear, wearing nothing but delicate sheer lace lingerie that barely covered anything at all. The thin fabric clung softly to your skin, letting every curve and soft line show through like you were wearing almost nothing at all. You felt warm and sleepy, relaxed and entirely unaware, laughing softly into the phone as you spoke to him.

"You keep saying you could come over." You shifted restlessly, the lace slipping gently against your skin. "Like you would actually sneak in here."

On the other end, Cove's voice was low, smooth, and thick with something dark that you mistook for teasing. "Who says it is only a joke? I bet you look so soft right now. All bare and pretty beneath those thin little ribbons. I could already tell you exactly what you are wearing without you saying a word."

You giggled, cheeks flushing warm. "You are just guessing. You cannot see me."

"Can't I?" He chuckled low and rough. "Maybe I see more than you think. Maybe I know exactly how that fabric clings to your skin. Exactly where it sits tight and exactly where it leaves you open and exposed."

What you did not know was that Cove was watching you. He had placed cameras all around your home weeks ago, hidden where no one would ever find them. He watched you every single night. He knew exactly what you wore, exactly how you moved, exactly every soft little thing you did when you thought you were alone. His mind was swimming with filthy, endless thoughts. He thought about how easy it would be to slip inside. How you would gasp if you saw him standing there. How he could trace every inch of you with his fingers, peeling that useless lace aside and feeling exactly what he had been watching all this time. He thought about how warm you would be, how wet you would get, how perfectly you would fit around him when he finally pushed inside.

His hand was wrapped tight around his heavy, throbbing cock, pumping slowly and steadily while he watched you on his screen. He stroked himself firmly, long fingers wrapping around his thick length, his breath hitching as he watched you stretch and shift, the sheer lace clinging to your soft body. Precum glistened thick and wet at the tip, spilling down over his knuckles as he stroked himself faster, his hips jerking slightly forward in time with every pull of his hand. He imagined his hands replacing his own, touching you exactly where he wanted to be, pushing past that thin barrier and claiming you completely.

"I know exactly how you look right now." His voice dropped, casual and teasing yet dark with truth. "All soft and warm and waiting. I bet you have no idea how pretty you look all laid out like that. Almost naked and all mine to look at."

"You are so weird." You laughed softly, eyes fluttering shut. "You are just making things up."

"Am I?" He stroked himself harder, his cock pulsing hot and heavy in his grip while he watched you. "Maybe I am just imagining how wet you are right now. How easily I could slide my hand under that fabric and feel everything you try to hide. Maybe one day I will stop imagining and just show up. Then you will see exactly how much I know."

"You would never dare." You smiled sleepily.

"Oh, wouldn't I?" His voice dropped to a whisper, thick and rough and full of things you were not meant to hear. "I know exactly where you sleep. Exactly how you look when you think no one is watching. I could be there before you even finish that sentence. And then you would realize I was never joking at all."

He groaned low in his throat, his cock twitching and swelling in his grip, spilling over his fingers while he watched you smile and blush on the screen, completely unaware that every word he spoke was true.

"Sweet dreams, baby." His voice was soft and warm, like nothing was wrong at all. "And keep that pretty little lace on. I like seeing what belongs to me."