by Elia Winters
His other hand inched below the hemline of her cocktail dress, then began to skim lightly upward.
Abby’s breath caught as Sam brushed the juncture of her thighs. She wasn’t wearing underwear, Sam’s only directive for tonight, and when he coaxed her legs apart, the air brushed cold over her superheated skin. She turned to speak, but he chose that moment to twist her nipple through her dress and swallow her sharp gasp of pain.
“Shh,” he whispered against her lips. “Watch.”
The woman on the bed gasped louder, drawing Abby’s gaze, and Sam slipped his fingers up between her folds to find her clit. Two fingers pressed against it, hard, and a jolt like lightning sizzled all the way up through her body. Abby gasped, shock and surprise and arousal all in one. The woman in front of her gripped the sheets beneath her, her pale skin flushing pink, tossing her head from side to side as her expression wavered between pleasure and pain. The man who had been sucking her breasts was whispering to her now, his hands still teasing her skin, murmuring something no one but them could hear.
“She’s going to come.” Sam’s voice came so close in her ear. “I wonder if he’s reminding her that everyone’s watching.”
Abby shivered. If it were her on that bed, that’s what she’d want, the tantalizing reminder of her own vulnerability and helplessness. Just the thought of it made her pussy throb as Sam’s steady, talented fingers worked her over.
Sam nipped her earlobe. “People are watching you, you know.”
Abby tried to turn her head to see, but Sam shushed her. “No. Watch the bed. The couple next to us keeps looking over here. And at the foot of the bed, there’s a man who’s watching you more than he’s watching her. Do you like that?”
She whimpered, the noise tumbling out at the mere thought of this. Words wouldn’t come, so she nodded. She loved the thought of it, loved it even as it made her blush all the way to her hair, the conflicting embarrassment and arousal potent as a drug. Between her legs, Sam still teased her tender clit, dragging his fingers up and down, lighting every one of her nerves on fire.
On the bed, the woman was starting to shudder, her hips twitching, and the man eating her pussy held her more tightly. Her gasps became moans, broken, needy, desperate, the kind of noises Abby was so close to making herself, noises of overwhelming desire. Abby’s clit throbbed with each pass of Sam’s fingers. Finally, the woman on the bed arched up, shuddering, her mouth open in a keening cry. Abby moaned, pussy clenching once around nothing, and fuck, she wanted this, wanted to come, wanted this teasing to escalate until she, too, was crying out in pleasure.
The woman writhed away from the man who had his arms locked around her thighs, unable to escape him, twitching from what must be too much sensation. “Please,” she sobbed.
Finally, the man released her, and both of them lay on either side of her, kissing her and then each other as she shuddered into silence. Abby’s pulse thrummed in her veins, her body still so tense and unfulfilled.
“You want more?” Sam asked into her ear, and she nodded. He smiled and moved his fingers out from between her legs.
She whined, hips chasing his hand from reflex, and he chuckled. “You like it when they’re watching you, don’t you?”
She hadn’t exactly hidden that well, had she?
“How about those rooms in the hallway?”
Abby shifted on the couch to look more directly at Sam. The threesome on the bed still lounged together, resting in the afterglow. Around them, some people were getting up and leaving, others were getting further into their own action. No one was paying her and Sam much attention anymore.
“The rooms in the hallway?” They’d had “to be watched” and “to watch” signs. She could figure out the rest. “You want people to watch us?”
“I was thinking of something else.” He seemed hesitant, the first time all night. “I’d really like…to watch you.”
Abby swallowed. Could she do that? Be alone in a room while Sam watched her, probably through a peephole or two-way glass? Her body still twitched with pent-up arousal, desire mingling with all those heady hormones in her blood.
“Will you be the only one watching me?” she asked.
“Do you want me to be?”
Of course he would ask. She closed her eyes. Sam had taken her here, had already done more than she’d expected. Maybe she could dip a toe in and admit some of her own exhibitionism. “I…am okay with it either way.”
Sam made his own needy, low noise, a growl, and caught her behind the neck to kiss her. His mouth pressed hard against hers, devouring, and heat bloomed all over Abby’s skin. There was no way she’d say no to any of this, no matter what he wanted, not when this so clearly turned him on.
He pushed away, like he had to force himself to break the kiss. “Come on.”
…
Abby stood in front of the bed and stared at the large two-way mirror on the wall. All she could see was herself: long red hair, flushed skin, black cocktail dress hugging her curves. On the other side of that mirror was Sam, and maybe other people. She’d locked this door so no one else could come in. Here, she was alone, and whatever she chose to do, he’d be watching.
He’d be watching, and he might not be alone. She had no way of knowing.
That was the hottest part, honestly; the uncertainty tingled in her blood like the alcohol. Sam could be the only one on the other side of this mirror or he could be part of a crowd, everyone captivated by the sight of her. She might as well put on a show, right?
She reached behind her back to unzip the dress, then carefully, slowly, peeled it off her body. With each inch, she revealed herself to the mirror and the watchers beyond. It pooled on the floor, and she bent to toss it onto a nearby chair. She wore only a lace bra beneath it, no garter belts or stockings tonight, nothing to get in the way. The lace did not conceal anything about her full breasts and hard pink nipples, and she unfastened it to toss aside. Now she was naked, for God and everyone, her own body completely visible in this mirror. Not having to look at her audience was easier; she could imagine whatever she wanted, whether it was someone watching or not.
She imagined someone watching.
Her hands skimmed over her curves, lingering on her breasts, full and sensitive. She gently rolled her nipples between her fingers, eyes falling closed. Her nipples were a direct line to her clit, tiny sparks of pleasure escalating fast even without more contact. Her whole body tingled like a live wire tonight.
She needed more.
Abby lay back on the bed and turned her head to stare at her own reflection in the mirror, one hand skimming down to her already swollen clit. Sam had turned her on so much, and the lightest touch made her gasp. She began to rub faster. She was going to come like this, for Sam and everyone, letting total strangers watch her in this most intimate moment. She’d never done anything like this before. She’d fooled around with boyfriends in public places, sure, mastered the whole Campus Twenty, but she wasn’t the one being pleasured, being vulnerable. She wasn’t the one being watched. Now, she was the object of their stares. It was enough to make her pussy drip.
If only she had a cock inside her. Reaching her other hand down between her legs, she slid two fingers inside to fuck herself. That felt so good, that width to clench around, not as good as a cock but still enough to make her sigh. Could they hear her? Maybe her sounds were amplified in there, the small room listening to every moan and gasp, every wet, slick sound of her fingers working in and out. She was already on the edge, body teetering toward climax, and she slowed down and forced herself to wait.
This was torturous, this edging, and she never did it with Sam. She let him take her to climax without delay, loving to share that pleasure with him, but sometimes when she was alone, she made herself wait. Just like this, holding off at the edge, lingering until she thought she might scream. Even now, her body yearned for that rush, that release, and she forced her breathing to slow, unclenching her muscles, fighting the gorgeous inevit
ability. Nothing else made her feel so out of control, so desperate. If Sam were doing this to her, she would do anything for him right now, yield to any of his wishes.
He could ask her to beg.
He could ask her to use a toy, to fuck herself on it for the amusement of her audience.
He could bring in someone else, another man watching her play with herself, and tell her to fuck him. And she would say yes.
She clenched reflexively once, pussy spasming around her fingers at just that thought, and that was it. Her climax slammed into her, doubly strong for having been delayed, and she curled up off the bed with the intensity of the waves. Her whole body tensed as pleasure-pain ripped through her, taking her breath in gasps and cries, leaving her wracked with trembling so fierce she couldn’t stop. It went on forever, waves and waves of spasms, the climax wringing her out until finally, she collapsed back on the bed.
She took a few moments to come back to herself. The mirror stared back at her, revealing nothing but her own exhausted form, until she finally rose to clean up and get dressed.
Sam met her in the hallway. He was waiting there, face flushed, cock a hard line in his pants. “Fuck,” was all he said before pulling her into his arms and kissing her, hard.
They stumbled down the hallway back toward the bar, tumbling through the door into the bass-blasting music and patterned lights. A couch was open, and Sam was already pushing Abby down onto it before she could catch her breath.
“Can I fuck you?” he asked, already pulling at the hem of her dress. “I want to be inside you.”
“Yes, God, yes.” She had just come, but his desperation had her hot all over again. Sam freed his cock and rolled on a condom with fumbling fingers before thrusting, hard and long inside her.
It was messy, fast, frantic, and Abby could barely keep up, gasping for air as Sam fucked her hard on this couch. He reached between them to find her clit, still too sensitive, but the pain sparked inside her like pleasure, and she was climbing to orgasm again before she could catch her breath. She came in another rush of intensity, squeezing around his cock, and Sam groaned and cried out before coming inside her.
He sagged on top of her, and they both lay together, panting. Finally he said, “Holy shit.”
Abby started laughing. She couldn’t help it. She started shoving at him, still chuckling. “Get off me. We’ve got to clean up.”
…
They’d both lost their drinks somewhere along the way, so when they had recovered, Sam ordered them some new ones from the bartender, who didn’t make a big deal at all out of the fact that he’d just seen them fuck like crazed animals on the couch in the corner of the room. He and Abby composed themselves and sat together on that couch, way more relaxed than before, drinking their drinks while the music thumped all around them.
“So.” He twirled a strand of her long red hair around his finger, and she leaned into the touch, smiling lazily. “You having fun?”
“I’m doing all right.” Her cheeky grin implied she was doing more than all right. “How about you? This living up to your fantasy?”
A twinge of guilt flickered in Sam’s stomach. This wasn’t one of his fantasies, not exactly. He’d chosen something sexy, something wild, something he’d been curious about, but it wasn’t like he had been jerking off thinking of Abby at a sex club.
Although, after watching her through that two-way mirror, he’d be thinking of it in that situation a lot more in the future.
He let the lock of hair drop from his finger, then stroked his palm over the back of her head. “Everything I’d hoped for.” It wasn’t a lie; he’d hoped they would both have a good time, and this had far surpassed what he considered to be “a good time.”
He’d had a sense about her exhibitionism kink, teasing it out through little hints, but she had been even more into it than he’d expected. They’d watched each other in the past, but never like this, never with this level of intensity and the public element. Now that he’d seen her perform, lose herself in the act of putting on a show, he wanted more of it.
Abby turned to face him more directly, pulling one leg up beneath her on the couch. She seemed to hesitate on this question for a moment before asking it. “Were you the only one watching me?”
He had been. He’d locked the door, actually, so no one else could come in. He’d done it out of instinct. But he hadn’t told her that, and as several emotions flicked over her face, he considered his options. “Do you want me to tell you? Or do you want to imagine it how you wanted it?”
In the blue-tinted lighting of the room, her face still flushed. Interesting. She visibly mulled over the question before answering. “I…think I want to know.”
He could lie. That normally wasn’t in him; he wasn’t the type of guy to lie about anything. Seeing her different emotions, though, the urge welled up inside him to fabricate an incredible story about a dozen people watching her, all of them hanging on her every move. That might be her fantasy, but actually, it was his. Realization hit him hard. He wanted other people to watch her. He shouldn’t have locked the door. He should have let people in, because then he could have experienced the way they became as captivated with Abby as he was.
“I was alone.”
She sagged slightly, relief and disappointment flickering over her expression in tiny micro movements of her eyes and mouth. With her mixed reactions, something lingered under there, the exhibitionism he’d been starting to understand.
“Do you wish I hadn’t been alone?”
Abby averted her eyes, biting her lip. Obviously, the answer was no, based on her response, but he needed her to say it out loud. She’d been holding back a number of her fantasies, and this game was supposed to make her confess them. He needed the truth. Otherwise, how could he ever know if he was enough for her?
She brought her drink up to her lips and took a sip. She answered him, but it wasn’t loud enough to be heard over the music, and he asked her to repeat it.
“I thought about other people being there.” Her cheeks flushed darker. “It was kind of hot. I’ve never been watched like that before.”
“What about the Campus Twenty?” She’d obviously performed for an audience in the past.
“That was about the guys. It’s different when it’s about me.”
That made sense. “Right. Because when it’s about you, you’re the vulnerable one.”
“Exactly.” She nodded, relaxing a bit. “You get it.”
“Do you like being vulnerable like that?”
Abby grinned and ducked her head again, which he had not expected. She was just full of surprises tonight, loosened up by the situation and maybe the alcohol. “Yeah, I do.”
“I think it’s hot.” That was an understatement; her vulnerability jolted his arousal like an electric shock to his senses.
“Really?” She pursed her lips, dubious.
“Definitely.” Watching her lie on that bed, head thrown back, whimpering as she held herself on the edge of climax, making herself wait…the thought of it made his cock twitch, even if he’d just come so hard he’d nearly blacked out.
Abby threw back another long swig of her drink and swallowed, the muscles of her throat drawing his eyes to her long neck. “You know,” she said, “you’re a surprising guy. I don’t know how I feel about that.”
“I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted.”
Abby laughed. “That’s fair. I don’t know if I’m flattering you or insulting you.”
He gave her a gentle shove, making her laugh more, and knocked back his own drink. This felt more like the Abby he knew, her fun and playful side, but less straitlaced than usual. This was the side of her he’d suspected beneath that composed veneer. His own fantasies, though, were a surprise: he’d never given much thought to voyeurism, and yet tonight was hotter than he’d imagined it could be.
“You know, the next fantasy is yours.” He squeezed her thigh. “You thinking about what you’re going to bring up
?”
“I’ve been thinking about it.” She tapped a finger against her lips.
“So many to choose from?” He tried not to sound nervous; if she brought up something really out there, he’d have some choices to make. He could go along with it, prove his open-mindedness to both of them, or he could admit that it was too much for him and live with the knowledge that they weren’t sexually well-matched. The latter was untenable.
Abby made a noncommittal noise. “I have something in mind, but I don’t think you’ll go for it.”
The challenge raised some competitive desire in Sam, adrenaline suddenly flooding his system. “Try me.”
She was still considering, eyes narrowed in thought, her smile now more contemplative and a bit mischievous. “Okay. How about BDSM stuff?”
“Like what?” He may not know much, but he knew enough to know that there were a lot of different ideas wrapped up in that acronym. “You want me to tie you up and spank you or something?”
“I don’t know, maybe.” She shrugged. “But I was thinking more like…control. Like you tell me what to do and I have to obey you.”
“I don’t want to tell you do to stuff you don’t want to do.”
“No, not like that.” She sighed. On the next couch over, a couple started undressing enthusiastically, mid make out, clothing pieces scattering everywhere. Abby gestured toward the door. “Can we go into the regular lounge?”
The regular lounge, with its street-legal clothing requirements and soft jazz, was a sensory reprieve after the thumping music of the bar. They found a corner with a soft leather sofa and sank into it together. Abby was still nursing her drink, and she took another sip before starting her explanation again, this time much quieter to suit the ambiance. “I wouldn’t do stuff I wouldn’t want to do. But it’s kind of hot to be vulnerable, like we talked about before.” She set her glass aside on an end table and twined her fingers together in her lap, shifting with nervous energy. “My fantasy is that you would be my Dom, for a little bit. You tell me what to do and I obey. I could always use a safe word, like ‘red’ or something, and we’d stop. It’s just that sometimes I think about not being in control.”
