Voyeur

by Candace Wondrak

  Nestled in the corner as we were, we were as alone as we could get here.

  “Keep squirming like that,” Carter’s deep voice whispered into my ear, though I could hardly hear him over the music, “and I’ll take you in the backroom and show you exactly what you can do with that ass.”

  Heat flushed throughout me, in spite of the fact I fought it from happening. Carter’s words affected me, even though they shouldn’t. He was a brute who almost mindlessly followed Roman around, did exactly as he was told, and yet I couldn’t ignore the way my body felt around him.

  I wouldn’t call it a crush; more like… deep lust. Any straight or bi girl with eyes would drool immediately when a man like Carter strolled into their lives. Plus, you know, the way he moved his hips and fucked was unbelievably amazing. He knew how to use his body, for sure.

  Roman’s gaze traveled along my bare legs, his eyes taking their time in raking over my body, like every inch of my skin belonged to him. “Have you been good, Zoey?” His question reverberated deep within his chest, his rough and scratchy voice smoothing over my ears like honey. It was a voice I could listen to day in and day out, a voice I could easily lose myself in.

  With Carter’s hands running up and down my bare arms, I resisted my urge to squirm more on his lap; I already felt a slight bulge beneath me, and if I moved more, I knew it would only grow. “Yes,” I muttered, trying to keep my cool.

  The hands on me were rough, and I wondered if Carter’s hands were as violent as Roman’s, if Carter was an assassin, too. These men were dangerous, and yet I wasn’t afraid when I was near them. The only thing I was was turned on to the extreme. In the beginning, I hadn’t been proud of that, but now I was past the point where I hated myself for it. There was no point in pretending these guys didn’t elicit strong feelings in my body; they both did, Roman especially, and I would be whatever they wanted me to be.

  Fuck being Zoey Marbella. I wanted to be Roman’s Zoey.

  “Good,” Roman purred out, and a wave of satisfaction swept over me. I wanted Roman’s approval, as silly as it was. He took a sip from his drink, his stare full of possibilities, whispered words and promises. I might’ve come from money, but Roman was from another world, and to be thrown into it all because I’d been curious as to what went on in the backroom was almost too funny to be real.

  I was part of his world, now.

  I wanted to be his world.

  It was nice to sleep on a real mattress, even nicer to have sheets that didn’t stick to my skin because they were made of some cheap, low-thread count material. Roman had taste, I’d give him that.

  I rolled onto my side, wearing nothing but my underwear beneath the sheets. I liked to feel the soft smoothness of the blankets, to be cool and let the sheets swallow me. When I flopped onto my side, though, I rammed myself into something warm.

  Something very warm and very solid.

  Huh? What in the hell…

  My eyelids were slow to open, and through the darkness of my studio apartment, I saw a dark-haired head. Stubble on a wide, square jaw. A bare chest peeking out below my sheets. Based on how his body felt when I rolled against him, I’d say he was butt-ass naked under there, too. No boxers, no anything.

  Who the hell would be in my bed? I certainly didn’t invite anyone in it—and then I realized who it was. Roman Russo.

  His dark-haired head was turned to me, his eyes open, but nothing more than slits. Even half-asleep, he looked like a god, like statues should be sculpted in his image, like he was everything any man should aspire to be.

  I opened my mouth to speak, to ask him just what the hell he was doing here—and, frankly, I didn’t remember him getting here to begin with. Did he come home with me after the Dollhouse? I honestly couldn’t remember. I couldn’t remember much of anything right now, which I thought was a little strange.

  “Roman…” I started, but my voice sounded too airy, too light, breathy like the man lying beside me had knocked all of the air out of my lungs without me realizing it.

  Was it wrong for a man to hold such power over me? A man who was still technically a stranger? It wasn’t like I’d known him for long, but I’d be the world’s biggest liar if I said he didn’t affect me heart, body, and soul.

  He rolled onto his side, eyes peeking open a bit more. Two dark pits of black, colorless. You couldn’t tell where his pupils ended and where the irises began. They were the eyes of darkness incarnate, belonging to a man who radiated danger and coldness, and yet when I was around him, I couldn’t help but feel every single part of me warm up. My skin, my heart, my core. He made me so hot it was ridiculous.

  And yet I wouldn’t change it. I wouldn’t change any of it. I liked being near Roman, liked it almost too much. He was older than me by at least fifteen years, stuck in a world that I knew nothing of, but I didn’t care.

  I didn’t care one single bit.

  His chest rumbled with the words, “Waking up next to you is not the worst thing in the world.” A slow, devilish smirk crossed his face, and he leaned toward me as a hand found its way onto my side, pulling me closer to him beneath the sheets. My body collided with his, so small compared to him, and I didn’t struggle. Why would I? This man was everything: commanding, handsome, sexy as all hell, and so very delicious.

  I only wished I could remember how we got here.

  His lips found mine, rough and wild in their kisses, drowning out anything I could’ve said. His mouth dominated mine every way; it was all I could do to lay there with his arm around me, to take whatever it was he gave me. A fire burned deep within my gut, and I knew I wanted my release. You didn’t make out with a man like Roman and not want to do more.

  My heart pounded in my chest, and honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time Bryan had got me so worked up so quickly. Did my heart ever feel like bursting out of my chest when I was with him? Even when we were in the middle of having sex, I didn’t think I’d ever felt like this with him.

  And then, you know, I caught him fucking my sister, so whatever we had was instantly burned to ashes in my mind. There was no room in my heart for a liar, a traitor, for someone who tried to hide something like that from me.

  The arm holding my body against his moved, his hand raking along my lower back and stopping only when it found the curve of my ass. Grasping, greedy fingers dug in, forcing my hips to press harder against his. A telltale hardness poked at my thigh, and whether it was from morning wood or because we were getting lost in the way each other’s mouths tasted, I couldn’t say. Then again, it didn’t really matter. We’d be taking care of that erection soon enough.

  At least, that’s what I thought, until I felt another hand grab my hip and pull me away from Roman.

  I rolled onto my other side, shocked to find a pair of green eyes behind me, boring into me with an expression that told me all I needed to know. And, of course, it wasn’t just eyes I saw. It was an entire body, fit and muscular, a body I’d come to know too well. Every sleek line on his torso, the tiny squares on his abdomen, the way his jaw tensed when I said something that annoyed him—which, frankly, was all the time.

  Yeah, I didn’t think Carter liked me too much, but you didn’t have to like someone to fuck them.

  Me? Did I like Carter, Roman’s little bodyguard? Jury was out on that one. I liked his body well enough, but his personality did leave something to be desired.

  When Carter grabbed my face and brought our mouths together, kissing me just as hard and as passionately as Roman did, I realized something: I was in bed with the both of them, and from what it felt like, they were both utterly naked beneath the sheets.

  What the hell did I stumble into? A devil’s threesome that I’d regret the moment it ended, or paradise on earth? I mean, really, who wouldn’t want to be caught in a bed with Roman and Carter?

  When Carter’s lips moved to my neck, when he shifted his body and had me pinned to the bed beneath him, I muttered, “What happened?” None of this felt real, but maybe th
at’s just because I couldn’t believe this was happening.

  Roman was the one who answered, “It doesn’t matter. Carter’s going to fuck you, and then I’m going to. That’s what you want, isn’t it, Zoey?” The way he said my name caused my spine to shiver, my back to arch.

  Before now, that wasn’t what I wanted, but faced with two dangerously attractive men in my bed, both of them offering to fuck me silly? Well, what sane girl would say no to that?

  I managed to nod. Carter’s lips nuzzled my neck, his tongue licking along my throat as his hands found my chest and massaged my breasts, fingers pinching and toying with my nipples. Heat flooded every part of me, and I squeezed my thighs together subconsciously.

  Carter’s midsection pressed against mine, his boner hard and thick as it leaned upwards against my pelvis. I wanted that cock inside of me, and I wanted it now. I was practically panting, begging for it.

  Leave it to Roman Russo to make me a slave to dick.

  I managed to spread my legs, wordlessly telling Carter I needed to feel it inside of me right now, and the man was a mind reader, knowing exactly what I needed. His mouth lifted off my neck, his hands abandoning my tits to move downward between us, sliding my panties to the side and positioning himself at my entrance. I sucked in a huge breath before he pushed in, and when his thick member twitched inside of me, I swore I saw stars.

  Carter and Bryan weren’t even comparable. Bryan was a fumbling idiot, nothing more than a boy trying to play at being a man. Carter knew exactly how to use his weapon to incapacitate me immediately.

  My eyelids fell, and I cried out, moving my arms around Carter’s strong body, digging my nails into his back as he started to fuck me in my own bed. Still didn’t remember how the hell we all got here, but I supposed that was a question for another time. Right now, all I needed to do was let Carter take me, as he had so many times before.

  It was like everything else faded away. The world around us ceased to exist. All I could feel was his strong, hot body above mine, his cock filling me up to the brink every time he jerked his hips. It was heated bliss, it was ecstasy. It was everything I never knew I needed, and then some.

  I knew it right then and there: there was no coming back from this, no turning back and pretending this never happened. If Roman and Carter ever decided they had enough of me, if Roman cut the wire connecting us, I would be so unbelievably bereft and crestfallen. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I probably wouldn’t care about anything.

  That was a lot of weight to put onto something that wasn’t even technically a relationship—this, whatever it was, was more business than anything else.

  Business. It was just business for them, but for me? I was dangerously close to losing my heart to this deal, and I hated myself for it. What happened to me hiding behind my walls? What happened to me not wanting to step into anything serious right after I found my boyfriend cheating with my sister?

  My plan was shot to hell the moment Roman walked into my life.

  Carter’s thrusting grew harder, fiercer, a type of frantic I knew meant he was close to coming. I opened my eyes to meet his green stare, to watch as his handsome face twisted in pleasure, his cock jerking into me at such a rapid pace I couldn’t help but stifle a moan of my own.

  A low, guttural groan came from the wide chest above me, his thrusting abruptly pausing as he lost himself to his orgasm, emptying himself inside of me. There was something primal, something so indescribably erotic in being marked by him, being claimed like that.

  “Good,” Roman’s voice entered my ears, a low melody of promised pleasure. “Now get the fuck off her. It’s my turn.”

  The very moment Carter withdrew himself from me, I was roughly pulled back to Roman’s chest, pinned against his body only for a second before he rolled me onto my stomach and crawled above me.

  Ah, so he wanted it doggie-style, huh? I really hoped he wasn’t going for the ass; I was nowhere near prepped enough for that, especially with the size of his dick.

  Roman knelt behind me, running a flat palm down my back, his other hand digging into my side so hard I knew his fingers would leave bruises when he was finished. He always did tell me he liked to mix pain with his pleasure; who was I to tell him to stop? Let’s be real, here. I was down for anything and everything that man wanted to do to me, whatever the hell he wanted others to do to me. I didn’t care. If he wanted me to be his personal toy, then that’s what I would be.

  Mom and Dad would be so disappointed in me, but you know what? Fuck them. For once, I was going to do what I wanted to do, and if that involved letting a man like Roman use my body however the hell he wanted, then that’s what I was going to do.

  The man behind me shifted his weight, and I managed to glance to my right, finding Carter had rolled onto his side and propped his head up to watch. For once, he’d be the one watching and not the other way around.

  I was on my elbows and my knees when Roman pushed his cock into me, sliding in easily after Carter had taken me moments ago. He filled me up, made me cry out a gasp, my entire body instantly on fire. Feeling his dick inside of me, marking me, was something else. He’d never done this before—fucked me, I mean. He had me suck him off, but that was it. Never this.

  Not until now.

  No fucking way I was going to complain, though. Knowing Carter had just been inside me, knowing Roman’s cock now filled my core up to the brink, it was almost too much. I wanted to lose it.

  And when Roman started to grunt behind me, when I felt his fingers digging even harder into my sides as he thrusted, I did. I lost it. The pleasure building inside of me was too much to fight, and I didn’t want to. When I felt the orgasm building, I let it happen, let it wash over me in a wave of muscle-cramping fire. My inner walls clamped down on his dick, and then…

  “What the fuck are you dreaming about?”

  I blinked, wondering if I heard that correctly. Behind me, Roman still rammed into me, but his hands on my sides didn’t feel quite as real as they did mere moments ago. Before I knew what was happening, everything around me faded away.

  The next time I opened my eyes, I found myself alone in my bed, no Roman or Carter anywhere nearby—though, when I sat up and blinked at what should be my empty studio apartment, I found that previous statement wasn’t as true as it should’ve been.

  Roman wasn’t here, but Carter was.

  The man sat on my sofa, one leg crossed over his knee, leaning back as he ate cereal straight from the box, watching me with the most unimpressed look he could possibly give someone else. The bit of longer brown hair on the top of his head fell over his forehead, the sides of his scalp recently shaven and short. He wore unwrinkled clothes, fancy-pressed pants with creases on the sides.

  He and Roman never looked like they just rolled in out of nowhere. They always looked like they were dressed to kill, to slay anyone who might lay eyes on them, including me. I was always a sucker for a man in a suit.

  Men liked their women in lingerie, while women liked their men in suits—or at the very least in a button-up shirt with its sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

  Which Carter’s currently were, by the way, showing off the muscles and the veins in his lower arms. God, a girl could swoon at the sight, but of course right now all I wondered was why the hell he was sitting on my sofa, eating my cereal, in my damn apartment without an invitation.

  “Uh,” I started. “What—”

  Carter said nothing, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key that looked suspiciously like an apartment key. My apartment key.

  I clamped my jaw shut, glaring at him. If I had to choose between him and Roman, I’d choose Roman in a heartbeat. Carter’s dick might be nice, and the man might be gorgeous to look at, but his personality was not the greatest. He was kind of an ass, and he took a lot of pleasure in being all assy.

  “What were you dreaming about over there?” Carter questioned again, cocking his head at me like he knew, even before I said anything, ju
st what the hell I’d dreamed about.

  His dick and Roman’s, but he certainly didn’t need to know that. I was not going to give him the satisfaction, especially since he shouldn’t even be here. This was my apartment, not Roman’s. Unless Roman bought the entire complex too, just like he’d done to the Dollhouse.

  “That’s none of your business,” I said, sounding like I was pouting. And I was, because, you know, my dream had been pretty frigging good. It was not a dream I wanted to be woken up from by a scowling, curious Carter.

  “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,” he said, shoving another handful of my brightly-colored cereal flakes into his mouth, chewing it so loudly I could hear him from my bed. Which, okay, wasn’t that far since this whole apartment was the tiniest thing ever, but still. “Everything you dream of is Roman’s business.”

  It was my turn to tilt my head and ask an obnoxious question: “Are you Roman?” When Carter merely frowned at me, I added, “No? Well, then I guess I’m not telling you what I was dreaming about.”

  The area between my legs felt hot, like I’d been squeezing my thighs together and masturbating while I was dreaming that ridiculously sexy dream. Why couldn’t that dream just have lasted a bit longer, hmm? Why couldn’t it be never-ending? I wouldn’t complain.

  Being fucked by Roman himself… surely the man actually did that, occasionally. Right? I mean, it was one step away from getting head. Surely, he had to want to fuck every once in a while. Watching wasn’t nearly as fun as partaking, in my humble opinion.

  But I wasn’t Roman, and I had no idea how his mind worked, so I guess I’d have to be patient when it came to the man in a suit and feeling his dick inside me.

  A girl could dream.

  Chapter Ten – Carter

  Zoey Marbella was infuriating. I had no idea what Roman saw in her. For one thing, it was so hard to look past the blindingly pink hair. Pink was so not my color. I was more of a black kind of guy, dark colors for everyone all the fucking time. Pink was too girly, too innocent, too stupid of a color.