“You’re very outdoorsy.”
He smiled without looking at her, his gaze on something distant. “Oh yeah.”
She knew he was thinking something sexual. The seat cushion was soft, the wine made her mellow, and the heat of his body arced across the short distance between them. She’d forgotten how enticing male heat could be, so much better than the standing heater beside them.
From his second-floor deck, they could see into the yard behind his. The back lights went on, illuminating a hot tub, patio furniture, and a gas barbecue.
“Looks like we’re not alone out here,” he mused, slouching comfortably in his chair.
The horizontal railings were spaced a foot apart with a clear view into the neighbors’ yard. A woman came out. Rachel focused. She was slim but not young, perhaps forty, dark haired, maybe pretty, maybe not—it was hard to tell. Carrying a glass of wine, with a bath towel wrapped around her, she bent to the hot tub’s jets and set the water frothing. Then she dropped the towel on a chaise and, buck naked, climbed into the tub.
Rachel turned to Rand. “You’re a peeper,” she whispered, a touch of awe in her voice. It should have bothered her.
Rand merely tapped his glass to hers. “You’re going to be a peeper, too. Unless you walk away right now.”
She wasn’t even tempted.
“Honey,” the woman called, her voice wafting to them on the night air. “Pour yourself a glass of wine if you want one. I left the bottle out.”
“Can’t she see us up here?” After all, his deck was illuminated, too.
“Oh yeah, she can see us.”
It reminded her of Laurie’s story, the woman doing her ironing. She hadn’t turned out the lights, hadn’t closed the curtains, and she’d had to know anyone in the opposite apartments could see her. “You’re doing this because of the friend I told you about, aren’t you?”
He tipped his head enough to look at her. “It made you hot.”
Rachel wet her lips with wine. Yes. It had. He’d listened to everything she’d said and decided to give her the show she’d only heard about but truly wanted to see. No man had ever listened like that, never been interested in what got to her. True, she didn’t have a vast experience with men, and most of what she did have was ancient history. But Rand was giving her something she’d never even known she was lacking: a man who looked after her needs.
She wondered if he had a clue how potent a seduction that was.
5
A SCREEN DOOR SLAPPED SHUT IN THE NEIGHBORS’ YARD AND honey came out. He wasn’t wearing a stitch, not even a bath towel, and even at that distance, Rachel made out a rather impressive dangle between his legs. It bounced as he crossed the deck. As with the woman, he wasn’t young, but was still in good shape, with short, light-colored hair that could have been gray, or blond like Rand’s. She imagined he was rather good-looking.
“Are they married?” she asked.
“I assume so. They have parties sometimes, but for the most part, I only see them. No children.”
“Do you always bring your dates up here?” she whispered.
Rand laughed. The man looked up. Rachel wished she had a pair of binoculars so she could make out his face. Then again, sometimes fantasy was better than reality.
“We aren’t dating,” he reminded her. Then, as she narrowed her eyes, he added, “I haven’t had time for a social life up to this point. You’re the first woman I’ve shown my big deck.”
She couldn’t help the smile, because she knew he was making a double entendre. And she was glad she was the only one he’d brought out here.
Once he’d seen them, she expected the man to immediately get in the water, but instead he freshened his wife’s wine, folded her towel, and laid it by the edge of the hot tub, then slowly stepped down into the water, steam rising into the cooler air around them.
She had a sudden thought. Standing up, she leaned over the railing, trying to see underneath the deck. Still craning, she glanced back to ask, “Do you have a hot tub?”
“No. Sorry.”
“Watching them makes me want hot water.”
He waggled his fingers, signaling her back down to her chair. “Oh, we’ll find plenty of hot water for you to get into.”
The couple sat in the tub, sipping, talking low, then the woman climbed out to sit on the edge, facing them rather than putting her back to them. “It’s a little hot in there, honey,” she said in an unnecessarily loud voice. “I need to cool off a minute.” Her husband laughed, said something Rachel couldn’t make out.
She leaned in to Rand, basking in his warmth, his male scent, the square cut of his jaw. “How often do you come out here to watch them?”
“I enjoy a nice glass of wine out here beneath the heater. It helps to relax me.”
“Yes, but how often?”
“On weekends. Occasionally during the week.”
“Does she always sit naked like that?”
The woman leaned back, scissored her legs in the water, splashed a little on herself, then ran her hand up her abdomen, over her breasts.
“Yes. Like that. They certainly don’t try to hide anything.”
“You know, she couldn’t have been in the water long enough to overheat.”
“Probably not,” he said, a sly smile creasing his lips.
The woman put her arms up to rub her neck and shoulders, her breasts bobbing with the movement. “Honey,” she purred, “rub my neck, would you?” Then she slid down into the water, giving her husband her back.
They could have sat on this side of the tub and not have been so visible, but no, they made sure to sit on the far side, so that her breasts skimmed the water, in full view of Rand’s deck. Her sounds of pleasure filled the night.
Rachel was fascinated. They knew they could be seen, yet they didn’t care. In fact, Rachel was sure the woman was playing to them, speaking louder than she needed to, even moaning as her husband worked her neck muscles.
She found herself straining closer to Rand, not to whisper, but for the proximity, the intimacy, the scent of man.
“She’s playing it up for you tonight,” he said, his forearm resting on the arm of his chair. She could have touched him, but she didn’t, playing the no-touching game.
“She doesn’t usually make that much noise?”
He shook his head, smiling. “Not for a while. I suppose having only me watching was getting a little boring for her. Same old, same old.”
The husband worked down her shoulder blades, her spine. She arched and moaned over his ministrations. Then his hands flared out to the sides and around to cup her breasts. He massaged her nipples.
Rachel thought of her fantasy massage and was suddenly wet between the legs. She crossed them, pressed her thighs together. Then she was hot, so very hot. It wasn’t the standing heater. It wasn’t even her sweater, but she took that off anyway, flinging it back across the table. “How far do they go?” she asked, then sipped her wine as Rand looked at her. He made her throat dry with longing.
Eyes a smoky blue in the shadow of the light behind him, his features were lined by the outdoors, but rugged and so very handsome for those extra lines. “Because you’re here, maybe nothing,” he said.
She felt a pang of disappointment.
“Then again”—he exhaled with a breath that touched her skin and raised the hairs along her arm—“it might heighten the thrill and they’ll show it all to you.”
She was suddenly burning up, wanting it all, wanting to watch with him. He was freedom. He was edgy. He was kinky. He was all the naughty things she’d never even dreamed of and suddenly wanted with everything inside her.
Maybe at some point during the evening, she could get him to break his promise about not touching her.
RAND TORVIK HAD WAITED WEEKS FOR THIS MOMENT WITH HER. He’d known it would happen eventually. Law of attraction, like two magnets being drawn together. And he was more than attracted to her. He’d raised his desire to near obsession.
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br /> Reaching behind them, he grabbed the wine bottle to refill Rachel’s glass. She was leaning so close, he accidentally brushed her nipple with his arm. She was taut. He breathed her in, the piquant scent of aroused woman. Her skin was warm and flushed, her pupils dilated, her nostrils slightly flared with excitement.
She fascinated him far more than the tableau in the hot tub. Over time, he’d become a bit jaded about it. But watching her made it new and thrilling again. She hadn’t turned out to be as confident and sure of herself as many women her age were, and he’d found that unexpectedly appealing. There were so many things he could introduce her to: a hot and sexy spanking, sex under the stars, being watched instead of merely watching, a little risk taking. This was just the beginning.
She parted her lips in a small gasp, and Rand glanced into his neighbors’ yard. The husband had shoved his wife up, her bare bottom tilted, and pushed his hand between her legs. She leaned on the bath towel he’d laid along the edge for her.
Rand had noted that particular sign of things to come.
“Have they done that before?” Rachel asked, her breath faster, eager.
“Yes.”
She pouted. “I want you to see something new, too.”
“I am.”
“What?”
“You.” He leaned in to whisper to her. “Uncross your legs.”
Her eyes widened, but she did want he wanted, her gaze all for him, the couple forgotten. He breathed in the luscious perfume of her sex. “Are you wearing panties?”
She nodded, swallowed.
“Take them off.”
She gulped. “Right now? While you’re watching?”
“I’m sure you can do it without revealing a thing.” Which would be even more exhilarating. He liked overt in the neighbors’ yard, but up here on his deck, he wanted seduction.
She handed him her wineglass, then, as the neighbor wife filled the night with her musical sounds, Rachel reached beneath her sexy leopard-print dress. She raised her butt, then wriggled until the panties slid down her legs.
“They’re not very sexy,” she said almost as an apology, her cheeks coloring.
They were bikinis, not string, but not granny panties either. “Let me be the judge.” He held out his hand, and she laid the white cotton across his palm.
Then, with her gaze egging him on, he raised them to his nose and drank in the scent of her. He closed his eyes to better memorize her unique aroma, fresh, musky. “Very sexy,” he murmured.
“I think I should be worried,” she said with a hint of breathlessness. “You’re a peeper and a panty sniffer.”
“Yeah, and I like to jerk off in the shower every morning, too.” He held out a palm. “I have to shave off the hair.”
She laughed, getting his reference to the old wives’ tale that masturbating would make hair grow on a teenage kid’s palms. “I check my sons’ hands every morning just to be sure they’re not being bad boys like you.”
Down in the hot tub, the lady groaned and cried out, “Oh yes,” at full volume, as if she realized she was no longer the center of attention and wanted to change that.
“Your lady love is calling,” Rachel mocked.
The woman was attractive, but she had nothing on Rachel.
“Have they ever asked you to join them?”
“No. They get off on being watched. I don’t even know their last name. We’ve somehow silently agreed that I’m the voyeur and they are the exhibitionists.”
With the brief banter, he sensed she’d lost some of the edge. He wanted it back. “The idea of joining them doesn’t tempt me so much as turning the tables and becoming the exhibitionist for them.”
“Jerking off for them?”
“Bending you over the railing, lifting your skirt, and letting them watch us.”
She inhaled with a jerky breath, and he knew he had her again. “Watch,” he murmured, letting the word caress her ear.
The neighbor turned his wife and pushed her back on the towel, then spread her legs. Rand knew her pussy would be dripping with desire as her husband went down on her, lapping slowly, languorously, making sure their audience got their fill. She moaned, laced her fingers behind her head to watch her husband and, Rand was sure, to sneak a peek to make sure they were being watched as well.
“Isn’t this what you wanted, just like your friend’s story?”
“Yes.” Rachel’s answer was barely a breath.
He’d like nothing more than to run his hand up beneath her dress and test her wetness, but he’d made a promise he wouldn’t break. Not even when she begged him to.
“Put your hand between your legs and touch yourself.”
She leaned away slightly to look at him, her skin pink with excitement.
“Touch yourself, then let me see how wet your fingers are.” He whispered his seduction.
She parted her lips, closed them again without answering, and swallowed.
“I said I wouldn’t touch you. I never said I wouldn’t ask you to do it for me.”
She looked back at the couple cavorting below them. Then she inched her dress over her knees, higher up her legs, and finally slipped a hand between her parted thighs. He was sure he scented a wave of feminine arousal.
“Have you ever masturbated for a man?”
She shook her head, watching the yard across the way while he watched her. Her chest rose and fell, her breasts plump above the dress’s neckline, her nipples peaked against the bodice.
“Someday I want to watch you. I want to spread you out on my bed, sit in a chair, and just watch.”
He could almost hear the rush of her blood, feel her temperature rising, making the air boil around her. Her hand moved beneath the material. Her eyes drifted closed.
“Let me see,” he whispered.
Not mistaking what he wanted, she removed her hand and held out her fingers to him. Her moisture glistened like dew. His mouth watered for a taste of her. But that would constitute touching. Instead he inhaled deeply, then, watching her instead of looking for himself, he said, “Tell me what they’re doing.”
“He’s—” She bit her lip. “I can’t.”
It was nerves. He didn’t figure her for a woman who talked dirty. That was clear in the way she’d described her friend’s tale. He wanted to teach her the seduction of a little dirty talk, but for now, she could say it any way that made her feel comfortable. “Use a few euphemisms.”
She swallowed. He let his gaze travel the length of her slim throat.
“He’s using his tongue and his fingers to touch her G-spot inside.”
Thank God she knew about the G-spot. Some women were as clueless as most men. “And he’s obviously making her moan.”
“Yes. Oh my God”—her eyes flared wide—“he’s standing up and making her put him in her mouth.”
He wanted to stroke the pearl of her nipple, so hard against her dress. Her bra must be thin, almost sheer. He ached to taste the tight bead. “He’s big, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know how she can take all of him.” Her breasts rose, fell, beckoned.
“Would you like to taste him?”
“I—” She swallowed, glanced at him. “I—um—never really liked—um…”
So many things he had to teach her. Because he knew he could make her love it. Perhaps it was her husband, his taste, his smell. From the moment Rand had started asking about her fantasies in the coffee shop, the moment the attraction had blossomed to intense desire, he’d known she would fulfill him, his needs. Not only for sex, but for the journey, the things he could show her, the delights he could introduce her to. He was a tutor, a mentor. That’s what he thrived on. He’d just never thought to look for it in his sexual encounters, thinking experience was the key to hot sex. He hadn’t known what he was missing. She’d opened his eyes, and now he could think of nothing else but teaching her.
“Does she like it?” he queried, his own desire turning his voice husky.
“Yes.” She curl
ed a hand around the arm of her chair. “She loves it.”
Oh yes. He knew how much his neighbor’s wife loved sucking. She could go at it for long, long minutes, until the tub’s jets shut off and he could hear the slurp of her desire. He never touched himself while he watched. He waited until later, alone, when he could fit the image of another woman over her face. Since the first time he’d seen her, he’d imagined Rachel in the hot tub.
“I’d like to watch you.” And he did now, the heat of her skin, the way she moved in her seat, as if she were dying to touch herself, that with just a little more encouragement, she would touch, because she couldn’t help herself, because the view from his deck made her forget all her fears, and his voice drove her mad.
But she didn’t slip her hand beneath her dress again. Instead, she told him what she saw. For all he cared, she could have been making it up. It was about her, not them.
“He’s dragging her up his body.” Her voice held a dreamlike quality. “And he’s kissing her. Openmouthed. Like they haven’t been married for all these years. Like it’s all new.” Like she hadn’t been kissed in all these years; he could almost hear the words. “Now he’s pulling her down into the water and turning her around.”
Rand knew what came next, what always came next. They didn’t deviate. He would push her to her hands on the concrete, a full side view, affording Rand the sight of the man’s cock impaling her. But he let Rachel describe it, her voice breathy with every delicious detail. He folded her fingers around the stem of her wineglass, momentarily forgetting his vow not to touch her, until he felt the warmth of her skin. She was so enthralled with the scene that she didn’t seem to notice his lapse. “Go on,” he urged.
She sipped to wet her parched throat. “He’s making her brace herself on the edge of the tub, and he’s behind her, spreading her legs. His fingers, he’s testing her.” She gulped her wine as if she needed some sort of relief. “Now he’s holding himself, and stroking her with the tip between her legs like he wants to make sure she’s wet enough for him.”
The Principal's Office Page 5
