It had been a damn long day. Because unlike last night when he'd simply unzipped his pants, pulled out his aching cock, and jacked off, today he'd been stupid enough to wait, to want to hover on the edge of excitement all day, anticipating what might happen tonight.
It was like a game he'd wanted to play with himself with her, too.
Now his dick physicaly hurt. He'd floated somewhere between half hard and full blown erection all day, through meetings, phone calls, and lunch with a senior VP with whom he was doing some important negotiations.
The whole time he'd been fantasizing about Xenia Watkins, mystery author, sex kitten.
She didn't think she was a sex kitten, that was clear. But he knew she was, he'd seen the proof, and gotten off to it.
Her hot little show, combined with their steamy conversation this morning, had excited him more than anything had in a very long time. Now, as he sat in his Malibu home in a dark, quiet room lit only by his computer screen, a warm sea breeze wafting through an open window behind him, he found himself watching the clock, feeling as eager as a teenager getting his first peek at Internet porn.
He began to relive a few of the fantasies that had grown in his mind around lovely Xenia today at times when he most definitely should have been focusing on his work.
Millions of dollars at stake every hour, and he'd been fantasizing about a woman. But he'd felt powerless to stop the images had simply kept
invading his brain without his permission.
During a meeting with Cressler, Inc's entire board of directors, he'd imagined her in the Jacuzzi in the Vail house, soaping her luscious breasts, tweaking those hard, pretty nipples, then rising on her knees to run a soapy cloth between her thighs, sighing just like she had last night on the webcam.
His investor had come back on the line, reclaiming his attention but not weakening his lust. It had been at lunch with the rambling comptroler of Ion Electronics that the fantasy had continued. He'd needed to hear what the man was saying there was a pivotal merger on the horizon and he couldn't risk fucking it up but he couldn't help himself. When he'd seen a pretty girl across the restaurant who, at a glance, made him think of Xenia Watkins.
As the Ion comptroler talked about recent acquisitions adding to the company's value, he'd seen Xenia sitting on the edge of the tub, legs parted, His face in between. Xenia had caressed her breasts, just like last night, and she'd moaned and howled as He licked her pussy.
As the Ion comp droned about employee security and pension plans, he'd seen himself entering the picture, kneeling on the tile surrounding the jacuzzi so that his cock was level with Xenia's pretty mouth.
She'd opened wide with a big smile and lowered her lips over him, moaning from still having her pussy eaten below. Even reenvisioning it now had him sweating.
He shook his head to clear it and looked at the small gold clock on his desk. It read a few minutes past nine, which meant past ten in Colorado.
Damn , he'd quit paying attention and the computer had slipped into screensaver mode. He rushed to move the mouse and light back up the screen. Then he clicked on the icon for the webcam at the Vail house.
The room was empty, dark but for the pale illumination provided by the blanket of snow outside the wall of windows behind the computer.
His heart fell . His cock almost deflated. He'd been sure she would be there, putting on another sexy little show for him. After the way she'd responded to him this morning, he'd been sure she wouldn't be able to resist. After all, she was alone in that big house, just writing all day surely.
She needed some kind of sexual release. And he'd given her a forbidden and exciting way to get it.
Even so, as he focused the camera, shifting the lens about the room, the space remained quiet, stil , shadows of sofas and tables and nothing
more. Apparently, heel misjudged her enthusiasm.
Apparently, she wasn't coming to the last meeting he'd set up for today, the one he'd waited for through al the rest with a raging hard on. Looked like the forbidden aspect of their fun was, just as she'd intimated, too forbidden for her.
"Damn," he whispered in the dark. "I want more of you, honey."
Xenia looked in the mirrored door on the closet, studying herself from head to toe. Her hair fell in loose waves around her face, which was made up with mascara and lipstick same as she might apply for a night out clubbing with Monica and the girls. Around her neck, a beaded red choker. The scant lacy red push-up bra plumped her breasts nearly to her chin, making them look large and sexy.
Below, she wore a matching red thong that clung so tightly to her mound that the fleshy rise already looked swol en with desire.
When she'd found the small shopping bag containing the bra and panties in her suitcase yesterday, she never dreamed she'd be so thankful her friend had snuck it in, with a note that said:
"Just in case yon decide to give up the solitude and find yourself some ski stud."Love, Monica.
Well, she hadn't given up the solitude, nor found a ski stud, but she had the next best thing a stud with a webcam who wanted her. When all was said and done, she simply couldn't resist the same excitement she'd experienced last night upon just pretending
someone was watching her. Try as she might, she couldn't seem to deny herself the real thing.
She remained afraid, but also needy. That need pulsed through her veins as tangible as the flow of blood.
So she'd finally given in to the temptation. At least for now. She might have regrets later, but in this moment, it was show time. And there would be no cotton pj s tonight.
She took a deep breath and moved barefoot from the bedroom into the living room, then turned on the lights, but used the dimmer to keep them soft.
His eyes were on her, she could feel them instantly.
The very knowledge made her nipples constrict within the scal oped edge of red lace that held her so snugly.
As she moved to the sofa, she felt like she was returning to the scene of a crime. Deliciously wicked. Her cunt vibrated against its lace confinement, the tender scratch of the fabric a further titil ation.
Upon sitting down, she gently bit her lip, looked toward the webcam, and spoke quietly. "I wasn't going to do this, but here I am, for reasons I can't explain." Then she peered more intently at the green light, imagining she could see him, eye to sexy eye. "Are you ready?"
She envisioned him drawing the image from the photo on the bookshelves sitting behind his desk, getting hard for her. The thought nearly took her breath everything about this was utterly overwhelming. In fact, she feared if she thought too hard about what she was doing, she might get scared again and back out. So instead, she simply began, reaching both hands up to cup the lower halves of her breasts.
They were heavy, full and round in her palms. She imagined her flyboy groaning at the sight of her touching herself for him and wished she could hear it. Wished again that she could see him, just like he could see her.
She closed her eyes and gave her lower lip a small, sensual nibble, imagining how grand it would be if he sat right across the room from her. The camera should provide a sense of safety and maybe it did, maybe the distance between herself and her voyeur was the one factor that allowed her to do this. Yet at the same time, she wanted him nearer, wanted him here.
Watch me, she thought as she tweaked her nipples through the lace that barely concealed them. She then massaged them fully, wishing for his hands, thinking of his cock doing what he'd said this morning gliding between the plump mounds of flesh.
She slipped her fingertips into both red cups, lowering them just enough to free the beaded pink peaks. Her face warmed at revealing them to him again. She remembered how "fucking beautiful" he thought they were and toyed with her hardened nipples, letting the sensation trickle through her, allthe way to her lacy panties, making her pussy quiver.
She ran her hands down over the smooth curves of her stomach, sliding them over the lace at her hips, letting her fingers splay onto her thighs. Moving slow but never stopping, she parted her legs, let her hands glide inward, both of them sweeping firmly over her crotch before drawing back to the panties' top edge.
Do you want to see me? See my pussy?
She kept the words inside, but her own hunger to show him, to be this other entity, to release this other part of herself she was just now discovering with such shock, drove her. She'd never known she was such a dirty girl. She'd never known such forbidden fires burned inside her.
But burn they did hotter and hotter with each passing second, she discovered until she rose to her feet, squarely facing the camera, then
smoothly lowered her panties over her hips, down her thighs, pul ing damp lace from in between, then pushing the thong past her knees.
The fabric fell to her ankles, allowing her to step free of it, at which point she turned around and bent at the waist, bracing her hands on the back of the sofa, letting him look at her from behind.
Instinct led her to lift first one knee onto the couch, then the other, parting her legs slightly, arching her ass toward him.
You wanted to see me so badly well, here I am, baby.
Look at me. Look at my pussy.
At that moment, it was the greatest part of her, filled with need and want and a raw hunger that knew no shame.
Oh God, she wanted him back there, behind her, wanted to feel his hands on her ass, his hard shaft pushing its way inside. Without forethought, she looked over her shoulder, into the camera, and said, "If you were here right now, I'd beg you to take me like this. To fuck me hard and deep."
A thousand miles away, he watched her, mesmerized and spoke back to the screen even though he knew she couldn't hear. "Aw, baby you're so fucking hot." His cock jutted from his open pants and his fist wrapped warm around it.
He'd spent a few sad, lonely minutes thinking she really wasn't going to show, that he'd really had all of her he was going to get and then, when he'd been just about to give up and walk away, she'd appeared in that pretty and unexpected bra and panties set, her hair and face done up to make her into the sexual being he knew she was.
A sizzling heat had burned from his chest to his dick at the sight of her. Allthat waiting hadn't been for nothing. And now Xenia was showing him her pretty little cunt, telling him she wanted him to fuck her, and his whole existence in that moment became about good, hot, nasty sex.
He watched in pure amazement as she turned to sit on the couch, parting her thighs wide, draping one leg over the sofa's stuffed arm to put her pussy even more widely on display. He feasted on it with his eyes so pink and open wishing he could do so with his mouth. He heard the light sound of her breath, coming labored as she stroked one long, tapered finger through her wetness.
"Damn, honey," he murmured, pulling at his cock.
His own raspy breath joined hers, seeming to fill the darkened room.
"More," he urged her. "Touch it for me."
It was almost as if she'd heard, and he let a wicked smile take him as her middle finger began to twirl hard, rhythmic circles over her clit, now protruding so prettily from her slick folds.
"Oh yeah, rub that pretty pussy for me."
She did, thrusting lightly now as the first two fingers of her right hand extended down into her parted flesh. Her left hand rose to cup one breast, squeezing, raking her thumb across the taut mauve nipple pointing out over the uneven edging of her bra.
"So nice, baby," he breathed toward the screen, wishing she could hear, wishing all this fucking distance didn't lay between them. At first, that part had been exciting, but already, this fast, he wanted to do away with it and be with her, two bodies thrusting together, the way it was naturally supposed to be.
But on the other hand, who was he to complain? Xenia Watkins had surrendered herself to him in a way she'd never planned and admittedly never thought she could, and his cock swelled further with dark, masculine pride at knowing this show was just for him, for his pleasure, and hers.
If a few states separated them, hell, this was surely the next best thing to being there, and a damn hot treat to have grown from his innocent late night peek into the house last night.
He gripped his hardened length tighter, wanting to give it to her so bad he could almost taste it. He kept his eyes glued to her gorgeous cunt, her bountiful breasts, the lost look of passion on her pretty face. She was getting close, he could tel , rubbing herself more intensely, gritting her teeth lightly, squeezing first one breast then the other with more ferocity than he'd yet seen from her.
"That's right, honey," he said lowly, "keep going. Get yourself off for me. Get yourself off."
Her breath came heavier still , and so did his own. He tugged at his cock, matching her rhythm and knowing he couldn't hold back much longer.
"Come, baby," he urged. "Come for me now."
The circles she rubbed over the top part of her pussy grew faster and deeper, too. He could tell from the way she moved her hand, from the sweet agony reshaping her face. She was panting now, and then began to let out short, hot little sobs: "Oh . . . oh .. . oh . .."
His chest rose and fell as desire tightened inside him, centering in his groin. His dick throbbed in his hand.
And then she released a high pitched cry and he saw the ecstasy transform her expression even with her eyes shut, her muscles relaxed, and any agony on her face softened to pure pleasure. She lifted herself in a harder, slower rhythm against her hand as she rode out the climax and he said, "Ah, damn," since he knew he was going to come, too, no stopping it, and he exploded in long, intense bursts into the tissues he, thankfully, had already placed at his side.
The heated pulses forced his eyes shut and delivered the usual brief but blissful out of body experience before it al faded to exhaustion and let him refocus on the screen.
Xenia sat on the couch, still now, but her legs remained prettily spread, like a centerfold picture on his computer. She licked her upper lip and looked straight at him, eyes glassy. In the aftermath of orgasm, her skin seemed to glow on the high resolution screen, and she looked thoroughly satisfied . . . yet her expression made him wonder what else
lurked inside her.
"This isn't me," she said quietly to the camera. Then gave her head a soft shake that made her hair bounce and her breasts jiggle lightly. "I don t know what you do to me."
His chest spasmed at her words. He hated that she didn't understand that this was, indeed, very clearly her, But he loved being the man getting to show her. And he continued to be al the more astonished to realize, once more, that it had happened completely by accident, and through a mere computer screen.
I know what I do to you, Xenia. I get you hot. Hotter than anyone ever has. And I'm going to get you even hotter. Hold on tight, baby, because this ride is just starting, and before it's over, I'm going to make you do things you've never even thought about before.
Getting up and walking out of the room, stopping only to scoop up her sexy panties on the way, had felt no less than surreal. Xenia had spent the next ten minutes fluctuating between embarrassment, disbelief, and the odd sense of exhilaration that had remained after so openly touching herself for her corporate raider flyboy without a name.
She couldn't believe she'd done it. But she also couldn't believe how utterly incredible it had felt. Knowing his eyes had been on her not just a fantasy had excited her more than anything ever had. Starting out, of course, she hadn't been sure she could really do it but oh, had she ever done it. And once she'd let go of her worries and fears, once she'd forgotten about everything else but his eyes and her body, it had been sinfully easy.
To her surprise, she didn't feel like changing into comfy pajamas afterward, so instead she'd slept naked. She woke up the next morning feeling freer and more energized just from remembering the previous night. She put on only a pair of white cotton panties and a strappy yellow cami to head down to the kitchen, wondering why she hadn't started wearing less here sooner.
Despite the snow outside, the house stayed warm overly so when the sun was out so she'd probably be much more comfortable this way than she had the first night and through the day yesterday.
After consuming coffee and a bowl of cereal while looking out at the peaceful white setting where she noticed the tracks of a rabbit or some other small animal she headed straight for the computer anxious. Many ideas have soon popped in her head.
The rumble of a large vehicle cut suddenly through Xenia's concentration.Was someone arriving here? Must be, she presumed, given that the house was located at the end of a long driveway, several hundred feet off the winding mountain road.
This was the first vehicle she'd heard since her arrival. She hopped to her feet, rushed to the door, and glanced out the narrow panel of glass beside it to see a standard issue white delivery truck. The logo on the door said TRIXIE'S
in a rather elaborate script. Trixie's?
She was waiting to see what on earth was coming to "Flyboy" from a place called "Trixie's" when she happened to glance down and notice her nipples pointing prominently through her little top. And damn it she only had on panties below, which she'd totally forgotten about.
She dashed for the stairs, jogging toward the master bedroom. Unthinkingly, she shoved open the nearest mirrored closet door and voila! spied a white terry cloth robe like you sometimes found in hotels. Yanking it from the hanger, she thrust her arms inside.
When the doorbel rang, she started toward it, tying the robe in front on the way down the stairs. She opened the door to find the young man on the other side smiling at her as if they shared a private joke. "Xenia Watkins?"
She flinched. She'd been sure this would be something for her voyeur. Who knew she was here? Wait. Monica, of course. Which made the pieces fit. Trixie's must be exactly what it sounded like to Xenia some racy lingerie shop. And Monica of the red lace surprise had apparently taken it upon herself to send Xenia something else slinky and sexy.
"Yes, that's me," she finally said.
He handed her a shiny black box sporting an even shinier thick black ribbon. Predictably, she blushed, since they clearly both knew something designed for sex was inside.
"Thanks," she murmured, embarrassment overriding any thoughts of a tip, then practically slammed the door in his face, turning the lock. After which she headed to the couch where she had so brazenly touched herself for her stranger last night.
Wow, apparently Monica was downright
determined for Xenia to see some action on this trip. Dear God, if her friend only knew about the unexpected not to mention bizarre action that had occurred.
Not that Monica would ever find out. They were best friends, but something about this felt so immeasurably private that she knew she'd never share it with another soul.
Although it flitted through her mind that another sexy outfit might actually come in handy, under the circumstances.
Maybe.
She let out a sigh. Was she really going to do it for him again? Going to keep doing it? Taking her clothes off and rubbing herself to orgasm for a stranger behind a camera? Put in those terms, it sounded absolutely horrifying.
If only it had felt that way, too, it would be a lot easier to resist the odd temptation. As it was, well. . . she hadn't contemplated it yet today. She'd certainly remembered it. She'd certainly felt alive and energetic and creative. today. But she hadn't thought to the future, to what would happen now. Maybe she just hadn't let herself. And now that she was mulling it over, she simply didn't know the answer.
Too hot from the robe, that fast, she untied the belt and let the terry cloth fall from her shoulders. Extracting her arms, she pulled at the black ribbon to untie the rather titilating package. Inside, atop black tissue paper lay a white card.
For tonight. Ten o'clock. Don't be late, honey.
Oh God. It wasn't from Monica. It was from
him!
Swallowing her shock, she cautiously folded back the tissue paper, gasping at what she saw inside. A black velvet corset. Black lace top
stockings. And a purple vibrator shaped like a penis, the likes of which she'd seen only on the one occasion Monica had dragged her into a sex shop. "Oh, dear God," she murmured.
Without another thought, she set the box aside, shot to her feet, and took the few short steps to the computer. Since he'd told her to change her
screen name, she pulled up her usual IM identity as "Riley"
RILEY: Are you there? This is Xenia, your houseguest.
She wasn't sure yet exactly what she was going to say to him, but it leaned toward letting him know he'd gone too far, and wondering how the hell he'd gotten the package to her so quickly, and telling him she was not going to use a sexual device while he watched.
FLYB0Y1: Good morning, snowflake.
RILEY: Snowflake?
FLYB0Y1: Just noticed them on your pajamas the other night, that's all. Before you opened them, I mean. Then I quit noticing anything but you. ;)
RILEY: Um. anyways, Which brings me back to why I IMed you. I just got a delivery here.
FLYB0Y1: Ah. That was quick.
She let out a heavy breath. That's all he had to say? Well, she'd just go with the flow, especially since that was one of her questions.
RILEY: I'll say.
FLYB0Y1: Simple, really. An online catalog for a place in Denver, and a phone call. It's called same day delivery, honey.
RILEY: That usually costs an arm and a leg.
FLYB0Y1: I have a lot of money. What did you think of the gift?
She hesitated. A minute ago she'd been overcome with a sense of urgency, ready to yel at him for this, but now, faced with the opportunity, she wasn't quite sure what she wanted to say.
RILEY: I was . . . shocked.
FLYB0Y1 : Why?
RILEY: I've never . . .
I've never what?
she asked herself. She didn't know how to say this. But she tried again anyway.
RILEY: I've never really done THAT before.
FLYB0Y1: Really? You've never used a vibrator?
RILEY: No.
FLYB0Y1: Damn, honey.
RILEY: What does THAT mean?
FLYB0Y1: That now I'm EXTRA glad I got it
for you.
She let out a sigh. Was she so very odd? Did every other woman on the planet own a wide array of such tools?
RILEY: Why do you consider a vibrator so vital to my existence?
FLYB0Y1: Because you're a very sexual person.
She blinked at the computer, shocked and annoyed.
RILEY: How do YOU know?
FLYB0Y1: Are you serious?
Another sigh.
RILEY: Okay, okay. But I told you last night . . . I'm not usually like that. I don't do those things.
FLYB0Y1: You do now. And you're beautiful touching yourself, you know. I barely managed to wait until you came before I did. And that's not a problem I generally have.
Time to get down to business. And she'd just made a decision. She'd said it herself. She was smart, sensible, and conservative. Not a prim goody two shoes who wore turtlenecks and insisted on dating a guy forever before sleeping with him not anything exorbitant or extreme.
But she was simply an even keeled, middle of the road woman who didn't go to the other extreme, either. And last night had been inexplicably extreme for her. It was time to get back to normal here.
RILEY: I can't keep doing this.
FLYB0Y1: Why not?
RILEY: It's so . . . dirty. And I don't even know you.
FLYB0Y1: You're GETTING to know me.
RILEY: I don't even know your name.
FLYB0Y1: Justin.
RILEY: Is that your first name or your last?
FLYB0Y1: First. Justin Bieber.
Xenia hesitated. Justin. She liked it. Sounded strong. Rugged. Sexy. But that was hardly a reason to back down on what she was telling him.
RILEY: Well . . . I still don't know you.
FLYB0Y1: And yet you want me.
True enough. Her pussy was pulsing again just from IMing with him like this. A guy she couldn't even see, or hear, let alone touch. And damn it, she'd just thought of that part of her body as her pussy again. If she really wanted this to end, that would be a good place to start. In fact, maybe she should just quit thinking about that part of herself period.
When she stil hadn't replied to him a minute later, he sent another message.
FLYB0Y1: I want you, too. I want to see you come again. I want to see you use the toy I sent you.
Still, she didn't answer. Simply because she had no idea how to respond to such a raw, intimate request.
FLYB0Y1: See you tonight, snowflake. Ten o'clock. I know you won't let me down.