I Like Being Watched

Before I could get too drunk off of watching him, though, he was suddenly lowering down in front of me, running a line of kisses over my one clavicle, then the other, before moving between, resting his forehead against the space between my breasts for a long moment, taking slow, measured breaths as his fingers started to fuck me.

Slow.

So incredibly, frustratingly slow.

At the sound of my first moan, his breath released, exhaling warm air over my cold breasts, making a shiver course through me a second before his head shifted, and his lips closed over one of the hardened peaks of my nipples.

I very nearly came right then and there.

But some sick, masochistic part of me wanted more of this sweet torture.

My back arched, pressing my breast further out as his tongue traced, as his teeth nipped, as his lips sucked.

"Fitz, please," I begged, my hips rocking against him, needing more.

His lips released one nipple only to go across my chest to continue the torment.

But this time, his fingers started to move faster, thrusting in and out of me as his thumb worked my clit.

From over his shoulder, a movement caught my eye. The door to the sprawling guest house that was practically its own estate, opened.

And out walked Blake.

I should have said something. I knew it was the right thing to do. But I leaned forward instead, pressing my lips into Fitz's neck as my hands roamed over his back, and my gaze watched Blake make his progress toward the back of the main house.

He could look over at any moment.

He could catch his brother finger-fucking my pussy.

He could stop to watch.

"So fucking tight," Fitz hissed as my walls tightened around him.

"Faster," I begged, noticing Blake getting closer before looking at Fitz again, finding his gaze hungry.

But I didn't know just how hungry.

Until his fingers left me, both hands sinking into my hips.

"I need to taste you," he told me, making my stomach flip-flop at his words before he was lifting me out of the water, and placing my bare ass on the tile.

His hands left my hips, sliding down the outsides of my thighs, then grabbing my knees, and spreading them wide.

Fitz's gaze went to mine for a moment before it slipped downward, gazing at my pussy for a long second before burying his face between my thighs.

I was aware of too many things at once. The brush of his soft hair on my inner thighs, the feel of his tongue as it traced my clit, the low groaning sound that escaped him as he tasted me, and the fact that Blake was closing in on the door to the kitchen. Just one short hallway away.

"Oh, my God," I whimpered, my hands grabbing the back of his head as my hips writhed against him.

I pulled up my legs, sliding them over his bare shoulders as I leaned backward until my back hit the tile.

My eyelids unexpectedly slid closed.

Experience told me I should have been looking to see if we were being watched.

But I didn't want to. I wanted to lose myself in the moment. I wanted to feel the way Fitz's tongue worked me with practiced precision, the way his fingers slid inside me again, but this time turned and stroked over my top wall, engaging my G-spot as he drove me up up up.

"Yes," I cried as his tongue started to move faster.

Vaguely, I heard the door in the kitchen open and close.

Blake could be on his way right that moment.

Fitz's body tensed, but my hands grabbed his head harder, holding him against me.

"Don't stop," I pleaded, trailing off on a moan as he got me right to that edge. "Please, Fitz," I cried, feeling myself teetering on that precipice for one agonizing moment.

Then his tongue circled.

His fingers stroked.

And I shattered.

I couldn't tell you if my breath got caught and I choked down my moan, or if I cried out in the big, empty room. All I could tell you is that the waves crashed over and over and over. And Fitz kept working me through them, dragging them out.

I came back down after, body trembling. Was it the cold from being out of the water or aftershocks from the orgasm? I had no idea. All I knew was my body was racked with them, making me feel uncommonly out of control.

"Fitz, that you?" Blake called, voice getting closer.

Fitz's head shot up, eyes wide, a little panicked.

I didn't have time to school my face into lines of false innocence. He saw the truth all over my face.

"You knew," he hissed even as he hauled himself out of the pool, water cascading down his soaked pants as he made his way toward the door.

Just in time.

Blocking Blake from coming in.

"What happened to you?" I could hear Blake ask.

"I tripped over broken furniture and fell in the pool," Fitz lied. I hate to say it, but the man did it so quickly, so smoothly, that it was somehow a turn on.