Her eyelids snapped open. The sharp demand had just popped into her head. Gasping softly, she stared
at Trey in the distance. Was his focus so intent that she was reading his mind?
It didn’t matter, because her desire matched his perfectly.
Gyrating her hips, she slowly lowered her hands, caressing her ribs. Then she sinuously pushed the bodice off her body. Now topless, she stalked toward the window, swinging her hips boldly. She lifted her breasts in a shameless invitation, massaging the firm flesh with her hands while her thumb and forefinger pinched lightly at her excited nipples.
He cupped his cock in one hand. Heat rushed through her at his matter-of-fact, lewd action. She continued to pound her hips to the music and massage her breasts, but for an electric moment, she switched from being in the glare of the spotlight to being the captive audience. He moved his big hand, his thumb and forefinger pinching hard at the thick shaft of his erection through the fabric of his jeans.
She’d seen his cock from a distance before. She’d salivated over his beautiful shape and his blatant virility. But she’d never longed for him like she did in that moment. Would she ever see him up close? Would she ever touch him? Taste him?
His hand moved faster now, jerking at his cock through his jeans. It suddenly came to her that she’d stopped dancing. She stood stock still a few feet away from the windows, her breasts lifted and displayed in her hands. She existed in a haze of heat and lust. Without telling herself to do it, she lowered one hand over her bare, heaving rib cage and down over her skirt. She lifted the hem, exposing her outer sex to him.
She slid a finger between her slippery labia. Moaning hoarsely, she closed her eyes and began to move again, dancing against the pressure of her rubbing, pressing fingers. It was like Trey himself was touching her . . . his blazing gaze on her working her into a frenzy. She felt him, even if she couldn’t bring herself to meet his stare in those seconds. The tension in her built faster than she would have expected. She was going to come. She was going to break in pleasure while standing here nearly nude in this window.
Trey was going to watch it all.
The idea was unbearably exciting, and yet . . . her hand lowered to her naked thigh, her fingers trailing her juices across her skin. She lowered her head. The intimacy of the moment suddenly overwhelmed her.
Open your eyes, stupid. See what he’s doing. Meet his stare and do this thing with eyes wide open.
Instead, she found herself strutting back to the bed, her flash of self-consciousness not entirely erasing her sexual boldness. She did her favorite sinuous move, going belly down on the mattress. Her skirt had been jacked up higher this time. The bottom of her ass was showing as she undulated her hips several inches off the bedspread.
Lift up that skirt all the way. Now.
This time, she didn’t bother to tease out whether it was his desire or hers, his demand or her own. She was too far gone, about to explode into flame. She lifted her skirt to her waist, fully exposing her ass. Pressing her hot cheek and breasts against the cool duvet, she drew her knees up under her, still pulsing her hips and ass to the driving beat of the music.
She spread her thighs wider. She’d crossed the boundary. There was no going back.
His stare pierced her, even when she couldn’t bring herself to meet it. He saw all of her now. She reached between her thighs and cupped her sex. Her finger slid between her labia onto her simmering clit. Another plunged into her slit.
Trey.
Her undulating hips wavered. Her body seized.
Pleasure splintered her awareness.
She came back to herself at the sound of her own sharp cries. They segued into breathy moans.
The reality of what she’d just done entered her awareness sluggishly, even while she still rippled and vibrated in pleasure. Despite the unwanted return of her self-consciousness, she still swam in hot, sticky pleasure. She continued to shamelessly rub herself, groaning as aftershocks pulsed through her body. She was drenched . . . wetter than she’d ever experienced herself to be.
She lay facedown on the mattress with her ass raised the air, her legs spread apart, her pussy exposed and wet. Trey Riordan’s stare bore right through just like it had that first time in the coffee shop tonight.
Except this time, it did it from the rear view and sliced right up to her heart.
It shocked her, how intimate it’d all felt. Shouldn’t their exchange have been as distant as the space that separated them? It scared her a little. She’d thought she’d be safe, that space between them like the zone between audience and performer.
True, she’d held him in the palm of her hand. It was as though he’d been right there with her in the moment. But as every second passed, she felt more and more alone. She’d just brought herself off in front of an absolute stranger.
Mixed mortification and renewed arousal swept through her. Yes, arousal, because she’d loved having the power to hold every ounce of his attention at her mercy.
She pulled her hand away from her sex. It dropped to the mattress near her face. For a tense moment, she just listened to the ragged sound of her breathing while her ass and sex tingled and burned. She’d exposed herself to him minutes ago, but she hadn’t actually felt naked until now.
Her sexual confidence evaporated with the speed of her cooling body. It stunned her, what she’d just done . . . how far she’d lost herself to the moment. God, what was Trey doing now? Was he masturbating, like she had been doing for him? If so, was he finished?
Was he even still there?
Maybe her own single-minded lust had caused her to imagine his stare on her like a burning touch.