“Her breath comes a little more unevenly. She’s definitely getting off on being watched. I can work with that. I reach for the robe, which is draped over the arm of my sofa, and hold it for her to slip her arms into. She peers over her shoulder at me, obviously bewildered that I’m putting more clothes on rather than taking off what little she had on her body. I stand in front of her and tie the intricate knots that close the robe, the knots you showed me how to tie,” he added, watching for her response.
Color bloomed in Simone’s cheeks and she bit her lip. “I remember,” she said, the words husky, slow.
“She stands docilely in front of me, her head bent as she watches my hands. Intrigued by the feel of the thin robe over the silk corset, I smooth my fingertips up her side to the edge of the corset, then run them along the top edge, not quite accidentally brushing the backs of my fingers against the under curve of her breast, then over the tips.
“Her lips part slightly, and the tip of her tongue comes out to slide along the edges of her teeth. I cup the soft weight of her breasts, pinch each of her nipples. When she moans delicately, I release them and slide my hands up to cup her jaw. It’s a move right out of the movies, but this already feels like a performance. I brush one thumb, then the other, over her mouth, and feel her tongue touch the sensitized pads of my thumbs as I do so. Then I release her face. If she wants to put on a show, I’ll make it easy for her.
‘Walk over to the window.’
“She does, hips swaying provocatively as she walks. She stops in front of the windows and looks at me in the glass.
‘Put your palms on the glass.’
“She does, looking at me in the reflecting surface. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, her lips parted and pouting.
‘Face me. Stretch your arms over your head.’ She does that as well, adding a little stretch and sway of her own volition. ‘Remember what I said about movement attracting attention?’ I say.
‘I remember,’ she says. ‘Ryan, please.’
“I walk over to her, and when I reach her, I loosen the robe’s tie just enough to ease the fabric down her shoulders but keep it tied around her waist. The fabric restricts the movement of her arms and frames her breasts quite beautifully. Once again I sweep her hair back over her shoulders, then say, ‘Turn around.’
“She faces the windows. I get onto my heels behind her and gather the lace at the edge of the robe in both hands, pulling it up as I rise, exposing her long, long legs and the curve of her ass. I tuck the fabric into the belt around her waist, and marvel at how absolutely dirty it is to be fully dressed behind a woman who was exposed for my pleasure, and her own.
“I put my hands on her hips and guide her back until she has to put her hands on the glass for balance. Now she’s bent forward, tipped up to offer herself to me, her breasts thrust out in much the same way, leaving her face and torso completely exposed to the glass. I hook my thumbs in the elastic waist of the bikini panties and pull them down to midthigh.
‘Anyone can see you,’ I say as I stroke my palm over the curve of her buttocks and hips. ‘Anyone can see you like this, exposed and about to be fucked.’ She lets out a soft little whimper. ‘Do you want me to fuck you like this?’”
The sound he heard was a soft, throaty little noise, too real and immediate to be memory. Ryan realized he had closed his eyes only when he opened them and saw Simone, her head bent, her hair shrouding her face. Her soft lips were parted, and she was breathing in shallow little inhales and exhales too refined to be anything so gauche as panting. Her left hand lay slack on her thigh but her right hand and arm were even tighter, probably from wielding scissors and an embroidery needle and thread. Carefully, he didn’t change his motion or the intensity of the pressure. He went back to the story.