“She catches my gaze in the reflection of Midtown’s skyscrapers, bites her lower lip, and nods. I’m still fully dressed as I pull my wallet from my jacket pocket, take out a condom, and hold it between my teeth while I unzip my pants and release my cock. I haven’t moved away from her while I do this, so my knuckles brush the backs of her thighs and the curve of her bottom while I roll it on. She’s watching in the glass, her hands slipping a little as she holds herself ready for me. In the analytical part of my brain that never shuts down, I wonder what my housekeeper will think when she next cleans the windows. Undressed just enough to be serviced, I take a moment and smooth both hands from her breasts to her hips to that juicy inner curve of her bottom. I run my thumbs over the shaved lips of her sex.
“Sometimes it’s all an act but she’s wet, ready for me. I grip my cock and push into her slowly, one careful inch at a time. It’s a vulnerable position, and I want to be sure this is good for her. Her fingertips curl against the glass when I’m seated all the way inside her. A beat of pleasure thumps through me at the reflection. In the glass she looks like a wet dream, the heels, the disheveled clothes, those miles of bare legs spread just enough to allow me access. It’s hot, she’s hot, and only getting hotter as I start to move. Each thrust forces a sexy little gasp from her parted lips. I lean over her and brace one hand on the glass above her head. With the other I gently part the slick, swollen lips of her sex and find her clit. All at once she gasps, shudders, and jerks back into me, and suddenly it’s game on. Her cries are truly desperate now, her head thrown back, her throat bared to the glass. If she’s faking it, it’s the best performance I’ve ever seen.
“Pleasure is pooling in my balls, climbing up my cock quarter inch by quarter inch with each thrust. I’m circling her clit as I thrust; in the glass I watch the sex flush bloom on her collarbone and climb her throat. It’s no surprise when she stiffens and cries out in short, helpless bursts. I close my eyes and lose myself in the rush to orgasm. I thrust deep inside her as I come.”
He stopped, suddenly aware that they were sitting just a few inches away from the sidewalk. It felt like a confession, but the story was like the reflection of Jade’s face or the city’s lights in his windows, washed out, distorted, distant, but at least mirroring reality in some small way, a reality that was shifting and changing with each breath he took. He waited, watching Simone’s face as she opened her eyes.
Chapter Three
Simone surfaced slowly from the erotic spell Ryan wove as he talked, hearing first the rush of tires against the street as a car passed, then a burst of laughter from a group of women on Seventh Avenue. The deep, rhythmic strokes of his thumbs against her forearms and his fingers massaging the tender flesh on the underside of her wrist never slackened. Her skin was too tight, the pressure of his fingers against her hand reminding her of all the places he wasn’t touching. It would take almost nothing to get off; she almost got there just from listening to him talk. His voice wasn’t particularly deep, probably a tenor if he were a singer, but there was something about the way he noticed details. She’d expected him to tell her how much of a stud he was because he banged a supermodel, but instead he told her a story about noticing what Jade wanted. He’d figured out what Jade’s fantasy was, and given it to her without judgment.
She opened her eyes and found him watching her, his expression difficult to read. It wasn’t triumphant. It was . . . a little fearful—like she’d judge him, mete out punishment, flay the skin from his bones—and a little curious, like he wanted to know if it turned her on. The story both confirmed her opinion of him and subverted it. He’d behaved exactly as she’d expected, and yet he hadn’t.
“Did she spend the night?”
His eyebrows lifted slightly. “No. I put her in a cab an hour or so later. She had to fly out to Milan the next day. What did you think?”
She considered the question rather seriously. Neither exhibitionism nor voyeurism were fantasies she contemplated before this, but the way Ryan told the story made it feel like she’d been watched by millions but seen by no one except him.
“It’s not really my fantasy.” That was the truth. The fact that she’d responded to it had nothing to do with the fantasy and everything to do with—
She tugged ever so slightly, which prompted his fingers to relax but not release her. His fingers trailed along her skin as she pulled her hand and arm back and broke the connection between them.
“I really shouldn’t be listening to this,” she said. Tendrils of her hair clung to her cheeks. She used both palms to push her hair back from her face. “I should have stopped you. I had no idea you were going to be so explicit. It was a private moment between you and Jade.”
He wasn’t looking at her anymore, instead picking at the label on the beer bottle and staring over her shoulder toward Sixth Avenue. His shoulders lifted in a cynical motion that wasn’t a shrug, accompanied by a sound that wasn’t a laugh. “It was a transaction, but without any money changing hands. I’ve thought about money, and not much else, for so long I’ve forgotten that you could pay with other things.”