While They Watch

by Khloe Summers

  Pulling away from our embrace, she carelessly let her little pink dress float in the breeze with her movement. “Race you to the cart.”

  I let her win. And letting people win, is not something I do.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rain and thunder met us for our ride home, and although I’d never been an anxious flyer. I have to say, I was a bit terrified of a smaller plane in the storm.

  “Come, lay here,” he offered, lifting the crisp, white sheet. I was never tired of his naked body. I pushed myself against him, silky and smooth. The jet bumped, shaking enough to stir the glassware. I stiffened. Pulling me in closer, he spooned my bare body into his, wrapping his strong arms around my shoulders and over my stomach, tickling me slowly wherever his fingers landed. For now, it was the side of my breast he tickled as he whispered in my ear a beautiful hum of Italian words that soothed me — the rise and fall of his annunciation like a drug, humid on my lobes.

  “Alla Serra, the poem, to Evening,” he whispered, repeating the story again and again. “Forse perchè della fatal quïete, corteggian liete…” His deep rasp, rolling r’s and clutching c’s, romanticizing the language with inflection and pause.

  I melted, forgetting the plane and turbulence, drifting off to sleep with his deep, breathy whispers warming my ear.

  The following morning, guilt consumed me, and stopping by the shelter seemed imperative the moment we landed. When I arrived, new equipment had been delivered, and the areas in front and back were being renovated, offering much more room to work. The cubs were growing fast, and the fox we’d brought in was doing well with rehab, about ready for release. We even had some new faces — a bald eagle with a wing injury and a few hawks.

  “Nice of you to show up!” Lyla said, pulling at her long brown ponytail. “You ever tell Matteo I wanted to talk?” Her sarcasm bit at the air with extreme intensity.

  “I did, he’s been so busy with meetings and… meetings,” I lied, feeling awful for forgetting.

  She handed me a gray envelope with my name typed across the front in a small black font. “You got a letter; it was sitting under the door when I came in one morning.

  I read the typed note aloud,

  “Dear Hannah, you’re making a mistake.”

  I flipped the paper over, looking for more. Nothing. ‘Making a mistake?’ That’s it. What kind of ‘mistake’?

  “Who would send that?” Lyla asked, awkwardly tearing at the edge of her paper coffee cup.

  My stomach turned and pain grew between my eyes. “Who do you think? Daniel!”

  “He probably thinks something is going on with you and Matteo,” she sniffed. “Everyone does.” There was truth in her statement, but I didn’t like the way she was going about it. She’d been so impossible since Matteo came into the picture. Silently and outwardly pitting us against each other. “So, what’s the deal there anyway?”

  “There is no deal. We’re just letting things happen.”

  “What things? So, it’s true; you two are an item?” She’d pulled one side of her lip back as though she deserved the answer. As though it were her right to know. As though I were doing something wrong.

  “So, what if we are?” I snapped, feeling the pressure of my eyebrows squeezing together.

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Has your husband even signed divorce papers yet?”

  My eyebrows tensed and my face turned red with irritation. I didn’t owe her anything. She’d done nothing more than throw herself at someone who wasn’t interested, and I didn’t ask for any of this.

  I turned towards the door, raising the note up as I walked away. “I’ve got to figure out where this letter came from. I’ll see you later.”

  On the way back to the house, I couldn’t stop thinking about Lyla. How much she’d pissed me off and how insensitive she was to everything I was going through. I knew she was star struck, jealous, frustrated. But nothing happened between them. I wasn’t stealing her boyfriend. I was finally living, and finally, good things were happening.

  Still stewing, I walked in the front door of Matteo’s, ready for a drink. Instead, laid out on dark mahogany tables were swatches and large books with samples.

  “You’re here,” he said, placing a small kiss on my forehead. “This is not my forte.” Leading me by the small of my back, he introduced me to the designers for the gala. Two beautiful Asian women in their mid-forties, ready for whatever I threw at them.

  I flipped through the swatch book, carefully examining all the styles. “I’m thinking all-natural, earthy colors. Keep it neutral with the setting. Highlight the lake — dark blues, tan, greenery, and maybe some candles. Oh, and everything must be environmentally friendly. No straws, no plastic. Reusable products only. Please.”

  “She’s very serious about that one, don’t get her started.” Matteo joked, tucking his hand in his pocket. “And we’ll need a band. Something tranquil,” he added, looking down at me for input.

  Shifting my head down, I focused on the tile. I tried to remember any details I’d wanted to include. “Oh! And a vegan catering company if possible.”

  Soon, the planners had all our ideas marked on their laptops, and they were on their way, leaving me again with my disgust and disdain. I let out a sigh and threw myself into the plush chair at the entrance to the living room—wrinkling up my nose as I mumbled, “Lyla…”

  “Lyla, what about her?” Matteo asked, sitting opposite me on the couch. His black suit perfectly straight, despite his curvature.

  “I got a note from Daniel, a weird cryptic note, and she’s more concerned with you and her, and how I’m ruining the whole thing,” I snarled, curling further into the chair. Matteo’s head cocked, seeming curiously angry.

  “You got a note from Daniel?”

  “Yeah, he’s like, ‘you’re making a mistake.’ Like- what does that even mean?” Tears started to well.

  “Lyla will get over it; you need to deal with your own shit.” He was right. I didn’t need any of this ruining our happiness, destroying this anomaly of goodness.

  “I’ll give it a bit, then go to the police if it gets worse. He’s a blowhard. Nothing’ll come of it.”

  He softened and moved onto the edge of my chair, “I’ll call the police, have them check it out. You can’t let things like this go. Right now, though, I can help take your mind off things. Meet me in two hours at Hotel Azul. Number one on your bucket list is about to happen.” He lifted one eyebrow higher than the other and softly bit his bottom lip, and steadily walked out the door, looking back only to remind me not to be late.

  Quickly and happily, I shifted gears, letting my mind race with the excitement of adventures to come. Life had changed so much in such a short time, and I was ready for every piece of it. I drove myself to the hotel and parked near the entrance. A detailed mosaic of various shades of blue and green greeted me as I met the doorman. Anxiety filled my stomach with each step, birthing butterflies that were insistent on movement. The penthouse suite had its own floor at the very top of the hotel. I knocked, waiting in agony—unsure what to expect when the door opened.

  “You’re late,” he joked, tapping at his wrist with a smile. “I’d hoped to have you to myself for a moment beforehand.” He grabbed my ass, kissing me gently on my neck. “I hope you’re okay that I planned this. I had to have my team screen these women. Also, it has to stay dark so they can’t quite tell who I am,” he continued, closing the door behind him. “Other than that, you’re in control.”

  Nervous energy consumed me. I’d wanted this moment for so long, yet the thought of sharing Matteo suddenly riddled me with regret.

  “Where did you find them? How many are there? Where are they?” I questioned, watching him remove all light from the room.

  He loosened his tie and settled himself into the corner, as a knock rang out at the door. “They’re all willing participants. You have to answer, the light from the hall… my face.”

&n
bsp; Taking a deep breath, I hurried to the door, swallowing my inhibitions dryly.

  “Hannah?” The tiny brunette asked. Her body was tight and small, accentuating her large hard nipples popping from her cotton tank top.

  “Yeah. Come on in.”

  One by one, four stunning brunettes walked through the door and stood in the entry to the penthouse. I led them to a row of chairs near the bed. “Thanks for coming. You can all have a seat right here. Can I get anyone a drink?”

  Matteo sat in a club chair to the left, now naked. His body hard and defined, each muscle highlighted in the vague shadows.

  I didn’t know where to start, how to transition from asking if they’d like a drink to telling them to strip. So, I went for it, enjoying the artificial power.

  “Take off your clothes and have a seat.” As I’d asked, each girl removed her clothes—exposing warm, wet alters I couldn’t wait to invite Matteo into. I pulled down my dress and let it fall to the floor, unclasped my lacy pink bra, and poured each globe out onto my beating chest. Matteo’s eyes focused in on the show as I led the first girl to the bed. Kissing her neck slowly, I let my hand wander up and over her hard, red nipples—savoring the jump of her movement as I grazed them tenderly.

  Continuing, I moved further down towards the soft, pink lips of her flower—jumping when her tongue ran over the heat of my warming body. Sliding a finger inside of her, I pushed between the folds towards her clit. She jumped, letting out a small squeal, releasing the scent of a salty ocean breeze.

  “Come join us,” I whispered towards the other girls, now naked and the touching themselves. Matteo stood to get a closer look as the women laid out on the bed. Four soft folds spread to view as each girl sprayed her long brown hair onto the other's thighs—licking and pulling at lips, moaning and arching in a symphony of sexuality and pleasure.

  With Matteo’s eyes locked on me, I attached myself to the end of the train, pushing aside the thick, swollen lips of a pallor girl. She squirmed with pleasure as I took in her silk, sliding my tongue over her bump in slow, circular motions. I’d wanted this for so long, to taste the scent of another woman on my face, to ride her sweet, delicate waves as she moved with desire.

  Suddenly, pushing from the back against the current, Matteo. He’d slid inside of me, now controlling the rhythm of the line—causing long, untamed hair to thrash with each movement.

  “Oh…god,” I whined, letting the vibration hum between the women’s legs. He continued to thrust, rubbing against the edges of my universe—harder and deeper until I told him to stop.

  “No! You have to lay here. Remember, I’m in control!” I smiled, pulling away from his eager cock, and he collapsed forward on the bed, like a fish in a pond of sharks.

  Whispering orders as though I were a drill sergeant in an army of naked women, I went on. “Booty up, animal style. In a line.”

  Each girl fell into place, pushing up their core to expose their nests. Nests that were now engorged and dripping with anticipation. Matteo looked over at me, as though asking if I was sure.

  I nodded, excited for his pleasure. “Just don’t come. Save that for me.”

  At first, it hurt – seeing him inside another woman. Jealousy and possessive instincts took over, and I was ready to stop the entire experience. But I bit my tongue, holding onto carnal instincts until watching him as a sexual being was erotic on a level I’d never imagined. My clit dilated without touch as I watched him pull at the girls long hair with each thrust—his eyebrows raised and intense, his mouth agape and groaning. Working his way down the line, he felt each girl while keeping eye contact with me, as though we were a team on a mission.

  “How does she feel?” I asked, dreamy with wonder.

  “She’s so wet. You’ve excited her, my Bella.” He spoke breathlessly as he lunged.

  The heat intensified on my cheeks as I watched him take them all in, continuing down the line of treasures until he’d reached the end. Laying down on my back, I pulled at the last girls’ arm, getting her attention, motioning for her to climb onto my face, towards Matteo—then lifted my legs over his shoulders, inviting him in as I flicked the small brunettes delicate clit with my tongue.

  I imagined Matteo watching her tits fly up and down as she bounced lightly on my face, edging towards frenzy. In a race to the finish, I tensed, letting each muscle contract and tighten like a snake around its prey — the sounds of the girls next to us, pleasuring each other heightening the experience. Suddenly, warmth spilled onto the tip of my tongue—the brunette had won our race. I let the dense juices trickle out as she tortured herself in the aftermath, writhing in each shock before rolling away. Moments later, I was in overdrive. All my senses activated in an electric storm that exploded onto Matteo’s thrusting pole. He looked at me with hooded eyes, his brain gone, his dick hard as steel. Curving backwards, he released—mindlessly pumping a few more times before he pulled out and piled back onto the bed.

  Knowing it would drive him wild, I began blowing on his tired cock, slowly tipping the edge of my tongue against his exhaustion. Soon, two other girls joined, pulling at his balls, licking up to the head, and rounding down with full mouths.

  He squinted his eyes, jumping with each touch, “No more, I can’t take anymore.”

  I moved to his face—kissing his lips, watching from his vantage as the other women went down on him, taking him into the back of their throats. Before I could find a reason not to, I was on his face—looking towards the girls as they pleasured him, feeling his rough shadow rub against my mound. He moaned, sending deep vibrations through me, causing reactions that couldn’t be undone. I let my thick juice drip onto his face, grinding in high relief as the girls gripped his cock harder.

  Climbing down off his face, I watched as his head bent back, and his eyes closed tightly—he was coming. And like a pirate stealing treasure— I stole what the girls had worked hard for, licking up his salty aftermath as his cock twitched against my tongue. Drained and exhausted, we laid selfishly lifeless in each other’s arms, watching as the girls continued to please themselves before dressing to leave.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Channel 9 called, they are on board to get some shots of the rebuilt center. It’ll be good publicity for the gala,” Matteo said, still shirtless in his tight boxer briefs.

  “You should go. I’ll stay. I’m not ready to deal with Lyla again.”

  “Bella! You must go; you’re the spokesperson for the gala. Lyla needs to get used to seeing us together.” He’d taken to calling me ‘bella,’ which I rather liked. I rolled my eyes and nodded my head blithely. I knew I shouldn’t let Lyla get to me, but damn it, she did! An hour later we were at the center, crunching across fallen branches and cushions of dead pine.

  “Aren’t you two cute with your matching outfits,” Lyla commented, rolling her eyes.

  “We have one for everyone, they should be in next week,” I answered kindly, despite the awkwardness. “Sorry, we don’t have more today. We grabbed these because the news is coming to advertise for the gala, and we wanted to look the part.”

  She tensed her thin eyebrows and gazed intensely. “Could have given me a heads up. I wouldn’t have worn this torn-up t-shirt.” Her frustration seemed justified. And had we been on better terms, I’d have thought to warn her. I looked at Matteo, standing in the doorway silent.

  “I can’t do anything right,” I mouthed, turning to follow Lyla into the back office. I wanted him to say something profound, something to make her understand he was never into her. Instead, the news arrived. They set up among the wildflowers in front of the center. Ready to do a short interview, then take a tour through the facility.

  My stomach turned. “I don’t like all this attention on me, maybe Lyla should—”

  “No, you’ve got this! Stand next to me and hold that pretty face up high. You’ve done a lot of work; you deserve to be recognized,” Matteo gushed, guiding me by the small of my back towa
rds the reporters.

  I turned to see Lyla’s face, now downcast and glaring. My stomach pitched as the sharply dressed newscaster began speaking. His tone low and regular.

  “Today on Channel 9 News at six, thanks to billionaire Matteo De Luca, the Wildlife Center in North Tahoe gets a makeover! Mr. De Luca has decided to give back to the community he now calls home in a major way. Please, take us for a walk and tell us about the changes you’ve made.”

  “Thank you, Christopher. I want to hand this to the Care Director here at the shelter, Hannah Adams. She’s the one that’s done the real work. I only supplied the funds,” Matteo announced, kindly-looking towards me. Palpations began, and my heart flipped in my chest. Christopher moved the microphone towards me. His young, gentle face, waiting for an answer, or movement of any kind.

  My lips parted, and words fell out, though I wasn’t really sure what I was saying. “Well, if you follow me, I’ll take you on tour. With donations from Mr. De Luca and the community, we’ve been able to purchase a new x-ray machine, and much of the equipment you see here. We’ve also purchased top level food and medicinal supplements for the injured wild that come into the center.” Nervous energy shook my hands as I pointed to each new item like a fool. “If you keep following, you’ll see some animal friends we’ve rescued over the past few months. Peter and Piper are black bear cubs that we found out near Yellow Bridge; their mother was killed by a motorist. Matteo and I were able to rescue the animals and care for them back here at the shelter. They will be ready for release by fall.” I was rambling, though Matteo kept his face dialed on me, smiling as though I were nailing it.

  “Exciting times here at Tahoe Wildlife Center! And the gala is when?” Christopher asked, holding the microphone towards Matteo.

  “That’s going to be July 30, at 7 PM. Tickets are $550 each; however, all donations go towards the Wildlife Center. We’ll have larger raffles, dinner, and a band.” He sounded like a radio DJ despite his fidgeting hand in his pocket.