The Voyeur Next Door

by Airicka Phoenix

  “Get her done,” was all I told Jeff. “I want it done by Wednesday.”

  Jeff blinked. “That’s only seven days.”

  “That’s a week,” I said evenly. “You said a week, Jeff.”

  He nodded with a reluctance that would have made me laugh if I had the patience for it.

  I left him to tell his men and made my way out of the garage towards my Jeep Cherokee parked out in the driveway. Using the front bumper, I hefted myself up and sat on the hood; with the stairs up to the loft gone, there was really nowhere else for me to go without leaving altogether and I wasn’t leaving a bunch of strangers alone with thousands of dollars’ worth of tools and equipment.

  Most of the day had been lost watching them work. I wasn’t one for playing games on my phone, or texting. My phone never even got used unless it was to make a call. Tammy thought I was insane and couldn’t understand why I didn’t worship my phone the way she did hers. I didn’t even have any apps downloaded. It was basic with my contacts and the odd photo. So I had absolutely nothing to preoccupy my mind as I sat there, in temperatures that could fry eggs and watched as my shop was put back together.

  “Hi.”

  The quiet murmur of uncertainty propelled my heart up into my throat with a jolt of excitement and dread.

  It wasn’t because I wasn’t expecting anyone to come up behind it. It was because that voice sent a scuttle of electricity coursing down the length of my spine to fill my cock with blood, and there was no reason for it.

  I turned my head, not sure who to expect and was surprised to find Ali inching towards me, face bunched against the sun. A tote bag hung from her fingers, bumping against her legs. Her hair was twisted up in its habitual knot and she had her purse strapped across her chest like a machine gun. But it was her outfit that gave me pause. Her usual baggy blouse and flowy skirts were replaced by a white t-shirt tucked into a short, navy blue skirt that stopped inches from the tops of her knees. A slim, brown belt nipped around her waist, matching the sandals strapped to her feet. I had never seen so much skin on her before. I honestly hadn’t even been sure she had legs, yet there they were, long, toned and beautiful with slender feet that were tipped with coral pink toes. Her body was lithe with curves in all the places I liked them on a woman, especially around the hips and the swell of her breasts straining the front of her top. My sanity almost missed her old clothes.

  “Hi,” I forced, praying to God she wouldn’t notice the bulge pushing up the front of my pants. “What are you doing here?”

  She shifted uncomfortably. Her hand drifted down the front of her skirt and twisted around the strap of her purse. I followed the motion and my gaze lingered on her legs; she had great legs. The kind that could wrap forever around a man as he drove her into the mattress with every vicious thrust. It was completely inappropriate and did nothing to appease my hard on, but I couldn’t stop staring.

  “I walked by earlier and noticed you were sitting out here,” she explained. “I kind of figured you still would be.”

  That didn’t really tell me anything. But I wouldn’t complain. She was a better sight than the six hairy men working on rebuilding my shop.

  “Did you need something?” I wondered.

  “Need?” she echoed, testing out the word. “No, I was actually thinking … I mean…” She set the tote bag down at her feet and bent down. I watched the rise of her skirt over her thighs as she shook out a brown paper bag and held it out to me. “I thought you might be hungry.”

  I blinked, having been too caught up in the new stretch of skin exposed.

  “It’s only a pizza,” she said. “And I didn’t touch it.”

  I hadn’t even thought of that. I honestly wasn’t sure I would have cared. Food was food and I was starving, more for her than food, but I would take whichever I could get.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I said instead, eyeing the bag.

  “I know.” She gave it a little shake. “But I was out anyway so…” Her arm began to lower. “If you don’t want it—”

  I grabbed it before she could take it away. She continued to stand there and watch me as I tore it open and peered inside.

  There were three slices of pizza wrapped in silver foil, a bag of chips and a cold bottle of water. I took out the first slice and pushed back the wrapper.

  “Well…” She began edging away. “I’ll let you eat and see you—”

  “It’s going to take a week,” I said, chomping down on the juicy explosion of tomato sauce, pepperoni, and cheese.

  “That’s crazy,” she said, but made no further effort to leave. “What are you going to do for a week?”

  I shrugged, taking another bite. “Wait for them to finish.”

  Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth and she peered contemplatively at the shop again.

  “That’s going to suck for business,” she mused at last. “Being closed that long.”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Couldn’t you stay open while they worked?” she wondered. “True no one can get to the loft for lunch, but you can still work in the shop.”

  I paused eating to study the bay doors. “What about the phones and paperwork?” I glanced at her. “Your space.”

  She shrugged. “I can work from anywhere,” she said, fishing her phone out from somewhere in that monster-sized purse of hers. “I’ll forward the office to my cell and all I really need is a chair and a clipboard.”

  I eyed her. “Do you really want to come back to work?” I teased her. “This could be like a vacation.”

  She snorted. “I’ve been on vacation for three months.”

  I rubbed the pizza crumbs off my fingers onto my worn jeans. “I’ll think about it.” Now that some of the gnawing pain had subdued, I focused more closely on the sliver of crust gripped between my fingers. “How did you know pepperoni and cheese was my favorite?” Or that I usually had three slices, or that Mamma Tomas was my favorite pizza.

  “I’m observant,” she stated simply. “You always have pizza on Wednesdays from the same place, except you always get Dr. Pepper, but I figured since you’re sitting out in the heat all day, water was a better option.”

  I wasn’t sure which of those things caught at my attention more, the fact that she watched me, or that I was so predictable.

  “Thanks,” I said, not sure what else to say.

  She nodded.

  “What do you eat on Wednesdays?” I asked, realizing I had never once seen her eat anything.

  Ali shrugged, refusing to meet my gaze. “I don’t know.” She sighed. “I should leave you to eat. I left a mess on my bed that needs to be cleaned.”

  With a wave of her fingers, she was gone before I could pull myself out of images of her bed, which oddly enough, looked a lot like Aoife’s.

  I was exhausted from the heat by the time I got home and showered. All I could think about was climbing into bed and sleeping. I even glanced longingly at the sheets before reminding myself I promised Aoife I would see her at seven.

  Something was different. I couldn’t momentarily put my finger on it. Then it hit me; she wore a different robe, but it wasn’t just that. There was a light radiating on her that seemed to illuminate her pale skin in all the places the scrap of fabric didn’t cover. It shimmered over the thick waves cascading down around her shoulders in a dark waterfall. Unlike her peach colored robes, this one was white and lacy and delved deep between high, firm breasts that strained the material to an inch of its life. It was pinned together by a sash, but even that seemed to be knotted very loosely, like at any moment, the whole thing could come undone.

  “Christ.”

  “Hi,” she whispered, her voice holding more than just a hint of nerves.

  “Open your legs.”

  If at any point I ever doubted her outfit change wasn’t designed to deliberately torture me, it was overruled when her knees immediately parted and I was given a glimpse of the white triangle of lace nestled in between.


  “Did you wear that for me?”

  “Yes.” Her fingers toyed with the end of the sash. “I bought a few new outfits today.”

  “Jesus.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  Her giggle was endearing. “Yes.”

  I let my hand drop down into my lap and I traced the curves and lines of her body hugged by that useless bit of clothing. It concealed nothing. I could clearly make out the faint outlines of her nipples, and with her knees parted, the indents of her pussy lips.

  “And what were you hoping to accomplish by wearing that?” I wondered, my voice tight with my own building, and painful, arousal. “Would you take it off if I tell you and sit there beautifully naked for me?”

  Her chest rose and fell quickly, pushing the spongy mounds tighter against the front of her robe.

  “Yes.”

  “Do it,” I instructed. “Take it off.”

  Her fingers were visibly trembling when she reached for the sash. It came undone easily and the robe slipped over her shoulders and down her arms. It was carelessly tossed aside and she sat before me with her knees folded beneath her and her hands resting lightly in her lap. In that position, with her shoulders squared and her back straight, her breasts were thrust forward proudly, the nipples tight and dark against the soft pallor of her skin. The sight of them made my mouth water and my hands ached to touch, to tease and torment until she was a writhing mess beneath me.

  “Open your legs wider.”

  Her knees parted until I could see the narrow stretch of fabric thinning to practically a thread all the way up the valley of her ass.

  “Turn around.”

  She scooted back and turned. The camera shuddered as she showed me the slender length of her spine to where an elaborate rose design sat at the small of her back, keeping the bits of string in place over her pussy.

  “Bend down on your forearms and lift your ass to the camera.”

  There was no hesitation. Her body slid forward. Her back arched as she lifted her hips into the air. The bit of string nestled along her sex barely covered the smooth, wet stretch of skin. But it did the job. It gave me just enough to want more. It made me want to be back there. I wanted to be the one to push aside the string and reach between her thighs. I wanted to be the one to push her forward and line myself up with her opening. Instead, all I could do was envy a piece of fabric and palm my cock.

  “Touch her. Slowly.”

  Slim fingers glided up the lips of her pussy and spread to cover her mound. She traced the thread from ass to clit in a slow stroke and I inwardly swore. The pale material was soaked over her slit and getting wetter the longer she touched.

  I was tempted to tell her to show me, to push the barricade aside and let me see what I would claim first chance I got. But I refrained. I let her run the show. I let her play the instrument that was her own body and enjoyed the symphony she made with every gasp, moan, and sigh.

  My patience paid off. Her fingers hooked her panties and nudged them aside, revealing smoothly shaven lips and delicately folded skin making up one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen.

  While all women had a vagina, any man will tell you that no two ever look the same, and odds were, most were downright frightening. I had only ever been with one other woman, but I had seen enough pussy in my life just from visiting the clubs with Regina that I recognized the difference. Sex was an open concept in most underground playgrounds. Not all pussies fascinated, or turned me on. Aoife had a beautiful pussy. It was perfect, tight and compact and just the right amount of pink. Her slit glistened like an invitation that was liberally leaking down to coat her swollen clit.

  She slid her fingers into the pool, coating them and dragging them from hole to clit in slow, even strokes. Her moans were little pants in my ear and I knew them well enough to distinguish just how close she was.

  I wasn’t ready to come, not that I couldn’t if I put my mind to it. But I wasn’t the kind that needed to go every time his woman did. There were times I was perfectly content just watching her. This was one of those times.

  I palmed my cock through my sweats and enjoyed the sight on screen. On the phone, Aoife whimpered. Her hips thrashed against her pumping fingers. The clear fluid that had coated her opening moments ago thickened and trickled over her knuckles and dripped onto the sheets.

  “You’re so wet,” I groaned. “Are you coming, baby?”

  Two fingers sunk deep inside her and came out coated in sleek, white cream that was rubbed over her clit before delving back inside her pussy.

  She made a sound between a sob and a gasp. “Yes!”

  I didn’t have to hear her low, guttural wail to know when she came. I could see the tightening of her ring around her fingers and the rapid pulsing that followed as her pussy milked at the object giving it pleasure. I could only imagine having them grip me as I slammed deep inside her, making her ride out that orgasm until the very last shudder. I wanted to feel her rushing hot and wet around me. Truthfully, I wanted to do things to that pussy that would forever ruin it for anyone else but me. The bone deep desire shocked even me.

  “Keep rubbing your clit,” I told her when her fingers slipped free, leaving her opening winking at me through the screen.

  Her slick fingers rolled over her clit and she gave a violent tremor. Her choked gasp filled my ears. Her slit clenched and I gritted my jaw as the hunger rampaged through me. I wanted like hell to slide up behind her and fuck her until she couldn’t sit for a week.

  I told her so and watched with dark fascination as she climaxed again.

  “Just tell me when,” she panted into the phone mid third orgasm. “She’s yours.” She emphasized by circling the tight ring of her opening with one finger. Then using two to pry it apart in invitation. “I want your cock stretching me.”

  Christ.

  I came in my sweats.

  I could have sworn the days just kept getting hotter and hotter. I found myself roasting alive the next day as the crew worked on installing the framework. Even with the shade, the hood of my Jeep burned beneath me. I was sure my ass was getting one hell of a tan.

  Most of the upstairs had been done. Both sets of stairs had been converted into a wooden ramp that had to be adjusted and aligned to properly fit the angle. The only thing left was the wall of windows I wanted put in to overlooking the shop below. That had been a last minute decision brought on solely by images of Ali sitting up there in that concrete prison for ten hours every day. Also, a part of me that I refused to acknowledge in my decision making process, liked the idea of seeing her whenever I glanced up.

  “Back again?”

  The teasing taunt had me glancing over my shoulder and watching as the object of my constant fascination walked towards me, tote bag in tow. She wore a dress in soft purple that hung off her shoulders and fell in a wave of fabric around her legs. There was a straw hat on her head, concealing part of her face, but I knew, even before she tipped back her head who was underneath.

  “So are you,” I noted, enjoying the sight of Ali walking towards me.

  She sighed dramatically and rolled a bare shoulder. “What can I say, I have a bleeding heart.” She stopped two feet away, both hands clasped around the tote bag dangling nearly to the ground. “I feel bad about letting you stay out here alone.”

  I leaned back on the hood and propped my weight up with my hands, ignoring the hot metal stinging my palms.

  “I’m not alone. I have six very interesting men just inside.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “I’m not sure how to take that.”

  I couldn’t help it, I chuckled. “Definitely not like that. What?” I said when I caught her studying me with a peculiar look on her face.

  “Nothing. I was just thinking how laughing looks good on you.” She shifted. “You should do it more.”

  “Laugh?”

  She nodded. “Not that scowling doesn’t do wonders for your complexion, but…” She shrugged. “Anyway, I
brought lunch.”

  She drew out a Styrofoam takeout container and held it out to me along with a plastic fork.

  I hesitated. “You don’t have to keep bringing me food, Ali.”

  “I know, but I also know you won’t get yourself lunch, so…” She wiggled the container at me. “As your secretary, it’s my duty to make sure you eat.”

  I took the offered meal, surprised to find it still warm.

  “I didn’t realize that was in the contract.”

  She withdrew two bottles of water, but only held out one. I took it.

  “It’s written in invisible ink.”

  I chuckled. “Like the squirrel?”

  Ali grinned. “Something like that.” She set the second bottle down next to my hip. “For later.”

  I studied her as she drew back and closed the tote bag.

  “Didn’t get yourself anything?”

  She shrugged and shook her head. “No, I don’t like parmesan penne with extra parmesan.”

  I would have chuckled, except my mind was overcrowded with other thoughts, like how well she knew me and how I knew next to nothing about her. That bothered me, not because she paid so much better attention, but because I didn’t pay enough of it.

  “I guess I should—”

  “Stay,” I blurted before she could take a single step away from me. I raised my head and peered at her. “I’d like the company.”

  She fidgeted uneasily with her purse strap. Her gaze went to the open shop window and the men hammering away inside. Then darted back to me.

  “Are you sure? I know I’m not your favorite person.”

  It took all my restraint not to do something irreparably stupid like gather her up in my arms and tell her … hell, I didn’t know what, but something that would get me into a whole mess of trouble.

  “I’m sure,” I said instead.

  She hesitated a moment longer before edging around to stand on my other side.

  I patted the empty spot next to me on the hood. “Hop on.”

  “Oh … um…”