The Voyeur Next Door

by Airicka Phoenix

  I wanted to kiss her like my next breath depended on it.

  Her unbound hair danced behind her with the breeze. The array of colors seemed to shimmer beneath the late summer sun in a way that tempted me to comb my fingers through the rich strands. She wore a soft, gray skirt over black stockings and a white blouse. Black heels adorned her feet, making her lush legs appear endless and sexy as fuck. Her purse was missing, as were her glasses, and I couldn’t say I missed either.

  “Can I come in?”

  Feeling like an idiot for staring, I backed away and let her into the tiny foyer. Her scent seemed to conquer the space almost immediately. It tangled with the scent of baked apples and my mother’s jungle of flowers outside.

  I shut the door behind her.

  “Don’t,” I said when she started to take her shoes off.

  “Are you sure?”

  She looked up at me with those green eyes made up in that way only women knew how and I had never been more sure of anything.

  “Keep them on.”

  She straightened, her shoes still strapped to her feet. With them on, she just came to my shoulders, just tall enough to make taking that mouth of hers all the easier. God, I knew it was wrong, but with her stockings, short skirt and neatly buttoned blouse, all I could think about was how badly I wanted her, how badly I wanted to tear her stockings, rip open her blouse, and hike up her skirt to get to that pussy she had spread open for me only days ago. The fact that she was watching me with those wide eyes and parted lips didn’t help matters. If anything, I could have sworn she was thinking the same thing.

  “Gabriel…”

  “Go!”

  The growl caught us both off guard. It burst out of me before I could let the beast inside get his taste of her sweet flesh.

  Ali gave a jolt and started down the corridor. Her strides were uneven, like her legs were unsteady, but she reached the end and paused. One hand settled on the wall as she turned her head over her shoulder to peer back at me. But it wasn’t uncertainty or fear in her eyes when they met mine again.

  It was longing.

  I spent the remainder of the evening fighting and failing not to stare at Ali’s legs. I tried not to notice how long and toned they were, or how perfectly I would fit between them. I tried not to imagine them around my shoulders while I feasted on her pussy. I tried not to imagine them tangled in my sheets the next morning. But it was a losing battle, one that steadily ate at my sanity until I was sure I would either explode in my pants, or fuck her right where she sat, screw whoever else was in the room.

  The woman in question was no help at all. She sat so innocently with her legs neatly folded and her attention on the people around us. She talked and laughed with my family like she’d done it a million times. And my family loved her. I could tell. Oh, but if only they knew what a little tease she was.

  At first I wondered if it was my horny imagination, the sidelong glances, the shy little smiles, the accidental nudges under the table. But when she excused herself to use the washroom and met my gaze in passing, I knew exactly what she wanted and my pants grew several inches tighter with giddy delight. The only problem was that I couldn’t, not when the bathroom was separated from the sitting area and kitchen by a mere wall and my entire family was on the other side, and I knew she knew that, which made me all the hotter to have her.

  When she returned, I felt her brush along the length of my forearm in passing. She was close enough that I could count the stitching along the seam of her skirt, so close, she nudged my hand on the armrest. I watched the sway of her hips all the way to the other side of the coffee table.

  Christ, what the fuck was she doing?

  “So, Ali, Earl tells me you work for the garage?” Beatrice settled a fond hand on Earl’s knee. “That must be exciting.”

  Taking the seat next to Tammy on the fold out chair, Ali chuckled. “You should have asked me that when I first started.”

  Earl laughed and patted Beatrice’s hand. “Ali had to organize the paperwork.”

  “Which hadn’t been sorted in … how many years, Earl?” Ali teased with a mock glower.

  Earl grimaced sheepishly. “We’re not filers,” he told Beatrice. “It was…”

  “A nightmare?” Ali supplied. “Cruel and inhumane torture?”

  Beatrice laughed. “But at least you get to work with Gabriel, right? That must be a perk.”

  Ali’s gaze shot to mine, her confusion mirroring my own before she turned to the woman once more.

  “Why would—?”

  Beatrice’s smile dimmed. Her brown eyes darted to Earl for an explanation.

  “I thought you said—”

  “You know what we need?” Earl rose quickly to his feet. “That wine you brought. I think we can all use a glass.”

  “Me too?” Tammy jumped in excitedly.

  “No!” three people said simultaneously, forcing her back in her seat with a pout.

  “Why don’t you help me with that cork?”

  Earl propelled Beatrice off the sofa and led her towards the kitchen.

  On my left, Mom shifted forward and settled a hand on Jonas’s knee.

  “Darling, did I turn the stove off?”

  “I’ll check.”

  Patting her hand reassuringly, Jonas rose to his feet and disappeared into the kitchen as well.

  Mom sighed, shaking her head. “I always forget to turn it off.”

  “She left it on for a whole night once,” Tammy said. “The house smelled like burnt chicken for a week. Oh! Speaking of burnt chicken, my play’s next month,” she said to Ali. “Are you coming?”

  Ali’s eyes widened. “Me?”

  “Well, yeah, you’re like my costume designer. Shouldn’t you be there to see your piece at work?”

  “Oh, I didn’t think—”

  “It’s the only fun thing I’m allowed to do until I’m thirty, which legally, isn’t even possible, but whatever. So you have to come.”

  Ali nodded. “Okay.”

  Tammy beamed. “Awesome. You don’t have to bring flowers, but if you do, black ones.”

  “Tamara!” Mom gasped, outraged.

  Ali laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Tammy nodded. “Oh, and if you could boo when Alyssa comes on—”

  “Tamara!” Mom looked like she was going to pop an eye vessel.

  “What? She’s a little snitch. She’s lucky I don’t fill her locker with dog shit and set it on fire.”

  “Okay, that is enough. I think it’s time for bed. Now!” Mom snapped when Tammy continued to sit there and glower.

  Rolling her eyes, Tammy shot to her feet and stomped out of the room, just as Jonas returned with Earl and Beatrice. Each carried two wine glasses.

  “Where did Tammy go?” Beatrice wondered, handing me a glass.

  “To bed.” Mom said shortly, accepting the drink Jonas passed her. “So how did you and Earl meet, Beatrice?”

  “Well…” Beatrice took her seat once more next to me and smiled at Earl when he slid in on her other side. “I was at the park, watching the ducks on the lake and he walked by. Our eyes met and he smiled.” She gave an embarrassed little chuckle, her cheeks pink. “Then, as he was walking away, he dropped his wallet. I hurried after him and we got to talking…”

  “We spent the whole day feeding the ducks and wandering the park,” Earl chimed in, beaming widely. “I would have stayed there all night had this one not gotten tired.”

  Beatrice swatted at him fondly. “It was already well after midnight!”

  “So I asked her out for coffee the next morning,” Earl went on.

  “That was six months ago,” Beatrice finished, smiling lovingly at him.

  “Aw!” Ali sighed. “That’s really sweet, but I do notice a pattern here, Earl. You drop things a lot.”

  Earl frowned. “I’m an old man! My hands aren’t what they used to be. Arthritis,” he said to Beatrice.

  “You’re not old!” Beatrice protested.r />
  While they argued about their ages and the downfalls of getting old, I watched Ali. I noted she never touched her drink. She held it, but it never went to her lips, just like her fork at supper hadn’t. While it moved around on her plate, she never actually ate anything. Afterwards, she had settled her napkin overtop and helped Mom clear away the table.

  Now, I had seen a great number of skinny girls in my day. I knew how to recognize those who never ate to maintain that level of thinness. But Ali wasn’t one of them. She clearly ate, or I would know. So I couldn’t understand what the problem was.

  As though sensing my eyes on her, she peeked over through dusky lashes. Green eyes bore into mine, unwavering, unflinching, and filled with everything I was fighting like hell to suppress.

  “Didn’t you bring pie?”

  She looked momentarily surprised by my question, but she recovered quickly and nodded. “Yes.”

  “I love pie,” I said, never breaking eye contact.

  “Pie!” Mom said excitedly. “Yes, pie would be amazing with this wine. Gabriel, why don’t you go cut it up for everyone?”

  I rose without question.

  “Why don’t you give me a hand?”

  She hesitated, but gingerly set her wine down and rose. I waited until she’d passed me before following her into the kitchen.

  “I’m not really hungry for pie—”

  I grabbed her around the waist, just above her hips and I dragged her back into me with just enough force to show her I was in charge. Her palpable gasp fueled my hunger. It tightened my grip on her. It was still not the right place to do what I wanted, but we were out of eye shot and that was enough for now.

  “Neither am I,” I growled into her ear, walking her forcibly to the table. “Are you a pyro, Ali? Do you like playing with fire?”

  “What—?”

  I took her by the wrists and pinned her hands palm down on the flat surface, far enough away from her body so she was bent forward and I was curved into her back.

  “Don’t!” I hissed, letting the warning crackle in my voice. “Don’t pretend like you have no idea what I’m talking about. I’ve been playing this game for so much longer.” I kicked her feet apart. “And I am much better at it.”

  “Gabriel…”

  My intentions were to shock her, maybe even scare her enough to stop looking at me like she was picturing us fucking. But the moment I had her in my grasp, had her pert little backside settled perfectly over my throbbing erection, I forgot all about the plan. There was nothing but the snarling beast urging me to take what she was so eagerly offering, what she had already proclaimed as mine.

  “Is this what you want?” I pushed my bulge harder into the crevice of her ass. The heat of her core burned through our layers to singe me. “Were you hoping I would follow you into the bathroom, bend you over the sink, and fuck you?” I closed my hand into her hair and dragged her head back as far as possible without hurting her. “Answer me!”

  Her panting drove me crazy. It made me want to take a knife to her clothes and then spend the night beating five years of sexual frustration into her pussy.

  “Yes,” she gasped, rocketing me back to the present. “I want you.”

  “Me, or Q?”

  Her hesitation spoke before she did. “Q.”

  Waves lapped over me in a white hot surge of fury that stunned even me for a moment. I couldn’t believe I was actually jealous of myself. It was insane, but I was. I hated that she wanted a fictional part of me over the real me. Like I wasn’t good enough. Part of me wanted to take her anyway, just to prove I could satisfy her like Q never could, which was also insane. I did, however, know that had she chosen me, I would have taken her home that very night and never let her go.

  “Q is gone,” I bit out, shoving away from her. “He’s not coming back, and if he’s the one you want between those legs, stop looking to me to make it happen, because I can only give you me and if that’s not enough … I can’t help you.”

  I walked out before I could change my mind.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ali

  Mortified. Disgusted. Ashamed.

  I couldn’t list enough words to describe my level of self-loathing. My behavior the night before was one I would have expected from a whore, or a dog in heat. Not from someone who had gone four years without sex and survived. What was worse, I had flat out told Gabriel it wasn’t him I wanted, but I still wanted him to fuck me. The insanity of that alone made me want to bash my brains in. I didn’t blame him at all for smacking me down. I deserved it. But what kept me up that night wasn’t my behavior, it was him not giving me a chance to explain. By the time I had returned to the living room with pie, he had already left. I had stayed another hour so as not to be rude before making my own departure, but the guilt had eaten me alive the whole night. The only consolation was the knowledge that I would see him in the morning and hopefully he’d let me explain.

  I arrived at work promptly at eight. The garage doors were open and the construction crew were already hard at work rebuilding the wall. I ignored them. My gaze was already sifting through the faces in search of one. My heart jumped when I spotted him.

  He was half buried beneath the hood of a station wagon parked in the third bay, the last bay from the group. He wore his mechanic’s jumpsuit with his filthy boots, but I knew he had jeans and a white t-shirt on underneath. His hands were blackened all the way to his forearms as he took a wrench to the engine. Nervous, my fingers tightened around my purse as I moved closer.

  “Gabriel?”

  He stopped his tinkering and glanced up. His expression was closely guarded, but at least he hadn’t turned me away.

  “Hi.” I tried to smile only to have it slip into nothing. “Can I talk to you, please?”

  He turned back to the engine, started to twist the wrench, but stopped. He sighed heavily, released the tool and straightened. He faced me. I had his full attention.

  I drew in a breath, as deep as I could before speaking.

  “I’m sorry about last night. It was wrong of me to do what I did and I honestly have no excuse. It was…” I shook my head slowly, cheeks hot enough to shame the sun. “Disgusting how I acted and I don’t blame you for the things you said. You were right.”

  “Ali—”

  I put my hand up, stopping him. “Please. I need to finish.” At his nod, I continued. “I know Q is you and you are Q and you’re the same person, but you’re not. At least, not to me. When I think of you, I think hard, angry, and someone who was doesn’t want me around. When I think of Q, I think funny, sweet, caring, and passionate. He understood me and accepted me.” I nibbled hard on my lip when it threatened to tremble. “And he wanted me.”

  A deep line formed between Gabriel’s brows, knitting them together over darkened eyes that seemed to be drilling into my soul.

  “And I don’t?” he said tightly.

  “You said you didn’t,” I reminded him. “All the time.”

  “No!” He tore out a dirty rag from his pocket and twisted it around his hands, cracking bones in the vicious attack to wipe off the grease. “I said I didn’t want you here, in the shop.”

  His implication had my heart galloping heedlessly into notions and longings I would never come back from. It ignored my head’s warning to stop. It didn’t seem to care that it was heading straight for a cliff.

  “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore,” I whispered at last. “We both agreed that it was over and I promise last night will never happen again. We’ll carry on as we have been and pretend none of this ever happened.”

  Insides in agony as though I’d swallowed broken glass, I turned away before he could see just how badly it hurt to look at him. I couldn’t believe how seamlessly he had gone from being the asshole who made my temper flare to the man I couldn’t get out of my head. I partially couldn’t help hating myself for not being strong enough to forget him the way I managed to forget Tony. I had barely felt anything when he’d walked aw
ay and we were together a year. I’d known Gabriel a month and already he had crawled so far beneath my skin that I could barely function properly. What hurt the most was the fact that I lost the one person who actually understood me in the process.

  I spent the next two weeks acting like the sight of Gabriel didn’t cut me up inside. I went to work every day, did my job, and went home to wander an empty apartment. Even my neighbor watching lacked its usual thrill. I missed Q. I missed sharing my hobby with him. I missed hearing his voice, which was ridiculous, because I talked to Gabriel every day about one thing or another. Several times, because I had no life, I logged into the chatroom just to see if he was there, but he never was.

  By the third week, I came to the soul crushing realization that I was obsessing and heading down a path reserved for crazy, controlling ex-girlfriends; Gabriel didn’t want me, I needed to come to terms with that and let go, especially when it seemed like I was the only one hurting. It didn’t help that he was always there like a sick reminder. But that was to be expected when you worked with someone. It was why work relationships were such a bad idea.

  Lesson learned.

  The night of Tamara’s play, I dressed carefully in an outfit that would be comfortable and sensible for a high school. I had never been to one before, so I wasn’t sure how fancy one dressed up for such an event. I figured it wasn’t the opera, so I went with a sleeveless, black dress, black heels over black stockings and a silver belt. On a whim, I curled my hair and applied a light coat of makeup, mainly around my eyes. All in all, I could be going anywhere and would still look fine. Unless it really was the opera.

  I left my purse at home, but stuffed my credit card, driver’s license, lip gloss, and cell phone into a small clutch purse. The weightlessness of it was unsettling, but I let it go as I hurried out of the apartment to my car.

  Tamara had texted me a week before to let me know she had reserved me a seat and that I could get the ticket at the doors. I wasn’t sure if I needed ID and prayed I wouldn’t have to drag Tamara out to vouch for me.

  For a high school play, the streets leading up to the school were insane. Cars lined almost three blocks, circling like vultures over a dead carcass. The building itself was lit up like Time Square. Against the evening backdrop, it appeared to shimmer like some fairy castle. I would have been impressed if I wasn’t busy trying not to ram into the car in front of me for going five kilometers an hour.