Ending the kisses, he prodded her past the telescope, toward the window, until her back pressed against it. Yanking at the sash of the little robe, he jerked the fabric apart and let his gaze fall on her every curve. “Fucking beautiful,” he whispered.
“Take me,” she breathed, drawing his eyes back to her face. “Take me hard, Braden. Fuck me.”
Nothing excited him more than hearing her talk dirty, and the more he got to know her, the more he understood how out of character it was, and that it was for him alone. “Say it again. Tell me.”
“Fuck me hard and deep. Make me scream.”
Damn, he even got off on watching her mouth form the words, just seeing them come from sweet little Laura, who had been bold enough to masturbate in the dark and start this wild affair that he never really wanted to end.
Curling his hands possessively over her ass, he picked her up and nailed her to the window with his cock—hard, just like she wanted. She cried out, then leaned her head back against the glass in a huge sigh. “So unbelievably big in me,” she whispered, their faces mere inches apart.
“Oh God,” he said, her words continuing to excite him, now propelling him to drive into her in long, hard strokes designed to make her feel every inch of him in her moist passageway. When his balls bounced against her, he felt her bareness there and it escalated his passion.
Her legs locked around his back, scissoring to pull him into her, help him thrust, and her breasts brushed against his chest as she met each drive. When she began to set a slower, hotter rhythm, he had no choice but to follow. She was gorgeous when nearing orgasm, and he knew that’s what this slower tempo meant. She was taking him in, riding his cock, letting her clit rub against him with every hot little gyration she made.
He wanted to suck her pretty pink nipples, but holding her as he was, he couldn’t get the right angle. So he kissed her mouth instead, more of those sweeping, lingering kisses that were almost as good as the sex itself, then she leaned back her head and he sprinkled more kisses across her long, slender neck.
When she lowered her gaze to him, she said on heavy, heated breaths, “You know someone really could be watching us right now.”
She was right—it would be easy. Two people fucking in the middle of an enormous, lit-up window. Only a few other houses could be seen in the distance from his—the view was mostly pristine mountain and sky—but he knew he wasn’t the only mountain-dweller with a telescope. “Does that excite you?” he asked.
She hesitated only briefly. “Yes.” Another heated breath as she continued to move on him. “It shouldn’t . . . but it does.”
“Baby, good sex isn’t about should or shouldn’t.” He still moved with her, his cock still buried deep, easing her toward climax. “It’s about what is. What excites you. Don’t think. Just feel.”
“You excite me,” she breathed. “More than any man ever has.”
The words shouldn’t have surprised him, all things considered, but they still sent a hot shock of pleasure through his veins. “God, I want to make you come, honey,” he told her. “So, so much.”
She thrust against him, still working her pussy in those hot little circles. “Soon,” she murmured. “So soon.”
“Imagine someone is watching us,” he said.
Her voice came soft, light. “Who?”
“No face, no name. Just someone. Feel their eyes on us. Feel them watching, just like I watched you touch yourself, just like I watched you fuck yourself with the vibrator.”
“Oh . . .” she moaned, arching against him, again, again.
“Do you feel it? Do you feel their eyes? Do you want them to see you come?”
She nodded, breath still ragged, eyes glazed with passion. “But mostly . . . I want you. You to see me. You to watch me.” Her undulations were changing, becoming more pronounced—her breath grew still more audible.
“Well, I’m watching, baby. I’m watching you fuck me slow and sweet. I’m looking at your beautiful body, the way it moves against me. Come for me, honey. Come for me. Come for me.”
She drew in her breath, deep, seeming to hold it—and then the climax broke over her with a high sob as she pushed her cunt harder against him, thrusting, thrusting, crying out, and in that moment, Braden thought she was the most extraordinary woman he’d ever known.
She clung to him when it ended and he hugged her tighter, closer. Then whispered. “I love watching you get off.”
She lifted a small, sensual tongue kiss to his mouth. “Just like when we first met, your eyes alone are enough to make me come.”
“Was it good?”
Her gaze lit up. “Beyond magnificent.”
He spoke lower. “Want more?”
She nodded eagerly, so Braden finally lowered her to the floor but quickly shifted her to face the window. Now it was he who imagined the eyes out there somewhere watching them, getting to see her beautiful body full frontal—her perfect round tits and smooth pussy. He imagined the voyeur’s colossal jealousy—because they could look, but he got to have. All of her.
He pressed her palms flat to the cool window, same as he had in the shower.
He slid his damp cock through the crack of her ass, teasing her beneath the robe still draping her shoulders and back, loving the way she arched toward him, offering herself.
It was an offer he couldn’t resist, so he plunged back inside her without delay. “Oh!” she cried, and he loved even that now, the mere power to make her cry out, make her feel so much.
He bent to breathe in her ear. “Do you love my big cock in your tight little pussy, honey?”
She moaned as he drove deeper. “Oh yes, baby. Yes!”
Dragging his hands over her plump breasts, he settled them on her hips and proceeded to fuck her in earnest, hard and fast, pleased to hear her moan at every thrust.
Moving in her, he let his gaze travel out the window, not thinking of the eyes anymore, but of the stars, of the sensation of the two of them almost being outside. He wanted to fuck her there. He wanted them to be part of nature together, just enjoying each other beneath the sun or the moon or the falling snow.
Next his hand dipped to that sweet, nude mound. He thought he could spend hours just touching it, stroking his fingers over the bare skin, and of course, the pink folds resting between. Her cries increased as he let his middle finger linger over her swollen clit. Swollen even after she’d just come for him. He was going to make her come again.
He stroked her slit with each drive of his cock, moving his fingertips in rhythmic circles over that hot little nub protruding so prominently. “You’re so open for me,” he breathed over her.
“I love . . . when you touch me.” Her voice was but an echo of its usual self.
“You’re going to come for me again, lover,” he promised her. “Your sweet pussy is going to feel like it’s exploding in my hand.”
She responded with only a thready moan, but he kept caressing her as he moved inside her, plunging deep, making her take every inch, listening to her cries of pleasure as his tempo increased. “Gonna come hard,” he said through clenched teeth, not even sure if he was talking about her or himself now.
“Oooh yes, oooh yes,” she cooed, swiveling against both his cock and his hand.
“Come, baby. Come.” And then, to help her along, he lifted his free hand from her hip and brushed his thumb across the tiny fissure of her ass.
“Oh!” she burst out, hands still braced on the glass.
He stroked her there again, gently, making her jolt.
“Come for me now,” he said, his voice more commanding as he raked his thumb deeper over her anal opening—and then she erupted with deep, jagged cries, her whole body trembling with the force of the climax.
“Oh! Oh baby, oh baby! Oh . . .” Her hot moans trailed off only when her body ceased quaking, and Braden needed to hold her, so he closed his arms about her from behind, leaned in close, and kissed her shoulder.
But then his own tension began to bu
ild, from watching her come—twice—from having his cock buried in her hot warmth for so long, from the imagined eyes out the window, from the stars overhead, from everything he’d shared with her.
He pumped into her furiously, his body taking over. He knew nothing but the force of wanting to pummel her hard, drive into her as deeply as possible. She still arched toward him, that sweet offering, and he took it, never slowing his strokes, never easing up, thinking only of how much he wanted to make her feel him, feel his cock, feel his desire. Her cries increased his excitement, as did the sight of her body before him through the naughty transparent black and the reflection of her breasts in the window.
“I’m gonna come, honey!” he yelled.
“Oh yes,” she purred, and the very sound of her voice pushed him over that steep edge into the abyss of pure, pulsating pleasure. It swallowed him, and nothing existed but the heaven she delivered—and he closed his eyes, seeing a whole new sky of twinkling stars.
He slowly started to collapse afterward, so he slid his arms back around her to ease her to the floor with him. And as he turned her to look into her eyes, he knew a second’s worth of fear—because sex like that, he figured, could be just the thing to make Laura revert, feel that awful regret she’d suffered back in the beginning. Yet to his relief, her eyes were filled with nothing but joy. “Still with me?” he asked.
Her grin said she knew exactly what he meant. “All the way, flyboy.”
He smiled in return, too exhausted to do or say more.
“And just so you know,” she said, her voice soft as the night, “that was the most exhilarating sex I’ve ever had.”
Me, too.
But besides being too tired to get the words out, that was simply something she didn’t need to know. It would be giving too much away—from a man who seldom gave anything other than his body and a little charm when it came to women. “I’m glad, snowflake.”
“And I came twice again.” She sounded girlish and delighted.
“Get used to it.”
“What were you doing at the end there, right before I came the second time? Whatever it was . . .” she trailed off, voice as breathy as during sex. “It was fabulous.”
“I was rubbing my thumb on your ass.”
It took her a moment to make sense of that, at which point she raised her eyebrows. “You mean on my, um . . .”
He cast a tired grin. “It’s called an anus, honey.”
“Really? You were rubbing me there?” She sounded sincerely shocked.
He gave a short nod, not surprised to learn she’d never experimented with that particular area. “We’ll file that with spankings,” he told her, “under ‘things to examine later.’ ”
Chapter Ten
Riley Wainscott’s story continued to fly with ease, just as Laura had told Braden last night. Riley’s romance was zipping along quite speedily, too. As Laura herself had just learned, having sex early in a relationship really seemed to up the zip factor.
Not that she was having a relationship with Braden. She wasn’t—she knew that. No matter how intense their sex had been last night, no matter how close to him she’d felt. A new closeness. But that still made this nothing more than an affair. And heck, if all affairs were like this, she was beginning to understand why people had them, even if they went nowhere.
Of course, she wasn’t sure Riley was really having a relationship, either. She and Sloane Bennett mainly talked about the case, the clues, what it all might mean—and then they had sex. Usually in the secret garden. They never planned it—it just happened. Something about that garden was intoxicating to them, turning them both passionate and uninhibited—kind of like Braden Stone had turned Laura last night. She couldn’t believe some of the things she’d said. That the idea of strangers watching them turned her on? Yikes. And yet, in that moment, it had been the truth.
She lifted her gaze from the white computer screen to the white blanket of snow beyond the window and remembered being pressed against that very glass last night, yipping and yowling her head off. Then she caught her breath, her pussy tingling beneath her jogging pants.
Get back to work, she told herself. Riley and Sloane had just had spectacular orgasms beneath one of the pear trees in the garden—and not only that, but Sloane had, while still lying prone atop Riley, spotted something shiny in a rosebush a few yards away, and they’d discovered it to be Mr. Dorchester’s gold cuff links!
As Riley pulled her top back into place, she said, “I didn’t know Mr. D.’s cuff links were even among the missing items.”
Sloane lifted his gaze from the links to her face, looking rumpled and sexy from their romp in the grass. “Neither did I.”
“Does this mean we’re now finding stolen items even your aunt and uncle don’t yet know about?”
Five minutes later, after straightening their clothes and exchanging a few last kisses, Riley and Sloane walked hand in hand back up the path, through the spacious backyard and into the Dorchesters’ house. Riley would have enjoyed more cuddling time with Sloane, but the truth was, she didn’t know where this was leading. Sloane was only in town temporarily, until the mystery was solved, so perhaps it was wise not to get too attached. For Riley, sex had always been part of a healthy relationship, so this was something new . . . and potentially frightening. She could only hope the affair wouldn’t leave her too emotionally scarred.
“Aunt Winifred,” Sloane addressed his aunt when they found her in the front parlor, “we need to talk to you for a minute,”
“Well, sit down, you two, and let’s chat. Any new clues?”
“Yes,” Sloane replied, opening his palm to reveal the gold links. “These. We found them in . . .” He glanced over at Riley. They’d not yet told anyone about discovering the garden, although they’d never discussed why. Riley couldn’t help thinking it had started to seem like their own special place, though neither had used such words to describe it. Finally, Sloane went on. “We found them in a garden, back on the grounds beyond the vegetable patch. Someplace I’d never seen before. A beautiful little garden with a wall of high shrubbery around it.”
Mrs. Dorchester’s face flushed noticeably.“Oh my.Well then, I guess now you know our little secret.”
Riley leaned forward slightly. “Little secret?”
Mrs. D. shifted her glance back and forth between them, then spoke confidingly. “Many years ago, when Mr. Dorchester and I were young, we . . . well, we wished to have a private place, all our own. Oh, I know what you’re thinking—we have this lovely house and the rest of the estate, yet . . .” She stopped, sighed. “Sloane, you may be surprised to hear this, but your uncle Howard was one romantic devil when we were first wed. And what with the servants and other visitors running hither and thither around this house, well . . . he wanted us to have our own private sanctuary, someplace we could be alone without . . . well, without fear of interruptions, if you know what I mean. That garden was our private love nest for many years, and I’ll tell you another secret, too. Had God ever blessed us with children, that’s probably where the blessing would have taken place.”
Both Sloane and Riley flinched. Sometimes when Mrs. D. got on a roll, she forgot to shut up, and this seemed to be one of those times.
“We had many a romantic interlude there, and I remember one particular time,” she went on, starting to say more—until Sloane held up his hand.
“Aunt Winnie, stop. Too much information.”
The older woman covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. “Oh me, I suppose I did get a bit carried away with myself, didn’t I?”
Neither answered, and Sloane said, “Do you, uh, still go back there with Uncle Howard?” Riley could feel the wheels turning in Sloane’s head—he didn’t want to find out they’d all been rolling around in the same grass, and neither did she.
“Oh no, not for a long while now,” she said, and Riley mentally wiped her brow.
“But you still keep the garden the same as it was?” Sloane ask
ed.
Mrs. D. cast a merry little smile. “It’s a sentimental place for us,” she explained. “Well worth the time it takes Hawthorne to keep it groomed and tidy.”
Riley and Sloane immediately exchanged glances. Mr. Hawthorne had been the gardener for many years, and finding out he knew about the garden meant that, finally, they had a suspect.
“Does anyone else know of the garden?” Riley asked.
Mrs. D. tilted her head first one way, then the other, thinking. “No, I don’t believe so. It’s not so much that it’s a secret we try to keep, you understand, but we’ve simply never mentioned it to anyone. On the occasions we stroll to the garden, well . . . knowing it’s ours alone makes the visit somehow a little sweeter.”
Riley could certainly understand that, given her own recent experiences in the garden.
“Of course, now you two know about it,” Mrs. D. said, but then she smiled. “Not that I mind. I’ve always been fond of you both, and who knows, perhaps our little love nest will hold the same magical romance for the two of you, as well.”
Riley practically leapt to the end of the couch, away from Sloane.They’d let no one in on their affair and hadn’t planned to, having decided there was no need to get their relatives involved in something that was just between them.“Why on earth would you think that?” Riley asked, trying not to sound flustered.
Mrs. D. looked uncharacteristically dour, again switching her gaze back and forth between them. “I guess you two think the rest of us around here are blind, but it’s been clear you have the hots for each other since the moment you walked in that door, Riley Wainscott.” Mrs. Dorchester pointed toward the foyer, and Riley shrunk back into the sofa.
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