Braden peered up at her, his look pointed when she drew her gaze back inside. “You’re watching them.”
“Oh God, you’re right.” She took a nervous sip of her wine.
“No, baby—you don’t get it,” Braden said, gently massaging her slick inner thighs with wet hands. “I want you to watch them—while I get you off.”
Laura drew in her breath. Braden had such a way of making things she’d always considered extreme or even perverse seem completely normal.
“Watch them, Laura,” he said again—because she was still looking at him. “Watch them.”
“Maybe I want to watch you.” She was learning what a powerful aphrodisiac one’s eyes could be, and she couldn’t deny she loved the sight of him working his mouth between her thighs.
“Think of me instead,” he said. “And this time—just this time—watch them. For me.”
She let out a sigh. Watch them for me.
For Braden, she would.
So as he thrust his fingers into her cunt and delivered rhythmic licks to the folds of flesh above, she peered back out the window, down through the trees, and became what she’d briefly thought of herself as moments earlier. A voyeur.
She watched as Stan withdrew from Candy, his penis shining with wetness even this far away. Candy turned and sat back on the dining room table, spreading her legs as wide for her husband as Laura spread for Braden now. Each of Braden’s licks echoed through her strong enough to make her moan, and she began to thrust at him, lifting against his mouth.
When she glanced down at the arousing sight of Braden tonguing her pinkness, he stopped just long enough to say, “Watch them. In fact, tell me what they’re doing since I can’t see.”
Laura drew in another deep breath, then tried to describe what she witnessed in the house next door. “She’s sitting on the table now. She has on black stockings, and sexy, high-heeled shoes. He’s . . . he’s leaning over her, kissing her breasts, and now . . . now he’s sliding into her, all the way.”
For the first real time, Laura began to worry briefly that the neighbors could easily look up and see her through the window, especially if they really had sex in that particular spot hoping Braden would watch. But when, below, Braden latched on to her swollen clit, somehow both licking and sucking at the same time, she quit worrying and just let herself go.
“He’s . . . he’s fucking her now,” she went on, “and her legs are wrapped around his back, and her heels are digging into his skin. He’s . . . doing it hard, really hard. She’s lying back on the table, and she looks . . . like she’s screaming. And now she’s . . .” She swallowed, overcome with mounting pleasure from Braden’s mouth combined with what she was watching—and saying. “She’s touching herself, rubbing herself while he fucks her.” Laura’s own hands rose to her breasts without planning it, the nipples jutting into her palms. She continued pushing her own cunt at Braden’s skilled mouth and knew she was rapidly approaching climax. “She’s . . . still rubbing herself, rubbing really frantically now, and she’s . . .” Oh God, there it was—orgasm, breaking over her hard. “Oh, oh God, baby. Oh, I’m coming! I’m coming!” She stopped watching Candy and Stan as her eyes fell shut, her head dropping back. The climax rushed through her rough and jagged, her pussy feeling as if it were the biggest part of her.
When finally she came back down to feel the tile beneath her again—along with Braden’s final sweet kiss on her clit—she found him wearing the most wicked grin ever to grace his face. “Damn, honey, that was hot.”
She bit her lip, her body still pulsing with the aftershocks. “What was hot?”
“Telling me what you saw, all while you touched your pretty breasts. You made me so damn hard.”
She cast a playful grin. “You were already hard.”
His eyes shone glassy with lust. “Trust me, baby, you made me harder.” His hand closed back over her thigh. “Now come down here into the water with me so I can get my cock inside you where it belongs.”
The promise made Laura moan with joy inside, but she held it in. Just in case it was the “where it belongs” part that was filling her with such gratification. She eased down into the warm, gurgling water and kissed him, no longer even fazed that she could taste her juices on his mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he curled his hands over her breasts, freshly covered with suds, to rake his thumbs across her erect nipples. “So damn pretty, baby,” he growled in her ear when the kisses ended. “Mmm, I need to fuck you.”
She simply nodded her agreement.
And was surprised when he turned her on her knees to face the window—since the pane extended nearly to the tile enclosing the tub, which meant they could see Stan and Candy in this position. She’d nearly forgotten about Stan and Candy already, but now Candy had dropped to her knees, visible only from her breasts up as she sucked Stan’s cock. Laura focused on them as Braden pushed slowly into her from behind, and she yelped with the deep pleasure of that initial intrusion.
“Ah, baby, so snug around me,” he moaned.
She sighed. “You fill me up.”
Braden moved in her—slow, deep, thorough strokes that seemed to reach to unbelievable lengths inside her. She felt every single inch of him and let out a soft moan at each drive, still watching Candy deliver a vigorous blow job through the trees.
When Braden reached in front of her, pressing here and there on the wall of the tub, she wasn’t sure why, until he used his other hand to shift her body a bit. “Move over, just a little.”
As she slid to the right a few inches, the Jacuzzi jet shot hard against her mound, and she let out a high whimper before looking over her shoulder in shock.
“Lean closer,” he said, wearing a devilish smile.
“I’ve already come once—”
“I said lean closer,” he interrupted, using his body to shove her forward, flush against the streaming jet.
“Oh!” The impact on her clit, and from his cock ramming into her, was powerful enough to make her grip the top rim of the tub with both hands.
He continued his slow, deep plunges into her pussy, each pressing her to the stimulating jet. His hands rose to caress her breasts—the massage slow and deep to match the rhythm of the sex.
“Unh . . .” The sound left her involuntarily. It all felt too good.
In the window below theirs, Candy released Stan’s shaft from her mouth, then rose and turned to lay facedown across the table, bent at the waist. Stan massaged her ass for a minute, sawing his cock back and forth in the center. Laura saw Candy’s mouth move. Fuck me.
When Stan entered her, both Laura and Braden released a low moan. Below the water, Laura’s pussy felt utterly pummeled and she knew another orgasm was coming fast. Braden’s breath echoed slow, labored, in her ear. She never took her eyes from Stan, now pounding into Candy with wild abandon. She could see Candy crying out in passion, eyes shut, fingers curled around the table’s edge. Braden’s strokes grew more intense, and Laura met them, her clit worked by the jet on the other side until she said, “Oh God, here I go again.”
This time she erupted with a series of high-pitched cries, the waves of orgasm more brutal than usual, her body jerking. She’d not even come down yet when Braden said, “Ah, God—me, too,” and shoved his cock into her hard, hard, hard, rocking her body so wildly that water splashed over the sides of the tub.
Below them, Laura could tell Stan had just come, too, as he lay resting across Candy’s back, both of them still now and smiling.
She peered over her shoulder at her lover. “And they say it’s hard to have an orgasm at the same time.”
He let out a short laugh, his arms closing around her, and Laura thought she could get used to this. The Braden part, not necessarily the Stan and Candy part. But just as quickly, she reminded herself that she wouldn’t be getting used to it, so she banished the thought from her mind as quickly as it entered.
“Aren’t you going to tell me you came twice?” he asked, his voice hold
“I guess I’m getting used to it.”
“Damn straight,” he said with a definite injection of masculine pride.
Multiple orgasms, she thought, sighing. One more thing she’d better not get too used to, because she’d probably never have them again once she left Braden behind.
They’d stayed in the bath awhile—Braden had offered to wash her hair, so she’d returned the favor. She’d almost regretted it, though, for she discovered there was something so personal, so intimate, about massaging shampoo through a guy’s hair that when it was done, she felt worrisomely clingy to him. It had been about silence, and touching.
She’d never have dreamed the mere act of touching could make her feel so close to a man—but maybe it was the man, maybe it was the way he touched, maybe it was the way he encouraged her to touch. Her emotions were deepening by the moment, and she was suddenly glad Tommy was coming to dinner—a distraction from sex, a distraction from Braden’s large, singular presence in her life at the moment.
She’d packed for comfort, so she donned the jeans and fitted baby blue sweater she’d traveled in, punctuating the simple outfit with a fun pair of socks: the same shade of blue, sprinkled with white snowflakes. She didn’t bother putting on the only shoes she’d brought—lace-up hiking boots for trudging through the snow—and Braden noticed her socks as soon as she joined him downstairs.
Reaching out to where she’d pulled her feet up onto the couch, he grabbed on to her toes, wiggling them. “See why I call you snowflake, snowflake?”
It was only a few minutes later that they heard a truck rumble up the snowy driveway and both rose to greet Tommy. Braden told her Tommy had volunteered to drive down the mountain on pizza detail, and he showed up with two large, flat boxes and a dimpled smile.
Although it was his eyes that captured Laura as Braden introduced them. He’d looked cute enough in the fishing picture, but his gaze, in person, shone blue and dazzling, and she could only imagine how many girls he’d seduced with that particular asset. His blond hair was a little messy, befitting his ski-bum image, and his face tan for February, which Laura figured was a testament to exactly how often he hit the slopes. Like Braden, he was muscular but lean and clearly didn’t shave every day, as a thick stubble covered his chin beneath a dark blond mustache. She couldn’t help thinking of a young Robert Redford as the Sundance Kid in one of her mother’s favorite old movies.
“Wait a minute,” Tommy said as they all stood in the foyer, “you’re Laura Watkins? As in the Laura Watkins? The mystery writer?”
Laura felt herself flush with delight. Despite her success, it was rare that anyone outside the writing community recognized her name. “Um, yes,” she said, smiling.
“My mom loves you,” he informed her, handing the pizzas off to Braden. “She asks for your newest book every Christmas. Riley Wainscott, right?”
Wow, he even knew her series. “Right,” she said, duly flattered.
“Braden mentioned your first name and that you were a writer, but I had no idea. My mom will be thrilled when I tell her I met you.”
They sat down at the table and doled out pizza, Braden supplementing it with beer he’d picked up on his trip to the grocery.
“Braden tells me you design computer games for a living,” Laura said to Tommy. “He already explained to me how a guy becomes a corporate raider—so, tell me, how does a guy become a computer game designer?”
“I’ve always been the techie type,” he began, surprising her. Up to this moment, Laura had generally equated techie type with geeky type, but Tommy was about as far from the latter as a man could get. “Around twelve years ago, when the Internet was really starting to take off, I formed a game company. I got lucky—the timing was right, and within a few years, we’d hit it big. I had the most popular online game site with millions of visitors every day playing free demos and then paying to download the games.
“After awhile, though, I got tired of the commute to Denver, even when I had put enough dependable people in place that I only made the trip a few times a week. Guess I just wanted to make a change—I’d been there, done that. So I sold the company at a nice profit, and I’m a freelancer now.”
“I’m seeing a trend here,” she said with a smile, glancing back and forth between Tommy and Braden. “You guys build companies, then sell them. What does that mean? That you get bored easily?”
Tommy swallowed a bite of pizza, then said, “It’s probably more like we have trouble with commitment.”
Both guys laughed, and Laura got a little more insight into the friendship, and the men themselves. It wasn’t surprising to hear Braden was commitment-phobic, but still a little saddening. Stop getting attached to him—now. A few more days and she’d be heading home and all this would be just a memory, so she had to turn off her emotions surrounding him this very minute.
“So what kind of games do you design?”
“Anything you can think of. Puzzle games, word games, casino-type games, sports games, racing games—all over the board.”
“Don’t forget my favorites,” Braden said, reaching for a slice of sausage and bacon pizza.
Laura switched her gaze to him. “What’s that?”
He grinned. “Sex games.”
“Sex games?” She raised her eyebrows, feeling a little thick since she didn’t quite know what he was talking about. “What . . . kind of sex games?” She forced her gaze back to Tommy so she wouldn’t seem embarrassed to discuss it with him.
He shrugged. “I wasn’t going to mention those, but since old Braden here did . . . they’re basically just games to entertain horny guys. If you reach certain levels, your reward might be pictures of naked girls or maybe a girl who strips off a piece of clothing each time you reach a certain score.”
“But some games,” Braden said, clearly forgetting his pizza for the moment, “are really more about sex. There’s one where the player has certain tools he uses to try to give an animated girl an orgasm. There’s another that’s more like an action game, sort of like the old Super Mario, but the setting is a party district and the goal is to seduce as many girls as you can. You get points for grabbing condoms out of the air, and beer mugs give you an extra life. You have to avoid big bouncers and boyfriends with baseball bats, and when you finally get to a girl, there are some good graphics.” He chuckled. “It’s actually my favorite game Tommy’s ever come up with.”
Laura thought it actually sounded fun, and because of that, she forgot to be embarrassed. “I’m intrigued. What’s it called?”
“Babe Quest,” Tommy replied.
“Sounds pretty entertaining,” she said, proud of herself. The old Laura would probably have turned up her nose or rolled her eyes or turned bright red by now, just over a game—but she wasn’t doing any of those things.
As they continued eating and drinking, Laura mentioned the picture of the two guys on the bookshelf, with the fish. They told her they took a fishing or hiking trip at least once a summer. “More if Braden can get his ass up here,” Tommy added. “But in winter, we’re just total ski bums. Which is good, because I can be that with or without him.”
Somewhere along the way, an invisible layer of sensuality had begun to settle over the room. Laura wasn’t sure if it had started with talk of Tommy’s sex games or if maybe she just liked sharing dinner with two rugged, sexy men—but she couldn’t help being aware of it. For all she knew, it had started with the beer—as usual since arriving on the mountain, a little alcohol had her feeling loopier than it would have at home. As the three of them talked and her gaze moved back and forth from Braden to Tommy, she drank in their good looks and well-muscled physiques, she soaked up their easy masculine laughter, and she realized she liked the odd sense of being isolated with two hot guys. Stan and Candy might be only a stone’s throw away, but the setting made it easy to forget that as quickly as she’d learned it, giving her the sexy impression of being all alone in the middle of nowhere with Braden, and now also with his friend.
Before she knew it, the two guys were debating who worked out more. Apparently Braden went to a health club four times a week, but Tommy thought mountain life in general—skiing, chopping wood for the fire, dealing with general upkeep on his house—added up to just as much exercise. Which had Braden lifting up his sweater to reveal the six-pack on his torso. And, mmm, after not seeing him naked for even just a couple of hours, that torso looked very fine.
“Afraid you got nothin’ on me, dude,” Tommy protested, raising up his long-sleeved cotton pullover to reveal similarly hard abs, which Laura couldn’t help admiring, as well.
“How about you, Laura?” Tommy asked. “Work out? Want to get into the ab contest?”
“Oh, I do crunches in front of the television, and I try to take walks when the weather’s nice—but I’m not a hardcore exercise chick, I’m afraid.”
“Crunches count,” Braden said. “And if all it takes to get that body are some crunches and walking, just keep doing what you’re doing, honey.”
“Well, I don’t have anything chiseled-looking like you guys do—no six-pack or anything.”
Braden tilted his head skeptically. “Come on, you’ve got a great tummy.”
She shook her head, not to be self-deprecating, but because she really thought it was just average. “Well, I’m glad you like it, but it’s hardly a workout tummy.”
Tommy gave her a chiding look. “Why don’t you let me be the judge?”
Bold from the beer, Laura obliged without hesitation, raising the hem of her sweater up over her stomach. Tommy leaned forward across the table to look, lifting his hand to gently pat her belly. “Ah, now, you sold yourself short. I see at least the hint of a four-pack there.”
She raised her eyebrows, laughing, even as her pussy tingled lightly—the result of his touch. “A four-pack?”
“Sure,” he answered easily. “Next best thing to six. Trust me—it’s very sexy.” He added a wink. “Most women would give their right arms for a pretty stomach like that.”
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