I Like Being Watched by Jessica Gadziala

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ten

Wynn

 

 

 

Of course I'd known he was in the pool room.

That was the main reason I'd gone in there.

I mean, sure, I had just hauled all the plants out of the garage that I'd gotten dropped off from the local nursery. But there were ones I'd wanted to move into other parts of the house as well. I didn't have to put the ones in the pool room first.

But when I'd seen him heading off in that direction, likely to see the damage Blake's party guests had done, so he could replace the furniture—a task I had already done the legwork of, and was just waiting to show him the order to sign off on—I saw it as one last chance to entice the man.

I told myself this would be it.

I wouldn't do it again.

I would just get my one last fill, and then I would find a way to keep my presence in his home strictly professional. I could find some new target outside of work to fulfill my fantasies with.

With that decision in mind, I'd taken my time with it. No flirty bend-overs to show off my ass, or sudden movements that made my boobs pop out.

Oh, no.

I did a full-on striptease beside that pool, making every single movement slow and sensual, wanting to drive him to the brink before I was even fully naked, and then push him over as I leaned back beside the pool, as I got in and floated, knowing full well that my breasts would glide just above the surface of the water, that the dark liner would obscure most of what else was beneath. A peekaboo effect that would drive any man out of his mind with need.

One look at his face said I'd accomplished my goal.

His eyes were blue fire, sparking, igniting, burning across every inch of exposed skin.

That was the thrill I needed.

Him liking what he saw.

Him wanting me.

Telling myself that would be enough, that I needed to at least attempt to make it look like I wasn't trying to drive my boss crazy, I dunked under the water, then started to swim some laps.

To make it look like swimming had always been my intention, sure. But also to burn off some of the excess sexual energy that was pinging off every nerve ending, making me feel frazzled and fuzzy, a little more out of control than usual.

I needed the exercise to get my mind right again.

That was all I was expecting.

So I threw everything into it.

I hadn't been expecting, well, him.

To have had enough.

To lose the grip on his control.

All I knew was that one moment, I was swimming laps.

The next, hands were reaching into the water, grabbing me at my sides, and lifting me upward.

I barely had a chance for my eyes to open, to take in my boss standing in the water fully dressed, before his lips were crashing down on mine.

Harder, hungrier than I even could have imagined.

Fitzwilliam Buchanan had always come across as cool, calm, collected, and completely in control over himself.

He had no control right then, though, as he turned me, slamming me back against the unyielding wall of the pool as his lips slanted over mine.

Fitz's hand rose, grabbing the back of my neck with borderline painful pressure as his lips bruised into mine for a long moment.

I was helpless to do anything but kiss back.

I didn't want to do anything but kiss him back.

It should have ruined it.

That was what I always thought in my head. If things went from exhibition and voyeurism to actual physical touch, the magic would be gone for me, I would be over it.

But I was far from over it.

The magic was alive and well.

It sizzled across my nerve endings, the heat mixed with the cold water creating a strange sort of chaos in my overstimulated system, making me tremble hard once. Enough that Fitz felt it, his lips suddenly going more gentle, more explorative. His hand softened on my neck, massaging absentmindedly as his mouth got to know mine.

This close, I could smell the spicy scent of his cologne I'd caught myself sniffing more than a few times. Once, I'd even put a tiny spritz on my bare breasts before buttoning up my shirt again, having the strange urge to smell him on me as I went about my day. It mingled with the tangy, sharp aroma of the chlorine in the pool, making me feel a little fuzzy, a bit drunk on it all.

And that was before his hand left my neck and started to roam.

Fitz's teeth snagged my lower lip hard enough to make me gasp. Taking the opportunity, his tongue slipped inside, claiming mine as his palm glided down my back, moving over the flare of my hip, slipping around to my belly, then sliding up.

My stomach tightened as his fingertips traced the underside of one breast, then the other, making my cold-hardened nipples twist even tighter as the desire bloomed across my core, spreading outward until it went from a dull ache to a painful need between my thighs.

My back arched, pressing my chest outward, silently begging for his touch as my hands slid up his arms, over his shoulders, remembering the outlines of his muscles as I did so, thinking about feeling his bare skin.

Mind on the task, my hands slid downward, grabbing the first button of his shirt and working it free with surprisingly clumsy fingers. Then the second, the third, the fourth. It was there I had to pause, grabbing his shirt in my hands and yanking it out of his pants before continuing.

Finished, I took a breath so deep it shook my chest as my hands flattened on Fitz's stomach, just resting there for a moment, feeling the way his muscles tensed under my touch before slowly moving upward, tracing the indents of his abdominal muscles, feeling the strength in his chest.

His lips pulled from mine, and my eyelids drifted open, looking up at him, already finding his intense gaze on me, eyes pools of desire that made another rush of need move through me as I pushed the shirt off of his shoulders, dropping it onto the water behind him.

My hands moved downward again, over his back, then around to his hips before tracing up his chest, then encircling his neck.

Taking a deep breath, I pressed inward, closing the distance between our bodies, feeling my breasts crush to his chest.

A low sigh escaped me as a rumbling sound moved through Fitz, vibrating into my chest.

His hands moved from my hips to sink into my ass, squeezing hard, pulling my body even closer as his lips slanted over mine again.

Hard, hungry again.

One of his hands shifted down slightly, grabbing the back of my thigh, angling it up, and coaxing it around his back, spreading me open for him. And as soon as I was, his pelvis pressed forward, pinning me back against the wall of the pool again, but this time with his hard cock straining against his pants, and pressing against my pussy.

His mouth muffled the sound of the moan that escaped me as my hips did a small circle, getting a hint of the friction I needed.

More.

I needed more.

I lifted my other leg, made almost weightless by the water, and wrapped it around Fitz's lower back, then used that leverage to writhe against his hardness, driving myself upward, closer to that edge, nearer to release.

Fitz's lips ripped from mine, trailing down the side of my neck instead as he pushed me back against the wall, and started grinding himself against me.

Slow at first, then gaining in speed, in intensity, in pressure.

Before, suddenly, he yanked away, breaking the contact.

A slow, sexy smile toyed at his lips at the sound of my objection. It was the sort of self-satisfied smirk that would be irritating if it wasn't so well deserved.

"Fitz," I whimpered, trying to move closer.

At the sound of his name on my lips, a low, feral, growling noise moved through his chest as one of his hands grabbed my hip, sinking in so hard that I was sure there would be bruises left in their way. It was a fact that shouldn't have made me feel all tingly, yet somehow managed to anyway.

His other hand slipped under the surface of the water, and for a long moment, I didn't know his intention. Not until his finger slipped between my thighs, traced up my cleft, then started to circle my clit.

The moment, I was sure, couldn't have possibly gotten any hotter. That was until Fitz moved his thumb to my clit, then slipped two fingers inside of me, his exhale shaking through his chest as my walls tightened around his fingers.

My impatient hips rocked against his palm, and I watched as Fitz cracked his neck to the side in a show of frustration. And, God, did I love seeing him starting to lose his control.

Before I could get too drunk off of watching him, though, he was suddenly lowering down in front of me, running a line of kisses over my one clavicle, then the other, before moving between, resting his forehead against the space between my breasts for a long moment, taking slow, measured breaths as his fingers started to fuck me.

Slow.

So incredibly, frustratingly slow.

At the sound of my first moan, his breath released, exhaling warm air over my cold breasts, making a shiver course through me a second before his head shifted, and his lips closed over one of the hardened peaks of my nipples.

I very nearly came right then and there.

But some sick, masochistic part of me wanted more of this sweet torture.

My back arched, pressing my breast further out as his tongue traced, as his teeth nipped, as his lips sucked.

"Fitz, please," I begged, my hips rocking against him, needing more.

His lips released one nipple only to go across my chest to continue the torment.

But this time, his fingers started to move faster, thrusting in and out of me as his thumb worked my clit.

From over his shoulder, a movement caught my eye. The door to the sprawling guest house that was practically its own estate, opened.

And out walked Blake.

I should have said something. I knew it was the right thing to do. But I leaned forward instead, pressing my lips into Fitz's neck as my hands roamed over his back, and my gaze watched Blake make his progress toward the back of the main house.

He could look over at any moment.

He could catch his brother finger-fucking my pussy.

He could stop to watch.

"So fucking tight," Fitz hissed as my walls tightened around him.

"Faster," I begged, noticing Blake getting closer before looking at Fitz again, finding his gaze hungry.

But I didn't know just how hungry.

Until his fingers left me, both hands sinking into my hips.

"I need to taste you," he told me, making my stomach flip-flop at his words before he was lifting me out of the water, and placing my bare ass on the tile.

His hands left my hips, sliding down the outsides of my thighs, then grabbing my knees, and spreading them wide.

Fitz's gaze went to mine for a moment before it slipped downward, gazing at my pussy for a long second before burying his face between my thighs.

I was aware of too many things at once. The brush of his soft hair on my inner thighs, the feel of his tongue as it traced my clit, the low groaning sound that escaped him as he tasted me, and the fact that Blake was closing in on the door to the kitchen. Just one short hallway away.

"Oh, my God," I whimpered, my hands grabbing the back of his head as my hips writhed against him.

I pulled up my legs, sliding them over his bare shoulders as I leaned backward until my back hit the tile.

My eyelids unexpectedly slid closed.

Experience told me I should have been looking to see if we were being watched.

But I didn't want to. I wanted to lose myself in the moment. I wanted to feel the way Fitz's tongue worked me with practiced precision, the way his fingers slid inside me again, but this time turned and stroked over my top wall, engaging my G-spot as he drove me up up up.

"Yes," I cried as his tongue started to move faster.

Vaguely, I heard the door in the kitchen open and close.

Blake could be on his way right that moment.

Fitz's body tensed, but my hands grabbed his head harder, holding him against me.

"Don't stop," I pleaded, trailing off on a moan as he got me right to that edge. "Please, Fitz," I cried, feeling myself teetering on that precipice for one agonizing moment.

Then his tongue circled.

His fingers stroked.

And I shattered.

I couldn't tell you if my breath got caught and I choked down my moan, or if I cried out in the big, empty room. All I could tell you is that the waves crashed over and over and over. And Fitz kept working me through them, dragging them out.

I came back down after, body trembling. Was it the cold from being out of the water or aftershocks from the orgasm? I had no idea. All I knew was my body was racked with them, making me feel uncommonly out of control.

"Fitz, that you?" Blake called, voice getting closer.

Fitz's head shot up, eyes wide, a little panicked.

I didn't have time to school my face into lines of false innocence. He saw the truth all over my face.

"You knew," he hissed even as he hauled himself out of the pool, water cascading down his soaked pants as he made his way toward the door.

Just in time.

Blocking Blake from coming in.

"What happened to you?" I could hear Blake ask.

"I tripped over broken furniture and fell in the pool," Fitz lied. I hate to say it, but the man did it so quickly, so smoothly, that it was somehow a turn on.

"Where's your shirt?" Blake asked, sensing something was up.

"What are you doing here?" Fitz shot back.

"I was looking for Wynn," Blake declared, piquing my curiosity.

I mean, yes, of course, I'd come across Blake several times since I started working for Fitz. He would pop in occasionally to steal some supplies since he had no house manager of his own and wasn't life-savvy enough to remember to pick up TP before he ran out, or laundry detergent until he went to do a load of wash and realized had none.

We talked, sure.

But we never engaged so often that he would seek me out.

"Why?" Fitz asked, voice getting a little rougher.

Like maybe he didn't like the idea of his little brother wanting to talk to me.

Jealousy had never been a turn on for me before, but there was no denying the warm sensation moving across my chest at his tone.

"I wanted to ask her something. Have you seen her around?"

"I don't know, Blake. I don't have tracking devices on my employees."

"Alright. I'll go find her," Blake said, and I could practically hear his shrug before he left.

Fitz stood there for a long moment, taking a deep breath, before turning toward me again.

I guess he was expecting for me to have taken the time to get up, to find my clothes, to get back into them.

But I was exactly where he left me. My arm was rested under my neck. The other was resting lightly on my lower stomach. And my gaze was on him.

"This can't happen again," he declared, voice tight, like it was hard to get those words out.

From the way his gaze hungrily moved over my body, I figured he didn't mean a single word of what he said.

"Okay," I agreed, voice sweet.

"I mean it," he insisted, making no move toward me. Instead, he went toward the far side of the pool, gathering my strewn clothes, then a towel before making his way in my direction.

My gaze followed him, but I didn't move otherwise.

As he moved in at my side, his head tipped back as he sucked in a deep, steadying breath before his eyes opened again.

"Okay," I said again, a soft smile teasing at my lips.

"Wynn..."

"Hmm?" I asked, making sure I took a slow, deep breath, making my breasts press out. He didn't miss the movement.

"You need to get dressed," he said, putting my clothes down on the closest chaise.

"Sure," I agreed, drawing my knees up into my chest, then shifting onto my side, going up on them right at his feet. Then angling my head up to find him looking down at me with fresh hunger in his eyes, likely thinking about me opening his pants, then my mouth, and slipping his hard length inside, sucking him with the same sort of passionate determination as he'd gone down on me with.

"Wynn." My name sounded like a curse on his lips as the hand that wasn't holding the towel balled into a tight fist, like he had to physically restrain himself from reaching out and touching me.

The surge of power inside me was heady, was something I wanted more of.

My hands reached out, grabbing his calves, then sliding upward. Over his thighs. Then to his hips. All the while, my gaze stayed on his, watching the mix of confusion and interest and heat as my hands teased the skin of his abs as they slid up the sides of his stomach, then, finally, outward, grabbing both of his arms, and pulling myself to my feet.

Slowly.

So freaking slowly.

I could practically feel his body shaking with repressed need as I carefully made sure my body brushed his. Just lightly enough that you could call it an accident, but hard enough that he felt the tips of my nipples and the swells of my breasts on his thighs, his stomach, then his chest as I stood before him.

Standing, my gaze held his for one long moment. Then another. Just long enough for me to soak in the way he needed me.

After getting my fill of that, I released his hands, turning slowly, giving him a view of my back.

"Towel?" I asked, voice soft.

"Right," Fitz said, clearing his throat, but even that didn't chase away the lingering tightness that came with desire in his voice.

He moved back a step to spread out the oversized towel as I raised my arms up over my head, pulling up my hair, giving him silent instructions to wrap it around me himself.

After a long pause, that was exactly what he did.

I wasn't faking the shiver that moved through me when his fingertips brushed the swells of my breasts as he carefully tucked the edge of the towel in. Did I go ahead and take an unnecessarily deep breath right then? Yes, yes I did.

And I wasn't imagining the almost pained noise that moved through Fitz's chest as I did.

"You need to get dressed, Wynn," he said, voice shivering over my skin.

"Yes, sir," I agreed, hearing that pained sound again a moment before he backed away from me.

He moved around my body, sopping wet.

"This won't happen again," he said, gaze not meeting mine.

"Okay, Mr. Buchanan," I agreed, noticing the flash of desire before he ducked his head, and moved away from me.

I watched his back as he walked off and disappeared into the house before I grabbed my clothes, and ducked into the bathroom off of the pool room, dressing, then towel-drying my hair before pinning it back up, then making my way out of the pool room, and into the kitchen.

Which was where Blake found me five minutes later, looking taken aback.

"What's up, Blake?" I asked, pretending to jot something down in my ever-present notepad.

"I was just in here looking for you," he said, and it almost came off like an accusation.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I was restocking the paper products in the garage," I lied. Well, partially. I had done that before I'd gone into the pool room to chase Fitz, to get one more chance at putting a show on for him.

"Oh," Blake said, looking deflated by that news.

"Did you need something? To steal some more fabric softener, perhaps?" I asked. "I've never met anyone who has gone through that stuff as quickly as you do," I added.

"What can I say, I like my clothes soft."

"And with fabric softener marks," I said, reaching out to grab the sleeve of his shirt, showing him the slightly white spot.

"Whoops. Anyway, I had a request for the party."

"What party?" I asked, brows furrowing.

"The one my brother clearly forgot to tell you to plan," he said.

"What?" I hissed, heartbeat picking up as my mind started to race. "What party? When?"

"A work party for the clients he has been schmoozing for half a year and their wives. In a week and a half."

"Oh my God," I hissed, stomach sinking. "How could he forget to tell me that?" I asked, but was immediately answered by the memory of him avoiding me like the carrier of a viral plague. "Are you sure he isn't planning it himself?"

"I don't think he would know where to start for something like that."

He wasn't wrong.

"I, ah, I will have to ask him. What was your request?" I asked, flipping to a new page in my notebook and jotting down things that I would want done before he had company.

Like having the floors waxed and the carpets shampooed. Washing the drapes. Getting someone in to clean the windows and the ceiling fans and chandeliers that were too high for a normal ladder to reach.

"That you make sure he uses some other catering company. The food was complete shit last time."

"Okay. Noted. I will look up options, and bring them to him," I said, jotting that down. "Thanks, Blake," I added absentmindedly.

"Did you just take a shower?" he asked, halfway out of the door.

"What?" I asked, then remembered my hair. "Oh, no," I said, reaching up to touch it. "I didn't have time to dry it before work. I have thick hair," I added. "Takes forever to dry."

"Hm," Blake said in a way that made me think that if he hadn't outright seen his brother and me, he had suspicions.

Taking a deep breath, I straightened my clothes, grabbed my notebook, and charged through the house to confront Fitz about this supposed party.