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Maddox
Isabella saw me. Fuck. Soon the dogs will be let loose and The King will have my head as penance. I shouldn’t even be here. There are armed patrolmen walking around, keeping the grounds protected – not much of a security detail, if they let me slip past.
I had to see her again. Whatever bleeding urge has a hold of me, it’s unstoppable. I can barely focus on Emma Blake, as a constant loop of Isabella is running through my head. Her grasp on me is impossible to comprehend. It’s illogical. I did a job for her father and now I’m stuck looking out for her?
Something’s not right with me.
She’s standing in the window. I can barely make out her face behind the curtain. But, it’s not the main focus. Her hands are gliding across her white shirt. They stop at her breasts, fondling them. My cock twitches at the sight of her touching herself.
I inch closer, staying low, moving through her garden, and avoiding the light from her bedroom window. I have to get a better look at what’s going on. It’s risky, but before I get near enough to falling into Isabella’s line of sight, the curtain’s drawn shut.
Fuck, I missed my opportunity.
Or have I? She’s left the curtain open enough to see through, all the way to her bed. She takes long, drawn-out steps that make her ass wiggle. Her silky smooth legs extend out of her tight shorts. My hand instinctively starts rubbing my length through my suit pants.
I feel dirty, disgusting, and depraved, but I can’t stop. She looks amazing in the skimpy outfit. It shows off her ass and thighs, as well as her big tits that strain the fabric of the shirt. She throws a glance back at the window. I want to duck away, but I don’t. She doesn’t make any sudden movements, so I take it she doesn’t see my peering eyes through the curtain.
Isabella starts slow with her movements, almost dancing. My grip around my member only tightens, accompanied by more frantic stroking. I shouldn’t be doing this. If anything, my attention should be on my surroundings and how The King’s men might find me here. But, I’m unable to break away from Isabella inside, doing her dance.
She starts tugging at her clothes, starting with the top, and then it’s overhead and discarded to the side. I’m met by a black and turquoise bra. She spins around, swaying hips move side to side. Hooking her fingers into the waistline of her pants, she bends over, legs straight, giving me a full view of her ass and pussy as she tugs them down.
My erection hits a point so hard it starts to hurt within the confines of my pants.
Isabella drops onto the bed, her body askew and facing me. She grazes her belly, up and down, while the other hand squeezes her chest. I’m stunned, jaw smacked against the ground.
She’s touching herself. For me. She had to have seen me, and now she's angling her body so I can see everything. I free my manhood from its restraint, and a gasp of relief hisses from my mouth.
Isabella’s legs are up and spread apart, giving me a full view of her show without distraction. Her fingers glide between her legs, stroking her sensitive nub. She moves, slowly and steadily at first, and I join her, stroking my cock. From her breasts, down comes her free hand. While she works her clit in slow, rhythmic circles, she slips a finger into her hole.
My mind races, a desperate longing to have my face buried between those legs. I’m so close, only a thin pane of glass keeping me from her. I reach out, touching it, while stroking my shaft. I keep up with Isabella’s pace. Slow and steady, but increasing incrementally. A moan leaves her lips, barely audible and muffled through the window.
My knees are heavy and weak, and all I want to do is collapse at her feet.
What the fuck is wrong with me? No woman’s ever had this power over me. I try to shake the thoughts and the need to be at her side. But, every time I open my eyes, I’m met by the sight of Isabella finger-fucking herself and I’m thrown back into my longing.
Her body is writhing in pleasure and I’m not far behind. Her muffled moaning grows louder, to where I can hear it clearly. I bite down, fighting myself back, but her spasms of pleasure let me know she’s close. So am I. I wait for her to hit her peak, sliding a second finger inside of herself.
Then I see it. Her final convulsion, before collapsing into a mess on the bed. At seeing Isabella reaching ecstasy and pleasure, I hit my own heights. Isabella sits up straight, while I fist my shaft, my building orgasm on the verge of expulsion. She looks out through the slit in the window, bites her lip, and winks at me.
If there was a doubt before, it’s gone now. She knows I’m here. She did this on purpose. She wanted me to watch. I lose control, no holding back. I fight to choke moans as my seed shoots out. Every muscle in my body aches.
What the fuck am I doing here? How does she have this power over me? I don’t linger for what might come next; only inspect my surroundings to ensure I’m alone. Then I start running as fast as I can. I have to get out of there.
Isabella is a beautiful predator, luring me into her toxic web, and I have to end it. I’m losing track of myself. I can’t have that. Not when I’m meant to kill someone for The King.
