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Instead of a monster under her bed, she had me.
How could anyone expect me to give her up and look for someone else? No other woman would intrigue me as she did—her sense of humor, the way she laughed, the quality of her mind. The soft curve of her lips, which was my reward when she found me amusing. The shine in her eyes when I brought her delight. I could happily spend my life studying her every expression.
If it wasn’t for her husband, we could have had a long, happy life together.
The fact that she was still in love with him, despite everything I’d done to divide them, rankled.
At least now she was also in love with me. At least, it seemed like she was. She hadn’t said the words.
I watched her sleep, loath to wake her, and yet the compulsion to touch her was as strong as it had been the first night we’d met.
The whole point of entering by the window, instead of letting myself in through her door, was to assess her safety. Now that I was in? Interesting, nefarious thoughts crowded into my head.
Her chest rose and fell in a deep, slow rhythm. My arrival hadn’t disturbed her. A bottle of pills and glass of water on her nightstand suggested she’d medicated herself to sleep. She never seemed to need those when I was with her—or maybe she didn’t trust me enough to take them when she knew I was around?
That she took them when she was alone was far too trusting, in my opinion. A creepy man with vile intentions could sneak in and touch her.
The thought of a stranger doing so made me want to slit someone’s throat. Hell, I had a hard time dealing with the way men gawked at her on the street, not that she paid them any attention. The catcalls were incessant. How had she stayed safe so long on her own?
She sighed, her breasts in danger of spilling out of the scoop-necked nightshirt. In her sleep, she squeezed her thighs together, then murmured and rolled to her belly. The movement shifted the nightshirt higher, twisting slightly and rising almost to her waist. Beneath it, she wore a pair of simple cotton panties that were anything but erotic, and yet more erotic because they weren’t. In lingerie she would be breathtaking—beautiful and waiting to be fucked. But like this? Mussed…unaware. She didn’t know I was here. She hadn’t put this on with the anticipation of being seen in it.
That made everything more forbidden. More delicious.
She shifted, trying to get comfortable. I longed to stretch out on top of her—to murmur in her ear and grind against her ass, and let her know she wasn’t alone. But she didn’t sleep enough, and it seemed cruel to wake her on her day off to slake my selfish desire for her.
I found her phone, unlocked it with her PIN, then set up the camera to record. Although I didn’t plan to take things any further, almost anything could be used to make Valor jealous.
My cock strained against the confines of my jeans, eager to plunge into the hot grip of her pussy. The room smelled like her soap and may be a little like lust, although the latter might have been my sexually frustrated imagination. She shifted again, squirming her ass from side to side as she attempted to settle, or maybe take the edge off whatever she was dreaming about.
I palmed my hard-on, wondering if it would be completely unacceptable for her to wake up to the sight of me with my cock in my hand. Maybe I shouldn’t have been fantasizing about her the whole flight over, but it was difficult not to, after being gone so long.
Tarryn wouldn’t hesitate to show me more if I asked, right?
She’d forgive me for looking my fill.
Cautiously, I slid her underwear lower, my gaze moving from the now exposed dimples at the bottom of her back, to her sleep-smoothed face, watching to make sure I didn’t disturb her rest. I drew her panties down her thighs, wondering if she’d be offended.
I caressed the round curve of her backside with my gaze. I considered leaving her panties around her knees, but her body fretted at the way her legs were caught together, so I drew them off completely, careful not to let the tag tickle her feet.
The amount of light coming from the window left too much to my imagination, so I moved silently to the hallway and flipped on the light, knowing it wouldn’t shine in her eyes from this angle. When I returned to her room, she was still sleeping peacefully, motionless, beautiful, vulnerable, nude from the waist down. Her legs were slightly parted, relaxed.
Gingerly, I sat on the bed next to her, trying to be satisfied, but my dick begged for more. I unbuttoned my jeans, then unzipped them carefully, one tooth at a time, the sound loud in the silence of the room.
I shifted her closest leg closer still, bending her knee, giving myself a less obstructed view. I caught my breath of the sight of her bare, unguarded sex. I wanted to touch her there, maybe kiss her. The swells of her ass cheeks made my cock twitch, and the tight pucker of her asshole tempted me.
There wasn’t a part of her I wouldn’t love to touch, to taste, to use.
I wrapped a hand around my now aching cock, aware of how forbidden it was to interfere with her while she slept. We’d joked about this—and I’d gotten the impression she was into it. Besides, she was mine. Would it be wrong for me to explore her nakedness if she didn’t even know I was doing it?
She moved again, and I froze. Her brow furrowed, troubled. She made a peevish sound, murmured something I couldn’t hear, then rolled to her back again, bumping me with her leg.
Her breathing settled. Was I disappointed or excited she’d stayed asleep?
Tiny rose-shaped buttons held the pale pink sleep shirt together. The swell of her breasts put a strain on the buttons, and I groaned quietly, unable to stop myself from brushing my fingers over them. How was a mere mortal supposed to resist the temptation of unfastening the sweet little buttons to reveal the beautiful flesh beneath? I fought with myself for a few moments before finally giving in—I would only loosen a few, expose more cleavage.
With each button I unfastened came a new excuse to go farther, until I could brush aside the cotton fabric and expose her naked breasts to my hungry gaze. There was barely enough light to properly appreciate the rosy tips of her breasts. They were so soft and perfect against my fingertips, and the silver hoops piercing them urged me to flick and tug.
Precum leaked from my painful erection as I took her pretty nipples between my fingers, then gently pinched them until they were hard peaks. I tried to stop myself, but my lips needed to feel their softness, skin against skin, and I allowed myself to graze my lips carefully over the sensitive flesh, and then of course it was only a matter of moments before her nipple was in my mouth.
