Page 9 of The Fling (Close Quarters 2)

Emboldened by the fact that he’s still watching, I draw the hem of my T-shirt up higher. Cool air grazes my bare stomach, and I hold the material just over my breasts—teasing at what might be beneath without actually showing him.

Mr. Suit stalks toward the glass. Oh, yes, there’s definitely a bulge under that towel. His eyes are so strikingly blue that I’m captured for a moment. He’s much closer now, his face still shadowed by the dim light inside. There’s no balcony outside his bedroom—they stagger the rooms here, and his bedroom shares a wall with my living room. That means the balconies are spaced apart—probably so the residents don’t feel in each other’s pockets if they’re both outside. But it means I can’t hear him. The double-glazed windows keep all the sound inside. His mouth moves, but I’m too dazed to lip-read.

But then I catch one word:more.

He wants more? Am I really going to do this? Give a stranger a peep show while anyone else could come outside and see?

It’s late. Everyone is getting up early for work tomorrow. Nobody else will see you.

Won’t they? I swallow.

Mr. Suit nods.More.

Biting down on my lip, I drag the T-shirt higher up, exposing my naked breasts to the night air and to Mr. Suit’s hungry gaze. My nipples peak at the shock of the cool breeze and my sex clenches when I see his reaction—that single flame sparking and catching alight. Creating an inferno.

Holding the fabric with one hand, I let my other hand roam over my stomach and up to my breasts, squeezing and pinching. It sends arrows of excitement through me, heating up my blood and creating a dull pulse in my sex. I feel powerful like this—in charge and beautiful and naughty and brave.

Mr. Suit’s lips part and I imagine the sound coming out of him, letting my mind fill in the blanks so I get the whole experience. I’ve never done anything like this before—so brazen and bad. But it feels good.Sogood.

“More,” he mouths.

I dip my hand over my stomach and toy with the waistband of my underwear. There’s a little bow right below my navel, and I dance my fingers over it before snapping the elastic against my skin. But I don’t want to be the only one playing this game—if he wants more, then I need a show of faith. I need to know I’m not the only vulnerable party.

I nod toward him, to where he’s holding the knot at his waist. His eyes darken and he reaches down, squeezing himself through the fluffy fabric. I almost go weak at the knees; the sight of him handling himself is insanely hot. Not to mention it looks like he’s gotquitethe handful there.

I dip my fingers under the elastic of my underwear, finding myself wet and ready. A sigh slips out as I brush over my clit—the tight bundle of nerves sending a jolt of pleasure through me.

Oh, God, am I really doing this?

For a moment, doubt roars in my head. What would Perfect Presley think if she knew I was giving a stranger a peep show? What about the Stepford bridesmaids? What would Vas think? My thoughts darken for a second. Vas wouldn’t think anything because I was nothing but a toy to him anyway. A plaything. A disposable pleasure.

Fuck Vas. And fuck what other people think, too. I’m done with that. This is for me, because right now I feel good and I’m a grown woman who can make her own bloody decisions.

I touch myself again, circling my fingers over my most sensitive part and letting out a soft groan. Not too loud—because I don’t want anyone else but Mr. Suit to come outside and see the show. It feels so good, with his eyes on me, his mouth slack and his hand palming himself through the towel. I wish it was his hands on me. I let myself imagine what would have happened if he’d stayed and stripped me out of my fishnets and my leather skirt.

If he’d taken me to bed and laid me down, peeling the underwear from my body and sliding his hands back up my thighs, thumbs tracing circles on my skin. Getting higher, higher, higher...so close.

My eyes flutter shut and I’m lost. I imagine his big body covering me, knees pushing my legs apart as he presses his lips to mine. The fantasy plays out in vivid colour and a tremor rips through me. Everything is wound tight like a coil. I’m so close...so close.

I apply the right pressure and my orgasm breaks. Release is sweet and swift and I steady myself with one hand against the balcony railing. When I open my eyes, Mr. Suit is standing there—eyes wild and cheeks flushed, and he’s looking like a caged animal.

“This is what you missed,” I say, having no idea if he understands. But I’ll take that as my cue to leave—showtime is over and I’m feeling the warm burn of pleasure knowing he’s going to bed with me on his mind. Let him regret walking out.

I drop my T-shirt back down over my stomach and wink at him before scampering back inside, my heart pounding and my head swirling. I can’t believe I did that.

But there’s no denying I feel better than I have in weeks. Maybe I needed to act out a little after twelve months of minding my p’s and q’s and trying to be wife material. After twelve months of pretending to be someone I wasn’t.

I crawl back into bed with a big smile on my face and instantly fall into a deep slumber.

CHAPTER FIVE

Flynn

WHENIWALKEDinto the office at 7:00 a.m. with a spring in my step, Francis had assumed it was because I’d done exactly what she told me to do: rest, television, and takeaway food. Ha! The truth couldn’t be further from that.

After watching Blondie touch herself brazenly on the balcony of her borrowed apartment, that beautiful face screwed up with pleasure, I’d neededanothercold shower to shake the desire creeping through my body. But even with the most monumental of teases, I still went to bed happy. When was the last time I slept soundly, fully engaged by dreams that had me not wanting it to end? That had me waking with a wicked smile? So long, I can’t even remember.

I’ve been thinking about it all day. For once in my life,Iwas the space cadet in meetings. I was the one staring into nothingness, my mind miles away from work. But the fantasy will have to keep me going, because I’ve got a full plate and a fuller head. When I go home shortly, I’ll have to force myself not to knock on her door. I can’t afford any distractions—no matter how tempting—to derail my plans.

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