Voyeur - Lacey Alexander [4]
Easing one hand back down, she slid her fingers inside the pink elastic band and down into her wet folds. “Mmm,” she purred, thinking, Watch me. Watch me touch myself for you.
Her fingertips sank deeper into her drenched flesh, massaging, feeling, stroking. She’d probably never explored her pussy this thoroughly before, and the thought hit her that it was about time she had!
Part of her was tempted to take off her panties and spread her legs wide so her imaginary voyeur could see how pink and wet she was with his own eyes—but no. She didn’t want to give him everything. She wanted to titillate, tease. She wanted to make him ache for a glimpse of her swollen cunt.
She never stopped rubbing her fingertips over her clit as she used her other hand to ease down one side of her undies just a bit, then the other. She drew them only to the tops of her thighs, playing with him, torturing him as she continued to massage herself, letting out a light moan as her pleasure grew. “Mmm,” she purred and felt a soft smile curve her lips. She was so close to coming, and the idea of being watched continued to escalate her heat, ratcheting it higher and higher.
Are you watching? Is your cock hard for me? She worked her clit in tight little circles, thrusting gently, gently, against her hand. Are you waiting for me to come?
“Oh, mmm . . .” she moaned when the orgasm hit, waves of hot, swallowing pleasure buffeting her whole body as she kept rubbing, rubbing, sighing heatedly with each crushing pulse of the climax. Oh God, it was good.
Had she ever come like this before? Had her pussy ever throbbed with such intensity? No, never—but she rode it out, still pumping, still stroking, until the last little pulsation ebbed.
As sanity returned, she bit her lip and resisted a glance in the webcam’s direction. If that even was the webcam. She didn’t hang out with any high-tech types—she’d never actually seen a webcam before.
Either way, though, the fantasy was over. It had brought her truly shocking pleasure, but it was done now.
And she was even more sure than before that no one had watched her masturbate, thank goodness. Stimulating as a fantasy, yes—but it was nothing Laura would ever want to live out. It just wasn’t her style. And with a stranger, no less? Nope. Monica would probably love living it out, but not her.
Now she only had to hope that perhaps her orgasm had given her the needed release so she could concentrate on her book tomorrow and get Riley’s story moving.
Plucking up her pj bottoms, she stepped into them and tied the drawstring waist, then buttoned her pajama top. Flipping the switches that killed the fire and turned the room dark but for the reflection of the moon on the snow shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows, she finally allowed herself to take another peek toward the supposed webcam.
Was there anyone there? She tilted her head, allowing herself to sincerely wonder once more, now that she was hidden in shadow.
No. Impossible. Or at least highly unlikely.
Good night, my imaginary voyeur.
Chapter Two
When Laura awoke the next morning, she still didn’t find herself bubbling with a plot for Riley and Aunt Mimsey. Damn it. But that was okay, she assured herself. After a cup of coffee and a bagel eaten while peering out on the snow-encrusted mountains in the distance, she put on a pair of jogging pants and a comfy long-sleeved T-shirt and situated herself before the computer, still convinced last night’s release would surely be followed by a burst of creativity. On some level, she’d decided to believe Monica’s theory—since maybe believing would make it so, helping her put some words on the computer screen today.
As she pulled up the file in which she was utterly determined to start writing a novel within the next few minutes, she glanced absently out the window, the view too beautiful to be ignored for long. But then her gaze stuck on the presumed webcam. A sense of relief washed over