Secret Satisfaction

Secret Satisfaction

Rayne stood at the window and stared out into the night. A soft glow across the yard was the only light for miles across the beach. Beyond that light, in a room he had visited many times as a child, sat the woman he knew better than he knew himself.

Sighing, he reached for the binoculars on the small wooden table beside him with one hand and the bottle of rum with the other. He had spent too many nights this way, his footprints worn into the floor beneath the window. The binoculars, his key to a solitary heaven, pressed against his eyes as she crossed the room in front of his eyes.

She was alone. Relief washed through him and a small smile tugged at his lips. The day he watched another man hold her had been the hardest day of his life, one he refused to relive at any cost. Now, however, she sat on the edge of her four-poster bed and teased a brush through her massive curls. Her body was relaxed, covered in nothing more than a silk nightshirt that fell halfway past her muscled thighs. Pale blue, it set off her hair, making her look like a goddess of fire.

Her small upturned breasts pushed at the thin material and begged for attention he could not give. Disgusted at his own stubbornness, he gulped the sweet liquid fire through the straw until it burned his throat as it promised to relieve his heartache. After emptying the glass, he replaced it on the table and refocused his attention to the room across the yard.

She stood, her long legs stretching as she pulled the nightgown over her head and walked to the window. Another habit, one she had kept for years. Before her shower every night, she stood naked in the window. He wondered if she knew he watched or if it were simply something she enjoyed. He eyed her face. This was one of the few times that she would be close enough to the window to see the harsh greenness of her eyes, the lush pinkness of her lips.

His jeans grew tighter as his cock swelled beneath the denim. Seeking relief, he one handedly unbuttoned and unzipped the jeans, freeing himself from their confines. His hand brushed against the velvet skin and his skin prickled in encouragement.

In the window across the way, Jaselyn ran her hands across the flat expanse of her stomach. Her head tilted lazily to one side, she caressed the underside of her breasts before teasing her nipples with feather-light strokes of her fingernails. Rayne watched as he stroked himself, his breathing growing more labored with each passing minute. When one long lean finger parted the moist folds between her thighs, his breath caught in his throat.

Stroking himself even faster, his hand running up and down the long hard shaft of his manhood, he watched as she found the small nub of skin buried in the silken skin and ran her finger over it, circled it, teased it. Looking into the night, she brought her fingers to her lips and took them in her mouth before returning the dripping tools of her masturbation to their starting place.

Unable to keep his eyes focused on her and see all the details, Rayne struggled to keep the binoculars to his eyes as his body quivered. The roughness of his hand against the tender skin of his shaft made him shiver with anticipation. When Jaselyn arched her back, her mouth opening slightly before she thrust two fingers into the small wet cavern of her sex, he could contain himself no longer. A hoarse moan escaped his lips as his seed exploded onto the floor and his body trembled with his release.

Still shaking from his orgasm, he stared as she stroked herself. Her thumb played over her clit, two fingers danced in and out of her. Her other hand steadied her weight as she leaned against the windowsill, her breasts nearly resting against the glass. He watched as her face tightened and her eyes glazed over just before her juices gushed over her fingers and down the insides of her thighs. He watched her sink to the carpet and sit, both arms holding her back off the floor. Her lips moved, as if she were talking to herself.

Unable to peel his eyes from her, he observed as she gathered her breath and rose, heading towards the bathroom door in the left corner of her room. Once she was gone from his sight, Rayne dropped his key to her room on the table and reached for the clean rag draped over the bottle of 409. He sprayed the floor and wiped up his mess, shaking his head all the while.

Hours later, Rayne lay awake in his bed, her picture burned into his eyes even as he tried to sleep. Her laughter filled his ears and memories played like movies behind his eyelids. He pictured her legs wrapped around his waist, her long hair fanned out beneath her. Her smile shone brightly as he bent his head to kiss her.

With a curse, he sat up and turned the TV on. Damn that girl for everything. Years had passed since the night he had stolen her virginity. She had healed from his hurt and moved on to become a beautiful and enticing woman. Often times she had come to him, asking for another chance with him, and each time he had refused her. He wouldn’t break her heart again. He had vowed it to himself years ago, and it was one promise he refused to break.

But the rest of him, his body especially, refused to accept that as the final word on the matter. His cock was rock hard if he was within a hundred feet of her. His heart beat faster than any normal heart should when her voice filled the air around him. No, his hormones sure as hell didn’t listen to his head when it came to Jaselyn.

It wasn’t just the thought of having sex with her, there was more to it than that. It was the thought of her having sex with someone else too. That was one thought that could turn him into a ravaging madman. It brought out the temper he forgot he still had. Seeing another man touch her pale skin, kiss her perfect lips, even hold her hand, would be a death sentence to his heart.

Years ago, after he had taken her innocence, before regaining his senses, he had whispered words of love to her. He had claimed her for all times. Still caught in the passion of the moment he had let his true emotions seep into his words. He spoke those hidden things until that moment. When he looked into her eyes, identified the victorious shimmer of love that lurked there, fear sliced through him. He ran.

He didn’t deserve her. He didn’t need her. But he wanted her. He craved her. He loved her. And with every passing day it was becoming harder to deny her of the love she begged of

Tossing and turning, he tried to erase her from his thoughts as sleep finally wrapped him in a warm cocoon of unconsciousness