My Prerogative Read online

  Excitement ripped through Harlan. She was giving him her phone number.

  He set his camera down and stepped back from the window. The question was . . . why?

  He glanced around the loft, seeing the images of her he’d already worked on. Should he call her? His gut clenched and he remembered the way she’d looked standing out on her balcony, lost and alone. There was no should or shouldn’t to it. He couldn’t not call her.

  Lifting the camera, he zoomed in and reread the number. Where the hell was his phone? His worktable was a mess. It was an organized chaos though and he knew the phone was there somewhere. He just wasn’t sure exactly where.

  Muttering the numbers over and over, he shuffled some paint tubes and brushes around, pushed aside an old canvas and finally found the phone beneath a dirty cloth that stunk of turpentine.

  He punched the numbers into the phone and arrived back at the window in time to see her answer.

  “You’ve been watching me,” she said. And it wasn’t a question.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Did he even know why? Sure, she’d been the muse that got him painting again, but it was more than that. He’d always been a people watcher, but he’d never taken it to this level before. He’d never spied on anyone.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said simply.

  “It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

  She knew. This woman who was so innately sexual somehow knew that there was more to his watching than just a quick thrill. Did she feel the connection between them too?

  “With some people.” He paused, and she let the silence linger. “Yes, with you there’s more to it. Your beauty is definitely there on the surface, but I think there’s more to you than you show the world. You intrigue me.”

  Intrigue was a mild way to put it, but he didn’t want to scare her off.

  She’d gasped and he wondered if he’d freaked her out anyway. Would she hang up? Maybe call the cops on him?

  But she didn’t. Instead he watched her lean against the railing of her balcony as she spoke. “You like to watch.” Her voice was better than he’d imagined. Husky, and just a bit rough, it sent a shiver down his spine.

  He picked up the camera again. Without it, he could see her body fine, but the other night the need to see more, to examine her expressions and see the emotions dance across her face had found him digging through the closet for it.

  With it he felt closer. Everything he saw through the lens was magnified. She became more than a female body. He could see the expressions that flitted across her pretty face, and the rigid way her nipples pressed against the material of her bra.

  “I like to watch you.” He watched then as she twirled a lock of hair and smiled.

  “And do you like what you’ve seen?”

  A chuckle rose from deep within. He shouldn’t be surprised by her ready acceptance of him. He already knew she was special. The urge to tease her back was strong. “Most of it, yes.”

  “Most?”

  “I liked watching you dance, and the sex the other night was nice too. You’re wonderfully uninhibited. But my favorite was watching you ride that rubber cock stuck to the chair.”

  Her eyes rounded in surprise and her mouth formed a perfect O, but she recovered quickly.

  “Big surprise there,” she said with a laugh. “Do you stroke yourself when you watch me?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Are you now?”

  “My hands are full right now with the phone, and the camera.”

  “Camera?”

  “I dug it out of a closet for the zoom lens, so I can see you better.”

  “Would you be stroking your cock if your hands weren’t full?”

  Interesting that she hadn’t asked if he’d taken any pictures. He thought about the question she had asked. He was hard, but there were times when a deeper pleasure could be had by waiting. “No, not right now.”

  He watched her pout for a moment, her lower lip thrusting out in a way that made him want to bite it.

  Then she moved on. “Do you always use the camera?”

  He smiled. “Not always. Sometimes I just like to watch your body move, but when I want to see more, to see you, I need it.”

  “Like now.”

  “Like now,” he confirmed. “I can see you more clearly. Learn things about you.”

  “What do you see right now? What have you learned?”

  “I can see your smile, and a bit of a flash that tells me your nose is probably pierced.” His pulse beat faster. “The flush in your cheeks and your hard nipples tell me that you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

  Silence fell and he listened to her breathe. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled, and his gut clenched. The hand not holding the phone rose and she scraped her nails over a nipple in an almost subconscious gesture. She was such a sensual creature that he doubted she was even aware of doing it.

  She finally spoke again, almost whispering into the phone. “What’s your name?”

  “Harlan.”

  “I’m Kelsey.”

  Pleasure washed over him. It was a simple thing, her telling him her name. But it solidified the connection that was growing between them.

  “Will you continue to watch me, Harlan?”

  He caught his breath. “Would you like me to?”

  She left her balcony going back into her apartment. When she was in the middle of the room she turned and smiled at him. “Yes, I think I would.”

  Then she hung up.

  Satisfaction unlike anything he’d felt in a long time rose up in Harlan. He’d never been a big believer in fate, but right then, he was convinced that it was somehow at work.

  A people watcher by nature, he did it all the time. He’d sit in a park, or at the food court in a shopping center. He went to the movies and watched the audience, not the movie. As an artist, people fascinated and inspired him. He liked to watch them when they were unaware because it’s then that there is no pretense. It’s then that their true selves show clear.

  He’d never gotten hooked on watching any one person in particular before. Even with Kelsey it had been an unconscious thing. She’d caught his attention when he’d been daydreaming at the window, chasing his muse instead of working. He’d seen her dance around before. He’d even seen her crying, but those times had never really touched him. She’d just been another person.

  Until the afternoon she’d put a chair in the middle of her living room and proceeded to ride it with abandon. She’d seduced him that afternoon.

  It wasn’t just the sexual aspect of what she’d done that had hooked him; it was the rawness of it all. Her actions, her emotions, they’d been real, and deep. She’d reveled in her sexuality, and it had brought forth a primal response in him. He’d wanted her, but more than that, he’d wanted to worship and pay tribute to her.

  He glanced at the canvas a few feet away from where he stood. He’d painted that day. He’d been in a slump since moving in to the loft and deciding to focus on his art full-time, but the piece he’d started that day was show worthy. And he had sketches of many more, all inspired by her.

  Days after that first session, when she’d been hurting on her balcony, he’d wanted to comfort her. For the first time in years, emotion had stirred deep within him.

  Kelsey touched him, and he couldn’t walk away from that.

  13

  I woke on Sunday morning with thoughts of my personal watcher flitting through my mind. It was my lazy day, and my plan was to do nothing but read in the quiet peace of my apartment. I rolled out of bed and went to the balcony where I stretched out on a towel in the sun for a while. I’d yet to get a good look at him, my watcher that is, just silhouettes and that quick glimpse on the sidewalk.

  Shit, I forgot to ask if that was even him I’d seen outside.

  It was. When he’d looked at me, his gaze had felt familiar. It had to be him. He was a big man, and that pleased me. I liked big me
n. They made me feel feminine.

  In concession to the heat, I wore nothing more than my bikini bottoms as I left my overheated patch of sun on the balcony to sit in my IKEA papasan chair and read my romance novel.

  From time to time I’d feel eyes on me, and I’d bite back a smile. Harlan. It was strange, the way that knowing he was there was almost a comfort. And instead of discouraging me from touching myself as I read the hot love scenes, the knowledge that he might see me was encouraging.

  I wasn’t being crude, or raw, but the brush of my fingertips on silk covered pussy lips, a little nudge against my piercing there or a tug on a nipple was normal.

  Women often joked about how men couldn’t watch TV without scratching themselves and I often wondered if I was the only woman around who couldn’t read a romance novel without absently touching myself.

  A tear leaked from my eye as I finished the last page late in the afternoon. Tossing the book on the floor I wandered my apartment for a bit, straightening things up, doing the few dishes in my sink, watering the one plant I hadn’t killed yet.

  Bored, I reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Stoli. Pouring an inch of vodka into a glass, I held it as I paced. A minute later I was back for another shot as I eyed the phone and considered my options.

  Ariel was busy with wedding shit. Dee might spend the occasional Sunday afternoon with me, but nights were her husband’s . . . and a glance at the clock showed it was after seven already. Risqué was closed so I couldn’t even go kill some time on the pool tables.

  I could call Val and maybe he’d be interested in going to the gym, having a sparring match or something, but then I’d be taking up some of his alone time with Samair.

  It was Sunday evening and all the couples would want to be couples, not friends.

  Normally I like my own company. But sometimes my head was a bad place to be and I could feel the dark loneliness hidden there creeping forward. A look confirmed the bottle of vodka was still three quarters full and I stopped myself from pouring another glass. Instead I grabbed my gym bag and headed for the door.

  An hour on the treadmill didn’t do it for me. I spent another twenty minutes beating on the heavy bag, but it didn’t help either. Restless energy was burning through me, the need to feel something other than alone pushing it along. I’d known when I’d brought Dave home last Saturday night he would be nothing more than a quick fix, and I was right. I needed a release.

  As soon as I exited the door of the gym I had my cell phone in hand and was dialing Randy’s number. “What are you doing tonight?” I asked as soon as he answered.

  “You?” he shot back.

  “Actually, I’ll be doing you. My place in an hour.”

  I knew he watched as I strolled slowly around the living room. I pretended not to notice, but I was highly aware of the figure across the street, watching me through the open curtains as I across the street, watching me through the open curtains as I waited for Randy to arrive.

  Harlan had to know something was up just from my outfit, and I found myself hoping he was getting as turned-on by the thought of watching another show as I was of putting one on.

  Randy was the first guy to respond to my singles ad on the Internet months ago, and soon after we’d shared our first drink together, we’d discovered that there was no romantic spark or connection between us at all. However, the way his eyes had lit up at my flirtatious comment about wanting a live sex toy of my own had started us on a different path. One we both enjoyed on a very casual basis.

  Having Randy around had curbed my appetite for one-night stands with strangers. A bit. He wasn’t a boyfriend, but he was a lover.

  The buzzer announced his arrival and I went to open the door. I unlocked it and stepped back deeper into the hallway. Randy entered my apartment, closed the door behind him, and then stood there like a good boy.

  Adrenaline pulsing through my veins, I began today’s game, speaking from the shadows.

  “Go take a shower,” I commanded. “I want you to wash yourself everywhere, and don’t come out until I tell you.”

  “Yes, mistress,” he said with a small smile and headed straight for the bathroom.

  I gave him a few minutes to undress and get under the shower spray. To keep myself busy I went back to the living room and did one last check on the toys I’d set out on the coffee table.

  Sex was something I seemed to have a natural affinity for. A soul-deep craving that had always been with me, and made me a bit of a freak. If being the black sheep in my conservative family hadn’t made me feel alone, my first couple of boyfriends, when I was younger, made it clear to me by telling me I was a freak, or saying I was simply too much, did.

  I’ve always enjoyed sex, a lot, but I’d never been into anything too exotic. Before Randy it was just sex, mostly with strangers for an extra thrill—to give it that nasty edge I craved. When I was with a stranger I didn’t have to worry about what he thought of my appetite for a little bit of rough. With strangers I didn’t care if they thought I was good in bed, or if I pleased them. With strangers it was all about getting off, and nothing more.

  But Randy showed me that I wasn’t a freak. There were others out there who hungered for the more adventurous side of sex. He was the only guy to ever spank me, and wow, had that been a thrill. The best thing was that it worked both ways. Randy liked to be topped, and there were times when I really needed to be the boss.

  Clenching my hands, I closed my eyes and took a breath to calm my racing heart before entering the bathroom to lean against the counter.

  “Open the curtain so I can watch you wash.”

  The curtain slid back and a slight spray hit my skin, surprising me when it didn’t sizzle on contact. Randy glanced at me and froze, his eyes widening and his cock jumping against his belly as he took in my outfit.

  Running my hands over my latex bra and cupping my breasts, I smiled at him. “Like my outfit?” I turned slightly so he could see the way the thong bisected my ass, but his eyes were glued to my legs. Covered in silk stockings . . . and a pair of two-inch heels with an open toe and a strap around the ankles.

  Very dominant-looking shoes. Shoes that made me feel sexy and in charge and made Randy drool.

  “Randy,” I snapped.

  His gaze jumped to mine and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “Yes, mistress?”

  “You didn’t answer me. Do you like my outfit?”

  Eyes on fire, he licked his lips. “Yes. Very much.”

  Randy, with his boyish good looks and lean athletic body, wasn’t the type of man I was normally attracted to, but he offered me more than a pretty face or a hot body. He offered me the freedom of uninhibited play.

  He absently ran the bar of soap over his chest and down his belly, then used his soapy hands on his cock and balls.

  “Do your ass too. Make that little hole nice and pink and clean for me.”

  His eyes shone brightly as he bent forward and reached deep between his legs.

  When he was sufficiently clean I instructed him to turn off the shower and step out so I could dry him off. I walked around him in the small space, toweling him off roughly. Tweaking his hard cock as it bobbed in the empty air.

  “Follow me,” I said as I turned to leave the bathroom. “On your hands and knees.”

  I walked to the living room and sat down on the couch. Randy crawled over to me and stopped at my feet. I noticed his eyes were glued to my shoes and wondered if he had a fetish he hadn’t told me about. “You like my shoes, Randy?”

  “Yes, mistress. They’re very sexy.”

  “Kiss them.”

  He leaned forward and his hot breath skimmed over the top of my foot a second before his lips touched. He kissed the leather strap across the top of one foot and then the other. I watched as his tongue darted out quickly before he pulled back.

  “Sit back on your knees.”

  I then placed my right foot on his left thigh, and my left foot on his r
ight thigh. “Spread your thighs wide apart, and lean back on your hands.” When he was in this posture I slowly began walking my feet up his thighs, and over his chest. And I wasn’t gentle with the spikes.

  Randy’s cock swelled and the head turned a deep purple in response to the slight pain. A deep moan escaped his lips when the tip of my shoe brushed his chin. “Kiss my toes,” I instructed.

  His head tilted forward and he placed his lips on my silk-covered toes. He kissed and nibbled on them until I was fighting the urge to squirm in my seat. I’d never thought of my toes as an erogenous zone before, but he was so obviously turned-on by my shoes and feet that my insides started to churn.

  “Enough,” I commanded and he stopped immediately. “Using only your lips and tongue on my pussy, I want you to make me come.”

  Eyes bright with lust Randy slipped my shoes off reverently and placed them to the side. His fingers trembled as he skimmed his hands over my feet. He would’ve lingered if my impatient sigh hadn’t warned him to do as he was asked.

  His head snapped up and his hands trailed up my legs to spread my thighs. His hot breath whispered over my pussy lips and I tilted my hips forward, prepared to enjoy.

  His tongue slipped inside me, and my feet inched their way up his spread thighs. His tongue circled my clit, tugging on the ring piercing the hood as my feet brushed against his cock. It didn’t take long for Randy to figure out what I had planned, and soon all his attention centered on my clit.

  My feet rubbed and stroked over his hard-on, his pre-come sticking to the silk covering them. Gentle pleasure rolled through me in waves as he worshipped between my thighs, licking everywhere, sucking and nibbling a bit until my clit came out from its protective hood. The jewel on my piercing rested against the hard nub and Randy began to work it until a lovely little orgasm washed over me.

  “Sit back,” I commanded when I caught my breath.

  Randy immediately pulled back and sat straight, his buttocks resting on his heels, hands by his side, eyes shining bright. His true mistress had trained him well.

  Well enough for a neophyte like me to enjoy his submissive nature.