Chapter One
LAST NIGHT I fell asleep in Gabriel Blaine’s arms. After weeks of allowing my billionaire neighbor to watch me as I lounged in his backyard naked, I’d finally given him permission to touch my body. My hardworking businessman had been too exhausted to do more than hold me close.
This morning I wake up alone, the sumptuously soft robe Blaine has given me draped over my near-naked body. The sun’s rays break the building-cluttered Beverly Hills horizon, coloring the sky pink. Birds chirp happily. Garden sprinklers whiz back and forth, back and forth. Sandalwood, musk, and the tang of cigar smoke, Blaine’s distinctive scents, drift on the cool breeze, teasing my nostrils, stirring my passion.
I want him . . . badly. As I sit up, the robe falls from my shoulders, revealing the golden key hanging on the black ribbon around my neck and my delicate white bra, more gifts from my enigmatic neighbor. My nipples tighten, yearning for his touch.
“Blaine?” I look around his backyard, searching for him. The naturally shaped pool is empty, the waterfall cascading down red rock, spreading ripples over the surface. The windows in the two-story mansion behind me are dark, the building’s design classic and timeless.
Blaine doesn’t answer.
I scan the small table beside my lounge chair, seeking clues to his whereabouts. A cigar butt is ground into the base of the ashtray, gray ashes sprinkle the terra-cotta. A sleek black phone and a crisp white sheet of paper rest on the table’s wooden surface.
I resist the temptation of the phone, having learned from my thief of a father not to touch objects that aren’t mine, and I pick up the note, the heavy black handwriting distinctively Blaine’s.
Had to go to the office.
Be a good girl, nymph. I’ll be watching.
Blaine
He’ll be watching. I glance at one of the many cameras positioned around the pool and I wiggle, swishing my ass against the seat cushion, excited by the thought of him watching me.
I carefully fold the note, remove the key from around my neck, tuck both into one of the robe’s pockets, and stand, leaving the robe on the lounge chair. Wearing only my bra and panties, I stretch, undulating my body, the stone hard against my bare feet, the sun warming my shoulders, breasts, ass, the solar caress decadent, naughty.
I unhook my bra, allowing the flimsy piece of cotton to fall to the ground. I cup my small breasts, offering them to the sun gods, and I tease my nipples with my fingers, pinching, squeezing, driving my arousal skyward.
Is Blaine stroking himself as he watches me? Is his cock hard, his brilliant green eyes dark with passion?
I hook my thumbs in the white ribbons hugging my hips and bend over, sticking my ass in the air as I pull my panties down. The cotton is soaked with my pussy juices, my musk hanging in the morning air.
I fluff my neatly trimmed brown curls and saunter to the waterfall, swaying my hips, playing the seductress, a role I never thought I’d warrant. Blaine has shown me the beauty in my brown hair, brown eyes, and small breasts.
I step into the waterfall and gasp, the cold water puckering my nipples, exciting my already excited body. I rub my palms over my breasts, my flat stomach, the flare of my hips, warming my skin, escalating my passions.
Leaves rustle and I look over my shoulder. I don’t see anyone, the hedge bordering the far fence thick and solid, home to chatty birds and frisky squirrels.
I imagine a man is watching me. He won’t dare to touch me, I belong to Blaine. He’ll only watch and touch himself, his jeans pulled down to his ankles, his cock in his hands.
I spread my legs wider and swivel my hips, allowing Blaine and my mysterious watcher to see my pink pussy lips. Do both of these men want to fill my virgin pussy hole with their big cocks? I strum my wet folds up and down, brushing my clit with my thumbs.