I imagine Harper sinking to her knees and looking up at me, nervous but eager, and wrapping her lips around me. Taking the head first and then slowly sucking more of me into her mouth. My hand starts moving faster on my cock, and I tighten my grip as I think about her mouth on me, her hand at the base of my erection. I imagine her finding her rhythm and taking me gradually deeper and deeper, until she can’t anymore, and backing off a little bit.
My little fantasy deepens, and I look across the way, hoping to catch some sight of Harper, but she’s not back in the window, at least not that I can see. I imagine pulling her onto her feet, letting my hands wander over her body, teasing her while she moans and squirms from how hot and ready she is for me.
I imagine laying her down on her own bed, pinning her there, claiming her tits with my mouth, one after the other, stroking her soft skin, feeling her respond to my touch and then her hot, wet pussy. My hand starts moving faster on my dick as I think about thrusting into her, taking her all at once and feeling her hot, wet center clamp down on me. I groan, closing my eyes tighter and picturing her, imagining the sensation of her tighten around my cock, her hips moving to take me deeper.
I try to hold myself back as I get more and more into the little fantasy of Harper, but I can’t help feeling more and more turned on imagining having sex with her. She’s so hot and seeing her naked made it impossible not to think of what it would be like with her. Before I know it, I am right on the edge.
I groan out as I come, shooting off onto my abs. It hits me hard, harder than the last time I came with a woman even. I keep shooting off, barely able to contain it, until I’m shaking a little bit from the force of it all. I lean back in my chair panting and gasping.
When I look over at Harper’s window again, the lights are off. Whatever else she did after taking off her clothes, I certainly hadn’t seen it, and there wouldn’t be any more to see.
CHAPTER NINE
HARPER POLSEN
In spite of how tired I was when I finally got up to my room, I feel restless now lying in bed. I’d stripped off my clothes and thought about taking a shower, but settled instead for just cleaning the make-up off my face and brushing my teeth and hair.
My mind is spinning with everything that I have going on. I have the big project waiting for me back in the city. A major novel by a famous author, and I’m the one in charge of it. I’m the one whose name is going to appear as the editor. I’m the one who’s going to get listed in the acknowledgements.
But that’s not all that’s on my mind as I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. I can’t stop thinking about Zane, and that fact, all on its own, is enough to drive me nuts. Of all the people in the whole world to catch the hots for, it has to be him? I think about the sight of him up on the ladder, tacking down the strings of lights for the party. I think about the lean muscle rippling under his skin, at his arms. The times his shirt rode up and I could see his abs.
I toss and turn in bed, not sure whether worrying about my first major book project or thinking about how hot Zane is is the worst thing. I turn over again and notice there’s light coming from the house next door. I realize that I left my curtains open — I’d changed just like I normally do in my apartment, but there the blinds are never open.
I tell myself that there’s no way that Zane saw me. He probably wasn’t even in his room yet, probably still downstairs talking to his parents or something. But I’m still naked, and I don’t want to risk being seen getting dressed in the morning, so because I’m not falling asleep anytime soon, I get up out of bed.
Before I can close my curtains, though, I see him. Zane, I hope, can’t see me, since I’ve turned the lights off in my room to try to get to sleep, but I can see him plain as day. He’s naked, and for a moment all I do is stand there and stare, he’s just as lean, just as muscular, as I had thought.
And then I notice what he’s doing. His hand is wrapped around his thick, fully hard cock. His eyes are closed, and I watch, fascinated, as he strokes himself steadily, his thumb and forefinger really working the tip. Heat washes through me and I can’t even remember the last time I wanted to be in the same room as someone else as much as I do right now.
Normally the idea of a guy jerking off doesn’t really appeal to me. It seems so crass, so gross in some way, but watching Zane work himself with his hand, I can almost hear him moaning and it makes me instantly wet.
I feel more than a little guilty watching him, but at the same time a little voice in the back of my mind asks the question, is he getting himself off because that’s a thing that guys do, or is it because he saw something? And if he saw me, is he getting himself off because he thought I was hot? As hot as I think he is right now?