Dirty Little Love Story

Dirty Little Love Story #1

By Alicia Alpha

© 2015 Alicia Alpha

All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

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CRYSTAL

1

They’re at it again.

And here I am once more, standing in front of my window, barely hidden by the silk curtains billowing in the slight breeze. Watching. Waiting. Taking notes.

My hand shaking, I touch pen to paper and struggle to write what I’m seeing. He’s not just kissing her anymore, he’s devouring her. His lips locked with hers, his tongue exploring her mouth as he rubs his own stiff cock through skin-tight jeans. Her hands are bound behind her back, but her smile is unrelenting – with the perfect amount of submission.

I scribble frantically, barely being able to tear my eyes away from the scene in front of me. I turn the pages in time with her moans, noting down words that express her fulfillment as she climaxes loudly, such a small distance away from me.

As the man slaps her and she falls back on the bed with a devilish laugh, I can’t take it anymore. My notebook falls to the floor and the pen clatters behind it, both forgotten as I am taken over by lust. I am thankful to be wearing just the slip I went to sleep in the previous night as my fingers slide between my legs and I satisfy myself with quick, shaking thrusts. I can feel the throb between my legs, the wanting reaching a point where it’s hard for me to … just take care of myself. Between bursts of pleasure, I long for the man’s touch. Long for the woman to do what I am doing to myself. Long for the relationship they have, the dominance, the handcuffs they use, his well-known groan as he slides in, her satisfied yelp as he releases deep inside of her.

I am seconds away, already biting my full lips expectantly, when the doorbell rings. With a loud curse, I bring my trembling hands up and frantically try to smooth down my hair. I take a few seconds to compose myself before rushing towards the door, where someone is knocking and saying my name in rushed-but-sweet tones.

I let myself have a final deep breath before I open the door, my fake smile plastered widely across my face, just hoping my acting is good enough to fool my visitor – and at the same time, that he will not notice the way my legs are trembling and the fact my fingers are still slick from what I had been doing.

“Hello, darling,” I say sweetly to my boyfriend of seven years.

Jacob grins back at me and swoops me in his arms. “Missed me, Crystal doll?” he asks gruffly in my ear.

I am a user. A manipulative bitch. Because whatever you think you know about me, you should know one thing only. I come first. And second, and third. Then everyone else.

I have been this way ever since I can remember, but now it has taken on a new level. A few years ago, I was incredibly successful. I was the youngest author at my publishing house, a rising star. I was all that and more – everyone wanted me.

Flash forward to last year. Having lost most of my money to … things I’d rather not discuss, I found myself living in a rented apartment in the top floor of a rundown building that should not even be considered a place to live. I muttered this under my breath every time I slid around a bucket under the leaking roof.

I was struggling. I was 24, but I had not written in two years. I had a contract that I had been unable to fulfill, debts for years to come, and a mind devoid of a single idea. But you know what they say, good things come to those who wait.

The first time I saw them was when I had been living in the apartment only for a couple of weeks. The only thing I liked about this place back then was my reading nook. There was a window seat, complete with a view of the building only feet away from me. I was reading a book, my notebook cast to the side, when they came into view.

The man was tall, dark and handsome. The perfect stereotype. She was a redhead with luscious cherry lips and big, full and perky breasts. How did I know this? Because she was topless the first time I saw her, and one of her hard, rosy nipples was in his mouth as he bid down just roughly enough.

I blushed immediately. Despite what you may think, I am not a confident person. I am shy when it comes to sex.

I tried looking away. I swear I did.

But I found my gaze fixed, my mind racing, and my heartbeat fastening. I found myself reaching for my notebook, the one that had been empty for months since I had picked it up in an attempt to scribble down ideas for my next novel. And then I found that my inspiration was at an all-time high. Suddenly, I was writing like crazy, flipping pages and even tearing some out, describing what they were doing word by word, and adding some of the most raunchiest phrases they yelled out as they fucked.

I am not even an erotica author.

As I presented my agent with a brand new manuscript, he seemed doubtful. But as I got his call an hour later and heard the elation in his voice, I knew I had made it. I had finally gotten a story. Not under my name, but with an even bigger sum attached to it.

The need to touch myself did not come until much later … But you know, when you are watching someone get it like I did for the last few months, you cannot resist a little caress here, a touch there … a finger sliding into your pussy, your tongue licking your lips impatiently, your fantasies becoming peppered with two people you’ve never even met. It was inevitable.

I may have neglected to mention I have been in a serious relationship for seven years, since I was 17. He is my high school sweetheart and I would not change it for the world. You’ll keep my secret for me though, won’t you?

You want to know this story, so your pouty little mouth will stay nice and shut.

I let Jacob hold me and I let my heartbeat slow down, all the while hoping he’ll think I’m only disheveled since it’s still in the morning.

“I brought croissants and coffee,” he lets me know with his wide grin, puts a paper bag on the counter in the minuscule kitchen, and pecks me on the lips. All I can think about is Mr. Neighbour’s enormous cock and how I’d much rather have
that
touching my lips instead of Jacob’s sweetly innocent pout.

“How … quaint,” I offer noncommittally and slide onto the bar stool with a small sigh, hoping it had gone unnoticed.

“It’s Wednesday, Crystal,” Jacob says meaningfully while taking out the groceries and I look at him with a blank stare. “Date night,” he helps me out.

“Oh,” I reply, trying to gather as much enthusiasm as I can possibly muster up, though I’m sure my performance is lackluster. “Are we going to Santonio again?”

Jacob nods animatedly and I curse my life silently. This is what we do – we go to dinner every Wednesday, always at the same place. What follows is a lazy orgasm with a few soft moans for me and a few I-love-you-so-much-babys for Jacob. And then he’s gone again.

At least I managed to stay in this apartment alone. I feigned needing to concentrate on my work, which I guess is true, but since Jacob is such a prude, I’m sure he wouldn’t take my staring at other people having relations, as he calls it.

I don’t know when I turned into such a sour excuse for a human being. I’m just sick, tired and most of all, bored. I’m tired of playing the good little girl. The most excitement I get out of my day is watching
them
.

As Jacob chats about some thing or other, I find myself nodding absentmindedly, still scribbling down notes in my notebook while hiding the writing with the other hand.
This is my sad reality,
I realize as I finish a sentence I’m especially proud of with a flourish.

The evening arrives slowly and painfully, and I’m tired at the mere thought of going out. I’ve had to be smiley and happy all day when all I want is for Jacob to tie me up, just like the man in the opposing building does to his girlfriend.

As I sit in front of my vanity getting ready, I run a hand through my long, naturally blonde locks. They’re so different than that woman’s – she has a fiery head of red hair and the most striking green eyes. I might’ve paid them more attention had she not had the most spectacular breasts I’d ever seen. My A-cups really cannot compare.

Pondering this and more, I nearly miss Jacob who’s popped his head around the corner.

“Ready?” he asks sweetly, but I know him well enough to spot the impatience behind it. The cab’s been waiting for at least twenty minutes, and I’ve been delaying our departure on purpose. I keep trying to catch a glimpse of the couple across the street, but their lights seem to be off.

“Sure,” I sigh and get up, grabbing my faux fur jacket. I slide it over my red cocktail dress and take my clutch as well. I get ready for another pointless night. Because you see, it seems to me like all is pointless unless I’m watching
them
. Writing about
them
. Thinking about fucking
them
.

I thinking about it the whole ride in the cab, while Jacob talks to me about us meeting one of his bosses or something. He works at a law-firm, and he loves showing me around. I guess it’s pretty nice having a Barbie lookalike for a girlfriend, with a few nice titles to her name – erotica writing career a pesky little secret locked behind protected doors.

Before I know it, we’re getting out of the car and into the restaurant. All I’m currently aware of is the throbbing ache between my legs, the way the car seat provided just enough friction while we were driving, and the fact that I’m not wearing any panties. I’ve become accustomed to it – it makes for easier access if I need a quick fix.

I get out of the car grumpily and rush inside ahead of Jacob as it’s quite cold outside. I’m greeted by the
maitre’d
and grumble back a reply before being lead to our table. As we’re approaching it, I notice my heel is sticking to the floor and with absolute horror, I realize a piece of gum is stuck to my Louboutins. I gasp inaudibly and mutter something under me breath, before leaning down to get it off, one hand on the table.

Bad move, Crystal.

In moments, I’ve stumbled across the table and landed on a chair.

That would’ve been humiliating enough, but of course, this is my life, so it seems obvious that the chair should not be empty. Instead I’ve landed in a very muscular, broad lap, and my my my, someone seems to have stiffened as soon as I’ve landed there.
Bad boy.

I hop back up with a knowing smile as Jacob rushes to the table, apologies rushing from his mouth like hot lava from a volcano. I look at him, completely bored, not even bothering to apologize to the man whose lap I’ve just assaulted.

“… so sorry, Mr. Edwards, she can be quite the klutz, can’t you, Crystal doll?” Jacob is saying nervously, all the while giving me a weird pat on the back, during which I just roll my eyes. “Apologize,” he finally mutters in my ear and I roll them again, finally turning to face the man with a small bow.

“Accept my sincere apologies …” I say sweetly, raising my eyes to meet the amused gaze of the man in front of me, apparently called Mr. Edwards. Problem is, there’s something too familiar about those eyes, that flop of dark hair, that broad chest.

I gulp.

I look across the table, and sure enough, there she is. Perky, pretty redhead. The very  one I watched fuck Mr. Edwards only hours ago.

“Nice to meet you … Crystal, was it?” he says in a rough, deep voice. “Have you met my step-daughter, Raina?”

What the actual fuck?