One To Watch (Fantasy Heights) (2 page)

The beginnings of it flowed over her like water, pulling her down into a strictly sensual realm. Everything was smudged out except Derek and his deceptively gentle hands clutching her hips, and the friction of his cock inside her pussy. He was so much taller that he was able to bend over her and still reach her ear to murmur the way he’d done with Brent.

He let go of one hip to send his hand between her legs, finding and rubbing her clit. “I’m glad he lied. You and that damn skirt. That was cruel.”

A helpless whimper was the only response she could manage. Those muscles were pulling, clenching, tightening, and with every thrust from Derek, the tension grew more and more acute. Heaven help her, when this orgasm let go, she might very well explode with it.

When it did, the first pulse felt like that breathless moment between a too-close lightning strike and the deafening boom of thunder. It cracked open and she fell into physical paradise, only dimly aware of Derek hissing air between his teeth and then falling victim to his own handiwork.

Afterward, she was pliant and nerveless as a sleepy cat. Derek was little better. They stayed joined longer than was strictly necessary. Her neck would probably be red for days from the rasp of his scratchy stubble where he kissed and rubbed, affectionate when they should have been more businesslike.

By the time she returned to the greenroom, she was cringing. Maybe Derek had been right about the pair of them working together, too. The chemistry had utterly derailed the end of that scene.

She dressed as quickly as she could and headed back toward the wardrobe offices, still frowning when someone called out.

“Hey! You, there. Abby, or Angie, or whatever your name is.”

Amanda looked up to find the lead performer of the voyeur team bearing down upon her: Ridley Pierce, who rivaled Thomas for Fantasy Heights’s most-feared crown. Nudging thirty years old, the woman was five-foot eleven of redheaded bombshell.

Beverly had introduced them a couple weeks ago and first impressions were not good. For one thing, Ridley thought everyone should bow down to her superior pedigree and highbrow education. For another, Amanda suspected the woman thought Thomas was hers for the taking.

Behind her trailed Ben, the head honcho in exhibitionist fantasies. Ben was rather hard to miss. Equally as tall as Thomas and Derek but blond and blue-eyed, Ben had the most incredibly defined physique Amanda had ever seen. Given his specialty, she supposed he had little other choice than to be perfect eye candy. Personality-wise, the jury was still out. Even on the job, he kept to himself, never saying two words where none would do.

At the moment, his attention was focused on his smartphone. He thumbed away at a game of some sort. When he realized he was being watched, he glanced up, caught her curious stare, and did a double take.

Amanda tried not to frown, and forgot all about Ben’s strange reaction to seeing her when Ridley started in. “Have you heard anything? Do you know who the other three are?”

“The other three what?”

“Performers they fired.”

On the verge of blurting out a silly question, Amanda caught herself just in time. She knew nothing about anyone being fired. Thomas must be rubbing off on her, she thought, as she very coolly replied. “No, I haven’t heard anything more than anyone else.”

Ridley scoffed. “You expect me to believe Josh or Thomas hasn’t told you who the others are? Those boys and the Reaper are like this.”

Ridley held up crossed fingers.

Reaper? Amanda raised her brows and looked at Ben, who started to speak, but Ridley talked right over him.

“I didn’t even know she was here this time with her little blue clipboard of doom.”

The clipboard jogged a recent memory. After Darren and Shelley’s wedding, when she, Thomas and Josh had been on their way back to the car, she’d seen Fiona Cornell hand Josh a blue clipboard. Something he’d needed to sign. Did that mean Fiona was the Reaper?

Ridley gave her an impatient, prissy look, as if she expected the peasant to reveal all the answers the moment she asked the question. “Hello, do you speak English? God. Where do they find these people? Just tell Thomas he needs to call me. Tell him I already know there’s six people getting fired. We’ve figured out the first three, but I need to know the others.”

Amanda pulled her shoulders up into a slow, extended shrug. “I’ll let him know, soon as I talk to him.”

Which could be weeks from now, for all she knew, but left that unsaid as Ridley flounced off.

Before Ridley was out of earshot, Amanda turned back to Ben. “You were saying?”

He broke his seeming vow of silence with a wry smirk. “She meant that Cornell woman. They call her the Reaper because every time she shows up, someone gets fired. And listen, I’m real sorry. Ridley was rude.”

“It’s all right,” she reassured him. “She doesn’t bother me.”

“Yeah, well, she bothers me. Everyone used to say she was the one to watch around here. Now it’s you. She’s jealous, so you better be one to watch your back, too.”

“Terrific. As if things weren’t complicated enough, right?”

“Talk to Thomas. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to adjust her ’tude.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ben. I can take care of myself.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to Thomas for you.”

Giving her no chance to argue, Ben took off again. She shook her head at his retreating back. Senseless, the whole thing. If Ridley wanted Thomas so bad, she needed to work on her approach. And it wasn’t as if the cow had anything to be jealous about anyway. Never, not once in all their performances or pressure-valve sessions had Thomas done anything noteworthy. Plenty of oral and manual games, sure, but Thomas had never, and probably never would, go for intercourse.

Amanda had grown used to the tug of war between them. They threw so many mixed signals at one another, she figured they were immune by now. Well, not really, but luckily, so far, if one of them slipped, the other kept their head and backed off before they did something they couldn’t take back.

Distracted with the firings and the fact she was due another psych evaluation this week—and Thomas and Ridley and umpteen other worries—Amanda barely remembered driving home. But she was all business when she closed the door to her home office and took a seat at the desk.

She hadn’t touched her computer since Saturday, two days ago, now. All she’d done was turn off the monitor. It came back to life with an electrical hiccup and sizzle, showing her that same search engine screen with Fiona Cornell’s entry
Josh Taylor
and the name of the town.

Sooner or later, she would have to press the enter key. It wasn’t about curiosity anymore. The more time passed, the more it became about other things. Like loyalty. Fear. Peace of mind. Betrayal.

She didn’t want to press enter. She didn’t want to fall into the trap of an obvious troublemaker, and most of all, she didn’t want to betray Josh, her highwayman. Pressing enter meant a major invasion of his privacy.

One day you will. I guarantee it
, the Reaper had said.

Somehow, Amanda didn’t doubt that, but today was not that day. Today was the day she would call her landlord and ask permission to have a security system installed. At her own expense, if need be.

He not only agreed, but also recommended a local company he trusted. She put in another call to start the ball rolling. Afterward, she spent two extra hours at the gym, exhausting herself and, if she dared acknowledge the weakness, hiding within the safety of numbers.

The next day, she felt slightly better, and headed into work resolved to stand her ground. Burning notes, enigmatic trainers, Reapers and bitchy redheads would have to work extra hard to rattle her, if that was their intent.

Scott, her client, would keep her out of reach all day anyhow. According to Beverly, Scott was the son of a major VIP client, alleged to be socially awkward. He wanted her to masturbate for him while he watched. He might or might not take part. Reading in between the lines of his script, she understood what he was really after: he wanted to know what felt good for women, hence the masturbation fantasy. He could observe how she did it.

That afternoon, she stepped aboard the waiting pontoon. Their boat would make a long, meandering circuit around the lake while she performed to the client’s liking. Scott turned out to be in his early twenties, pale, thin. Sickly, perhaps. He had dark hair, wore nothing but red and white Hawaiian-print swim trunks, and he hid behind dark glasses, kicked back on a beach chaise anchored to the deck.

She wondered about him. He’d been referred to her by Marla, of all people, though the referral actually made sense. Marla would be no good at this. She had no patience with a fumbling, inexperienced client.

Whoever had screened this script had left a note warning not to dawdle. The client lacked confidence. She shouldn’t risk making him uncomfortable with any chitchat or anything else that would require him to do more than watch, at first.

Faithful to the script and notes, she went straight to work. Their observer, who would pilot the cruise, had only just steered away from the dock before Amanda shed an orange sundress and left herself wearing only a gold ankle bracelet. Her hair had been swept back into a plain ponytail. A warm breeze lifted and scattered it while she stood still, enjoying how it felt to be bare out in the open, even if shaded by the pontoon’s cover. That same breeze stroked and cooled the sensitive skin around her breasts, and sneaked between her thighs to linger and tease.

There was much more to feel in the open air, she knew, but took her time, letting the client have a thorough, uninterrupted look at her body. Already she could see his penis responding, pushing at the swim trunks. She took that as encouragement to walk to the front of the pontoon where a red beach towel had been spread over the wooden deck. Beside it waited a wedge pillow and treasure chest.

The thick towel felt soft and warm as she sat down and tugged the wedge pillow into place behind herself. Ready, she lay back and planted her feet wide apart.

More fully exposed, her cunt lips felt ravaged by the breeze. Cool against hot, clingy and intimate. At the thought of what would follow, a pang of sweet, achy arousal heated her further still. She didn’t understand what it was about masturbating in front of others that made her so hot. It would take extra concentration to keep her arousal hovering at a low simmer.

Careful to start slowly, she let her hands wander over belly and ribs. Down from one knee to the soft skin at the inside of her thigh, then away to cup a breast.

Again she was visited by that feeling of freedom, of liberation while she performed for him. She grew more intent, pinching nipples and stirring more chemical fuel.

She really wished he’d take those glasses off. She couldn’t tell where he was looking. Or what he liked.

It was okay, though. If he was more comfortable hiding behind them, she was more than happy to continue. Finally, she let one hand trail down between her legs. She spread them extra wide, letting her knees drop to the side. She gave her clit a small, delicate rub. Not too hard. She’d be in a lot of trouble, very quickly, if she got too aggressive this soon. She just wanted to get good and wet. Let him see the natural lubrication begin to leak out before she added any toys and lube.

It took less time than she hoped to reach that point. She could feel the breeze cooling the wetness on her pussy all too soon. Maybe one day with practice she’d be able to control her arousal better than she could now. Concentrating on a script, on pleasing a client, and struggling not to come at the same time was rather more than she could juggle yet.

She took her time reaching into the treasure chest for a cheerful orange dildo. She coated it with spray lube, stealing a breather to let her body cool down. When she felt steadier, less victim to volatile urges, she brought the dildo down between her legs and began to draw with it, sliding the tip from her clit down to her anus, circling her cunt and painting with the lube.

Scott shifted in his seat. A very promising sign. She had his attention. After taking a few more teasing passes, she tilted the dildo inward and pushed only the tip between her cunt lips.

Even over the low hum of the pontoon engines, the breeze and water, she heard Scott exhale a long, low breath. He liked that. He liked watching her put the dildo inside herself.

She wished there were mirrors so she could see too. For now, she could be satisfied with how it felt. No acting necessary as she lay back, making small sounds of pleasure. She pressed the shaft deeper and deeper inside.

She started when a warm hand settled on the inside of her right knee. She had been so caught up, she hadn’t noticed Scott leave his chaise to join her on the towel.

“I changed my mind and want to try something. If that’s okay.”

She pulled herself together enough to answer. “Of course it’s okay. Try whatever you like.”

“But what if you don’t like it?”

“Scott, it’s fine. Don’t be afraid to do whatever. I really enjoy sex, and there’s not much I’m not willing to try.”

Still, he hesitated a moment before he managed to stammer out his script changes. They weren’t huge, and she didn’t mind at all. He wanted to be closer to her while she performed, instead of stuck in the chaise. He also wanted to help with the butt plug since he’d never put one in anyone before, and he wanted to be able to touch her while she played.

Amanda began to enjoy the fantasy in a completely different way as they got on with things. She stayed exactly as she was, legs spread wide allowing Scott to remove the dildo and explore for himself. First his maddeningly light touch whispered on her waxed mound, and trailed down between her buttocks to her anus. He circled her there. The sting of arousal was deep and agonizing, knowing it would be quite some time before the needs were satisfied.

He moved cautiously ahead, and she reached down with both hands to spread her pussy lips apart for him. Here he was not so shy, sinking his index finger in deep once before pulling out and finding her clitoris.