Violet Hendrix is a writer stuck in a rut. Behind deadline on a manuscript and struggling with writer’s block, she tries people-watching as a way to jump-start her creativity. With her writing career on the line, and an inability to put words on the page, Violet becomes an obsessive voyeur. There’s no one she’s more interested in watching than Jack Riley, the commanding Dom who lives in the building next to hers.
As she admires him from afar, she begins to fantasize about being his submissive. When a chance encounter leads to an evening together, she has the opportunity to turn her submissive fantasy into reality. Can she submit to the Dom next door and surrender to pleasure?
I sunk down into the warmth and settled on the bench seat inside the tub. The hot water combined with the bubbly jets melted the soreness in my flesh like butter. Just as I was beginning to relax, a light went on in Jack’s apartment. I sat up a little straighter and lifted my neck from the headrest.
He walked to the French doors that led to his patio and stood there, simply gazing out into the darkness. The light from the streetlamps illuminated his face and torso and I could tell he was looking toward the pool. He was staring at me.
But he couldn’t be, could he?
The width of his shoulders nearly filled the doorframe, damn, but the man was well-built. He had on clothes that I knew he’d worn to work. A pair of khaki pants, with a white oxford shirt tucked in. He didn’t wear a tie and the first button of the shirt was undone, exposing his smooth throat. The sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up showcasing forearms that I knew from months of watching were thick with muscle and lightly covered in dark, coarse hair.
As I scanned his body and style of dress, his head was still turned in my direction. His attention hadn’t wavered in what seemed like a very long time. He’d never shown me this kind of interest before. In fact, in all the months I’d spent studying him I’d never seen him look my way. I’d wanted him to, but he’d always seemed oblivious of my watching him.
So why did I suddenly have his rapt attention? It wasn’t because I’d had a nip-slip. My trusty one-piece was still covering all my vital places. Besides, I was shielded by the veil of darkness despite the dim glow coming from the tiki torches. Did he know it was me in the hot tub? Or was he staring because he thought I was someone else?
The idea that I could be a source of fascination for the sexy Dom was exhilarating. Somehow, imagining that he pictured me as someone else made it even naughtier. My nipples tightened and I knew it wasn’t because of the cool night air caressing the front of my wet bathing suit. Beneath the warm, bubbly water my clit pulsed with need.
Jack stepped out onto his patio and leaned against the railing. His gaze was still trained on me. I didn’t know what to do under his scrutiny. I’d never been watched before. I’d always been the watcher. The role reversal left me curious, but also uneasy.
What was I supposed to do in this instance? Did he want me to go about my business in the hot tub, as though he wasn’t following my every move with his gaze? I tried to get a read on what he might want. If the roles were reversed, if I was sitting in my apartment staring at him and found him looking right back at me for a change, how would I want Jack to behave?
Hadn’t I had numerous fantasies about him putting on a show for me? Hadn’t I wished he’d slowly undress for me, never taking his gaze away from my direction? More times than I could count on both hands I’d watched Jack, willing him to look my way. On more than one occasion I’d hoped he’d strip down to nothing and then grip his thick cock. I’d thought about what I’d do if he brazenly stroked himself while looking at me.
That fantasy was something I’d played over and over in my mind for months, now it was presenting itself in reverse. Even though the water was warm, it didn’t conceal the slick heat lubricating my pussy. I was soaking wet and it had nothing to do with the fact that I was sitting waist-deep in a hot tub.
Making my moves slow and deliberate, I reached up and ran my hands down my wet tresses, sliding them down my neck. I glided them over my collarbone and let my fingers graze the sides of my breasts on their downward descent. I looked up, hoping that the smoking hot Dom was still captivated by me.
In the shadowy light, I watched Jack take one hand off the railing of his patio deck and put it in his pants pocket. Was this it? Was he reaching into his pocket to stroke himself through the thin cotton of his chino trousers?
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About Ariel Storm
Ariel Storm believes that fantasies are meant to be explored, on the pages of her manuscripts, and beyond. Ariel fell in love with all things paranormal, magical and mystical at a young age. Her obsession with the dark, dangerous and forbidden began in her teen years as a way to rebel against her strict religious upbringing. Her stories can range from contemporary BDSM to new adult to paranormal. One thing will never change, and that’s writing scorching hot erotic romance with unconventionally sexy alpha heroes.
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