Authors: Celeste Anwar
© copyright by Celeste Anwar
Cover art by
Eliza Black, © copyright September 2012
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Other titles from Celeste Anwar:
Born of Night
The Color of Twilight
Her Every Desire
Project Nemesis: Wolfen Domination
Project Nemesis: Jungle Fever
Pinned and Punished
Miranda’s pulse quickened as she watched him enter the room where the woman waited. It was hot outside--that much was obvious. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his arms, the small of his back as he bent and slid off his boots.
God, he had a great ass. Rounded and firm looking—ripe for a good grab….
She slid up behind him, cupping his ass and nibbling him on the back of the neck.
Miranda frowned and bit her lip, lowering the binoculars and leaning back in her chair, away from the window to relax a minute. Her clit throbbed. A pulse beat low in her belly, making her cleft moisten and slip as she shifted back to the window to watch him and this newest girl.
They were kissing, leaning on the couch. He peeled his shirt off his muscled arms. She pulled her top up over her head, revealing a lacy black bra and tanned, heavy looking breasts.
Miranda pinched her nipple, massaging her own small, achy breasts. It’d been so long since a man had touched her …. She moaned as her neighbor kissed the woman’s neck, rubbing her fingers down her own throat, imagining what it would feel like to have his lips there and lower.
They slid down on the chaise. The woman’s legs fell open in invitation, which he snapped up immediately, kissing the insides of her exposed knees while he slipped her matching panties off and delved a hand down into her nether region.
Miranda sucked her bottom lip, squirming in her chair. Her pussy throbbed, aching for contact. She touched her crotch through her jeans, massaging it as he pushed his head down and buried his face in the woman’s pussy.
Her pulse quickened immeasurably. She opened her fly, pushing her fingers down to her clit to rub the slippery little nub until it swelled under her fingers.
She shouldn’t be doing this--shouldn’t be watching. Sometimes, she almost got the feeling he wanted to be watched, but perhaps that was her own guilty conscience chiming in?
God, it felt good to touch herself. She pressed on either side of the swollen nub, flicking it back and forth as he rose and removed the last of his clothing. His cock was massive, thick and rigid as he slipped a condom on it. The woman grabbed at him, greedily stuffing his dick in her mouth and sucking him.
He threw his head back, his face a mask of pain and pleasure.
Miranda peeled her jeans and panties down, pushing two fingers around her hole, teasing the edges as the blowjob ended and he positioned himself above her. He pulled her legs up onto his shoulders and thrust inside. She could see the woman scream in ecstasy, her head thrown back, her eyes shut and mouth hanging open in a huge O.
She thrust her fingers inside, dying for more. She scanned the room quickly, looking for her dildo. She never could keep up with the thing. It was always rolling off her bedside table, ending up on the floor or under the bed.
Fuck it. She rubbed her clit with her thumb, pushing another finger inside, curling them up to stroke the edge of her g-spot. Her pussy spasmed. Creamy liquid rushed around her fingers, easing their passage as she stroked herself in time with him. God, the way he moved … no wonder he had no problem getting women. The man looked like he could hold his own in a fuck-a-thon.
Perspiration collected on her brow, her chest, and neck. She felt the flush of arousal all over her body as she strained for release. He threw his head back, pounding into her, his muscles flexing and moving, making her want to lick and nibble him all over. She felt herself nearing the pinnacle, her body striving for the edge. Her cunt grasped her fingers as the first jolt went through her, then another. Miranda gasped and dropped the binoculars, clutching one breast as the climax rode through her body, draining every ounce of strength she had inside her.
She continued to push weakly at her core, riding the crest until she couldn’t take it anymore. She pulled her hand away, dropping it by her side as she caught her breath and her pulse slowly returned to normal.
“Whew,” she said to herself before picking up the glasses and peering out again. They were up and about and were moving beyond her sight.
Sometimes she felt like he was putting on a show for her--but that was just ridiculous and very uncomfortable thinking. She did not want to dwell on that. Bad enough that she watched him at all--worse to think that he knew about it.
He’d caught her eye mowing his lawn one day not long after she’d moved in, shirtless, his muscles glistening in the hot summer sun. She’d been riveted to her kitchen window, unable to look away. Of course, she could have used the hot day as an opening to go outside and offer him a drink, but she was far too much a coward to ever approach a man that sexy outright. No, she liked being safe, but alone, in her house. Watching was fun and interesting.
Here, he was all hers—every sexy, muscular inch of him. She could imagine him doing to her all the things she watched him do to other women, imagine herself in their place,
his touch. She could imagine giving herself to him with wanton abandon. Her doubts didn’t plague her. Her little insecurities never crossed her mind.
Miranda sighed and went to her own bathroom to clean up. She tried not to think about feeling guilty for being a pervert, and when she was finished, she crawled into her empty bed to dream of handsome strangers fucking her brains out.
* * * *
When Miranda got off from work the next day, she stopped at her mailbox to see how many bills had arrived and what junk was cluttering up her mail. She flipped through the envelopes, absorbed in sorting when a male voice called out to her.
“Hey. I wondered when I’d get a chance to speak to my new neighbor.”
Miranda looked up, startled but intrigued by the deep, unfamiliar tone, then cringed inwardly when she saw who had spoken. Not just any of her neighbors--
. She swallowed, forcing a smile on her face, wondering if she could just wave and ignore him so that she could make good her escape inside.
“Not exactly new,” she said nervously, eyeing her front door and safe retreat as he approached and wondering if her wobbly legs would betray her if she tried.
He sauntered up, looking quickly in his own mailbox before slamming it shut and moving toward her. His gaze flickered over her, assessing, seemingly noting every detail.
“You haven’t been living here that long, have you?” he said, a charmingly crooked smile on his face. His dark hair rioted over his forehead in a rakish way, curling slightly in the humidity of the deep South.
Miranda felt sweat gathering between her breasts and beading on her forehead. She swiped at it and gave a nervous chuckle. “Oh. Uh. About four months, give or take a few weeks.”
He extended his hand. “I’m
Auclair.” His Cajun French accent was faint but still noticeable. It made her feel warm inside just hearing it. Damn it. He shouldn’t look so much better up close and personal. Being this near him made her feel palpitations in her chest. She wondered if she was suffering a panic attack.
Miranda reluctantly shook it. “Miranda Clay.”
He leaned on her mailbox, invading her space in a way that made her faint with alarm—because she felt faint. “So … how long have you been watching?”
Miranda, who’d been about to say something about the weather, strangled on her own saliva as a gasp tore through her throat. She choked, her eyes watering. Guilt made her cheeks flush hot, and she knew she was blushing. “Excuse me.” She coughed some more to keep from drowning. “I--I’m sorry. What did you say?”
He grinned, obviously enjoying her reaction. He leaned closer, intimately closer. She could smell his aftershave and the cologne he wore. God, he smelled really, really good. “I wanted to know how long you’ve been watching me fuck the women I bring home,” he murmured in a low voice that resonated with the promise of heated passion.
Miranda couldn’t imagine blushing harder than she had already but now the blood fairly pulsed in her cheeks and along the tops of her breasts. “I--I don’t know what you’re talking about.” That’s right. Deny everything.
“I think you do,
. I’ve seen the curtains move in your bedroom, the reflection of light on your glasses as you watched.”
Shit! Shit, shit shit! Her mind went blank as she searched for a way to escape her predicament. Hell, she had never imagined getting caught. Think, Miranda. Think.
Nothing came to her.
“I been puttin’ on a show for you.” His voice dropped an octave, a soft murmur now, his Cajun accent thickened. “I like havin’ you watch.”
“Uhhhh. I have something cooking in the crock pot. I really need to go check it.”
His mouth hitched higher on one side, his eyes gleaming with amusement and a good deal more. “It’s been a while since I had a home-cooked meal, being a bachelor.”
His brazenness knew no bounds, apparently. Miranda didn’t want anything more to do with him. She was mortified and seriously considering moving out of her house--if only she wasn’t paying off a thirty year mortgage now. Oh, the days of blissful renting and being able to pick up and leave when she wanted!
The worst thing was, she really
want to invite him in. He scared the shit out of her, but she’d never had the attention of a man this damn sexy or bold. What would he do to her? Should she brave it? Hell, the cat was out of the bag now….
“Why not. You can come in for supper if you’d like. I haven’t had company in a while.” She was proud of how calm she managed to keep her voice considering she felt like someone had shoved a high voltage wire up her ass.
“I’ll do that.”
Miranda nodded and walked cautiously up her walkway to the front door, hoping he wouldn’t notice just how shook up she was, unlocking it with trembling fingers, profoundly aware of his presence behind her. Her knees felt weak as she opened the door and the air conditioning hit her flushed skin, turning her nipples hard upon entering. She set her mail down, trying to hide them and hoping he didn’t notice and think she was turned on or something. Men always came to that conclusion when they saw hard nipples.
He made a small grunt of a noise. She looked up. He’d noticed--if the dark, sultry look in his eyes was any indication.
Miranda moved uncomfortably through her house, into the kitchen to check her chicken stew. It was done and tender.
“Smells good,” he said, moving behind her to cup her breasts.
A jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure shot straight from her chest to her crotch. She leaned back, choking off a moan. “What are you doing?”
“Just what you want me to,
. Don’t try to deny it.” He bit the curve of her neck and shoulder, nibbling up to her ear lobe.
Her knees just about gave out from under her. “Oh. Uh. Mmmmm.” Her mind spun out of control when he pinched her nipples and slipped his tongue around the shell of her ear. “Wait. We shouldn’t….”
One of his big hands slipped down, roughly pulling her blouse from her skirt to delve inside, touching flesh to flesh. His palm was calloused and hard, the rough surface bringing her skin to tingling awareness. “Shouldn’t what?” he asked, pushing inside her bra to roll her nipple between his fingers.
“Oh god.” She ground her ass against his crotch. His erection felt huge beneath his jeans, pressing hard against the cleft of her buttocks.
He groaned and thrust a hand down to cup her pussy. “Mmmm. Your cunt is so wet.” He lifted her skirt, massaging her mound and making her cream her panties … more. “I’ve been wantin’ to feel how tight you are,” he murmured against her ear.
He pulled her panties aside, plundering her wet lips with marauding intent. She squirmed against him, unable to hold still while he touched her there. Her heart seemed to beat in her clit, begging for him to pluck it with his fingers, with his lips and tongue. She shouldn’t be this easy, she knew, but one touch from him was all it took to make her lose her mind.
“Please, don’t tease me,” she begged, rubbing herself against his fingers.
He removed his hand, bringing it back to his mouth and sucking her juices off his fingers. “I need to taste more,” he said with a groan.
He spun her around, propping her back against the counter as he knelt on the floor. He roughly pulled her panties down her thighs, dropping them to the floor as he thrust her legs apart and pushed his hair-roughened face against her defenseless pussy.
She cried out when his hot breath scalded her skin, moaning as his lips latched on to her swollen clit. He sucked it into his mouth, grabbing her ass with both hands like he was a dying man drinking water. He slurped her juices, lapping at them, a thumb coming up from behind to tease the edges of her hole.
“Ahhh. Put it in,” she said on a moan, grasping the counter for support when his thumb penetrated her and he sucked hard on her clit.
His mouth hummed over her, tickling her, teasing her maddeningly. It wasn’t enough. Not
enough. She needed more. She needed that big cock inside her, hurting her, plundering her insides with bruising force.
“More. I want more. I want your cock in me.”
He stood up, unbuttoning his fly to release the thing she’d been wanting for so long. It was bigger than she’d thought. “I thought you’d never ask.”
He pulled a condom out and slipped it on. Miranda gasped as he caught her hips and lifted her onto the kitchen counter, spreading her thighs wide as he pushed his narrow hips between hers. His cockhead teased her opening as he brought his mouth down on her neck, sucking the column while he pushed at her.
He groaned as he worked himself into her tight opening. She’d always been tight, but she’d been without sex for way too long and had gotten tighter during the drought. She cried out as he sank to the hilt, then grabbed his shoulders and the back of his head, twisting her fingers in his hair as he began thrusting in and out of her.
The monstrosity stretched her to the limits, using every bit of moisture she had to ease its passage, and still, it was barely enough. She was so full, she could die. If felt … wonderful!
“Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Harder. I want you to hurt me with it.”
He growled sensuously, his body shaking with his need to control himself. She didn’t want that. Couldn’t handle it. She wanted him wild and unbidden. Needed it like she needed air to breathe. She wanted him to violate her and let her know how uncontrollable she made him feel. She tightened her hand in his hair, pulling it sharply. He groaned and thrust harder, hurting her so good.
Her muscles clenched around him, grasping, sucking him deeper. He bumped against her g-spot, making it ache so good. Her core shook, gushing with her arousal until she could feel it running down her ass crack.
cupped her ass, going deeper than she imagined possible. She felt him reach her limit and screamed, her blood pounding in her veins, her breath short and rapid. She panted in his ear, begging him for more, silently begging him to make her come like she knew he could.
His breath was hot and as fast as her own. She could feel him tense inside her, move faster, harder. It tipped her over the edge, feeling this wild man, this stranger fuck her in her own house like he owned her.
Her cunt rippled to his rhythm, spasming uncontrollably as her orgasm gripped her. She screamed, throwing her head back, screaming and moaning uncontrollably as the most powerful climax in her life hit her, then doubled up and back, hitting her again and again as he continued shoving his cock in her with wild abandon. She shuddered, writhing against him, unable to control herself, her movements, unable to do anything but feel the pleasure swallowing her whole, devouring every nerve ending into a white hot heat that threatened to burn her alive.
He groaned, her muscles driving him to his own orgasm. Thrusting once, twice more, then collapsing against her until the spasms ebbed to a dull roar.
Miranda gasped when he pulled his semi hard-on from her body. The aches and pains of too rough sex barely registering in her jellied brain. She dropped to her feet, weakly leaning on the counter as her breathing and pulse returned to normal.
He removed the sopping wet condom, tying it up and dropping it in the trash can before stuffing his cock back in his pants and zipping up his fly.
He looked at her, his smoky gray eyes raking over her disheveled appearance, taking everything in. “I don’ think I’ve had my fill yet.”
Miranda swallowed audibly. “I don’t know that I can handle another round of that. It’s … uh … it’s been a long time ….” She trailed off, casting her gaze around the room to try and think of something else to say. What did one say after something like this happened? She had no idea.
“How about dinner then?” he said with a smile, easing some of her tension.
She laughed nervously. “Yeah. Sure.”