Besides, Tony was probably dead to the world right now. If she made any sounds, he'd never hear them.
Chapter Three
What the hell was that sound? Tony jerked upright in bed and searched the darkness.
It sounded like a moan. A deep, throaty moan. Maybe it was Morgan's cat.
He listened, but all he heard was the wind rustling the palm trees. Warily, he settled back against the pillows, too wide awake now to go to sleep.
Sure as hell sounded like a moan. Then again, maybe he was only hearing what he wanted to hear. His body ached all over, his penis hard and waving at him under the sheet, clamoring for some attention. Hell, it had been hard since the moment he'd set eyes on the fiery redhead in the room next to his. It didn't appear to want to settle down, either. Nothing like walking around in his shorts with a hard-on, swimming with one, eating dinner with one. It's a wonder she hadn't noticed his semi-rigid state all evening. He sure as hell had.
There was that sound again.
Holy shit! It was Morgan! The walls must be thin. Then again, their rooms did butt against each other. He threw off the sheet and stepped naked to the open window. The gentle breeze caressed his fiery hot penis, but not enough to cool the raging inferno of lust coursing through him. As if his body wasn't heated enough, now he had to listen to her sex cries?
A long, low moan lit the night. The wind died down completely as if in answer to his unspoken prayer. Hell, now he could even hear her erratic breathing. Her window must be open.
His erection brushed the windowsill. Instinctively he grabbed his cock in his hand and squeezed. The ache was painful. He'd been fighting his arousal all night to no avail, and now that he could touch his cock, slide his fingers along the throbbing shaft, he had to stifle a groan of sheer pleasure.
Her voice was low and full of passion as she groaned and gasped in pleasure. He heard the rustle of sheets and pictured her naked body outlined in the moonlight. She'd be on her back, her hips rising and falling with her strokes.
Did she play with her clit, or did she slide her fingers into her wet pussy and pump away as if a hard cock was in there? Or both?
Sweat poured off him as he began to stroke his swollen shaft He moved his hand slowly, savoring every sound from the room next door. He visualized her movements, trying to match the sounds to what she was doing. As arousing as the images in his head were, he wanted more. What he really wanted was to see her, to time his release with hers.
This wasn't good enough. He wanted to watch her thrum her clit and fuck herself with her fingers or a vibrator or whatever she used. He wanted to come watching her do the same.
As quietly as he could, he opened the door to the veranda and stepped outside. Her moans grew in intensity as he approached her window.
Christ, he was a Peeping Tom! He couldn't believe the depths he'd sunk to. Granted, he'd do almost anything to get a story, but this was personal. He was invading her privacy--her most intimate privacy. And the worst part? His erection throbbed so hard he didn't give a shit. He wanted to watch. He was going to watch. And he was going to come in the process of doing so.
With light footsteps he eased closer to her window. He couldn't chance standing right in front of it. So he stood back, inching forward a little at a time until a vision rocked him still.
The bed faced the window. Morgan lay naked across satiny sheets her body outlined by the soft moonlight streaming in the window. Her back was arched, her hair spread out like a fan on the pillow. Full, rounded breasts with huge dusky nipples stood rigidly erect. Her feet were planted on the bed, her knees bent. Her hand was buried in the patch of red curls between her legs, moving slowly up and down her slit until she slid two fingers inside.
Her eyes were closed, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. And she was moaning.
Goddamn if that wasn't the most erotic vision he'd ever seen.
This was new to him, something he'd never done before. He'd never been a voyeur, never stood by and watched a woman touch herself. What a damn turn on! The only thing that could make it better would be if she knew he was watching, if she put on a show for him deliberately.
She'd already enticed him, but he wanted her participation, wanted to know she enjoyed getting off for him.
He stroked his shaft and wondered what she was thinking.
Morgan moved her fingers deep inside her pulsing core, amazed at the fluids drenching her. She hadn't been this stimulated in ages, hadn't felt the stirrings of desire and passion for a man in too many years.
Here, in her fantasy world, Tony Marino was safe. He couldn't harm her, and she could do anything she wanted with him--have him do anything he wanted with her, without fear.
Digging her heels into the mattress, she lifted her hips and mimicked the motions of fucking. Her fingers drove in deep, then slid out slowly, imagining Tony's huge cock plunging in and out of her in the same way.
He'd position himself over her, his muscled biceps straining with the effort. She'd grab his arms and hold on, lift her hips and urge him in deeper and deeper. His expression would be intense, focused on her face. They'd watch each other's reactions--so intimate, a window to the soul. Then he'd lean over and kiss her.
She moaned, imagining the magic of his mouth against hers. She licked her lips as if her tongue were his, licking and nibbling and demanding entry.
His tongue would stroke in and out of her mouth in time with the strokes of his shaft. She whimpered and circled her clit with her thumb, intensifying the near explosive pleasure. Knowing Tony was in the room next door only added to her excitement--the risky element of possibly being caught.
What would he think if he could see her like this? How would he react, knowing she was fantasizing about him?
Tony sucked in a breath and caressed his cock, his hands slick with sweat. The visual of watching Morgan masturbate was the hottest thing he'd ever seen.
Her eyes were closed tight, her mouth partly open. She panted, letting out tiny little gasps and whimpers as she fucked herself with her fingers.
Sweat poured off his chest and down his stomach. He wanted to whimper, too. His cock wanted to let loose a hard stream of come that would fly right into her window. He grasped his throbbing shaft and squeezed, then slid his hand from base to tip, feeling his knees wobble a bit at the sheer erotic joy of the sensation.
He was mesmerized watching this night vision pleasure herself, and pleasure him too. Fighting the groan that threatened to spill from his lips, he clamped his mouth shut and breathed through his nose. He didn't want her to know he was there. He desperately didn't want to stop the moment.
When she sped up her pace, so did he. As her fingers fucked faster in and out of her pussy, he jacked his cock to her rhythm. His balls tightened and through sheer force of will he held back the orgasm he knew was imminent.
He wanted to wait for her. When she came, he would, too.
Her left hand brushed her breasts and teased her nipples. She squeezed one breast, then the other, hard, and cried out softly, her lush ass rising up off the bed.
Tony increased the strokes on his cock, sensing she was close, knowing it was only a matter of time before she--
Ahhhh, yes. Cries of ecstasy spilled from her lips as she came, her body shuddering with her climax. He released the restraint on his cock and allow
ed his orgasm to rack his body. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. What he really wanted to do was roar out her name.
Gradually, her legs relaxed and she slid them flat on the bed, her hand still gently parting and searching between the tuft of red curls. Then she stopped, sighed deeply, and seemed to fall fast asleep.
Tony crept back into his bedroom and gently closed the door.
He sat on the edge of the bed, completely drained and feeling more than a little guilty for spying on Morgan. And yet it had been the single most erotic moment of his life.
Miss Prim and Proper was one hot number. For a woman so full of passion, why did she seem so cool on the outside?
*
Morgan couldn't help it. She blushed all through breakfast.
It wasn't as if he'd known what she'd been doing last night. Still, reliving the thrilling moments and staring across the table at the subject of her erotic fantasies created a bonfire of heat in the kitchen. And it wasn't coming from the stove.
"You look well-rested this morning," Tony said.
"I do?"
"Yeah. Your face glows. Or is it just warm in here?"
"Must be warm." She was certainly heated. Whether from embarrassment at her thoughts or that knowing smile on Tony's face she wasn't certain.
Why was he looking at her that way? As if he knew her--intimately. He didn't know her at all.
She was imagining things. He couldn't have known about last night, could he?
"Did you sleep well?" she asked.
He coughed, took a quick swallow of orange juice, then looked up at her. "I slept fine. Like a baby. Took me awhile to fall asleep, though."
Morgan's hand stilled on her cup and she set it back on the saucer, afraid he'd see her hand shake. "Awhile?"
"Yeah. Kept hearing noises."
He wasn't making eye contact, instead had his head buried in the schedule of events she'd given him. But still, she caught the upturned corners of his mouth and knew he was smiling.
Oh dear God, he'd heard her getting off. That had to be it. He said he couldn't sleep right away, he'd heard noises, and he was grinning like a little kid with a secret. Her body flamed in mortification.
Which irritated her even more.
Years ago the thought of a man watching her masturbate would have excited her. Now, she was appalled. What had he heard? How could she even broach the subject this morning? What was she supposed to say--something along the lines of, "So how did you enjoy my performance last night? Did you get off, too?"