Look At Me. Cara Lockwood
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veins, pumped by her fast-beating heart. What she’d give at that moment to be able to feel him inside her. God, she wanted him.
Then the woman before him opened her eyes, and the spell was broken. Suddenly, the intimate little bubble she’d occupied with Jackson was burst. Chloe ducked behind her curtains, fearful the woman would see. She pressed her back against the brick wall, heart pounding in her ears.
What had just happened?
It was wrong what had just happened. So very wrong. How would she feel if someone had watched her and her...boyfriend? Yet she’d never been that brazen. She would’ve never done it with the blinds up like that. She remembered the confident smirk of the woman as she’d stepped out of her jumper. Chloe doubted the woman would even care if she’d been seen. Hell, she was the one who had sex in front of the windows at night, with the blinds up.
She clicked off her foyer light, her own apartment now dark. She felt the cloak of darkness like a cover of protection. Could she ever even look at Jackson again? She frantically shut her own curtains.
No. It had been wrong. She shouldn’t have watched. Yet she liked it. She liked it even more when he’d caught her watching. When he’d shown her how much he’d enjoyed it. Those stark blue eyes watching her, excited by her watching... She’d never forget the look on his face when he’d come.
Heat built between her legs as she slipped her hand down the waistband of her shorts. She found herself so very wet, so very wanting. She touched her most delicate center and shivered, knowing this was what she’d badly wanted to do while she watched Jackson, and now she could hold back no longer. She thought about his hands, his eyes, how he’d feel inside her, filling her...and then, before she knew it, Chloe came in a heated rush, so fast, so hard, a quick explosion of need.
God, she’d never done that before: made herself come in just a matter of seconds. But she knew why this time had been different. It had been Jackson. All Jackson.
What would he do if he knew she’d...just done this? For him?
The thought danced in her mind. So wrong. Yet right.
She felt like she’d been there with him. And...her. Her heart settled a bit, her breathing slowed, and she wondered if her neighbor had gotten dressed. If he and that woman were cuddling, kissing now. The thought made her feel a flare of jealousy. Why? I’m not his girlfriend. I’m just the neighbor who flashed him...and watched him come. How she wished she could see that look of pure pleasure on his face again, but this time, with him deep, deep inside her.
She slumped down at her kitchen table and stared at her drawn curtains. Should she take another peek? Would she dare? No. She fought herself. I’ve invaded the man’s privacy enough. I’ve broken enough laws.
What if Jackson called the police?
She shook her head. No. She remembered the pleasure on his face as he glanced up and saw her. No. He liked it. He liked it when she watched.
But who was that woman? Girlfriend? Escort? She wasn’t sure which would be worse. She didn’t like the idea of him having a girlfriend, an intimate, loving relationship, but she also didn’t like the idea of him paying for sex, either. She heard a door slam in the alley and curiosity got the better of her. She jostled the curtain a centimeter and peered down. The woman he’d just had sex with slipped into an Uber waiting in the alley.
Definitely not a girlfriend, she thought. Then...what?
Chloe thought about the man in his big three-story building all by himself, sated now, maybe even still naked. Maybe rinsing off in the shower. For a split second, a crazy thought ran through her head...what if I went over? Rang his doorbell?
Instantly, she dismissed the thought. Really? She was going to...what? Tell him she was sorry for spying? Or ask him to do exactly what he’d just done to that woman to her?
Her inner thighs tingled at the thought. Heat rose in her abdomen again. She’d only just taken care of that. Hadn’t she? Yet, was she wanting this again? So soon? Just the thought of seeing Jackson made her wet.
No. He’d think she was crazy. Wouldn’t he?
After she watched the Uber drive away, she glanced back up at the new neighbor’s windows. She didn’t see him, and figured he’d moved to his room, though his blinds were still wide-open. Maybe he’d forget about the whole thing. Maybe he’d pretend it never happened. Maybe that was what she should do as well.
Then she saw him return with a bar of white soap in his hand and a small bowl of water. What was he...? She hid once more as he came to the windows. The idea of him seeing her spying more made her face flame with embarrassment. She waited for a few minutes, breathing hard.
Go to bed, Chloe, she told herself. What are you even doing?
She waited a few more moments that felt like hours. Should she look? Once more? What was he doing with that bar of soap?
Chloe peeked around the curtain, leaving just enough space for one eye. The living room was now empty. No sign of Jackson.
But he’d used the soap to write a message on his window. It was big enough for her to read.
Next time, want to do more than watch?
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