Alicia didn’t want to go into the church.
She sat in her car in the parking lot, just staring at the building. It was early and worshippers were probably still having their Sunday breakfast. The morning was warm, but the real heat of mid-summer had yet to build up for the day. All was peaceful and quiet.
Except inside her head.
She’d sinned. Last night at the Satin Club, she’d gone down a very wicked path. Her actions had been greedy and lustful, and she had no justification for them other than she’d been seduced. She’d been so curious and tempted; she’d followed temptation to the dark side. She knew it. There were no excuses for it. She should be inside that church on her knees begging for forgiveness.
Yet did she really have to apologise?
She was shocked by what she’d done – and, more so, what had been done to her. She hadn’t expected any of it. Dancing naked for the whole club had been scandalous enough, but what had happened inside that private room had been unspeakable. And thrilling and naughty and mind-blowing and debauched. Her customer looked so youthful and ingenuous, yet that baby face hid a virile and dominating man.
‘Not so Gentle Ben,’ she murmured. She shifted in her seat. The interior of her car was quickly warming.
The toys he’d used on her had been unfamiliar and a bit frightening. She’d never associated pain with pleasure before, but she’d learned very quickly that a nip or a sting could push her arousal to an even higher level. This morning, her nipples were still tender to the touch and her backside … She felt her cheeks flush. Her backside ached. Sitting wasn’t helping her put the experience out of her head, but standing wasn’t much better.
What was she supposed to do?
The awareness that had started when she’d set foot inside the Satin Club was growing by leaps and bounds. She was a sexual person. She revelled in the delights of the flesh. She was just beginning to understand that. Yet, the church frowned upon it.
‘But why?’ She didn’t feel any different on the inside. She was the same nice, responsible person. Why was it bad to do things that felt good? When it was consensual? Why was sex so castigated when it brought pleasure to others?
The driver’s seat was quickly becoming a hot seat.
She popped open the door and felt a breeze ruffle her hair and soft dress. Putting on her sunglasses, she lowered her head and made a beeline to the church’s back door.
Her father was right. She was starting to have doubts. Not about her faith, but about all the rules that she’d been following for so long. The rules her father preached about with such fire and gusto … The rules Bas liked to chide …
She found herself at the door with her hand on the knob. The scene was so reminiscent of the day she’d stood in front of the Satin Club that she had a weird sense of déjà vu. Was this another mark in time?
A car drove by on the street and it spurred her into action.
She opened the door and moved quickly through the hallway. As a remodelled theatre, Sunlight Epiphany Church still carried some of the building’s basic characteristics. The former dressing rooms had been converted into office space, while the stage and seating area were now the sanctuary. Normally she would have checked that area first to make sure that everything was ready, but today she avoided it.
For the first time ever, she felt uncomfortable here. Nobody was around, but it felt like a thousand eyes were upon her. Pointing at her and judging.
Her hand trembled as she unlocked her office door. ‘Breathe. Just relax. Nobody knows. Nobody needs to know.’
But she knew.
And there was proof.
She pushed the door shut with her heel and hurried around her desk. She opened her purse and pulled out the wad of bills that was weighing it down like a bowling ball. It was the tip money that her lap-dance recipient had left for her.
If that was what she wanted to call it.
She pulled her hand back from the money like it was poison. The dollars that men stuck in her G-string were one thing. This was another. She didn’t want to be paid for what she’d done last night. That wasn’t why she’d let it happen.
Flipping through her keychain, she found a smaller key and used it to open the top left drawer of her desk. She unzipped the bank pouch that would eventually hold the day’s offerings and stared into its depths.
Was this worse? Was it sacrilegious?
She swallowed uneasily. She’d been back and forth over this all night. She grabbed the money and stuffed it inside. Before she could reconsider, she zipped it up tight and locked it away.
It was only then that she took a full breath. Her shoulders relaxed and her ribcage loosened.
She was about to sink into her chair when a loud thud made her head whip around. Had that come from her father’s office?
‘Dad?’ She jumped from her desk and flew to the hallway. The door to his corner office stood wide open. Catching the doorjamb, she swung inside. She scanned the room quickly, praying that his knee hadn’t given out on him again.
She was surprised when, instead, she found him stalking about the room. He hadn’t fallen, but that heavy wooden chair that normally sat in front of his desk was overturned and he was in a state. He looked ornery and confused. Agitated.
She took a hesitant step inside. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘OK?’ He whirled towards her and his heavy eyebrows lifted like the McDonald’s arches. ‘No, it’s not OK. People are talking. They’re going to associate what’s happened with the church.’
Leesha’s heart literally froze inside her chest.
‘Reporters have already been making insinuations. Questioning me. How am I supposed to explain this to our parishioners?’
She felt her limbs go numb and her air choke off. Reporters? Oh, no. Somebody had made it into the club. They’d seen her, in those chaps and nothing else. They’d seen her dancing with that pole.
‘People were calling me all night, taking sides.’ He raked a hand through his shock-white hair. It was already standing on end. His tie was askew and he was wearing two different shoes.
Taking sides? The words rattled inside her head. Was someone actually defending her?
She couldn’t think straight. How was she going to explain this to him? To the people who would be showing up in less than an hour? It was her life, her body. But still. ‘I went there in the beginning to –’
‘The devil has infiltrated our midst,’ he said, beginning to pace again. He didn’t have an established path. He just wandered around until something got in his way. ‘He snatched away one of our most stalwart soldiers in this fight.’
‘I’m not gone, Dad. I’m just … experimenting.’
‘And now Jeanne is walking away from us, too. A good woman, with strong morals. She doesn’t want to be associated with us. I tried to talk to her last night, but she didn’t want to listen.’
Jeanne? Jeanne was the one who’d come to the Satin Club? Alicia blinked. Well, she supposed the bouncers would be more apt to allow a woman who wasn’t a member to enter than a man, but Jeanne had always seemed so quiet and demure. She couldn’t picture the organist in the role of spy – especially at a strip club.
Unless one of the more strident picketers had put her up to it – like Paul or Steve, the self-righteous bullies.
‘Those cameras. Technology.’ Her father was muttering now. ‘They’re a sure sign of Beelzebub. Prying into places they shouldn’t. Invading a woman’s privacy.’
Leesha’s knees went weak. The video had got out? Please not of the private room, she begged. Please not that.
‘It’s that vipers’ pit, I tell you!’ Her father came to an abrupt stop, his fists lifting from his sides. ‘That depraved Satin Club got into Paul’s head. That has to be what started all of this.’
Paul?
Alicia shook her head. Which was it – Paul or Jeanne?
‘Yes. That’s what must have happened.’ The light in her father’s eyes sharpened and he hurried back to his desk. ‘Paul fought it, but standing across the street from that immoral place day after day put ideas into his head. We didn’t pray enough. Evil found a weakness.’
He found a stubby pencil and began writing in jerky motions on his legal pad. ‘People will understand that. We’ll have to band together and fight harder.’
He seemed to be making sense of things, but Alicia was getting more confused by the moment. The one thing she did understand was that he wasn’t raving about her. If he was, she’d have his full, undivided attention. Testing her knees, she walked closer to his desk.
‘Dad, what’s going on?’
‘The dispute between Jeanne and Paul.’ He looked up briefly from his writings when she said nothing. ‘You didn’t see the news?’
She swallowed hard. She hoped he didn’t ask for an alibi. ‘I missed it.’
His brow furrowed. ‘And the paper? It’s all over the front page.’
She righted the chair and sat down primly. Her fingers were white as she clenched them in her lap. ‘I came in early to get some things done. I didn’t look at the paper.’
‘But I left you a message last night.’ He frowned and then waved it off. ‘Darn phone anyway. It’s Paul. He’s fallen.’
She leaned closer, trying to see what he was writing. His scribble was so large and frantic, she couldn’t make it out. ‘And Jeanne?’ she pressed.
‘Wronged.’ His fingers curled into a fist on the desktop. ‘Shamed.’
Reaching out, Alicia wrapped her hand around his. She made him stop writing and look at her. ‘What happened?’
The air left his lungs with a rasp. His chin quivered once before settling firmly into place. Whatever it was, it had affected him deeply. ‘The police found video cameras in Jeanne’s house, and they traced them back to Paul. She didn’t know they were there. They say that he’s been watching her.’
A shiver of abhorrence ran down Alicia’s spine. She’d always got a slimy vibe off of that man, but she hadn’t expected anything like this. He was so staunch and devout, almost fanatical. What a hypocrite! He demonstrated against the Satin Club, while he was doing precisely the same thing. They watched women, too, but at least they were open and honest about it.
‘Was he arrested?’ she asked.
Her father flung himself back in his old stenographer’s chair. It squeaked as he rocked back and forth. ‘With red and blue lights flashing and television reporters everywhere I turned.’
‘You were there?’
‘He called me. He wanted my support.’
‘Oh, Dad. I don’t think we want to get involved in something like that.’
His watery eyes narrowed and his lips pursed in anger. He pointed at the picture behind him. ‘He is one of our flock, a lost sheep that we must bring back to the fold. We will not leave him in his time of need.’
Alicia sat back on the hard wooden chair, feeling just as rigid. ‘What about Jeanne? How will she feel about that?’
The question brought confusion back to those blue eyes.
She sighed. What a disaster. How were they going to work through this? And how had she missed it? The signs had all been there. Paul loved technology. He’d been responsible for the speaker system and that mobile electronic sign idea. He also liked to sidle up to the women of the church, looking for attention. She doubted she was the only one the man made uneasy.
Cameras.
She shuddered. Poor Jeanne. A woman should be secure in her own home. What had Paul seen? Even more sickening, what had he been doing as he’d watched?
She fought not to gag. ‘How did they catch him?’
Her father waved his hand airily. ‘I don’t know. Something about someone picking up the feed. One of those teenage hackers, I think.’
She scrubbed her face with both hands. This was a nightmare. The church was already infamous for its face-off with the Satin Club, and their attendance numbers had been dropping steadily. She didn’t know how they’d survive this disgrace.
They were a small church, non-denominational and independent. After the fiasco in Birmingham, none of the major churches had been interested in supporting her father. They’d turned their backs on him but, instead of giving up on his mission, his determination had only grown. He’d built Sunlight Epiphany from the ground up. He and his followers had renovated this theatre by hand. She’d supplied the funding with the inheritance she’d received from her mother, but she was becoming more frugal with that.
She just wasn’t sure her mother would want the Bradford family money going towards some of the issues the church was pursuing.
She patted her father’s hand and left him free to write. ‘You’re right. You need to work on your sermon. Your followers will be looking to you for an explanation as to how this could happen to one of their own. Two, actually.’
Poor Jeanne. She should call her to talk. She couldn’t imagine the horror over such an invasion of privacy. How long had those cameras been sitting there, watching and taping? How had Paul got into her house in the first place?
A gasp left Alicia’s lips and she clapped a hand over her mouth.
Her father looked up sharply. ‘What is it?’
She shook her head abruptly. ‘I – I just remembered that we purchased video cameras last Christmas to tape the children’s play.’
Her father paled. ‘Go. Go check that they’re still here.’
She jumped to her feet. As fast as her feet were moving, though, her brain was heading in a totally different direction. The cameras were a concern, yes, but they weren’t what had her feeling sick to her stomach.
Paul Simonsen had been one of several worshippers who’d helped her move new furniture into her apartment a few months back. They’d rearranged her living room, and she’d paid them in pizza.
The sick freak had been in her apartment for hours.
***
It wasn’t until her second break that night that Alicia had time to go find Bas. It had been an exhausting, dreadful day. As her father had predicted, the media had been all over Sunlight Epiphany Church. She’d handled calls well into the evening, and that had only been between visits from concerned church members. The morning service hadn’t gone well at all.
Neither had her search of her apartment once she’d managed to get home.
She’d scoured the place from floor to ceiling. If there were cameras there, she hadn’t found them. Unfortunately, that didn’t settle the queasiness in her gut. Were they not there? Or was she not looking in the right places? The uncertainty was driving her nuts.
Trying not to disturb Marguerite’s act, she made her way to Bas’s office. Charlie was standing guard, but she couldn’t meet the man’s gaze – not after the service he’d performed for her last night.
She cleared her throat. ‘Is he in?’
The bouncer’s gaze raked down her body. She was clad in a skimpy nurse’s uniform tonight. It was low-cut and short-skirted. The boys in the crowd had appreciated the view of her garter belt and stockings. Apparently, so did he. Nodding, he stepped aside. ‘For you? Always.’
Leesha pondered that for a moment, but then knocked.
‘Come in.’
She opened the door and poked her head inside. ‘Bas, do you have a minute?’
‘I have two.’ He waved her in and Charlie shut the door behind her.
Bas moved aside some paperwork, clearing his desk. His gaze was shrewd as he watched her cross the room. Between them, the dark mahogany gleamed. The air got a bit heavier when Alicia finally stood in front of it. Neither of them mentioned it, but they were both aware of what had happened on that desk the last time she’d been in this room. ‘You had a good first set,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’ She smiled feebly and touched her nurse’s cap. She didn’t think real nurses wore them anymore, but it played into the fantasy. Right along with the stethoscope. ‘I need to talk to you about something.’
‘Regarding last night?’
‘Yes,’ she sighed. She sat in the chair and wiggled, trying to get the skirt to cover at least her panties. She was still distracted by the mahogany desk, but her head snapped up when she realised they were on two different wavelengths. ‘No! I don’t want to talk about … I mean I don’t need to talk about that.’
‘So you enjoyed yourself?’
‘I –’ Her day had been so horrid that she’d forgotten about how she’d spent her evening. When the vivid memories resurfaced, she knew that ‘enjoyed’ really wasn’t the right word, but that wasn’t why she was here. ‘This is something else. Did you see the news about the man who was arrested for spying on that woman in her home?’
‘The video voyeur? It caught my eye.’
It would. Nothing got past this man, but a person would have to be living in a cave not to have heard the story. It had been the lead on every broadcast she’d seen. The news stations had hammered on the connection between Paul and Jeanne, but she knew he wanted her to say it out loud. ‘Paul Simonsen is a member of our congregation.’
He relaxed back into his luxurious leather chair. ‘Well, now. Isn’t that an interesting turn of events?’
‘Don’t gloat. Please.’
Bracing his elbows on the armrests, he steepled his fingers together. He watched her from atop them, his mood unreadable. ‘OK, I might have recognised him from across the street. I can’t say it broke my heart to hear he won’t be there anymore.’
‘Yes, well …’ She was hoping that after all the unwanted attention the church had received, none of them would be putting themselves out on display anymore. ‘Be that what it may, it’s not why I’m here. I need your expertise.’
A corner of his mouth twitched. ‘What expertise would that be? As you might know, I have many.’
Again, she looked at the mahogany desk and felt her breasts get heavy. Yes, the man had talents. The one she needed just wasn’t so physical. Twisting in her chair, she pointed at the wall of monitors. ‘That. You know a lot about cameras and videotaping.’
He tilted his head. ‘The club is well-equipped.’
‘So was Paul Simonsen. I need your help sweeping my apartment. He’s been there, and I’m afraid that what happened to Jeanne might be happening to me, too. I just don’t know what to look for.’
His expression turned serious. ‘Ah, that is disturbing.’
Picking up his remote, he gave it a twirl. He ran his thumb over a series of buttons. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.’
She frowned. ‘Can’t or won’t?’
‘I’m not being pissy, Angel. I think the guy is despicable. I always tell my girls when they’re being taped. I told you.’
She felt her face flare. When was she going to get used to all this frank talk? ‘So what’s the problem?’
‘You’ve got the wrong guy.’
She looked pointedly at the monitors.
He gave her a wry smile. ‘I might be an expert channel changer, and I can watch five things at once, but you’re looking for a technology expert. You need someone who understands electronics and security and surveillance techniques. In a word, you need Remy.’
***
Remy followed Alicia up the front walk to her apartment, feeling somewhat bemused and somewhat pissed off. It was ironic that she’d turned to him for help when he’d been the one to discover Paul’s secret obsession in the first place. She didn’t know that, though, which was by design. Nobody was supposed to trace the police’s actions back to him, and they wouldn’t.
He just hadn’t thought things through.
He should have considered that she might be another victim of the pervert. It was a logical jump, but one he hadn’t taken. If the sicko would tape plain Jeanne, he sure as hell was going to try to get a camera on hot little Angel. Remy could kick himself. He should have checked her place first.
Without her knowing, of course.
He watched her as she walked at his side. She was tapping her fingers against her thigh and the cadence was getting faster as they neared the front door. ‘You OK?’ he asked.
‘Nervous,’ she admitted.
She was afraid of what they might find. So was he.
He didn’t like the idea of anyone messing with her. Had Simonsen cozied up to her on Sunday mornings? Acted all protective and outraged as he’d protested the Satin Club with her from across the street?
Hell, at least they put all their cards on the table.
She glanced at him as they neared her place. Her eyes were wide and innocent. ‘Are you sensing anything?’
Oh yeah. He was sensing all kinds of things, but she meant on his smartphone. He held it up so he could see it under the security light that lit the path. It was late on a Sunday, and the apartment complex was pretty much shut down for the night. ‘No, but it depends on what type of camera set-up he used. If he’s transmitting to a central network video recorder, I might be able to hack the feed. If he’s using a decentralised IP camera, then there won’t be a transmission to pick up.’
Her eyes turned glazed. ‘What?’
‘It depends on if the camera has built-in recording capability.’
‘Oh.’ She paled under the moonlight, and her keys jingled as her hand shook. ‘I could be wrong about this. There could be nothing here at all. Maybe he was just watching Jeanne?’
They paused together on the landing in front of her door.
‘Sure,’ he lied.
She pushed her soft hair over her shoulder and took a steadying breath. She looked so sweet and beautiful, Remy felt his gut clench. This was another side to her that he’d seen only on a few rare occasions. Too often, she was bound up in her prudish schoolmarm outfits. Just a short time ago, she’d been at the other end of the spectrum. That saucy little nurse’s outfit had nearly sent several of their customers to the doctor with heart palpitations. But this?
His gaze stroked over her. She had on a fitted T-shirt and snug jeans. Her feet were free and easy in a pair of sandals. She looked like the girl next door.
The one everyone wanted to fuck.
Including him.
He reached back to rub the tension in his neck. He was here to protect her. She’d asked for his help, but being here, in her space, was playing all kinds of games with his head.
It was the boyfriend fantasy. This way, she was his wet dream. The unobtainable nice girl, and she was about to invite him into her apartment.
The monitor in his hand spiked, the needle jumping. He knew how it felt and shifted uncomfortably, trying to be discreet as he adjusted himself inside his jeans. He needed to get it together. This wasn’t a date, much as he liked that particular daydream.
She unlocked the door and pushed it open. Her breasts lifted as she took a deep breath. ‘Please, come in.’
He looked around with curiosity when she turned on the light. The apartment was feminine without being frilly. The colours were light, and the feel of the place was warm and welcoming. The kitchen opened into a small dining area, which flowed into a living room. His gaze landed on the comfy furniture there. It was overstuffed and stylish and had served as Simonsen’s ticket into the place. ‘Is that what he helped move?’
She dropped her purse onto the kitchen table with a plop. ‘Yes.’
‘May I?’
‘Please.’
Remy swept the room, looking for any sign of a closed-circuit television signal. If Simonsen had spent any time in this room, there might be cameras hidden here. Some weirdoes liked to watch people go about their daily lives, watching television or paying bills. There was something about the intimacy of it. It made them feel like they were a part of their victim’s lives.
He found nothing, but kept moving towards the door off the end of the living area. If there were any cameras at all, the bedroom was the most likely place they’d be.
He was impressed when Alicia followed. She wasn’t cowering from this. She was trusting him to help her.
‘How does your phone work?’ she asked.
‘Unless Paul had regular access to your place, he most likely used wireless cameras. That way he wouldn’t have to enter the premises and physically download tapes or flash drives.’ He saw the way she grimaced. ‘Could he have got a key?’
‘I want to say no, but I’d also like to tell you there was no way he could have installed cameras in the first place.’
Remy watched the readings and swore softly. It wasn’t a program anyone could download from an app store. He stuck the phone in his pocket and flicked on the overhead light. He looked around her bedroom with an astute eye. He was looking for the best place to hide a camera, but that didn’t mean he didn’t see the bed.
Her bed.
This was the closest he’d got to the real woman, and it made him feel like a bull in a china shop. Big, antsy and out-of-place. This wasn’t the world he was used to. This was ‘normal’. He suddenly realised how much of a fish out of water she was when she came down to the club every night, yet she adjusted well. Hell, she put on her Angel persona like it was a tight-fitting glove.
Could he do the same? Could he ever fit into her world?
His jaw hardened. ‘What about the air vent?’ he asked. ‘The cold-air return?’
She looked around in confusion, following his gaze up the wall opposite her bed. The vent was unobtrusive, painted to blend into the background. It made it the perfect place to hide something. It was also the place an amateur would use if they watched enough bad television movies. He pulled a screwdriver out of his pocket and moved the dainty-looking chair that was tucked under a vanity. He climbed atop it and unscrewed the vent. Dust puffed into the air as he took it off and began searching the ductwork.
She let out a sound of distress when he pulled out a tiny camera.
He brushed it off and handed it to her. The red light on the thing was glowing.
‘So small?’ she asked. ‘Does it really work?’
‘There are some out there that are even smaller.’
She turned the thing this way and that before finally poking the off switch. The red button faded. ‘That son-of-a-bitch,’ she whispered.
It was the first time Remy had ever heard her curse, and it pissed him off. She was hurt. Her trust had been broken.
He took the camera from her and flipped open a compartment. He took out the storage device and hooked it up to his phone. ‘Let’s see what he got.’
She raked a hand through her hair.
The video came on the tiny two-inch screen, and he played a bit. He could see her in her bed, her hair spread over the pillows. The quality was clear, but the video was jerky and segmented. It soon became clear the camera had a motion detector. He hit the rewind button. Maybe all the bastard had got were clips of her turning over in her sleep.
Or maybe, having sex.
Remy’s jaw locked down when the vivid black-and-white video started playing a very different scene. There was no audio associated with it, but it wasn’t needed. He recognised the gawky nerd riding atop her. ‘Boyfriend?’ he asked anyway.
She whipped around, her eyes going wild. She looked over his shoulder at the intimate scene playing out on the little screen. ‘Oh, my God!’
She grasped for the device. ‘Stop it. Turn it off.’
Oh, hell no. If this was what she got off on, he wanted to know. He held the phone up and out of her reach.
She jumped for it, and he realised one thing pretty damn quickly. She wasn’t getting off.
Her boyfriend’s body was thin, but she kept clutching at his back, trying to pull his weight down upon her. All those luscious curves, and it looked like the guy didn’t know what to do with them. He kissed her breast politely when she pulled his head down to her hard nipple. She was tilting her hips this way and that, while he was jerking his like he was trying to do the funky chicken.
What the hell? If sex was a dance, she’d chosen a partner who didn’t know the steps. ‘Frustrated much?’ he asked.
She clawed at his arm, using her weight to try to drag it down. ‘That’s none of your business.’
He suddenly noticed the date stamp in the bottom right corner of the screen. ‘The hell it isn’t.’
He turned on her. ‘This was the night you told me no.’
Her hair swung around her shoulders as her attention turned back to him. There was a look of horror on her face.
He watched the video stone-faced as the dweeb jerked out of her and came all over her stomach. It was messy and gross, but the guy obviously didn’t know that she hadn’t come, too. He was cleaning her up as she squirmed and begged for more. When she didn’t get it, she pushed the idiot away and ran to the bathroom. That was where the bizarre scene ended.
Or did it?
Ah, hell. Paul’s first arrest. He’d been caught in a women’s restroom.
Remy’s strides were long and determined as he headed to the bathroom.
‘What are you –’ Colour was high in Alicia’s cheeks, and she looked miserable. When the light dawned, though, she clutched at her stomach as if sick. ‘Oh, no!’
She literally bumped into the back of him as she rushed into the bathroom. ‘No, there can’t be another in here. Don’t look at it.’
This one took a bit more skill, but Remy finally spotted the black wire against the pipe behind her toilet. Crouching down, he traced it until he found the whole set-up. Tricky. The thing was tucked away under the water reservoir and tilted a bit upwards. It was pointed at the shower, and he had no doubt Paul Simonsen had a standing date to watch as she stepped out from her bath, wet and dripping.
Tape squelched as he pulled the camera away from the porcelain.
‘Please don’t,’ she said hoarsely. She was clutching the sink, but looked as if she might need to use the toilet soon. Her face was that green.
Remy ignored her. This was about them. That was supposed to have been their night, but she’d cut him off and had gone home to that ignoramus?
He attached the new camera’s storage card to his phone and began rewinding fast. He was so surprised by what he found, he nearly ran right past it.
There it was. The date and time stamps were clear. She’d told them that she’d played with herself and had found her own satisfaction that night, but she hadn’t mentioned this.
The tip of his cock batted against his belt buckle.
Holy hell.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen anything so erotic – and that was saying a lot. But this was Leesha, alone, and she wasn’t just masturbating. She was fucking herself with something that obviously wasn’t a dildo. He looked quickly around the room. Her hand clamped over the toothbrush holder that sat beside the sink, but it was too late to hide it. He looked at her face.
Her eyes were wild and her hair sat in tangles around her shoulders.
‘Vixen.’ He caught her and pulled her to him. Standing behind her, he locked her against him with one arm while holding the phone in front of them both. She moaned softly and he nipped at her ear.
‘Boyfriend didn’t do it for you?’
She turned her head away. ‘He’s not my boyfriend anymore.’
‘I can see why.’
She shifted against him, but Remy just rubbed his erection against her soft ass. Her actions on the video screen were getting more desperate. She was plunging that hard plastic into her as her fingers toyed with her swollen clit. She looked so hedonistic with her shoulders pressed against the wall and her legs spread wide.
The look on her face, though. Need and pleasure were written all over her. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open as she panted for air. He could have satisfied that need if she hadn’t stopped him. He could have given her the pleasure of a real man’s cock.
‘Were you thinking about me when you did this?’ He thrust the phone in front of her face when she turned away.
‘Did Paul see that?’ she moaned.
‘I’m seeing it.’ He dropped the phone onto the countertop, where it stared up at them, continuing with its X-rated story. He turned her around so they were belly to belly. Catching her by the chin, he made her look up at him. ‘Couldn’t church boy give you what you needed? Were you still hungry for me?’
She squeezed her eyes shut. ‘Yes,’ she hissed.
He could feel her body against him, her nipples stiffening and her hips softening. ‘Was that plastic toy enough?’
‘No.’
He watched over her shoulder as she shook with her orgasm, finally dropping to her knees. It was good, but he could do better.
‘Ask me to fuck you, Alicia. Say yes and get it out of the way.’
Her eyes popped open in shock. Was she really still so tender?
He cupped her ass. ‘Say it. We both know you want to.’
Her lips trembled and there was an unbearable moment where he thought she was going to turn him away again.
‘Yes,’ she finally said, giving in.
Thrill jumped inside him, but he scowled in disapproval. ‘Not that.’
Those sweet dots of colour appeared on her cheeks. Didn’t she know how irresistible all that innocence was when wrapped in such a sexy package? He leaned down until their noses nearly brushed. ‘Ask me for it so we both know you want it.’
Her lashes fluttered down, hiding her big brown eyes. ‘Make love to me, Remy.’
He spanked her hard and she jerked, squishing all those delicious curves against him.
‘Ah!’ Her eyes flew open again, and this time she held his stare.
He gave her another, softer, love tap, and this time she melted.
‘Fuck me, Remy.’ She relaxed against him, her fingers biting into his waist. ‘Fuck me all night long.’