Chapter 39
THE ROOFTOP GAME
Hayes
I push through the doors of the restaurant, hellbent on sprinting to the patio this second. I march to the hostess stand, manned by a guy with a handlebar mustache.
“Hey there. Can I grab a soda on the patio?”
Say yes. My jaw is tight with anticipation. Stefan didn’t call ahead. I didn’t ask him to. We weren’t fucking thinking when Ivy said to me, “You’ve always wanted a show, right?”
Then Stefan said he’d direct.
And yes, yes, yes, I fucking want a show. And I want it now.
The man smiles apologetically, a customer service no. “It’s not open right now, sir. We won’t open till noon. In ten minutes.”
Like I’m on the ice and I’ve spotted a defender coming out of nowhere, I switch tactics.
After fishing for my wallet, I grab a hundred-dollar bill, then fold it discreetly but clearly.
“I just need five minutes to check it out for a party. Can you help me?” I offer him the bill, hoping so hard he’ll say yes.
Don’t want to call Stefan for permission. I want to pull my weight in every way.
The man hesitates, glancing furtively around before he reaches for it. “Of course,” he says, pocketing the payola.
I won’t tell my buddy I bribed his employee either.
I want to turbo boost out there this second, but I cool my jets as he guides me through the indoor seating to the patio door. After he unlocks it, he says helpfully, “Can I show you around?”
“I can handle it solo.” Just like Ivy is doing.
I leave him behind. I march straight to the stone railing, my building in my crosshairs. I bring my binoculars to my eyes and aim them at the roof of my place.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Ivy’s nearly naked and somehow the white scraps of lace for her bra and panties make her impossibly sexier. She stretches out on the lounge. Stefan’s parked in a chair a few feet away, watching her. I can’t text Stefan fast enough with one word. Here.
He glances at the phone vibrating in his hand, then he says something to her. I catch her smiling.
“Take them off,” I mutter, wanting those panties to vanish right fucking now. “Make her take them off.”
She doesn’t strip though. She slides her right hand into her hair, roaming it through those lush, dark locks. Goddamn, I want that to be my hand. Want to thread my fingers through all that hair. Tug on it, sniff it, play with it.
She turns her head to the side, giving me an inviting glimpse of the column of her neck before she lets go then runs that hand along her throat, over the top of her chest. Stopping at her tits, she turns to Stefan, saying something.
No idea what she says, but I bet she’s asking him for permission. I bet he’s saying, “Tease him.”
Yes, Ivy, fucking tease me.
She flicks her right nipple through the bra, teasing me, indeed. Her lips part.
That’s it. That’s my girl. She loves her nipple play. She arches her hips higher and higher still before she slides her right hand down her stomach on a sensual, seductive path. Her hips shimmy, subtly rocking the whole time.
I desperately want to draw those tits into my mouth. She’s not even showing them to me, not even unhooking her bra, but the way she plays with them drives me wild.
Then her fingers reach the top of her panties, and I’m dying.
Stefan’s in view, and he leans back in the chair, fully dressed, urging her on with his words. A nod to her waist. A suggestion, perhaps.
“Show me, baby. Show me how wet you are,” I urge.
She doesn’t take them off, and I sigh in frustration. But then, I moan when her hand disappears into her panties. When she reaches her wet pussy, her mouth parts in a needy O. The look on her face, even from the distance in the binoculars, is so fucking sexy.
She’s so aroused. So turned on. So eager to play with herself. She looks enraptured by her own body.
Or maybe she’s enrapt by our game—knowing I’m the hawk, watching her every move, and he’s the director, moving the pieces on the chessboard. My dick is granite as I stare at the beauty on my roof working herself over.
Hand moving faster.
Hips arching.
Lips parting.
She’s fucking her fingers, losing her mind to whatever dirty fantasies are playing out in her gorgeous head, and I can’t even see her sweet pussy. She’s just taking care of herself under his direction, flicking and feeling and fucking.
Soon she’s thrusting into her hand, her head turned to the side. When she rakes her other hand into her hair, it’s like she’s about to tip over into pleasure.
She tenses. Everywhere. It’s beautiful and filthy all at once. The best kind of porn I’ve ever seen—a live sex show from the woman I’m obsessed with, put on for the two of us. The man on the roof, and the man across the street.
We’re her audience. We’re her men. And we’re so fucking lucky to watch this beauty fall apart. Head thrown back, legs spread, she comes across the block.
I can’t hear her, but I swear her cries of pleasure echo in my mind.
I don’t lower the binoculars for a good long time. Pretty sure I’ll be rock hard the rest of my life.
When I make it back to my place ten minutes later, she’s naked, and Stefan’s stripped to nothing too.
“Took you long enough,” he says to me.
I narrow my brow, suddenly annoyed. “Her wrist. We said no fucking. Nothing rough.”
He grins. “Hold her tits. I’m going to fuck them,” he says.
I am so jealous and so turned on.
A minute later, he’s straddling Ivy. Her hands are stretched above her head. She looks like a long, languid goddess. I move behind her, crouching, and pushing those beauties together so my friend can fuck those gorgeous globes.
He spits, then takes his cock in his hand, slides the makeshift lube over it, and fucks.
A thrust. A pump.
Then, a gasp from Ivy.
And then, from me. My neck is burning up. My dick is iron. My eyes are glued to the scene in front of me.
And I take my job so goddamn seriously. Stefan fucks her beautiful breasts as I hold them in place for him. Soon, slick sounds fill the air, the slap of flesh, the carnal groans, Ivy’s sexy little gasps.
Then, a long, strangled moan from Stefan as he spills all over her tits.
I burn up inside. When he slides off, Ivy drags a finger through his climax, then turns my way to slowly, seductively lick it off while gazing at me. I nearly bust a nut.
“Want to come too?” she asks, sounding all dreamy.
I hiss out a breath. “So badly.”
In seconds I’m tagging in, and he’s tagging out. He gets behind her, cups those beauties, and gives me a perfect tunnel to fuck. She’s slick and hot. And I am enrapt by her. By her appetite. By her openness. By her mind, body, and gorgeous heart.
I don’t last long, and I don’t care.
Soon, my vision blurs and my thighs shake, and I’m coming all over her tits, painting her too.
Then kissing her, slowly and a little desperately before I slide down her body. Stefan leans over and drops a passionate kiss to her lips.
When he breaks the kiss, he drags a finger along her chest, through our orgasms. I do the same. Then, he pushes his finger into her mouth. She opens easily, taking it. I join him, pushing in my finger too. She sucks both, licking us off with a throaty moan.
When she lets go, she says, a little dreamily, “You taste good.”
That word—the plural you—echoes in my mind all day.
You.
That’s how we feel to me too.