Christa Read online

  “That whole night, all I could concentrate on was how you watched me. Every time I looked around, you were there. Do you remember?”

  He grunted in assent.

  “You didn’t come over and try to meet me, just stared at me for about three hours. By the end of the night my panties were soaked and I wanted to jump out of my skin. You were like a predator watching its prey.”

  She started rubbing her clit with more force, starting a slow build. Marc’s breathing was more ragged and the bulge in his jeans more pronounced.

  “My friends were horrified when you finally came over to me and whispered in my ear that we needed to go. Did I ever tell you? They thought you were some weird serial killer, the way you stared at me. But you saw me, didn’t you?”

  Marc turned from the traffic and smiled at her, a smile full of love.

  “From that first night you knew. Knew I need to be seen. The first orgasm I ever had was in the car that night with you, doing what I’m doing now. I never told you that, did I?”

  He shook his head, still silent. The love and burning desire in his eyes almost tipped her over the edge.

  Christa laughed, then drew in a ragged breath as they drove beside a truck. Marc slowed to keep level with the driver’s cabin. This was always the best part. She glanced up through her window and started to rub her clit in earnest.

  “Look at me, look at me,” she muttered, and heard Marc snicker beside her. He kept his eyes on the road, but took occasional glances at her cunt as she pulled herself higher and higher to her peak. Each time he watched her pleasuring herself, she jerked as if he’d touched her.

  Finally, the truck driver let his gaze wander toward her and his eyes widened, watching her fingers work frantically against her clit. She came with groan from deep in her belly. Marc sped up away from the truck. The sound of an appreciative truck horn made them both laugh.

  The wild, despairing man she’d picked up at the airport was thawing out and becoming the Marc she knew and loved. He could be taciturn to most, but not to her. Never to her.

  They made it to their harbourside house in record time. As soon as the front door closed behind them, Marc dragged her to the dining room and bent her forward over the table.

  “Yes! Now, now, now,” she begged him.

  He hiked up her dress, pushed down his jeans and thrust hard into her.

  “Ah, God!” he groaned. “For weeks I’ve dreamed of this moment. Your cunt is mine.”

  She braced herself against the table and pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts. God, how she loved this particular ritual. His cock was hot and vital, filling the month-long ache she always had when he was away. It was as if he had to connect to life through an orgasm with her before he could re-enter their world. He held her hips and let himself go, pounding into her, creating her favourite sound, flesh against flesh.

  She turned her head and looked over her shoulder at him.

  “Harder,” she hissed. “I’ve been without your cock for a month. Fuck me harder.”

  He grinned at her and did just that, but all of a sudden he pulled out.

  “What…” she started to protest.

  He turned her over, lifting her legs to rest against his chest, then plunged back into her, all the time watching his cock go in and out of her glistening pussy. “Touch yourself again,” he demanded.

  She smiled at up at him and perching herself on one elbow, slid her fingers down the sides of her clit, drawing up some wetness. She rubbed herself as his thrusts became wilder and faster and his breathing choppy. He kept his gaze on her fingers as she worked herself, knowing his watching inflamed her, made her come hard. She tipped back her head, closed her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep the sound in, trying to extend the fierce, raging pleasure exploding through her body.

  When she could hold it no longer, she let out a long, groaning scream and her pussy contracted hard around Marc’s cock.

  “Fuck, yes!” he yelled, and shot off in her cunt. He grabbed her and held her tight against him, while she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “Oh, God, oh God, oh God,” he muttered into her neck. She could feel his heart against hers, working overtime.

  “You can say that again,” she murmured. “Welcome home.”

  He laughed, and pulled back slightly to look into her face. His cock was still inside her.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Christa held his head and kissed him. A long, lingering kiss between two people who knew each other well, knew what each other liked.

  He pulled out from her and stood watching her, with her legs wide and his semen in her cunt. Christa stayed where she was and let him watch, only moving to peel off her dress and bra, leaving her stockings and stilettos on. Glancing at herself in the dining room mirror, she looked like a whore, used and dishevelled, her hair a rat’s nest and her mascara running. She liked that. So did Marc.

  He pulled up his jeans and fastened them, then sat in a chair in front of Christa, with his eyes on her pussy.

  She kept her legs open, lifting one so her foot rested on the table.

  “I have an idea I think you might like,” she said.

  “Is that so?”

  “We haven’t had a playmate for a while.” She pushed her fingers into her pussy and covered them with his seed.

  “That’s true,” he said, watching her fingers as she rubbed and pinched her nipples, smearing his semen across her breasts.

  “Elizabeth Underwood.”

  His gaze met hers. “Really?”

  She nodded, slowly working more of his seed into her breasts.

  “That’s good. Very good.” He stood and grabbed her hand. “Come on, I need a shower and a shave. Come and tell me everything.”

  ***

  Marc Forsyth scanned the cocktail party, looking for his wife. He spotted her standing in a small group, holding a glass of champagne. She had a look on her face he knew only too well. Boredom covered over with politeness. He could see why. A prominent Sydney socialite, who was keen to join Christa’s buddies in the Double D Dinner Club, monopolised the conversation. She was a well-known crashing bore, which is why she’d been vetoed from the group.

  Marc managed to catch Christa’s gaze and lifted his glass to her. The corners of her delectable mouth, which only an hour ago had been around his cock, lifted wryly. After sixteen years of marriage, she still had the ability to make him hard with one, slow, smile. At thirty-six she was even more beautiful than she was when he first met her. Most people thought her beauty was the result of his skill as a surgeon, but in reality the only work Christa ever had done was on some stretch marks post-baby. She tried botox once out of curiosity and hated it.

  “I look like a freak,” she’d said. “Exactly what everyone thinks the wife of a plastic surgeon should look like.”

  “You don’t need it. I doubt you ever will,” Marc had told her.

  She’d laughed. “We’ll see when I’m forty-six or fifty-six.”

  He watched her now and marvelled at his good fortune. A beautiful, accomplished wife, two lively, intelligent teenaged children and work that engrossed and fulfilled him. Most people assumed the work of a plastic surgeon consisted of meeting the fantasies of neurotic rich women, and while there was an element of that, a lot of his work was more about healing those with disfigurements from surgery or accidents, as well as birth defects.

  But he never looked down on or felt contempt for women and men who came to him wanting to look younger and, in their minds, better. He knew from long experience that being watched was an experience of extreme vulnerability for most people. The watcher was powerful, while the one being watched was exposed. He did what he could to make those who wanted to feel confident in their exposure satisfied.

  Christa nodded at something the crashing bore said. God, that dress was designed to get every man in the room hard. Shifting colours of sea green, it clung to her curves, giving the impression of t
ransparency. With her raven black hair and green crystalline eyes with their exotic curve, she looked like a gypsy princess.

  He noticed Daniel Hiddleston, the rugby league star, send an approving glance Christa’s way. His partner, Jorja, raised her eyebrows when he turned back to her. He shrugged his shoulders and looked sheepish at being caught out. Jorja shouldn’t worry. They had a rule never to play with anyone too close to their circle of friends. The Double D Club was strictly out of bounds. A pity sometimes. The sight of that solid wall of masculine power fucking his wife while he watched would be quite an experience. Not to mention the delectable Jorja going down on her.

  He glanced at his watch. Elizabeth Underwood hadn’t arrived. After Christa’s retelling of their back street encounter, he was impatient to meet her again. His first impression of her had been right after all. He’d been out of his mind with boredom at some stuffy business function that one of his partners had dragged him to where she was the guest speaker. He saw she was beautiful and smart, but when he was introduced to her after the lunch he’d picked up a frisson of something else. Something a little perverse and hidden. Then she’d shut it down and he thought he’d imagined it.

  Nella Pouache glided past him. He acknowledged her shy smile with a nod. Now there was a woman who had perversity down to a fine art. He didn’t know what her brand was, but he recognised a fellow traveller when he saw one. Not that what Christa and he indulged in was perverse by today’s standards. No chains, whips, candle wax or other pain-inducing props for them. Maybe some light bondage and some sex toys, but the main game was The Gaze. He liked to watch and she liked to be watched. Their mutual need was the foundation of their successful marriage.

  The group Christa stood with broke up as she excused herself to welcome more guests. Marc’s pulse kicked up as he recognised Elizabeth Underwood, looking nothing like the sleek businesswoman he seen at the business function. She had some kind of dark blue sparkly dress on that covered her from neck to knee. But when she turned to pick up a glass of champagne, he saw it was completely backless. And what a back. Golden and smooth. An image flashed into his mind of that back bent over Christa, pleasuring her while his seed splattered over Elizabeth, marking her. He smiled to himself.

  Christa manoeuvred Elizabeth away from the other guests and over to him.

  “I know you two have met before under very different circumstances,” Christa said.

  “Very different,” Elizabeth said, with a smile. “I’m afraid I was a contributor to a terribly boring lunch that your husband had to endure. My apologies. My only excuse was jet lag. Never again will I agree to speak at a lunch when I’ve just arrived back from Europe.”

  “You weren’t boring. My companions were, but you were fine.”

  “Kind of you to say.”

  Her icy blue eyes watched him as she sipped her champagne. He held her gaze and smiled slow and easy. His reward was a slight flush on her golden skin. When she licked a stray drop of champagne from the rim of her glass, he went immediately hard. Christa snickered beside him. He glanced at her and saw her glittering green eyes were fixed on Elizabeth’s covered breasts. The dark material didn’t hide the shape of her hardening nipples.

  In wordless agreement, the three of them huddled closer together, shutting out the other guests.

  “How does this work?” Elizabeth asked.

  “In about an hour or so, I’ll ask for contributions to the foundation. That’s the signal for the end of the evening. I ask my guests to make their contributions directly into the foundation’s account via their smartphones. Then I can see who does and who doesn’t. The ones that don’t I follow up in other ways.”

  “I hate to think what those ways might be. Or maybe I wouldn’t,” she murmured, turning her blue gaze to Christa.

  Marc could feel the tension between the two women radiating from them in pulsing, sizzling waves. They looked like they wanted to devour each other right in front of him. He was pretty certain he looked the same. An hour. He wasn’t sure he could wait that long, given the state of his cock.

  Elizabeth took out her phone and started pressing some buttons. “There,” she said. “My contribution is made.”

  “Excellent,” said Marc. “A good night will be had by all.”

  ***

  The last of the guests finally left. Christa made her way up the stairs to the bedroom suite she shared with Marc. He and Elizabeth had disappeared earlier while she impatiently herded the stragglers out. She wasn’t worried. Marc wouldn’t start without her.

  She entered the bedroom and saw them out on the balcony, taking in the city lights. A bottle of champagne was in an ice bucket. They were sitting sipping from their glasses and watching each other. Christa took in a deep breath, then let it out.

  This should be fun.

  She stepped out onto the balcony and let the night air cool her heated skin. But nothing could cool the pulsing heat of her sex.

  Marc’s long legs were stretched out in front of him. He looked dark, dangerous and ready to pounce.

  Not yet. Not until the game was played. And Elizabeth looked like she knew exactly what the rules were.

  Christa crossed to stand next to her, then bent, cupped the back of her head, and open-mouth kissed her. She tasted of champagne and surprise. A small sound escaped her throat but she returned Christa’s kiss with gusto. As Christa deepened their kiss, she felt Elizabeth’s hand slide up her leg and under her dress to knead her arse

  Christa broke the kiss, her blood beating a staccato pulse in her veins, and pulled her out of her chair. She glanced at Marc, who had an inscrutable look on his face.

  “Come,” she said to both of them. Elizabeth followed her while Marc unfolded himself from his chair, and with a grin ambled into the bedroom.

  “Sit,” Christa said to him. “And stop looking so smug.”

  “Me? Smug? Why would I be smug when I’m about to have a night not to forget with two of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen?” He hooked his arm around Christa’s waist and kissed her. She let him, then pushed him away.

  “Don’t be rude. We have a guest.”

  “We do indeed.” Marc brushed his hand across Elizabeth’s forehead and ran his hands through her hair, loosening her French roll. She stepped forward.

  “As a guest, I think I require a taste of what’s to come.” She placed her hands on Marc’s chest then slid them around his neck.

  Christa watched as she kissed him and he responded, grasping her arse and grinding against her. The sight of her Nordic blondeness against his dark predator made the ache between her legs even more intense. For once, she wanted to be the watcher, to see them twined and naked, fucking and sucking and sliding against each other. Wanted to see Elizabeth on her knees with Marc’s cock in her mouth. But first she had to taste Elizabeth’s pussy.

  Her heart was working overtime. It took all she had not to rip the dress from Elizabeth, throw her onto the bed and bury her face in her cunt. Instead she waited until their kiss was finished then led Marc over to an easy chair. A chair that she’d placed in just the right place for the night’s events.

  He sat and smiled up at her. Still in his white dress shirt and black trousers, he looked like sin personified. She smiled back then turned to Elizabeth.

  “Did you like the taste of my husband?” she asked, as she reached around to the back of Elizabeth’s neck and undid her dress. Held by only one fastening, the dress pooled around her hips, exposing her round breasts with their erect, pointed nipples. Her skin was the colour of ripe peaches, golden and rosy. Marc made an appreciative noise.

  “I did,” Elizabeth said, her eyes on Christa. “I want to taste more. But first you.”

  She turned Christa around and swept her shoulder-length hair away from her zipper then slid it down, pulling the dress as she went. Christa stepped out of it while Elizabeth unclasped her bra, then slid her fingers slowly down Christa’s spine. Each touch from the other woman wound Christa up more and mo
re, making her breath short and her pussy wet. She turned back to Elizabeth and pulled her toward her so their breasts touched, nipple to nipple. Then she kissed her again, needing to feel the whole long length of her body, to run her hands up her back and press her tight against her.

  Christa pushed Elizabeth’s dress down so she could step out of it. She was so beautiful. She cupped her hand under Elizabeth’s breast then dipped her head to taste her. Her moan matched Elizabeth’s as she sucked and nuzzled and took her nipple between her teeth to pull lightly.

  “Oh, God,” Elizabeth muttered. “Oh, God I need to fuck you.”

  “Yes,” Christa murmured. “Now.”

  She pulled Elizabeth over to the king-sized bed and proceeded to strip her of her thong, then wriggled out of her own. Elizabeth lay across the bed, with her blonde hair splayed out around her head and her eyes glittering with hungry desire. Christa couldn’t remember when she’d wanted anyone as much.

  As always, she could feel Marc’s gaze on her, on both of them. Glancing toward him, she could see that while he leaned back in his chair, seemingly nonchalant, the burning intensity in his eyes and the tight bulge in his pants told a different story.

  “That makes you hot, doesn’t it, having your husband watch,” Elizabeth gasped.

  “Yes. Always.”

  “I can see why. Fuck, he’s gorgeous,” she said as Christa pulled her into her arms. “But I want him to do more than just watch.”

  Christa rubbed herself against the full length of Elizabeth’s body and kissed her over and over. “Oh, I think he will tonight,” she said between kisses. “We’ll make him.”

  She circled Elizabeth’s nipple with her tongue as she cupped her sex. Elizabeth arched her back and groaned as Christa slid two fingers into her. She couldn’t get enough of Elizabeth’s breasts. Fucking her with her fingers, Christa nibbled and sucked and gently bit Elizabeth’s flesh.

  “Ah, God! Deeper,” the other woman moaned.

  Christa sat up and leaned over Elizabeth, stretching to open the bedside table. She extracted a flesh-coloured vibrator and some lube. She showed it to the other woman who grinned and opened her legs wide.