Page 11 of Play Dirty

He’s got his hands full, already heading to the door, when he looks over his shoulder and says, “You should come inside now.”

I wait a little bit, trying to sort through my confusion. But eventually I get up, brush off the dirt, and go back in. Because I’m out of here. I’m gonna ask them to take me back to Fort Collins and drop me off and I’ll rent a car from there, or have someone come pick me up, because this is all bullshit.

I open the door, ready to say all that, and find them kissing in the kitchen.

His hand is between her legs, rubbing against her clit. Her thigh is between his, pressing up against his cock. His other hand grips her breast and squeezes. Then it’s sliding up her chest, and resting on her throat, and she opens her mouth as her head tips back, and waits for him to follow her lead.

Their kiss is long, and passionate, and they breathe heavy and fast.

And even though this is my job, a job I said I wouldn’t do, I can’t help it.

I watch.

She’s wearing a white tank t-shirt. Alexander grabs the collar and pulls down, taking her bra with the shirt, so her breasts are lifted up by the bunched-up fabric beneath them, popping out of her shirt.

He’s whispering something in her ear now. Something low. Something I strain to hear, but can’t. Almost move closer because I’m so curious. What does he say to her? Is it the same thing every time? Something stupid and dirty like, “Do you want my cock inside you?” Something like that?

Or maybe… maybe it’s something kinda sweet. Something like, “I ache for you.”

Augustine whines, her head nodding, eyes still closed. “Yes,” she squeaks out. “Yes,” she whispers again.

My guess is… it’s not sweet.

Alexander backs up, letting his hand drop from her throat as he leads her past me—grinning, but just briefly—like he’s showing me a secret. Until they’re standing in front of the couch.

He leans into her ear and whispers again. This time Augustine’s eyes are open as she nods, her face flushed, beads of sweat on her temple making her hair glisten, biting her lip…

God, what is he saying? Because it’s driving her crazy with lust.

He places a hand on her shoulder and urges her to sit on the couch in front of him. For a second I think I know where this is going, but I’m wrong. Because she lifts her legs up, bending her knees and spreading herself wide. Her skirt riding up her legs, giving him total access.

Alexander snaps her legs closed with a firm grip on both knees, then in one quick, rushed movement, he’s got her panties down at her ankles. A moment later they’re flying across the room in my direction.

His gaze follows them, then his eyes find mine. “Stay right there,” he says. “She’s mine.”

OK. I almost laugh. I mean, clearly she’s not or I wouldn’t be here.

But if he notices my smirk, he doesn’t care. And I’m not going to interfere anyway. She told me to watch, so fuck it. I’ll watch.

I lean against the kitchen island about twenty feet away from them, cross my arms, and just observe.

He’s dominant now and while she’s not quite submissive, she’s not in charge anymore either.

Alexander drops to his knees, spreads her open again, and starts kissing her leg, starting mid-calf and working his way up. He pauses at her knee, biting the soft flesh on the underside. This makes her breathe heavy and wiggle a little as she squeaks out pointless protests. Then he moves on, nipping and kissing the inside of her thigh. One finger is already inside her, his thumb massaging her clit. I can see that she’s wet. His finger is slick with her lust.

But instead of eating her pussy, he pushes her shirt up one-handed and whispers, “Take it off,” just loud enough for me to hear.

Against my better judgement, I move closer to hear him better. He’s a talker and I find talking to be a powerful stimulant… especially when I’m just observing.

It’s been a long time since I just got to watch. When the club was open it was a regular thing. Just another part of my sex life. And it was easy to get lost in someone else’s fantasy. I mean… we—the players—were all that place contained. So they put on a show, or I put on a show, and they watched me, or I watched them and it was… normal.

Just another move in the game.

I don’t think they could know that though. How could they? So this is how they play too. Two people on exhibit.

I like it.

There’s a chair about four feet away from them, so I take a seat, my legs open, my hand on my cock. It’s not hard, but it’s growing underneath the loose fabric of my sweat shorts.