Neighbor’s Window: Part 3

It happened just after midnight.

I had already turned off the lamp and climbed into bed, body still humming from the show I had given him twenty minutes earlier. The apartment was quiet. The courtyard below was dark. I lay on my back staring at the ceiling, thighs pressed together against the residual ache, when the knock came.

Three short, deliberate raps.

I knew.

I got up, pulled the oversized T-shirt back on, and walked to the front door without turning on any lights. My pulse beat hard in my throat. When I looked through the peephole he was there—dark shirt, hair slightly messy, expression unreadable in the dim hallway light.

I unlocked the door and opened it.

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. The door clicked shut behind him. For a second we just stood there in the dark entryway, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of his skin and the night air he had brought with him.

Then his hands were on me.

He backed me against the wall, mouth finding mine in a kiss that was nothing like the careful distance of the windows. It was hungry, immediate, almost rough. I made a small sound against his lips and opened for him. His tongue slid against mine at the same time his hands pushed the T-shirt up over my hips, finding bare skin. I hadn’t put underwear back on. His palm cupped my ass hard, pulling me against the obvious ridge of his cock.

“Been watching you touch yourself for two weeks,” he said against my mouth, voice low and rough. “Figured it was time to stop watching.”

“Took you long enough.”

A short, dark breath of a laugh left him. He kissed me again, deeper, and walked me backward toward the bedroom without turning on a single light. The city glow through the open curtains was enough. When the backs of my knees hit the mattress he pulled the T-shirt over my head in one motion and dropped it. I was completely naked in front of him for the first time without glass between us.

He looked at me the same way he had from the window—unhurried, thorough—but now he could touch what he was looking at. His hands moved over my breasts, down my waist, between my thighs. Two fingers slid through the wetness there and a rough sound left his throat.

“Soaked,” he muttered. “Were you like this every night you stood there?”

“Yes.”

He pushed those two fingers inside me without preamble. My head tipped back. He worked them in slow, deep strokes, thumb pressing my clit, while his mouth closed over one nipple. The dual sensation made my knees weak. I gripped his shoulders and let him finger me right there at the edge of the bed until my thighs started to shake.

Then he pulled his hand away, opened his jeans, and shoved them down just far enough. He didn’t bother taking them off completely. He simply lifted me, laid me back on the mattress, and settled between my legs. The thick head of his cock pressed against me, hot and blunt.

He pushed in with one steady thrust.

The stretch pulled a broken sound from my throat. He was thicker than I had imagined from the other side of the glass, filling me completely until his hips sat flush against mine. For a second he stayed still, forehead against mine, breathing hard.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Better than watching.”

He started to move.

Deep, powerful strokes that made the bed shift beneath us. I wrapped my legs around his waist and met every thrust. The angle dragged against the sensitive spot inside me with every pass. One of his hands pinned my wrist to the mattress above my head. The other gripped my hip hard enough to bruise, holding me in place while he fucked me.

The curtains were still wide open.

City light painted stripes across our bodies. Anyone in the opposite building who happened to look would have seen us—his back, my legs around him, the clear motion of him driving into me. The risk of it only made the heat sharper. I clenched around him at the thought and he groaned low in his chest.

“You like that,” he said, voice strained. “Knowing someone could see.”

“Yes.”

He thrust harder. The wet sound of him moving inside me filled the quiet room. I was already close—two weeks of silent builds had left me primed. When he reached down and rubbed my clit in tight circles, the orgasm hit fast and hard. I cried out, thighs locking around him, body pulsing around his cock in strong waves. He kept fucking me through it, jaw tight, eyes locked on my face.

When the trembling eased he pulled out, flipped me onto my stomach, and dragged my hips up. He pushed back into me from behind in one smooth thrust that made me fist the sheets. This angle was deeper. Rougher. He gripped my ass with both hands and drove into me in steady, relentless strokes until I was shaking again, forehead pressed to the mattress, another orgasm building right on the heels of the first.

“Come again,” he ordered, voice rough. “I want to feel it.”

I did—muffled against the sheets, body clamping down around him so hard he swore. He followed a few thrusts later, burying himself deep and coming with a low, broken groan. I felt every hot pulse as he emptied into me.

For a long moment neither of us moved. The only sounds were our breathing and the distant city noise filtering through the open window. He eventually pulled out. I felt the slow slide of his come down my inner thighs. The mattress shifted as he sat back.

I rolled onto my side and looked at him. His jeans were still half-on, chest rising and falling hard, dark eyes watching me with the same intensity he had given me through the glass for weeks.

“Next time,” he said quietly, “we leave the light on.”

I looked past him at the open curtains, at the dark rectangle of his window across the courtyard, and felt a fresh pulse of heat at the thought.

“Next time,” I agreed.

He leaned down, kissed me once—slower this time, almost lingering—then stood and fixed his clothes. At the bedroom doorway he paused and looked back.

“I’ll be at the window tomorrow night,” he said. “If the lamp goes on, I’m coming over again.”

Then he left. The front door closed softly behind him.

I lay there in the dark, body aching in the best way, his come still warm between my legs, and already knew the lamp would be on tomorrow.

And the night after that.

And every night he wanted it to be.