I tightened my grip on the wineglass and stared at the old, box-style television. I’d watched the episode of Friends
a dozen times before, but pretending to be interested in the sitcom was safer than looking around the sitting room for the remote.
Who knew what I’d see?
A moan, primal and low, floated to my ear.
I shifted in the high-back armchair, even though comfort eluded me—thanks to my friends Kate and Justin. On my periphery, I could see them lying on the couch, legs entwined. Only the slightest shift of focus would bring their petting session into full view, but I kept my gaze firmly locked on the screen in front of me.
If it had been anyone else making out, I’d have made a jibe, stood up, and walked out, but Kate and Justin’s new relationship had me in a spin. I couldn’t have been more wigged out if Father Christmas and Mary Poppins were performing together in a live sex show. I took a big gulp of Shiraz and tried my damndest to concentrate on Ross Geller dressed as the holiday armadillo.
When I’d lit the fire and opened a few bottles of wine to warm on the hearth earlier that evening, I hadn’t envisioned spending the first night of our three-day getaway—my birthday weekend—in such a confounded situation. So much for the nights of “long chats and giggles” I’d been promised to help alleviate my broken heart. If anything, their actions were salt in my wounds. Did they not remember I found my ex-boyfriend Kyle screwing some blonde bitch on my sofa back in London less than two weeks ago?
At least I had plenty of wine to numb the tumultuous emotions flying around inside my chest.
“Baby, you’re so wet,” Justin whispered.
Watch the fucking armadillo, Sasha.
Despite the warning, my gaze flew to the couch. Kate, beautiful and wanton, lay on her back, her long, flaxen hair spilling over the seat’s edge. Justin was propped on one elbow at her side, his toned body dwarfing her petite frame. They stared at each other with an intensity that scorched the air, and all the while he moved his hand rhythmically beneath her pants at the apex of her thighs.
Wine sloshed over the side of my glass, splashing onto my jeans.
Had they forgotten I was in the room, or were they so selfish they didn’t care?
Justin sucked air through his teeth as Kate massaged her breasts.
“Ohhh, Justin.” Kate moaned, squirming against his thrusts. “More…more fingers.”
The already warm room turned scorching. I eased back behind the armchair’s wing, hiding but still watching. What was wrong with me? I couldn’t do anything, say anything, or even look away. My mouth was dry, and a tingle of arousal in my lower stomach pinned me to the seat.
Kate’s breathing grew hard. She pulled up her T-shirt and exposed her abdomen. Justin laid kisses over her ribs, following the hem of her top as she inched it higher. Seemingly inpatient, he growled and nudged the material over her bosom with his nose.
I bit my lip to keep from gasping out loud. Kate wasn’t wearing a bra, and her curves looked so soft and sexy in the firelight—little pink nipples jutting skyward like the cherry topping on a mouthwatering cake.
I’d been with my fair share of woman and men—swinging both ways since my teens—but in all the years I’d known Kate, while I’d always thought her beautiful, I’d never imagined her as an object of desire, so sensuous, so inviting.
How had I not realized she was so damn sexy?
Justin feasted on her flesh and adjusted his position after a time to lavish attention on the other breast. His biceps contracted faster, and the wet, slurping sound of his fingers in her pussy grew audible over the drone of the television.
“I’m so close,” Kate whimpered, thrashing her head from side to side and fisting her hands in his dirty-blond hair.
My eyes widened. I should have made a noise, reminded them of my presence. But it was much too late.
Kate opened her mouth in a silent scream. Moments passed before a long, tortuous groan escaped her lips. The sound vibrated through my body, exciting every nerve ending as if I somehow shared a small part of her release.
Justin kissed Kate’s nose. “You’re so sexy when you come.”
Heat rushed to my face, and I finally tore my gaze away, sickened by the dampness spreading across my panties. I remained perfectly still, trying to regulate my breathing. When Kate and Justin came to their senses, they wouldn’t believe I hadn’t at least heard Kate’s orgasmic cry. And explaining why I’d become a Peeping Tom was not a conversation I wanted to have. I wasn’t sure I even had an answer.
I wedged the wineglass between my leg and the chair’s arm, hand loosely cradling the stem, and closed my eyes.
“Sasha?” Justin called my name. Footsteps approached, floorboards creaking. “She’s asleep.”
“So she didn’t see anything?” Kate’s anxious-sounding voice came from somewhere close by.
“Doesn’t look like it.” Justin chuckled, and the wineglass was moved from its place at my side. “Never could hold her drink.” Warm fingers brushed my cheek, and the musky aroma of sex floated to my nostrils. “Hey, Sasha. Wakey, wakey.”
I blinked open my eyes, going for sleepy and disorientated. “What…?” I swept my head from side to side. “Where… Oh! What time is it?”
“Late. You fell asleep watching the telly.” Justin hunkered down in front of me and rubbed my thigh with the same hand that had brought Kate to climax. His long, elegant fingers demanded my full attention.
“Really?” I used an indignant tone, avoiding his piercing stare. “That doesn’t sound like me.”
He waved my near empty wineglass in the air, and Kate giggled.
“Oh.” I lowered my chin, using genuine embarrassment to bolster my cover story. “Did I spoil our first evening?”
He shrugged. “Don’t worry; we’ve got two more.” He took my arm and pulled me to my feet. “Come on, you lush. Let’s get you upstairs to bed.”