Peep Show

by Isabella Starling

I just stared at her. I never knew what to do when she got like this. Posy was the glue that held us together. She was the girl who made sure both Arden and I were alright. But now she was fucking gone and I had no idea how to fix this, any of it.

I had something special planned for my sweet little toy.

He didn’t like me, I could tell. But why would he? I was about to fuck his little girlfriend into pieces, and he was going to watch.

No man in his right mind would like that. Not until they saw me in action. Not until I handed them their woman back, fucked so well she’d worship their cock for the rest of their time together.

What a sweet little whore. I loved them scared.

Of course, it wasn’t okay. It was never going to be okay again. It was going to be so much better they’d beg me to come back and make me fuck her again. But of course, I would say no.

I knew my rules, and I never broke them. I never wanted to, either. Not until Bebe.

It didn’t really make a difference to me. I liked tearing things apart, be it fabric or people.

Desperation. It was what drove them to my apartment, I was fucking sure of it.

She was more beautiful than him, but he was confident where she was shy. She could probably have any man she wanted with the dose of self-confidence I was going to give her that night. A small, sentimental part of me hoped she wouldn’t leave her guy. He seemed to genuinely care about her. I could tell from the way his hand holding the whisky shook with nerves.

“Open your mouth wide,” I said, just as gently as earlier, and she did. “Good little girl.”

“What a pretty little mouth,” I muttered. “It’s going to look so good once it’s full.”

I was fine with ‘sir’. Or Daddy. Or my name. Anything to get them wet for me. There was nothing like the feeling of a tight, hot pussy dripping with need for me as I pushed myself inside it.

“Don’t be shy,” I said, my voice gentle again. “Don’t be shy now. Because in an hour you’re going to be begging for much worse things than having your pretty pussy filled.”

“Be a good whore. Good whores just moan, they don’t want.”

“Learn to fucking follow orders, sweetheart,” I told her. “Because I only fuck good girls who do.”

And I just watched, because for once in my life, I wanted to fucking follow every rule. Anything, everything, just for a chance of having him touch me, fuck me.

She kept looking at me, big, sad eyes. I couldn’t pity her. All I felt was red hot, blinding fucking rage because she was getting what was mine, what I deserved, what I’d been working for.

And then he groaned, and I was a fucking goner. It was my favorite thing in the world, a man fucking forgoing words just to fill the tense silence with animalistic, needy sounds.

He was an animal. And I was completely and utterly addicted.

Partygirl Bebe made my cock twitch, and the vulnerable morning Bebe made my heart hurt because I fucking wanted her, yet I knew I could never have her.

His whole demeanor, the way he was condescending yet dominant, caring but cruel. It was a delicious cocktail and I needed another sip.

“Good girl.”

God, he got me fucking wet. Just two little words in that sinful voice of his and I was putty in his hands.

YOU’RE SO BEAUTIFUL IT HURTS My fingers slid down the glass and I looked at him, so fucking far away, feeling closer and yet farther away than ever. I was falling for him. Slowly slowly slowly falling, feeling my body getting pulled by the current, sinking, sinking deep. Miles was in my head. In my pussy. He was in the shivers down my spine. In the tremble of my fingers. Miles was in my body without ever being inside me.

“Of course I want more, sugar. Get naked for me. Everything off. I want to see every gorgeous inch of you.”

I stood in front of him in nothing but a lacy black thong, and I could feel the tension coming off him from all the way over the street. He wanted me just as much as I wanted him, but for some reason, he was staying the fuck away. And an evil little part of me wanted him to break, wanted him to say fuck it and just come over and feed me his cock until I choked on his hot cum.

“You don’t get it,” he said, his voice strained. “I fucking want you.”

“Open your pretty slit for me, sugar, I want to see you fucking exposed.”

“The need to fuck you,” he went on. “I’m not like this. I’m not some fucking animal. It’s you, the way you make me. I fucking need it. Need to take you. Need to hold you down. Need to take it all away from you.”

I was addicted to her, and there was no point in denying it anymore.

I’d been having panic attacks for years, but the anxiety was something I wasn’t as used to.

But through it all, I had to remember… This was the closest I was going to get to having Bebe in my arms. Ever.

I shrugged, plastering on a fake smile that told him I was a good girl, the Bebe he liked, who danced on tables until the morning and threw up in the alley behind the club after getting fingered a few feet away.

Her scent assaulted my nostrils the second I stepped inside. The smell of her cardigan back at my place, amplified a thousand times until it was all over me. All over my skin, in my pores, in my nose, in my fucking mouth. And fuck, did she smell good. I couldn’t understand how someone could smell so sweet. Sugary enough for me to sink my teeth into her skin, sweet enough to wonder how many licks it would take to get to her molten center.

It was like a fucking miracle, like a dream, finally having her in front of me. She was perfectly vulnerable, but she was still my sweet, headstrong, bitchy girl. I’d never wanted her more.

I staggered into my apartment like a fucking drunk. And then I sat on the floor, and cried for the first time in twenty-five years.

The whole damned place smelled of her: sexy fucking roses and sugar mixed into a concoction that was wreaking havoc on my senses.

I felt like a madman because she turned me into one. And fuck was I desperate for more.

I’d never hated my agoraphobia more. Every cell in my body was demanding I go right over there, put Bebe over my knee in front of all her shitty friends, and spank that tight little ass while they all watched. God, I wanted to. I wanted her to know full well what bad girls get when they misbehave.

“Beautiful girl,” he whispered into my hair, his lips so close to mine but so far away, as if there was a whole galaxy separating us. “My beautiful broken girl.”

I was afraid of her. Me, Miles O’Reilly, torn to fucking shreds over a little party girl that had gotten the better of me.

Things would be different from now on, because she made me defeat the monster that separated me from her. From now on, I would not be the man she wanted. I would be the man she deserved.

That was the thing about Arden. She cared. She cared even when I was being a bitch to her. She cared when I didn’t. She cared when nobody else did.

I groaned inwardly and moved towards the door. She was pissed, and she had every right to be. Still, I was terrified of her anger and of finally accepting all the mistakes I’d made the previous night. It meant remembering… and to remember was the worst part of the whole thing.

I’d been a bad friend. And now it was too late.

She was addictive, fucking incredible and scary as shit. I was terrified of a girl a foot shorter than me with fists so tiny they fit easily inside my own.

And yet, she was the scariest person I’d encountered in my whole life. And I’d never wanted anyone more than her.

How could I explain it? How could I convince her that suddenly, she was the only person in my life I gave a shit about, the only person I cared about, the only one I wanted to make an impression on?

Leaving the apartment had gotten harder and harder as the days turned into weeks, months and years. Until I was so secluded, so absorbed in my own fear, I couldn’t even leave the apartment to go downstairs and get my mail. But now, I was going to risk it all for her.