He was out there. Watching her.

He'd been watching her for days. Seven days, to be exact. 

That's how long it had been since Calla left with her new man, Seth. Unfortunately, Seth had forgotten to take his big, stupid friend Jax with him.

Sarai rolled over in her bed, punching the pillow to soften it up. Her room was too hot. She knew how much more cool and comfortable the air would be if she could open the sliding door to the garden, but if she did he might take it as an invitation. 

He'd been trouble from the minute he'd set foot in their small hostel. Usually they catered to students. After all, Hector Prime was one of the best places in the quadrant to study biology. From desert to jungle, the planet-wide nature preserve had something to offer everyone. But the only thing Jax wanted was right in her bedroom.

Sarai rolled again, settling on her back. What was it about him? She hadn't been able to sleep that first night, so she'd gone out into the garden, her private refuge. He had been waiting for her then, too. A twist of desire coiled through her at the memory. He'd touched her in the darkness, and she had lost control.

His hands, tugging at her gown, had been rough and calloused. She could still feel the way they caught against the smooth skin of her belly, before dropping lower…

Unconsciously, Sarai raised one hand to her breast and fingered her hardening nipple. He had touched her there, too. She remembered the scrape of his finger, back and forth against her taut flesh. Mirroring his actions with her own fingers, she twisted in her bed as an ache spread through her body.

He had been so hard.

She dropped her hand lower, searching for the space between her legs that would give her relief. She hated how much she needed to touch herself, but she knew from experience that once the ache started, it had to be appeased. Otherwise she would toss and turn for the rest of the night. 

She found the small nub, then started slowly rubbing it, back and forth. Slow and steady. What was he doing there in the darkness? Did he ache, too? Was he touching himself like she was? She could just about picture him.

He would be leaning back against the bench, legs splayed out before him. One hand would drop slowly to the bulge in his crotch, testing it. It would grow, lengthen under his hand. Would he grip it? Would he work it up and down between his fingers, or simply finger the head softly?

Her own fingers were moving faster now, and she gave a little whimper at the thought of the smooth, hard length waiting for her in the darkness.

All she had to do was open the sliding door and she could have him. He would be on her in a heartbeat, pressing her back against the soft bed. Being kissed by him was an experience in and of itself. His tongue, thrusting inside her, taking what he wanted. He had no mercy when he kissed. It was a brand, a mark of ownership. Her lips burned with the memory.

She thrust the image from her mind, forcing herself to focus on her own movements. Thinking of him wouldn't help. It would just make things worse. She needed to focus on the pleasure she could give herself. She had been massaging her nipple as she rubbed her clit, but the feelings were becoming more intense now. She couldn't do both things, she couldn't concentrate. Back and forth, harder and harder. She could feel the pressure building, but she wanted more.

She wanted him.

His cock was like a pillar of granite. So hard, so deep. He'd plunged into her like he had something to prove. When he'd come to her that night, it felt like the first time she'd ever been with a man. He'd stretched her open; she'd been splayed beneath his strength. Completely helpless, she had no choice but to give into the ecstasy his touch could bring.
Heat rose in her. Her fingers were moving so quickly now that it took all her strength not to arch up beneath her hand. Was he watching her? She'd pulled the drapes, but they were all too sheer. Did he know what she was doing?

What would his tongue feel like on her? She could imagine it, slippery and hot, darting back and forth against her aching center. Would he tease her, bringing her close to the edge before falling back? Or would he keep moving, bringing her to orgasm time after time? She'd never felt a man's tongue there, but she'd heard it was a wonderful thing. If only she could feel something like that…

The pressure was intense now. It pushed against her, and she felt like she was climbing to the top of a cliff. She could see the end, she was so close to it, but she couldn't quite make it over. Her fingers flew faster and faster, seeking desperately to provide her with some relief. She had to get some relief, or she would die. Either that, or she would call out to him to come to her.

No.

She wouldn't do that.

She pressed harder, her body shaking from the strain of remaining perfectly still. The sensations built up in her, heart pounding. Her breath was coming in ragged breaths, but she held her position. A swooshing sound, the sound of her own heartbeat, filled her head.
Just a little more.

Around and around. Don't think about him, his hard cock stuffing you so full that you feel like you might choke, her traitorous mind whispered. Him pounding against you, your whole body shaking from the force of his thrusts. 

Her treacherous body wasn't listening, though. There was an empty hole where his cock should be. Her entire body was ready to explode, but there was no one for her to explode against. Her fingers flew, her mouth opening in a silent gasp of aching need. Against her will, her head arched back against the pillow as the orgasm hit her. She shuddered under the onslaught of sensation, biting the back of her hand to keep from crying out. What would he see if he were watching her now? What would he think?

That night in the garden she'd seen the look on his face as she came, every muscle in her body clenching his tightly. His face had been filled with a pleasure so intense it was painful to watch. But she wanted to watch it again.

Slowly, her breathing returned to normal. She allowed her hand to drop to the mattress. The sound of her heart faded, and she let her hands fall to her sides. After a few minutes her breath was slow and steady again. The ache was better, although she could still feel a trace of tension.

She rolled onto her stomach, punching the pillow to soften it up. Then she lay her head down and forced her mind to calm. Would the night never end? 

Finally, after another hour, she finally relaxed enough to fall asleep. Morning would be there all too soon.

From Serendipity, Copyright 2002, Joanna Wylde