Free Whirlpool by Vivian Arend

disappeared.
    Finding her car in the driveway of the house was reassuring, but when he heard raised voices behind the door and couldn’t find his fricking key, he panicked. He flew around the back and up the stairs, ready to break in when he spotted Chelsea and Braden glaring at each other across the living room. Their shouted conversation confused him and he was ready to put a stop to it when everything changed. Chelsea stripped off her clothing, and involuntarily he took a step forward, drawn with a magnetic force. Shimmering blue paint covered every inch of her body and he longed to touch her, to see if a cloud of blue dust would envelop them as he buried himself in her body, burying the ache in his soul.
    Then the tableau changed as Chelsea and Braden kissed and his hopes died. He knew he should turn away, leave the lovers in privacy as they wrapped around each other more and more intimately, but something held him.
    He’d never thought of himself as a voyeur. His sexual escapades were tame by some standards and actual live sex shows weren’t his thing. But this, this was more than mesmerizing. Jamie slipped into the shadows, all the while his gaze fixed on the increasingly intimate performance on the opposite side of the glass. When they joined together, he swore he felt it in his own body and finally forced himself to turn away.
    The journey to his car took forever, the rock-solid length of his erection making each step torturous. The drive back to the condo passed in a blur. He stumbled up the stairs, into the apartment, dropped his keys to the floor and swore, long and hard.
    Damn, damn, damn . Ignoring the need pounding through him was impossible. He opened his slacks and released his aching cock. He stroked from root to tip, swiping his palm over the head and rubbing the moisture already leaking from his shaft. He couldn’t even make it as far as the bathroom, not with the images racing through his mind.
    The full tantalizing rounds of Chelsea’s breasts—what he wouldn’t give to be able to weigh them in his hands. To suckle the tips like he’d watched Braden enjoy. Jamie tugged harder, wishing it had been him she’d enveloped with her wet heat. He let his head fall back against the wall with a thud , all his blood pooling in his groin. He dropped his other hand to cup his balls, tightness spreading as he increased the speed of his motions. He pictured Chelsea’s hips moving over him, her body pressed up against his. The sweet taste of her lips. Jamie angled his hips higher and thrust harder into his hand, urgent need overtaking him. His balls tightened, his total concentration on the endorphins spreading in a rush through his whole system. Release came and he groaned out her name, his seed spraying from the tip of his cock to land on the floor and his shoes in sticky strands.
    When his ragged breathing faded back to normal, he glanced down in disgust.
    “Ah, fuck it, teenagers have more control.”
    He grabbed a cloth and cleaned up the floor, stomping to the bedroom, repulsed with himself. All his exhaustion disappeared by the time he’d washed up and redressed. He felt like he’d sucked back espresso shots, his body buzzing with adrenaline. The thought of what Chelsea and Braden were doing at that very moment started another reaction he desperately needed to bring to a halt before he ended up jerking off all night long. Jamie cranked open his laptop and began the arduous task of transferring information from his latest set of notes to the Excel spreadsheet.
    Shit, even the sight of her beautifully curved handwriting made him react. He put down the notebook and paced to the French doors to stare out into the night. The ocean undulated with the rhythm of the waves. The harbor to the left glowed with an eerie haze, pale greens and blues reflecting off the water as a light mist rolled in from the sea.
    The azure tones reminded him of the body paint Chelsea wore and this time his cock didn’t leap to