After a night like that, Jack usually went to sleep with a clear head, a pleasant afterglow inducing a soporific state almost immediately. But last night, it wasn't until he started brushing his teeth that he snapped out of a daze and realized he needed a shower to wash off the physical remnants of the evening. And when he finally slid into his sheets sleep didn't easily or immediately arrive as it normally did.
Instead he kept replaying every detail of the evening with Rachel, and though his mind did recall the sexual aspects of the night, it was her voice that kept playing in his head, keeping him awake. Little snippets of things she'd said, her smile, a new tone of flirting he hadn't heard before. Then later, the whispers urging him to cum for her.
And unlike other nights with his various partners, where there always been a polite but clear ending to the evening without any awkwardness or unmet expectations, a mutuality of intent, with Rachel, a splinter of uneasiness stuck in his brain about the way the night had ended.
Had he been rude? Abrupt? Even after he'd fallen asleep, he didn't sleep well. Once during the night, when he woke up, he wondered if the pressure he'd felt against his back was Rachel, that maybe she'd crept into his bed in the middle of the night, but when he reached behind him it was nothing but a pillow.
When he awoke to the morning sun, he didn't feel the usual restful benefits of sleep. But he also met the morning with a new level of anticipation that he'd see Rachel at breakfast, and remembered his commitment from the night before to spend the day with her. He tossed on his usual morning attire of cotton shorts and a snug t-shirt, debating whether he should run, or wait for Rachel in the kitchen.
For Rachel, sleep had not come easily. The combination of the evening's wine and the fading of her adrenaline had seemed to set the stage for falling into an easy slumber. All she needed to do was shower and climb into the luxurious bed set in the hillsides of Tuscany that she had dreamed of for months before getting here. However, every step of that plan served to tease Rachel back into wakefulness. And more.
The redhead stripped down, looking at the dress Jack had bought for her and thinking over the night. There was a low hum of arousal already--though he had brought her to one shivering climax, she suspected she was capable of many. She was not the girl who had landed here in Italy weeks ago.
But standing naked and turning on the shower reminded Rachel of Jack and his cameras. He had left their evening hurriedly after his orgasm, and it was easy to imagine the older man asleep, spent. But Jack was not just an ordinary man. It was just as easy to imagine that he was watching her again as she showered. As Rachel ran the soap across her glistening, increasingly tanned skin, she felt a throb of excitement building inside. Each swipe of her hand across her body, each step out of the shower towards the large mirror, came with the feeling of eyes upon her.
Maybe not just his eyes, Rachel mused, as she slid into a silk nightie, and dried her hair. Jack was like no one she had met, or imagined, in that his perversions ran broad and deep. He had invited friends to watch her, and more, before. Why couldn't one be watching her now, as she tread with her bare feet to the bed?
She knew he had watched her here, also, touching herself beneath her covers. Now she was doing it again. Her eyes flitted about the room as her hands roamed her body. Who knew where the cameras were. Could they see her now as her hand slid between her thighs? She slid the sheets down, and she touched her breasts, bringing her nipples to throbbing stiffness poking through the silk. Could he see? She was not sleeping, but writhing on the bed, her fingers working, until she came one more time with a gasping moan.
Even as she finally closed her eyes, Rachel wondered what she would wake to. Would it be like the patio, strangers staring at her? Would she find herself tied to the bed when she woke, her body being played with? She fell into a fitful, aroused sleep.
***
And was almost disappointed when she woke to no audience, no bound limbs. She felt a bit of wetness on her cheek and gasped, touching it, thinking someone might have stood over her as she slept. But no, it was just a bit of drool from her own mouth. Rachel flushed, embarrassed at her own strange imaginings.
But they lingered with her, and she found herself hurrying to the kitchen in her short silk nightgown, her breasts swaying freely, eager to see Jack, eager to know what might be next. She found the kitchen empty and fussed with the Moka pot, her back to Jack as he finally entered, unseen.
He was surprised to hear noise coming from the kitchen and at first assumed it was Isabella, but it was still 30 minutes before her usual arrival time. When he turned the corner toward the kitchen, he was met with a lovely sight. The sun streamed into the kitchen, lighting up Rachel's figure as she moved, highlighting the fullness of her breasts in the sheer nightgown he'd chosen for her days ago, hints of her nipples. The silk hugged her firm young buttocks and her narrow waist and slender hips. Her hair was mussed from sleeping, and the tenderness he'd fell asleep with was instantly replaced with pure lust.
If they were a couple, he thought how he'd step up behind her and press his morning wood against her buttocks and cup her big tits. But were they a couple? What was last night? They'd kissed, given each other orgasms, but there still so much unsaid. His hand reflexively reached for his cock through this shorts and gave it a squeeze, watching her move.
Unlike last night, when he planned the limitations of the evening, intentionally withholding the act of fucking her, at this moment, watching her, it was all he could think about. He thought of lifting up her nightgown and urging his thick cock into her pussy as she stood at the sink.
Him watching, her unaware, appealed to his voyeurism. And this wasn't through a camera, it was right in front of him. He thought of spinning her around and kissing her, pressing against her passionately. Within just seconds, he'd pushed the waistband of his shorts down, freeing his swollen cock, thinking of digging his hands into her hips and pounding her from behind. He didn't want to alarm her, so broke the morning silence, his cock in his hand, with a "Good morning, Rachel."