Title: Peep Show
Author: Isabella Starling
Genre: Romantic Suspense/Dark Romance
Cover Design: Letitia Hasser, RBA
Cover Design: Letitia Hasser, RBA
Photo: James Critchley
Release Date: January 25, 2018
Blurb
She's stripping.
I'm watching.
She's playing.
I'm watching.
She's mine, I'm coming...
Bebe Hall is a heartbreaker. She's the it girl of the moment, a partygirl nobody can stop in her path of self destruction. Bebe Hall isn't the star of her own story.
She's the star of mine.
My name is Miles O'Reilly. I'm a photographer. An agoraphobic. A millionaire. A womanizer. I'm confined to my apartment. I don't leave. Ever.
But when she sees me with my latest online conquest in the window of my apartment, my attention shifts to Bebe.
And once I see something I want, I don't give up until it's mine.
Forever.
Peep Show is a 90,000 word novel with themes of voyeurism and dark scenes that may be upsetting to readers. If you are brave enough, come meet Miles. He's been waiting for you.
I'm watching.
She's playing.
I'm watching.
She's mine, I'm coming...
Bebe Hall is a heartbreaker. She's the it girl of the moment, a partygirl nobody can stop in her path of self destruction. Bebe Hall isn't the star of her own story.
She's the star of mine.
My name is Miles O'Reilly. I'm a photographer. An agoraphobic. A millionaire. A womanizer. I'm confined to my apartment. I don't leave. Ever.
But when she sees me with my latest online conquest in the window of my apartment, my attention shifts to Bebe.
And once I see something I want, I don't give up until it's mine.
Forever.
Peep Show is a 90,000 word novel with themes of voyeurism and dark scenes that may be upsetting to readers. If you are brave enough, come meet Miles. He's been waiting for you.
Excerpt
Chapter One
I stumbled into my bedroom, giggling to myself and shaking
on too-high heels and too much vodka.
A glance in the huge mirror on my wall reminded me of what I mess I was when I
had too much to drink. My silver sequined dress was riding up, revealing a hint
of my ass under the shiny fabric. My hair was wild, the dark brown locks a halo
around my head, and my brown eyes glowed with excitement. At least my makeup
was still in place, the perfect smoky cat-eye enhancing my looks, making me
appear demure yet sexy. I'd perfected the art of it, making sure I always had
someone eager to buy me a drink.
I sank down on my bed and pulled off the murderous black heels that had been
torturing me all night. But it was okay – I'd learned to handle the pain, and
when I was dancing, it never mattered anyway.
I lay back and I stared at my ceiling, letting myself think about what my life
had become, but only for a short minute.
The key was never to focus on it for too long. I had to forget, and drinking,
dancing and partying, was the only way I could do it. If I stopped twirling,
stopped tipping back glass after glass, I risked stopping long enough to think
about what I was doing. And that was the last thing I wanted to do.
I needed to forget about Posy. She was long gone, and there was no bringing her
back.
I pushed myself off the bed shakily, and walked over to my window to let some
fresh air in. There was nothing quite like a nice fall breeze to clear my head,
and God, I needed some fucking clarity.
I opened the blinds and looked outside, the street below me illuminated with
streetlights. It was gone four a.m., and most of the lights in the apartment
building next door were off. I lived in a nice neighborhood of townhouses,
about three apartments per floor and three floors total. It was a nice place to
live, and, of course, I wouldn't have been able to afford it if it hadn't been
for my parents' stack of cash in my bank account.
Being a trust-fund baby definitely had its benefits.
My eyes traveled upwards and focused on the only illuminated apartment across
the street from me. I could see right into their home, but the minimalistic
apartment seemed to be empty, even though it was lit up.
I wobbled on my feet and opened the window wide, enjoying the breeze on my
face, slowly bringing me to my senses once again.
A thumping noise interrupted my reverie, and I looked up again, right into the
apartment opposite mine. Except now, it wasn't empty anymore.
Now, there was a dark, impossibly tall figure pressing a naked woman against
the window, fucking her savagely, mashing her tits against the window, her
mouth opened in an endless gasp as he took her from behind.
My mouth gaped in surprise, and I moved a little to the side, hiding in the
darkness and watching the show they were putting on with a smirk on my face.
The woman had small but perky tits. Her skin was dark, almost ebony, a sharp
contrast to the pale man standing behind her, towering over her. She was tiny
and curvy, and he was fucking enormous.
He was all toned muscle and dark, slicked back hair. His strong, muscular arm
was wrapped around her neck in a chokehold, strangling the screams right out of
her. And his skin was covered in dark, menacing ink, the black color stark
against his light skin.
I wanted more.
I wanted to keep watching.
I shifted on my feet to get a better view of what was going on before me.
He fucked her like an animal. I could see his hips working, pushing, thrusting
inside her from behind, claiming her petite body and making her mouth open in a
silent scream. He fucked like a beast, and he looked like a monster. I fell in
love with him right then and there.
My fingers shook as I reached for my purse, scrambling to find it on the bed
and trying not to look away from the scene in front of me at the same time. I
wanted to watch. I wanted to see his face when he filled her up. I wanted to
see if he'd pull her hair back like I imagined he would.
I managed to get my phone out of my handbag, bringing it in front of my face
and quickly snapping a picture of them. It was blurry as fuck, but it would
have to do. Suddenly, I felt awake and sober, staring into the cold night
outside and wishing I could swap places with the wild-haired beauty. I wanted
him inside me.
A burst of inexplicable jealousy bubbled lazily in the pit of my stomach, but I
did my best to ignore it. Instead, I kept snapping pictures of them. Of him.
Wishing I could see him better, I moved from behind the curtain a little bit
closer to the window. My breath made foggy circles on the glass and my hands
shook as I dropped my phone and reached under the hem of my dress.
The silver sequins felt cold and exciting on my fingertips, and I touched them
gently before spreading my own trembling legs apart, slowly outlining the wet,
dripping shape of my pussy lips between my thighs.
I was so wet.
In fact, I was fucking leaking all over my panties, the image across the street
making my pussy drool so much I flushed in embarrassment.
But I couldn't help myself. Couldn't resist slipping my fingers under the
sodden satin fabric of my panties, outlining my perfectly waxed pussy as I
shivered under my own touch. It felt so strange, voyeuristic, to be watching
them do this only on the other side of the street. And it was horny as hell.
My fingers worked their magic between my legs, slowly teasing my cunt open and
finding my clit. I'd let someone kiss me at the club that night, but I didn't
bring anyone back with me, which was strange for me. I liked having someone to
go home with. It made me feel wanted.
I remembered his hot, needy lips. He was a nice guy, not one I'd usually go
for, which was probably the reason I hadn't brought him back home with me. He
had a buzzcut, and his face was clean-shaven too, and I loved the prickly
feeling of his features under my fingertips, and the push of his bulge against
my tummy. But I didn't let myself have it. I really didn't do nice guys,
because I wasn't a very nice girl.
Lips parting in a gasp, I braced myself against the windowsill as my fingers
stroked me towards an orgasm. His hand was squeezing her throat so tightly she
looked like she was out of breath, her chest heaving and her mouth open so
wide.
She was crying.
He was fucking her so hard, so savagely, with so little mercy, that the poor
girl was crying her eyes out, all the while coming all over his dick.
Fuck!
I gasped, my fingers working in fast, messy circles to get myself off. I came
with a desperate cry, my pussy making a mess all over my fingers. I'd always
been such an easy comer, ever since I learned how to get off by myself.
My eyes felt strained as I looked back up, and then opened as wide as they
possibly could as I stared at them. He was still choking the girl, her eyes
closed and her breathing ragged, but his own gaze was firmly fixed on me.
I panicked. Surely he couldn't see me – my room was barely illuminated. But I
saw them both so fucking well.
He grinned at me. Two rows of perfectly straight, impossibly white teeth
glaring in the darkness of the night. He ran his free hand through his dark,
slicked back hair, and carelessly scratched at the stubble growing on his chin.
Then, he reached in front and pinched the girl's nipple so hard she threw her
head back in a scream I couldn't hear.
He kept staring, and I couldn't look away and my heart leapt when he knocked on
the window. Two sharp raps, whispering something in his girl's ear, making her
eyes fly open in panic, glance across the street, and she saw me.
I stared at her. I stared at them both, unable to move, my pussy juices
dribbling down my thighs.
He raised a hand and waved at me, an easy smirk playing on his lips. The devil
waved and nudged the girl he was fucking, motioning for her to do the same
thing. When she shook her head, his hand wrapped tighter around her throat.
And she looked at me sheepishly, and waved, just like he had.
I'd never wanted to be someone else until that moment, when I wished with
absolute desperation that I was the beautiful petite girl next door getting her
pussy slammed by a stranger.
He thrust inside her one last time and my own fingers repeated his motion. His
eyes remained locked on me as he came, the girl crumpling in his arms, only him
holding her up as he spurted inside her. My fingers fell away from my body, my
poor cunt spasming by itself, leaking down my thighs, ruining the sequins of my
dress and covering them in my own pussy juice.
My legs shook and my cunt spasmed as I came again.
I watched him let go of the girl, gently laying her down on the floor. I could
only see her naked back against the glass, her shoulders hunched as she cried
her release out, her whole body shaking with pent-up orgasms.
And then he stepped up to the window, in all his glory. He must've been over 6
feet 5. He was fucking enormous, so tall she looked like a child at his feet.
And he was completely naked, save for the condom on his dick.
His fucking cock matched his height, making my mouth water at the sight of it.
He was ripped, muscles everywhere, looking not just like he worked out
regularly but like he made it his mission to keep his body in perfect shape.
His cock was still hard as he took the condom off, discarded it on the floor
and stroked slowly.
He grinned at me, and stroked his cock lazily with one hand as he wrote on the
steamed-up window with the other.
My eyes danced across the words and I stepped forward, letting the light of the
streetlights outside illuminate me. I knew he saw me now, because he jerked his
dick faster, and it made me fucking ecstatic. He liked what he saw. And how
couldn't he? I was always sure to be groomed to 5 feet and 10 inches of
polished, manicured and slutty perfection.
I followed his fingers writing in the window and lifted my dress up, showing
him my ruined panties.
His eyebrows shot up and he smirked at me, licking his fingers and palming his
shaft with fast, needy motions.
I stared at his words in the window, written clumsily, some of them fucked up
because he'd tried to write their mirror reflection so I could read it.
My pussy tingled at his crudeness.
My heart thumped in anticipation.
And my mind reeled with the possibilities.
I DARE YOU TO GO NEXT.
Author Bio
Dark, dirty and
taboo is what Isabella Starling is known for.
An Amazon top 25
bestselling Author, Isabella has 10 books under her belt in under a year. She
is a self-proclaimed Tumblr gif addict and always looking for her next
forbidden story.
If you pick up a
Starling book, you can count on a bad-mouthed, bossy man who will dominate his
woman with a rough hand.
Add just a sprinkle
of taboo, a touch of BDSM and a pinch of suspense, and you're all set for a
story you won't forget.
Author Links
No comments:
Post a Comment