Dirty Little Love Story by Alicia Alpha

CRYSTAL
    1
    They’re at it again.
    And here I am once more, standing in front of my window, barely hidden by the silk curtains billowing in the slight breeze. Watching. Waiting. Taking notes.
    My hand shaking, I touch pen to paper and struggle to write what I’m seeing. He’s not just kissing her anymore, he’s devouring her. His lips locked with hers, his tongue exploring her mouth as he rubs his own stiff cock through skin-tight jeans. Her hands are bound behind her back, but her smile is unrelenting – with the perfect amount of submission.
    I scribble frantically, barely being able to tear my eyes away from the scene in front of me. I turn the pages in time with her moans, noting down words that express her fulfillment as she climaxes loudly, such a small distance away from me.
    As the man slaps her and she falls back on the bed with a devilish laugh, I can’t take it anymore. My notebook falls to the floor and the pen clatters behind it, both forgotten as I am taken over by lust. I am thankful to be wearing just the slip I went to sleep in the previous night as my fingers slide between my legs and I satisfy myself with quick, shaking thrusts. I can feel the throb between my legs, the wanting reaching a point where it’s hard for me to … just take care of myself. Between bursts of pleasure, I long for the man’s touch. Long for the woman to do what I am doing to myself. Long for the relationship they have, the dominance, the handcuffs they use, his well-known groan as he slides in, her satisfied yelp as he releases deep inside of her.
    I am seconds away, already biting my full lips expectantly, when the doorbell rings. With a loud curse, I bring my trembling hands up and frantically try to smooth down my hair. I take a few seconds to compose myself before rushing towards the door, where someone is knocking and saying my name in rushed-but-sweet tones.
    I let myself have a final deep breath before I open the door, my fake smile plastered widely across my face, just hoping my acting is good enough to fool my visitor – and at the same time, that he will not notice the way my legs are trembling and the fact my fingers are still slick from what I had been doing.
    “Hello, darling,” I say sweetly to my boyfriend of seven years.
    Jacob grins back at me and swoops me in his arms. “Missed me, Crystal doll?” he asks gruffly in my ear.

2
    I am a user. A manipulative bitch. Because whatever you think you know about me, you should know one thing only. I come first. And second, and third. Then everyone else.
    I have been this way ever since I can remember, but now it has taken on a new level. A few years ago, I was incredibly successful. I was the youngest author at my publishing house, a rising star. I was all that and more – everyone wanted me.
    Flash forward to last year. Having lost most of my money to … things I’d rather not discuss, I found myself living in a rented apartment in the top floor of a rundown building that should not even be considered a place to live. I muttered this under my breath every time I slid around a bucket under the leaking roof.
    I was struggling. I was 24, but I had not written in two years. I had a contract that I had been unable to fulfill, debts for years to come, and a mind devoid of a single idea. But you know what they say, good things come to those who wait.
    The first time I saw them was when I had been living in the apartment only for a couple of weeks. The only thing I liked about this place back then was my reading nook. There was a window seat, complete with a view of the building only feet away from me. I was reading a book, my notebook cast to the side, when they came into view.
    The man was tall, dark and handsome. The perfect stereotype. She was a redhead with luscious cherry lips and big, full and perky breasts. How did I know this? Because she was topless the first time I saw her, and one of her hard, rosy nipples was in his mouth as he bid down just roughly