Boys Next Door Page 4

  ‘The story goes that Maxwell Shore built the tower in Maple Terrace so he could look down on the town and see his one true love. For whatever unspecified reason, he couldn’t be with his love. So he sat in the tower almost nightly right up until the time that he died and watched over the town.’

  ‘Wow, that is … creepy but also kind of romantic.’ I poured us both two more glasses of wine.

  Deke got up and pointed to the fireplace. ‘May I?’

  ‘Oh God, please!’ I laughed, clapping spontaneously. ‘I’d love a fire. It’s sort of … raw in here, don’t you think?’

  ‘Fall’s been here for a few weeks but your heat hasn’t been on at all. The stones soak it in. So, you need a nice fire to ward it off.’

  He set about crumpling newspaper and stacking kindling and I watched him. The long, sexy muscles in his arms. His broad back, taut muscles visible beneath his grey thermal shirt. The way his torso tapered down to a nice trim waist. And cargo pants that somehow were bulky but managed to hug his ass in the most effective way.

  ‘And all this time no one ever found out who his love was?’ I asked, my mouth dry, my tongue sticky and reluctant.

  Jesus, he was nice to look at.

  Deke turned his head and caught me looking. His grin brought out the whiteness of his teeth and the Satan-ish aspect of him I’d been admiring from our very first moment of acquaintance. My gut tumbled nervously, my pussy flexing with wet abandon. I had to get myself under control.

  ‘Nope. There was a box of letters hidden under the wooden bench that’s bolted to the wall in the tower room. It was full of love letters to Maxwell. The love letters indicated that they were answers from his lover. Responses to letters he’d written, we assume. So somewhere in town is a box or bag or something full of love letters from Maxwell.’ He shook his head. ‘We think. As town legends go ours has a few gaping holes.’

  ‘That’s so … cool.’

  He laughed. ‘I guess.’

  The fire roared to life and lit his face with orange and crimson, solidifying the whole Satan idea.

  ‘Well, I think it is,’ I said. I walked over and put my hands out to the fireplace. Heat licked my palms and I shivered from the sudden temperature change.

  Deke wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. Pulling me close against him. I could feel his heart hammering against my shoulder blade, his breath brushing over my neck as he spoke.

  The fire danced in my eyes and the warmth slid along my skin.

  ‘I know you’re new here. I know what happened today in the elevator was a fluke. I don’t have any expectations, but I have to tell you Farrell McGee – fuck – I cannot get you or what we did out of my head.’

  Okay, so I know what I said. But his cock was hard against the split of my ass and his hands were big and somewhat possessive, spread low on my waist, fingertips almost touching the top of my mound. I turned in his arms and pressed tight against him, rocking my pelvis to his. The friction was delicious, his mouth, when it crushed down on mine, even more so.

  I found the length of his erection with my hand and rubbed him roughly so he groaned. ‘Take them off,’ I said.

  ‘Are you sure about this? I told you I know it was a flu –’

  ‘Shut up and take off your pants.’

  He chuckled, not moving away from me immediately, but pulling me in a bit tighter so he had me trapped to his hard body. ‘You are a different kind of woman, do you know that?’

  ‘I’m impulsive.’

  ‘Is that bad?’

  ‘No.’ I smiled and slid my impatient fingers beneath his waistband to touch his hot skin. ‘The Devil made me do it,’ I laughed and felt my fingers brush the top of his perfect, talented cock.

  Chapter Six

  ‘He did, did he?’

  We hit a pile of blankets I’d set on my vintage green sofa. My ass slid a little and I let out a whoop even as I snagged the snap on his cargoes and yanked. The zipper made an angry sound and Deke shoved his hands between us to rescue me from my own efforts.

  ‘You’re warm,’ I said, finally taking him in hand.

  His big, brown eyes drifted shut slowly and he sighed. ‘Am I?’

  ‘You are, your cock is, the room is, I’m … burning up.’ I smiled and slid my loose fist up and down the length of him until he growled.

  ‘Let’s get you out of these … what are these?’

  ‘Leggings,’ I snickered, raising my hips to help him along.

  ‘I was going to say tights …’ His voice tapered off when he pulled them down and off of me. I was bare beneath them and he let out a mighty sigh. ‘My God.’

  ‘Touch me.’ My voice was way more needy than I normally liked, but I was fine with it. I had said I wouldn’t do this and here I was doing it. The tone of my voice was irrelevant. I was going to just run with my emotions.

  Something about Deke made me not only throw caution to the wind, but also my rational thoughts. And I liked it.

  ‘Take the sweater off,’ he growled.

  I did it, ripping it over my head and tossing it behind my sofa. I was bra-less and suddenly chilled but warm tongues of heat from the cavorting fire licked over my quickly cooling skin.

  Deke spread me open, spread me wide, splaying my pussy lips like he wanted to see every flushed bit of skin on me. Circling my clit with his thumb, he watched me squirm. ‘You’re very pink. And very wet.’

  ‘Am I?’

  He grinned. We had quite the teasing back and forth going. ‘You are. I bet I could make you wetter.’

  Wood popped in the fireplace and made me jump, the wind from earlier in the day had kicked back up and was licking the eaves of my house. A line by T.S. Eliot about wind flickered through my head. It was all quite surreal and utterly perfect, as we moaned lowly, screwing around in my new tiny living room like teenagers left alone for the night.

  ‘Can you make me wetter?’ My voice had dropped to a breathy whisper.

  He lowered his face, jaw tight and well shaped, dark eyes flashing. He had an almost feline quality to his bone structure and it added to the sexy-as-hell appearance of him preparing to set his lips to my pussy.

  ‘I guarantee it.’

  Deke dropped to his knees on the floor and forced my thighs wide. His big hands clamped down on the insides of my knees, anchoring me to the sofa in exactly the position he desired. He was a little bit teasing, a little bit rough and a whole lot decisive. The overall effect was a man who had me on the verge of begging. Begging him to skip the foreplay and fuck me again. Fuck me the way he had in the elevator.

  Good and fast and thorough.

  All thoughts of begging him to skip this part fled my mind when he drew his tongue along the seam of my sex in the laziest lick I had ever witnessed. He gathered my moisture on his tongue, spread it up and over my slit and then nibbled my clit like he had all the time in the world.

  My breath stopped. Frustration and rabid arousal warred for dominance in my chest. I grabbed his hair and tried to move him a bit faster. He shook his head, laughed softly and said, ‘Unh-unh, Farrell, no rushing me. I like to take my time.’

  With that he slid his tongue back to my clitoris and pushed his thumb into my weeping cunt. The pressure and friction and, fuck yes, when he sucked, the feel of him drawing on my swollen nub was overwhelming. I made small noises born of sweet frustration.

  When he stopped for a moment and blew on my wet labia, I was pretty sure I’d die.

  ‘Please don’t torture me,’ I babbled. ‘I’m new here. Be nice! Don’t stress me out …’ But I dissolved in giggles at my own bargaining.

  Deke was going to do it his way no matter what I said. I could tell that already. And I loved it.

  ‘Oh, I’ll be nice to you. But I think our first encounter, as intense and rowdy as it was, was way too fast. I want this one to last. We have wine and food. Good things to eat …’ He latched his entire mouth, the wet suede feel of it maddening, over my pussy and sucked.

  I sobbed
with the goodness of it all, head thrown back to face my new ceiling complete with exposed beams. I think I said ‘please’ but don’t quote me on that.

  His thumb was replaced by his thick fingers and he fucked me in slow even strokes before driving deep and nudging my G-spot. Deke turned his hand just so, the pressure in my cunt all-consuming. He ground his palm to my tender clit and just … moved. As he moved, my orgasm slid closer to me. When he licked a wet trail from my mound to my belly button, the first tentative spasm shook me.

  ‘Come on now, give me a big one,’ he murmured, lips on my skin. Small soft kisses dropped along my sides, over my sternum, along the side swell of my breast. His hand drove into me and against me so hard I heard the wet sounds of my body’s acceptance and I realised my hips were slamming up to meet his thrusts. I was going to come.

  From a hand job.

  I never came from hand jobs.

  His teeth, white and, yes, devilish, clamped down on my nipple and he tugged. Drawing out the rosy flesh so I hissed, but then he soothed it with his tongue and I began to literally pant.

  My pussy had grown tight around his fingers and he knew it because he whispered to me. Even as he kissed me with syrupy slowness along my collarbone before torturing my other nipple to a blissful peak. ‘Come on. You know you want to give it to me. Come for me, pretty girl. Be a good girl and give it to me.’

  So dirty – so staggeringly forward. And somehow … wrong but blissfully so. His amused tone and his good girls and his sharp grin and Christ, those kisses, so gentle they felt almost ghostly. I came. My toes curled and I was babbling, but too far gone to feel stupid.

  I gave myself over to the hugeness of the release and when my voice started to give, he covered my mouth with his and kissed me.

  I could taste wine and my own juices on his sweet, warm lips.

  I opened my legs for him, wrapping them around his waist with wanton impatience. ‘Condom? Condom, condom.’ I was chanting it even as I grappled with the button fly of his jeans.

  Somewhere between our elevator tryst and his visit to me, he’d taken a shower and changed his clothes. The length of his neck smelled of soap and his hair was still a little damp when I thrust my hands in it and gripped. I kissed him hard, slamming my hips up to bump against his erect cock.

  ‘God, fuck, yes, I have a condom. But you have to …’ He chuckled with great amusement and I blushed. ‘Let me go for me to get it.’

  ‘Fine, be that way,’ I teased.

  I let him go and he stood. All six-foot-four of him. He pulled his plaid button down over his head to save time and I sat up to run my finger along the firm bulges of his abdominals. ‘Workout?’ I asked.

  He shook his head. ‘You’d be surprised how much a deer weighs. Or a pig. Or a turkey. The workout is built into the job.’

  He dropped his jeans and this time I could see that it was boxer briefs he sported. Maroon with a blue waistband to be exact. And his cock was pressing belligerently at the seam. I murmured appreciatively, touching him through the soft cotton.

  ‘Careful. You’re killing me, here.’

  I yanked him by the waistband, drawing him to me. Leaving the shorts in place I ran the tips of my fingers along the line of his hard on. He studied me, his almost black hair falling over his forehead. He was beautiful in an almost evil way. In a movie, Deke would play the guy you just aren’t sure about. Good guy or bad guy? You just wouldn’t know until the end. And maybe not even then.

  But as far as I could tell, the looks were the only place he seemed anything but obviously perfect. Which was frightening.

  I yanked his shorts down and pressed my face to his cock. My lips, my nose, breathing in the warm cotton-scented smell of him.

  ‘Jesus, Farrell,’ he laughed. But he stroked the crown of my head like I was fragile. As if I might disappear should he touch me too hard.

  ‘Thanks for the hearty welcome to town,’ I whispered, looking up at him. Trying to read those supremely dark eyes. I kept my gaze on him as I took the tip of his cock into my mouth and gave it the most gentlest of sucks.

  His eyes drifted shut briefly before he forced them open, his hands barely touching my hair. It had fallen in a chaotic tangle around my face and I left it be. He seemed to like touching it and smoothing it and I liked the feel of it, too.

  I sucked again, pushing my lips down along his shaft until I had the bulk of him in my mouth. Then I slid my tongue along the silken flesh and listened to his breathing change. The sound of a man getting a blow job – a good one that is weakening his knees and speeding up his heart – is a marvel.

  It is one of my most favourite sounds.

  And I liked Deke. God, I liked him way too much. Our odd resonance from the get-go sort of terrified me – if I thought about it. So I wouldn’t.

  I forced myself a bit lower, taking him in to the base of his erection. Another gentle suck and he drew in a shaky breath. My stomach shivered and my pussy flexed at the sound. I wanted him in me. I wanted him to fuck me so that the world stopped for just a few minutes.

  But I also wanted to do this.

  I cupped his warm skin in my hands, such a perfect ass he had. I drew him in just a bit more and he sighed. ‘If you keep doing that I’m going to come. I don’t want to come this way. Not this time, at least.’

  Deke brushed a hunk of hair off my forehead and I looked up at him again. Drawing my mouth up his shaft before breaking free, I sucked gently on just the head. ‘Give me one more moment,’ I said, licking just the tip of him then. Pushing my tongue to the divot on the flared head of his sex.

  ‘One more moment might be the death of me,’ he said. I waited for him to smile, but he didn’t.

  I really had him on edge.

  The pulse in my cunt became a maddening drumbeat of need – demanding response. I sucked him into my mouth once more, pushed down hard, cupped his balls and when his fingers tightened in my hair, then – then I pulled him out of my mouth.

  ‘Condom?’

  His hands were a blur on the foil packet.

  Chapter Seven

  He slid into me on one of those moments where you both go still. Where it all boils down to heartbeats and fast breathing. Then I yanked him by that dark unruly hair and smiled when he said ‘fuck’. When I kissed him, I poured all my arousal into it and wrapped my legs tight around his waist.

  Deke slowed down, pulling back to watch my face. To shake his head and give me a half-smile when I said, ‘Faster. Please.’

  And he said, ‘No. It was fast last time. Not now.’

  My insides roiled at the control in his voice – in his authority. He had shifted some. Becoming a bit more self-assured and serious than the man who’d just been teasing me. I pulled him with my legs and he stilled.

  ‘Are you going to behave, Farrell?’

  The absence of friction had me on the brink of insanity. My pussy was tender and swollen, my labia singing with blood. I needed him to move. Immediately.

  ‘I will. I will behave,’ I stammered. I would have promised him anything at all in that moment.

  Somehow the tables had turned from me calling the shots to me begging him. Tingling excitement surged along my skin, driving my flesh to rise up in goose bumps.

  ‘Put your arms up for me, sweetheart.’ He buried his face in my hair and inhaled deeply. Then pressing his lips to my pulse point, he rotated his hips just so. Rocking into me so that my pussy grew tighter and tighter – unbearably tight. The sharp bite of his pelvic bone to my clit made me mindlessly thrust upward.

  But I didn’t come.

  I put my hands up suddenly like I was under arrest. Had I been in a more humorous mood, I’d have laughed at myself. But I was desperate. Desperate for him to tip me past my line so I could have an orgasm. So I could come with him deep inside of me. So I could feel my body eagerly lapping at his. So I could maybe, hopefully, wonderfully, push him past his limit and he’d come too.

  Deke smiled at me and clamped his large hands d
own on my wrists. Manacling them with his own flesh to the back of the sofa. Scrolled wood, vintage fabric – how many memories were trapped in this piece of furniture?

  And now I was adding my own. My first fuck in my new house. A hell of a house-warming.

  He began a hypnotising rhythm of withdrawing – almost all the way – before plunging back in. When he backed off, the tip of him rubbed along the slick ring of my opening. When he plunged deep the friction made me shimmy under him – locked in my own needful dance.

  I pulled at him with my legs, locking my ankles to try and make him do my bidding. He laughed at me.

  ‘I’m stronger than you,’ he whispered, locking his hips to that I couldn’t force him forward no matter how much I tried.

  I tugged again, my legs shaking with the effort, my cunt fraught with need. Deke stayed still.

  When I loosened my locked legs, he did that back and forth thing with his hips that made me whimper. When I dropped my legs down and splayed them wider for him, he thrust deep. When I sighed aloud, relaxing completely under him, his hands clamped a bit tighter on my wrists; prompting a rush of arousal so strong it stole my breath. And then he started to fuck me in earnest.

  It was when I truly surrendered to him, that he gave me what I needed.

  One hand unlocked from my wrist for a moment to shove a throw pillow under my ass. When I was tilted that way, tipped up to take him, everything that was good became great. All the things he did that were pleasant became utterly sweet.

  He only had to rock against me a few more times and I was coming, his mouth soft on mine, his hands a bit rough – the perfect amount.

  My orgasm tapered off in soft lilting waves. Then he released my arms and replaced the pillow with his hands. Gripping me hard by my bottom he drove into me. Intent and a bit animalistic now that I’d had my pleasure. Now he was going to get his.

  I let my head fall back and braced myself with my elbows, rising up with my lower body to take him in. When he was seated fully in me, I gripped my cunt up tight around him, using those muscles so as to get him to make that noise. That noise that turned me inside out.