Boys Next Door Read online

  ‘Take off the pants,’ I rumbled. My voice had gotten rough and rocky with my lust. When I kissed his chest again, my hair tickled over his bare skin and he shuddered.

  ‘Tell me something.’

  ‘About what?’ I stroked the muscles along his flanks and smiled when his skin danced for me.

  ‘About you.’

  I stared at him hard, wondering what he saw when he looked into my dark-brown eyes. When I looked into his steel-coloured gaze, I saw a man I could trust.

  ‘What is it with the men in this neighbourhood? You all want to chat.’ This time I pressed the flat of my palm over his heart and felt it gallop.

  ‘Just one thing.’ He gripped my ass and pulled me flush to him. He was toying with me now, letting me feel the impressive length of his sex. Making it ride the split of my nether lips. The denim that covered him was enough to drive any sane woman crazy.

  ‘My father bought me a house that’s overlooked by a tower built by a reclusive eccentric man with a secret love. And I think that’s the fucking coolest – thing – ever.’ I punctuated each word with a small thrust of my hips.

  He groaned and released me so he could undo the rest of his buttons and push his jeans down. When he was bare, when his cock had sprung free, just begging for me to take it in hand and stroke it until he came, I sucked in a great shaky breath. I wanted to watch his face when he came. I wanted to feel the hot tacky trail of his release on my skin. I wanted a lot and so I pushed him back till the back of his knees hit his bed and he buckled.

  ‘I like that when I look out my window I see you all in a row.’ It was something I didn’t realise was true until I said it aloud.

  He looked intense and only blanched a little when I brought up the fact that I was working my way through the three of them. Or maybe a better way to see it was distracting myself with them. I glanced around and he whispered, ‘Top left drawer of the dresser,’ while he toyed with one of my nipples. Working it into such a tight point I felt a tickle and tightening in my throat from the sensation.

  The inside of his dresser drawer smelled like cedar and spice and I took a big breath of it while claiming a condom. Stephen then started to cover himself and I shook my head. ‘Wait,’ I whispered. I pressed my sex to him so he could feel what he did to me. Not on his cock – I wasn’t going to take us there just yet. I perched higher than his erection and it poked along the crease of my bottom cheekily.

  Stephen’s eyes never left me. Even as he stroked my skin. Even as he cupped my breasts and pinched my nipples so I moaned, rotating my hips so he could feel the heat of my pussy – the wetness there – against his flesh. Even when I bent to kiss him, he kept his eyes wide and watching.

  ‘Shut your eyes!’ I laughed.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, now you’re going to argue?’ He tasted salty and sweet when I licked him. The way he reacted – the way he rippled under me – made me want to do it more. I kissed a trail – agonisingly slow and purposeful – from his thick neck to his flat belly.

  ‘I’m not arguing. I just don’t want to not see you, is all. You’re here. I want to … enjoy it.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Speaking of enjoying it, the way his body shivered under my lips made me clench my cunt to feel the almost-spasm of pleasure it evoked. He was so fucking pretty.

  ‘I’m sure you won’t mind,’ I said softly and sucked the tip of him into my mouth.

  I was getting from Stephen what I had not gotten from Coop. Rolling his smooth cock along my inner cheek, over my tongue, I nudged the small slit at the tip of him so that his hips jittered a little.

  When I laughed, I saw him laughing too. ‘I don’t mind.’

  Supporting his head with his arms, he watched me – alert but not wary. Relaxed but not bored. I wanted to please him and that pleased me.

  I went down further, taking his cock all the way, feeling it nudge the back of my throat and making my eyes water just a bit. Stephen groaned and reached for my hair. His fingers played over and through my long bangs and then he stroked my forehead like a true lover – tender, affectionate.

  Fear sizzled in my belly and I straightened up, eyes pinned to his, licking the thick vein that traversed the back of his erection. His hands dropped to his sides and a rush of air burst out of him.

  ‘Can you … please? Don’t make me come that way.’

  ‘Roll that bad boy on,’ I said as I slid up his body, keeping contact all the way. Marvelling at the rasp of his coarse body hair along my smooth skin. The extra heat he seemed to give off. The jut of masculinity between his legs that I simply could not wait to lower myself onto.

  He rolled the condom on with almost steady hands.

  ‘You’re a big boy,’ I teased and he blushed.

  When I moved to straddle him, Stephen caught my wrist and said, ‘Will you kiss me, Farrell. First. Just a kiss?’

  Something about that request broke my heart.

  I moulded myself to him, hooked my leg over his waist and let him wrap me in his arms. His lips were soft and smooth and willing, his kiss was almost melancholy. There was so much need in it.

  I realised where the fear came from. I could love this man. He was that kind of guy. So I had to be careful.

  When his tongue stroked my tongue just right, a bubble of arousal burst inside of me and I was done. ‘I need to fuck you, big boy,’ I muttered against his scratchy stubbled jaw. ‘Or I’m going to come just kissing you.’

  ‘You keep talking like that and I’m going to come just kissing you, too,’ he sighed.

  This time when I straddled him, he held his cock for me to take. I lowered myself slowly, watching the penetration of each hard inch as he fed it into my body. I watched myself take him and take him, and when I finally was seated firmly to the root, that subtle bit of friction was enough to tip me right over the edge. My cunt rippling around him, milking him, working him so that I saw Stephen clench is jaw and grit his teeth as my orgasm rolled on.

  ‘That was … easy,’ he gasped.

  ‘You had me all worked up,’ I said, my voice an airy sound in the quiet room. ‘But now I’m good.’ And I started to rock against him.

  ‘Christ, I hope I am,’ he said.

  I laughed and leaned over him, relishing the full length of him pressing inside my cunt. He was long and the tip of his cock pressed all the tender blooms of nerves deep in my sheath. It was good to feel that kind of firm pressure – to be so full of cock. He went deep and his kisses made me crazy – I could get used to fucking Stephen Vogel.

  I was getting off on him just watching me. Surreal – almost preternatural – eyes studying me intently as I moved. He put his hands on my hips, guiding me but not demanding anything of me but what I wanted.

  I rocked side to side and watched his mouth grow tighter and his eyes grow darker and his pulse point throb madly.

  ‘You’re killing me,’ he laughed – eyes drifting shut.

  Leaning forward, pressing my breasts to his hard chest. Feeling his heart pound against mine, I kissed him. It was a gentle kiss, almost timid, but I caught Stephen up in that kiss and his hands abandoned my hips as his own hips rose up, seeking to drive his cock deeper into my heated wetness. He took my face in his hands, taking my mouth, his tongue soft but insistent against mine. When a small, almost helpless, noise burst out of him and brushed my lips, I came again.

  Pushing my hands to his shoulders, driving my hips forward to get him deeper; trying so hard to ride out the blissful – always too short – waves of my orgasm. Stephen twisted his fingers in my hair and yanked just enough to give me a burst of discomfort. Just enough to ramp up the tail end of my release and drag it out. Until it was him sighing out his orgasm, trim body trembling under mine. My name on his lips as he emptied into me.

  ‘Farrell.’

  It sent a shiver up my spine.

  * * *

  We drank the wine in bed. He told me about his parents, living up in Vermont, running a bed and brea
kfast in their golden years.

  ‘How golden are they?’

  ‘They are not that golden,’ he said. ‘My mother’s mid-fifties, my dad just hit sixty.’

  There were six brothers and sisters, too.

  ‘So what are you doing here in Maryland while the whole brood is up in Vermont?’

  He shrugged, his broad shoulders seemed to gather and hold the golden light of the bedroom. I couldn’t resist touching his shoulder, sliding my hand along his chest. He sighed and turned to kiss me with his wine-sweet lips.

  ‘Stay,’ he said.

  ‘You were telling me why you are here and they’re all there,’ I reminded him.

  ‘I don’t like all the … chaos. I’m very much a loner. They started the bakery here when I was a kid. We’d moved here to open it, in fact. My grandparents were still alive and my dad came here to try and do his own thing … to a degree.’

  ‘So now you’ve left all of them to come here and do the same.’ I smiled. Ringing his nipple with the edge of my fingernail, I watched it harden. Watched the blanket change shape as his cock stiffened under the fabric.

  ‘Yep. It’s complicated …’

  ‘And how does he feel about that?’ I asked. When had I become Stephen’s shrink?

  He caught my hand up in his and transferred it from his chest to his lap. I squeezed the hard cock he put my hand on. My blood leapt when he made a needy sound. I liked how he was – not submissive, but willing to give me the reins.

  ‘He feels like I should do what he says and not what he’s done,’ he said, his voice rough. ‘To do what’s said and not care about my own … wants. But someone had to run this store. How can he complain?’

  ‘Exactly.’ I tightened my fingers on his hard length again.

  When he rolled onto me, I opened my legs for him, baring my pussy, already wet for him. There was a brief moment of laughter when he sprang from the bed to grab a condom, growling, ‘I’ll have to put these fucking things closer to the bed.’

  But then Stephen was in me, harder than I could comprehend. His breath a rush and rumble in my ear, his hands strong on my hips. His pelvis slamming mine so I gasped and wrapped my legs around him, hooking my ankles behind his back, opening myself so that every thrust was a burst of pleasure.

  The friction on my clit drove me to the edge fast and when the first orgasm slammed me, I bit his ear lobe. Stephen groaned, burying his face in my neck, whispering, ‘Stay.’

  ‘Make me come again,’ I demanded, changing the subject.

  His mouth was hot and greedy on the swell of my breast and he licked a slippery fiery line along my cleavage. He had a handle on me now – what got me off – and his teeth weren’t gentle on my nipples. He plucked and pulled and bit each one into tortured attention before licking them with his flattened tongue to soothe the throb.

  I tightened my internal muscles around him and he growled. It was all done for, and we both knew it, when he shoved my knees high and watched himself fucking me: the air in the room felt too thin. He watched every thrust and then pressed his rough thumb to my clit, I came with a sharp cry and a thrust of my hips.

  ‘Farrell.’ He said it again when he came.

  I knew I had to go.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I heard the clapping when I hit the street.

  It had taken a lot to insist that Stephen stay and let me go home alone. I had a job to get to in the morning, I said. You’re already all naked and cosy, I said. Please, I’m getting used to this independence and new life and I just need to go, I said.

  Finally, he’d agreed, but I could tell he wasn’t happy.

  The truth was, if I let Stephen – of the grey eyes and the whispered ‘Farrells’ – walk me out, I’d end up kissing him. I’d end up wanting him again. I’d end up coming back into his home or taking him to mine and the resolve would be shattered into a million little pieces.

  So I kissed him, promised we’d get together soon and left.

  I turned to the sound, steeling myself. I could feel my back go up like an irate cat. I knew who it would be. There was only one person it could be.

  Coop.

  ‘Very nice. I’m sure he wept when he came. Or something just as interesting and “movie of the weekish”.’

  That pissed me off. Stephen was a good man. He was a sweet man. And there was no shame in being either.

  ‘What’s your problem, Cooper?’ I asked, walking to the foot of his porch steps. ‘You just mad that I got from him what you wouldn’t give up?’

  Even under the porch light I saw the brief ripple in his face. He wasn’t used to someone tossing masculine energy back at him. Especially not a girl. I’m sure James Cooper surrounded himself with a whole gaggle of ‘oh-yes-please-tie-me-up-and-fuck-me-real-good’ daddy girls. And I wasn’t averse to that, mind you. But cruelty I could not abide.

  ‘Guess I’m not a slut,’ he said, smoothly, shrugging his shoulders.

  ‘Too bad for you,’ I whispered just loud enough for him to hear me. ‘I’m good to my sluts.’

  I turned on my clogs and headed home.

  He came after me. I could feel his energy rushing toward mine before I even heard him. When I faced him, he looked to be an unsettled blend of confused, horny and sorry. ‘You know where to find me when you’re ready,’ he said, playing the same game as earlier.

  And suddenly I was full of rage.

  I took a step toward him instead of away – which is what he was probably expecting.

  Pointing a finger, I leaned in and said very softly, ‘You could have had what he just had. I’m not fucking around. I lived twenty-eight years of fucking around and it got me nowhere. I learn from my mistakes.’

  He stared at my finger but said nothing. Neither of us moved. It was a standoff.

  ‘I didn’t come here to do the same stupid shit. No games, Coop, I don’t play them. I’m done with games. You know where to find me when you’re done being a pussy tease and want to give it up.’

  It shocked the shit out of him – I could tell – when I reached around and patted his ass dismissively.

  I walked to my house, up the steps and let myself in. Without looking back.

  * * *

  There was something in my face. And here with me having a dream about rolling in bacon – figure that one out, Doctor Freud.

  I swatted it and it disappeared.

  I waited to drift back off but instead of feeling the groping arms of sleep, I felt my heart rate pick up. Thumping. Hard.

  Whatever it was brushed my cheek again, then my lower lip. Silken smooth and warm and smelling of warm saltwater.

  I opened my eyes and James Cooper was kneeling over me, cock out, brushing it over my face.

  I swatted at him, rage filling my chest even as the fear and excitement spurred a concoction of desire and surprise-soaked excitement.

  ‘God damn it.’ I heard myself. It didn’t sound like me.

  But he laughed his cocky laugh and caught my hand as I flailed. Big strong fingers encircling my wrist like a manacle.

  ‘Come on, now, cupcake, you invited me.’

  He’d backed off, but his cock was still out, still hard, still very close to my face. And almost against my will I stared at it in the low light that filtered into my living room from the street lamps.

  ‘Get out.’

  ‘But you invited me in.’ He inched closer.

  ‘What are you? A fucking vampire,’ I growled and tried to take a swing at him again but he held my wrist tight, squeezing my wrist just hard enough to shock my bones and remind me who was in control here.

  ‘Much worse.’

  He sat, but didn’t let my wrist go. ‘See, I was thinking,’ he continued, lazily stroking his fist up and down his hard erection.

  I smelled him a lot now – saltwater, warm cotton, cold air, and man. I heard him too. The secretive whisper of his callused fist on his hard dick.

  ‘You wanted to suck my cock so bad in the basement. I figured I�
��d come let you do it.’

  I wanted to be enraged. I wanted to slug him. I wanted to kick his smug arrogant self out and tell him never to darken my doorstep again. But I was having trouble ignoring the flutter and thump of arousal in my cunt. Or the wetness that was apparently the precursor to my downward slide into bad, dirty, rough sex – with Coop.

  ‘No.’

  He released my wrist and put his now free hand up in the air like he was being arrested. ‘Hey, okay. No problem. I was just going on what you said, Farrell.’

  Why wasn’t I forcing him to leave? Why wasn’t I yelling?

  Because I was too busy being mesmerised like a cobra in a basket by the tune of his hand on his own flesh.

  I licked my lips, moved away from him just enough to try and think.

  He just kept stroking.

  ‘You know what your name makes me think of?’

  Whisper-whisper-whisper went his palm along his erection.

  ‘No,’ I whispered, hearing the need in my own voice. Loving it and hating it at the same time.

  ‘Feral. Wild. You, my dear, are wild and untamed and, God, so fucking needy right now. Wanting.’

  He finally stopped that sound, releasing his shaft. But it was in my head now and I heard the phantom rasp of him jacking himself off. I shook my head to try and clear it. I failed.

  He got up on his knees, jeans down around his lean hips: green eyes, that I could not see, boring holes into me that I could surely feel. ‘So what about it, Feral? Suck my cock.’

  He said the last in gravel rough whisper and leaned his hips close to me. Like he was fucking me, only higher.

  And I parted my lips and took the thrust, sucking the smooth heat of his tip into my mouth, relishing how hot my cheeks were with shame. How my stomach tumbled and fluttered from frustration but, yes, fuck me yes – insane attraction.

  I let him thrust deeper and heard the small strangled gasp that he evoked by stuffing my throat with himself.

  He groaned and it was the first time that he’d sounded truly human – somewhat vulnerable – to me. Odd, because to the naked eye, he was the least vulnerable right now. Fucking my mouth like he owned me. Making my fists knot up in the sleep-warm sheets of my makeshift bed on the sofa.