Tempting Her Neighbor (a Georgeville novella) Page 6

  Holy shit. That had been amazing.

  But afterward, he wasn’t sure how to act. He’d already professed a dislike for cuddling, and they weren’t in her bed, anyway. So, he disposed of the condom and pulled up his shorts. He grabbed his shirt and slid it on as she walked around, picking up her clothes off the floor. She seemed in no rush to get dressed.

  “You can fuck me again whenever you like,” she said, breaking the silence as she pulled on her panties. “Anytime you want to come over, you’re welcome to.”

  “It was…okay for you, then?” Like there was any doubt. But he wanted to hear her say the words.

  She stopped shaking out her shirt and looked at him slightly incredulously. “Oh, yeah. It was awesome.”

  Relief flooded through him.

  “But there are a lot of things you need to work on.” She winked. “I think we should start tomorrow. Come over sometime after dinner.”

  He was glad he’d moved to Georgeville.

  Chapter Nine

  Instead of having weekends off like a normal person, Rachel had Monday and Friday off, and sometimes Saturday. That was what happened when you worked at a place open every day of the week from seven in the morning until nine at night. She always worked the early shift and usually woke up around the same time on her days off, even though she didn’t set an alarm.

  This Monday was no exception.

  She’d had a rather fitful sleep, waking up every two hours and feeling like something was wrong. But nothing was wrong. She was alone in her double bed, as usual, after having sex with a guy she had no intention of dating. No guy had ever stayed overnight at her apartment. There was nothing strange about her sleeping alone. Nothing at all.

  And yet, suddenly it hadn’t felt quite right.

  The thought of waking up next to someone and having coffee and uncomfortable conversation in the morning? It didn’t appeal to her with any of the guys in Georgeville.

  Except for Cole Sampson.

  The realization shocked her. Surprising that she wanted to wake up beside Cole, who was grumpy even when it wasn’t first thing in the morning. What did this mean?

  She got up at seven, put on a tank top and a pair of shorts, tied up her hair, and went out for a run, as she usually did first thing in the morning on her days off. And as usual, she headed to the McNeil Trail.

  When she came to the tree where she’d sucked him off on Saturday, she stopped. She bent over and put her hands on her knees, breathing heavily.

  She didn’t know whether that was simply because she was running, or if it was also because the mere thought of what she’d done with Cole this weekend made her heart pump faster. Especially when she was here, where she’d first gotten her hands on him. She hoped it wouldn’t happen every time she ran past this stupid maple tree.

  But Cole wasn’t just another guy she’d had sex with.

  She’d wanted him to prove he was different, and he had. He’d apologized because he felt bad about what he’d said, not for any other reason. And his expression when he told her he hated cuddling and hadn’t had very much sex…

  Priceless.

  He might be rather rough around the edges, but in that moment—and when he’d asked her if it had been okay for her—the vulnerability on his face had hit her straight in the gut.

  When she got home, she jumped in the shower. After lathering her hair with shampoo, her hands drifted down to her breasts. She squeezed them together and flicked her thumb over her nipple as she tipped her head back under the spray of the shower. She closed her eyes and imagined it was Cole touching her, remembered the way he’d feasted on her breasts last night.

  She dipped one hand between her legs…

  Oh God. She nearly slipped on the tiles. She sure was sensitive today.

  She moved her hands back up to her hair and finished rinsing out the shampoo. Much as she wanted to, she wouldn’t touch herself again today. She’d wait another ten or twelve hours until Cole could do it for her.

  And then she would have one hell of an orgasm.

  …

  Cole did not have the most productive Monday. He looked at his desk and thought of Rachel lying on it, her legs spread wide as he pounded into her. He looked at his chair and imagined she was sitting on his lap—naked, of course. He looked at the wall, and that reminded him of what they’d done yesterday.

  Until he’d met Rachel, sex had always been something he’d done in a bed. A few different positions, but never outside the bedroom. And now that he’d actually had sex elsewhere, he couldn’t stop thinking about doing it on every piece of furniture in his apartment, fucking against every inch of the wall.

  He hated this. He really did.

  Because he couldn’t get a damn thing done, and he still had several more hours until he could see her again.

  He’d jerked himself off in the shower this morning, his mind swimming with thoughts of her from the moment he woke up. That had taken the edge off…for about two minutes. Then he’d turned up the cold water, and that had helped. A little.

  Although he worked from home, he usually kept a very regular schedule. Nine to five thirty, with half an hour for lunch. He did not understand people who lacked self-discipline, who managed to fritter away their time when they were supposed to be working. Just get the damn thing done already. Playing Angry Birds wasn’t going to help.

  But today, he had some sympathy—an unusual feeling for him—for people who lacked self-control. He seemed to be one of them right now.

  By midafternoon he’d beaten his mind into submission. Sort of. He finally managed to debug the blasted code he’d been working on all day. At five thirty he was about to have dinner when he got another demanding email from his boss, and he swore as he thought of all he would have to do tomorrow.

  Well, he’d try not to think about work anymore tonight. Shouldn’t be too hard, not when he was with Rachel.

  He ate dinner while watching the news. He also did not understand people who watched all that reality TV garbage, who kept their televisions on as they went about their days. For him, television was about two things—news and crime shows. He got a strange sort of joy out of watching the news, shaking his head over the stupidity of politicians…and the stupidity of society in general. Then there were a few crime shows he liked—and one he didn’t like much, although he couldn’t help but watch it. The “detective” was an idiot, and Cole usually had the crime solved long before he did. And the crimes themselves were completely ridiculous.

  Perhaps some people liked reality TV shows for the same reason. They were so bad they were almost good.

  He finished dinner at six thirty. He was about to head next door to see Rachel, then realized that “after dinner” for her might mean later than six thirty. So he did the dishes—and imagined lifting her up onto the counter and screwing her that way.

  His mind was driving him crazy today.

  At seven fifteen, he threw the broom in the closet—he’d been wasting time by cleaning—jammed his feet into his shoes, and headed next door.

  Rachel answered the door, wearing a cute pink skirt and white T-shirt, looking even sexier than she had in all his wicked thoughts.

  Apparently his imagination needed some work.

  “You like it?” She put one hand on the doorframe, the other on her hip, and tilted her head to the side. “I wore it just for you.”

  He stood there for a moment, taking her in, running his gaze down her bare legs. Soon, he would see more. He would finally see what he’d been thinking about all day.

  “You’re so cute,” she said. “Speechless already?”

  “I’m often speechless. Because I don’t like talking.”

  She laughed. “Sure. I know that’s not the reason. You’re blown away by how hot I look. Am I right?”

  He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “I could talk. It just seems like a waste of time when I could touch you instead.”

  “You can do both. It’s called multitaski
ng.”

  He dropped his gaze—he could see the tips of her nipples poking through her shirt.

  “I didn’t wear a bra,” she said, “since you seem to have so much trouble with those. Thought I’d make it easier for you.”

  “How will I learn,” he murmured, “if I don’t have the chance to practice?”

  “If you really want, I could put one on.”

  “Some other time.”

  He took her nipple in his mouth, along with the thin material of her T-shirt. She moaned softly as he stroked her with his tongue.

  He lifted his head, stared at the wet spot on her shirt, at the outline of her puckered nipple. “I’m glad you’re not wearing a bra.”

  She exhaled unsteadily. “I was eating dinner when you knocked on the door. Maybe you could give me five minutes to finish up.” She turned and walked toward the living room, hips swinging as she moved. The way her ass wiggled in that short skirt was mesmerizing.

  There was a cooking show on TV, a half-empty plate of food on the coffee table. She sat down, her skirt flipping up a little as she crossed her legs, and patted the couch next to her.

  “Come,” she said. “Sit.”

  “Sorry for interrupting your dinner,” he muttered.

  “That’s okay.” She waved her hand. “I understand. You were in a real hurry to get over here to see me naked.”

  “Well…yes.”

  “And now I’ve got more time to drive you crazy.” The woman was fluttering her damn eyelashes. “Should I eat shirtless? This chicken casserole has a lot of tomato. It might stain if I drop some.”

  He growled and sat beside her. He set one hand on the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head. “There. No need to worry about stains now. If you drop some, I can lick it off for you.”

  She picked up her plate. “I’m sure you’d like that.”

  “I would. I had a crappy microwave dinner tonight. I’m still a little hungry, and I’m sure your meal tastes better than mine.”

  Yeah, that was exactly what he wanted to taste right now.

  He didn’t pay attention to what she was eating, but instead admired the swell of her breasts, the pink areolas. He also admired how comfortable she was sitting half naked with a man she’d known for only a week. He liked being with a woman like this, rather than one who crossed her arms over her chest when he took off her shirt.

  “Are you trying to get me to take pity on you and bring you another casserole?” she asked.

  “Maybe you need cooking lessons, too?”

  As a smile spread across her face, he decided no way in hell was he letting her finish her damn dinner. He pulled the plate from her hands and put it back on the table before pushing her against the arm of the couch. “That’s better.”

  “Did the thought of making conversation as I finished eating horrify you? We could watch TV in silence.”

  “I was horrified at the thought of watching you eat dinner without a shirt. I bet you planned to eat very, very slowly, just to tease me.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps.”

  “There’s something called a microwave. You can use it to heat up your food. Later.”

  “You might need to be on top and do all the work tonight.” She raised her body slightly off the couch then collapsed back. “I don’t have the strength. Not without the rest of my food.”

  It was fun being with her. Fun and easy in a way it had never been for him before.

  He curled his hand over her hip and lowered his body to Rachel’s. He trailed kisses up the curve of her neck to her cheek then moved in toward her mouth. He softly pressed his lips to hers, deepening the kiss as she arched against him and wrapped her arms around his back. Attempting to multitask, he slipped his hand under her skirt and parted her folds. As he penetrated her with one finger, she sighed—and he did, too. Sighed at how amazing it felt to touch her intimately.

  “I thought you’d make a comment about how I wasn’t wearing any panties,” she said.

  He would have…if he’d even realized there was supposed to be something else underneath her skirt. But he was too overwhelmed by the feel of her, slick and ready, to think of anything like that.

  “You do realize women usually wear underwear, don’t you?” she teased. “Or is that news to you?”

  “Shut up.”

  He kissed his way down her bare chest, lifting up her skirt so he could see all of her. She’d shaved—or waxed?—except for a thin strip down the middle, and he liked that she wasn’t entirely bare. He removed his hand and set his mouth to her. She twitched as he licked her clit. He ran his tongue down her slit, savoring the taste of her, the taste that wasn’t quite like anything else, then returned to her swollen nub. She made quiet noises that he found incredibly hot.

  His balls tightened as he licked her, turned on by having his mouth between her legs, by her needy response.

  “Touch me,” she said, her voice wavering. “It’s better when you touch me, too. Inside.”

  He pushed inside her with his finger. Her breathing became louder, and she wrapped her hand around his head and held him against her.

  He wanted to make her come like this. But he also wanted to be inside her when she shuddered and cried out. He remembered the sounds she’d made yesterday. He’d heard them in his dreams last night.

  He pulled himself up and shed the rest of his clothes. She raised herself up on her elbows, and her expression told him just how much she felt the loss of his touch. He grabbed a condom out of his pocket—he’d come prepared today—and rolled it on. He dipped his head to her pussy, and he licked her once more, two fingers sliding into her as he circled his tongue around her clit. She came with a cry, and he filled her while she was still shaking. He didn’t move, just waited out her orgasm as she tightened around him, her fingernails digging into his back.

  “How many times,” he said, as he started to move within her, “can you do that?”

  “A few. But after the first couple, they’re not as good.”

  She raised her legs, her knees bent, and he slid deeper inside.

  After a few more thrusts, he jerked out of her. He dragged her to her feet, pulled her over to the end of the couch, and bent her over the arm.

  “Wait,” she said, the tip of his cock at her entrance. “That’s your lesson for today. I like being made to wait.”

  He didn’t want to wait. He wanted to sink balls-deep into her and take her hard.

  “That sounds like torture,” he said.

  “It is.” She looked back at him. “In a very good way.”

  Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her hair a mess, and God…he wanted to give her whatever she wanted. And if he stuck it in now, he’d come almost right away. Better to draw out his time with her instead.

  He leaned over and nipped her earlobe. “What should I do while I wait?”

  “Use your imagination.”

  He straightened up. Seeing her skirt pulled up, her ass in the air… Well, there was one thing that immediately came to mind.

  He lifted his hand and smacked her. Her body shot forward and she shuddered.

  “You like that?” he said. But he knew the answer.

  “Yes,” she whimpered.

  He spanked her a few more times, her ass turning pink. Then he massaged her heated skin before slipping his fingers between her legs and running them over her slit. She was so wet, and he ached to slide into her again, but he took his time touching her pussy lips. She pressed against him and he withdrew.

  “Now,” she said. “Fuck me now.”

  For a full minute, he didn’t do anything. Just stood behind her and watched as she twisted in agony for release and thrust her ass in his direction.

  She oozed sexuality. But he didn’t look down on her for it, not anymore. She wasn’t doing this because she needed to boost her self-esteem or any of that shit. No, she was doing this simply because she loved doing it.

  And God, it was hot. To see her bent over the couch like this, h
er pink ass in the air, a faint handprint on her skin. His handprint. He’d never been so aroused.

  He spanked her one more time—even harder—then pushed into her. He fucked her wildly, unable to control himself when he had her like this. He exploded before he could make her come. As his orgasm subsided, he thrust into her a few more times, his hand moving to her clit. She screamed almost as soon as he touched her, grabbing onto the pillows as her cry slowly faded.

  He reluctantly pulled out. She turned to look back toward him with a touch of a smile—she seemed too dazed to lift her lips any more than that—and something in him clenched.

  It hurt. And yet it felt wonderful at the same time.

  Sex had never been like this for him before.

  Chapter Ten

  One thing about Cole, Rachel reflected when there was a lull at work on Wednesday, was that it was easy to tell him exactly what she wanted. He probably thought she was like that with every guy. But she wasn’t.

  With most of the other guys in Georgeville, she worried what they would tell their friends. Out at the bar, she’d often heard men brag about their sexual conquests—and they said more than just names. Because of that, she’d always been reluctant to do anything out of the ordinary in bed. A threesome, for example, was something she’d fantasized about, but she didn’t even want to think about the rumors she’d hear after doing something like that.

  But truthfully, most of the things she liked weren’t too unusual. Even so… Well, some guys thought she was insulting their skills when she asked them to do something particular.

  She didn’t feel good after having sex when it was with someone who had a low opinion of her. Even sleeping with Darrell, who liked and respected her, had become unfulfilling.

  But with Cole, she knew he wouldn’t gossip or boast about their sexual relationship. That was one of the reasons she’d wanted him in the first place. She wasn’t even sure the man had any friends, and if he did, they didn’t live in Georgeville. She certainly couldn’t see him spreading juicy details about anybody. No, if he was out with a group of guys, he would probably scowl in the corner, a beer in hand, alternately watching the game and shooting off sarcastic remarks.