Possessive Neighbor: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 174)
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CONTENTS
Possessive Neighbor
NEWSLETTER
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
NEWSLETTER
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS
BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS
LAIRDS & LADIES
RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD
IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS
About the Author
POSSESSIVE NEIGHBOR
AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE
_______________________
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 174
FLORA FERRARI
Copyright © 2020 by Flora Ferrari
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
POSSESSIVE NEIGHBOR
Fox Silverman
At forty, I’ve got it all. The life everyone thinks they want.
But I feel like the poorest man alive when I roll over and see that empty space in my bed. When I walk past the purpose built rooms I designed and even picked the damned colors for.
For our children.
For her.
For our family.
Who is she? Where is she? I’ve nearly given up all hope until I see the outline of her curves through my front door.
Could it be? It is.
An older man with a younger woman is almost expected at my age, but this is different. I can feel it.
As soon as I see those curves I know she really is the one.
Sonya
The new house at the end of the street is finally finished, but who would live there? It’s like a palace.
They must have a ton of kids, with all that room in the yard, plus the park right next door…
My dad, my adoptive dad. He’s on another cruise with my step-mom, giving me the friendly reminder that it’s time to leave the nest now that college is all finished.
“…think about what you can do, what you’re good at. Find that job, then we’ll help you get set up in a place of your own…”
I only ever babysat for the neighbors, and figure the new ones must have kids.
If I’m to make any sort of living, any kind of future for myself, there’s no time like the present so here goes nothing…
Once I see him though, once that door opens, I know another door has closed forever.
The life I just left behind.
*Possessive Neighbor is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
NEWSLETTER
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CHAPTER ONE
Fox Silverman
The house I always wanted. One of them anyway, I have so many now I’ve almost lost count.
Almost.
“You gotta spend on something, otherwise it’s all dead in taxes…” my accountants keep telling me, the whole more-more-more side of business and finance has brought it all to me.
Fox Silverman and Associates, even though it was just me originally. It started as a bit of a joke after college, but everything I touched on the stock market bloomed. I made myself and loads of other people a lot of money, setting up what’s now a global network of brokers and businesses.
But today there’s something obvious missing.
Obvious to me.
Something that doesn’t curl up to me in the night and touch me gently, telling me what I need to hear.
Something that I can surprise, take places, spoil with gifts and pleasure for days on end.
Something, or someone?
The one.
Whoever she is. I know she’s out there somewhere. They say there’s somebody for everybody. Me? I’ve been a fucking hermit for nearly twenty years, building a fortune, creating the life everybody thinks they want.
But I feel like the poorest man alive when I roll over and see that empty space in my bed. When I walk past the purpose built rooms I designed and even picked the damned colors for.
For our children.
For her.
For our family.
There’s no boxes to unpack, it’s all been done. I bought everything new and had ‘people’ do it all, install it all, clean it all. They take the trash away and I’m left with another fine example of prime real estate.
The house of my dreams…
But it’s an empty dream.
Hearing the front door just as I finish a quick workout in my new gym, I make my way into the marble floored hallway wearing only my track pants, catching sight of her through the one way glass on either side of the huge entranceway.
My heart stops, then gushes with a new, primal beat.
I can feel her as I stand there, stunned. Feeling her own hesitation on the other side of the door as my eyes trace over the curves of her body.
My big mitt gripping the door handle tight until my knuckles are white. The bell rings a second time and I stammer a cough, trying to get some moisture into my mouth. My heart pounding against my ribs like I’ve just run a marathon.
I’m shaking as I open the door. I just know that whoever’s on the other side is going to change my life forever. And I’m not wrong.
I feel the shift in an instant, as soon as our eyes lock, I know I’ve found her. Before I even retrace those stunning curves, I already know from looking into her clear blue eyes that she’s mine.
Better than any business deal or stock option that’s made me rich, I just know she’s the one. I’m a man who knows what he wants and I want what I see immediately.
She’s got her natural blond hair tied back in a ponytail which swishes as her head moves, even slightly.
Her white college sweater, embroidered with the emblem and her final year, which has only just passed, letting me know she’s certainly young but a legal adult now.
She’s in denim and white flats, her jeans giving a clear definition of what I’m instantly drawn to after her soulful eyes.
Those hold me fuck me curves. Hips I instantly want to grip and a chest I want to bury my face in for a year. Without even seeing her from behind yet, I know her ass will be the finest, to match the rest of this perfect angel.
A gift, and surely a sign that this house I’ve built is for two after all.
Her shining red lips have a natural pout, her eyes have a flare of uncertainty i
n them. But it’s not fear.
It’s the same flash of discovery I know mine must be broadcasting, followed closely by that uncontrollable reflex. The dilated pupils, the shuddering inhalation and the stiffening of both our bodies in response to animal instinct.
To the sensation of our instant and mutual arousal.
She bites her bottom lip, almost crossing her thick legs as she squeezes them together, glancing down. In a second I can feel that my dick has more than shifted, it’s sprung to life, giving me an awkward semi hard on right in front of this stunning stranger.
But instead of looking away, pretending not to notice or even turning to leave, she’s transfixed by the sight. As much as I am by her.
It feels more like a homecoming than an introduction, like she’s been gone twenty years and has finally come home. But my business mind overrides my body, eventually and I introduce myself.
“I’m Fox,” is all I can manage, instinctively holding the door open wider, standing behind it a little in a feeble attempt to disguise my own growing arousal.
“Sonya,” she rasps, then clears her throat, flushing, and I can see the distinction of her pebbled nipples pressing through the thick fabric of her sweater.
It’s not even cold either.
“I have fresh pie,” she announces dreamily, thrusting a pie dish out in front of her ample chest for me to examine.
I’ll bet you do.
Catching herself, she quickly explains why she’s on my doorstep.
“I mean… I baked a pie… You’re new in the neighborhood and I thought… Maybe you and your wife…”
She says, her voice trailing off as she says that word. The one word I’ve never been associated with.
Wife?
“I’m not married,” I say quickly, sounding a little harsh.
She looks down, the slightest smile curling onto her lips before she looks up again.
“Kids then?” she asks, glancing at the pie again, but she doesn’t need to convince me of anything.
She’s coming in. And as god as my witness, I intend to make her mine.
“No kids.” I sigh, letting my own sly smile tell her she has no competing elements for my attention.
“Oh…” she says softly, rolling her lips together, and I can see the dish is getting heavy for her. The pie’s smaller than the heavy dish, it’s the pre-made kind.
“Made it yourself, eh?” I ask, leaning over, pretending to smell the pastry, which I think is still half frozen.
Her look starts to crumple, and I’m worried I’ve said something to upset her, that I’ve broken the spell, the magic between us.
“I just…” She stammers, her lower lip starting to tremble.
No. I can’t stand it. I don’t want to ever see that face upset. I curse myself for being so stupid, and stepping out of the doorway I put both my hands over hers to take the dish.
Once our hands touch, it’s like the solution to a complex problem made simple for both of us.
The charge between us is undeniable and it’s certainly physical, but I’m sensing it also goes a hell of a lot deeper.
“Well then, Sonya.” I assure her in a calm, deep voice, pressing my fingers over hers, “perhaps you can bring your pie in and we can have a piece, together. Would you like that?” I ask her, cocking my brow.
Her head pumps and her hair flashes gold in the sunlight, showering me with the warmth and scent of spring that seems to come from behind her, lighting up my porch, my house.
My whole world.
Sonya.
CHAPTER TWO
EARLIER THAT DAY…
Sonya Basset
“Well, I know you’ve finished college honey. A big girl all grown up now… but by the time I was your age I couldn’t wait to move out…”
The hints aren’t even hints anymore. It’s been like six months since college ended and my dad is practically holding the door open to the big wide world, wishing me luck. It feels like it anyway.
He used to tell me he’d never let me leave, until he married my step mom while I was away at college, now it feels like he can’t get rid of me quick enough.
They’re on another cruise, due back tomorrow. Or is it the day after tomorrow? Either way, it’s coming up more and more every time I speak to him.
“You know dad, before you got married...” I usually try and start to say, but he won’t have it. He’ll never even let me say it.
You were a better dad before you remarried, before you became a selfish asshole with a mid-life crisis… A mid-wife crisis.
That’s my standing joke, he married a former midwife, Karen. She got some insurance payout after some injury, worth a truckload, so I know she’s not into my dad for money. But it still hurts. Dad and I used to be so close.
Even though technically he’s not my real dad…
“Just give it some thought, honey... think about what you can do, what you’re good at. Find that job, then we’ll help you get set up in a place all of your own… you’ll thank us both for it in the long run, trust me. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow…”
I know she’s putting him up to it. Telling him what to do.
She just doesn’t like curvy girls. She’s one of those plastic Malibu Barbie types. Not my dad’s kind either, or so I thought. But, I thought a lot of things that turned out to be wrong. Like an ancient history degree would give me career options.
Sighing heavily after getting off the phone, I look out the front, noticing the last truck pulling away from the new house at the end of the street.
New? Maybe not brand new. It’s been under wraps for almost a year, with the huge security fences only removed recently, revealing a stunning home… a gorgeous palace is more like it.
It almost looks out of place, but the park on one side and the beginnings of the woods on the other, gives it a genuine fairytale feeling.
Find something you’re good at… find that job…
If I’m ever gonna get out of here on my own steam, I’ll need a job. Even a part time one, to show my dad I’m serious, otherwise he’ll never get off my case.
I used to babysit all the neighbors kids before college, even during the holidays when I wasn’t at college. They’ve all since grown up, too old for sitters.
Maybe the new owners have kids? The yard’s sure big enough and that house… it could hold a whole tribe of families… I could at least offer my services.
If they don’t need a sitter, a house that size will need cleaning…
Glancing around the bomb site of my dad’s place, the result of my two weeks alone here, I rethink the cleaning angle slightly. I’d love a nosy peek inside that house anyway and there’s no time like the present.
In a flash of brilliance, I shower and change then grab the first two things I see from the kitchen, a pie dish and the half thawed pastry I took out earlier, probably my dinner. Within a minute, I watch my hand ringing the bell of the huge new place at the end of the street.
What the fuck am I doing?
But as soon as the door swings open, I forget everything. I almost forget how to hold a pie dish, but somehow I manage to stay upright once he opens the door.
He must be at least six five, he’s huge. Huge in the best way.
Balanced.
Like, in proportion. He looks like one of those statues from the history books or museums, with smooth skin and clear lines, but bulges and ripples in all the right places.
He looks as solid as marble too. More than just fit. This man has the body of a living god and I think I just became his number one disciple.
In just a pair of track pants, barefoot and obviously nothing on underneath. He still has the sheen of fresh workout sweat on him, but smells like he’s stepped out from behind the scent counter at a high end male boutique.
I struggle not to gasp, stare or swoon but I’m pretty sure I manage all three.
But he’s not even looking, His eyes are moving over my body, like everybody does sooner or later. Whe
ther I’m looking at them or not.
They look at my big chest, then my wide hips and thick thighs. It’s usually followed by a little pressed smile of sympathy or worse, plain old judgment.
But not this guy, he’s looking like he’s just seen something he wants.
A low sound escapes him, his dark eyes burn with a knowing look and he nods his head in appreciation rather than judgment, which sends my body a signal I’m pretty sure it’s never had in its twenty year history.
In a split second, I can see the bulge in the front of his track pants has lengthened, thickening into a shape I feel like reaching out for as I feel my own chest thicken and swell.
I press my legs together, stifling a moan as I bite my lip, trying to piece together exactly what’s happening at the same time as telling myself I must be dreaming.
Maybe I had a fall, or got struck by a car coming down the street?
Maybe I’ve had a stroke, die and gone to heaven and this man-angel is holding the door open for me?
But no, in typical Sonya Basset style I blurt out something monumentally stupid instead.
I have fresh pie?
Genius. The four words every man wants to hear a college graduate blurt out on his front doorstep. Not.
Not this man anyway. He’s a real man, I can see that.
Fox.
How appropriate.
He spots my fake ‘home baked’ pie in a flash, which momentarily crushes my hopes for everything and anything involving this remarkable specimen of man, but he’s so sweet about it.
Fox ushers me inside not because he feels sorry for me, but because he’s as aware as I am of this crazy chemistry going off between us.
CHAPTER THREE
Fox
Taking the pie dish and closing the door, Sonya walks into the entrance foyer and I hang back long enough to prove my private theory that her ass will be as perfect as the rest of her, and of course it is.
Fuck. What am I thinking? Here’s a friendly neighbor coming over to welcome me to the neighborhood and all I can think of is…
“Your pie. I’m sure it’s delicious,” I assure her, trying to use it to cover my now aching bulge, which has ridden straight up, pressing hotly against my lower belly and threatening to introduce itself through the top of my pants.