“Please, go on through… kitchen’s right down the hall. Let me get…give me a second,” I stammer, darting off to my room just off the main hall.
I’m holding a pie dish with a store bought, half-frozen thing sliding on it, I’m half naked with a hard on that could cut glass.
Looking at myself in the full length mirror I meet my own gaze, noticing the fiendish grin on my face and the glazed, steely look in my eyes.
It’s her. She’s the one. I just know it.
“Oh… My… God!” I hear her calling out from the other side of the house.
I want to run to her straight away, in case she’s in trouble, but it sounds like she’s just admiring the house.
Still. I pull off my sweaty pants and pull on a robe and tie it off so it helps hide my new and very obvious extension.
Christ, I haven’t been this hard in years… maybe ever…
In three leaps and then a few casual steps, I saunter into the kitchen area, still trying myself to remember my way around. It’s not a huge house, okay. It’s a huge house…
“Wow… just wow…” is all Sonya can say, curiously going through empty cupboards, checking out the joins and hinges on doors.
“So well made… It’s just beautiful,” She exclaims, straightening after bending over to look inside one of the ovens, giving me a prime view of that perfect apple bottom shaped ass of hers again.
“It sure is…” I tell her truthfully. “Just perfect,” and I feel my dick shifting full north again, harder than before as I stifle a moan just looking at her from behind, aching to touch her.
Straight away, apart from the obvious physical attraction I have for her, I’m impressed by her interest in how things are made, in quality. I never skimp on anything and I’m a real stickler for the best made everything.
“It must have cost a…” She starts to say before looking down sheepishly, embarrassed.
“I mean… sorry… that’s really none of my business,” she says quietly, making me laugh out loud.
“It probably did, don’t be sorry,” I tell her, putting my thumb and finger under my chin, another low sound escaping me as I try to fathom this incredible angel that’s just walked right into my life as well as my brand new kitchen.
“The pantry’s not really stocked yet, but I think we can manage a coffee if you’d like one?” I offer, trying to sound normal over the flood of mental images of her and me over the counter.
“Sure!” She says, sounding relieved but noticing something’s missing.
“No pie?” she asks, her natural pout making me groan again, which I manage to disguise as my own forgetfulness.
“I left it down in my…” I start to say, but she’s closer to the archway and already starting down the hall to fetch it.
I follow her, keenly drawn to her wherever she’s going. I don’t want her out of my sights, not even for a second.
Seeing her duck into my bedroom makes my heart skip a beat, a hot shiver running over me as I feel my crotch starting to twitch of its own accord, like it knows something I don’t.
Rounding my bedroom doorway, I almost run straight into her as she comes back out, holding that pie tray again. I instinctively put my hands out, taking hers again and holding her there for a moment, both of us aware of the distance between us, the pounding of each other’s hearts.
I can feel her pulse pounding through my own fingertips, and the small sounds she makes register with me as I wonder what her thumping heart rate feels like on other parts of her body.
“It needs heating up,” she finally says.
I stop myself, noticing my head moving naturally closer to her, wanting to kiss her without even thinking about it. But she seems far too sensible to kiss the first man who lets her into his house.
I nod, taking a breath in. Breathing her in, trying to remind myself I’m an older man and she’s a much younger woman.
Maybe she doesn’t go for older men?
Maybe she isn’t into guys who…
“Can I have my hands back?” she asks, teasing me as I once again feel the loss of her touch as I let her go, watching her as she walks past me down the hallway again.
“Can we christen one of those ovens?” she calls out, and I vow to myself, here and now, to christen more than the damned stove with her in my house.
Our house.
I don’t know how, but I know I’ll make her mine.
Maybe just give it more than ten minutes, Fox… Not every girl wants to be mauled as soon as they walk through the door.
“Sure,” I call back, shuddering a breath out, afraid to adjust my front in case it explodes.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sonya
There’s just no way he’d be into me. Not like this, not someone like him… he could have any girl he wants.
I’m literally shaking as I manage to make it back to the kitchen, slipping the pie into the oven and setting it to temperature. It’s about as handy as I get in the kitchen but I’m dying to use it. It’s a new microwave convection style I’ve seen advertised.
Very pricey.
I try to look natural as Fox comes back into the kitchen. I lean back on the counter, my hands both behind me making my chest stick out.
Something I try not to do normally, but with Fox I just don’t know what to do with myself.
His low growl of appreciation, he doesn’t even try to hide it and he comes closer. Each step he takes adds a new dimension to the palpitations I’m already feeling inside my heart.
He’s so close, and moving closer, another little squeak escapes me, but he’s just reaching past me to get some cups.
The front of his robe brushes against my thigh and I feel something more than fabric underneath, which makes me flush with a deep hot sensation. Starting at the very tip of my head, it runs all the way down to the tight space between my legs, making me almost lose my balance.
“You alright?” Fox asks, deliberately staying close, then letting his front touch my leg all over again.
I stammer something unintelligible and nod my head so fast it feels like it’ll roll off.
His eyes are blazing but calm. Like he’s seen what he wants and the hunt is on.
Thing is, I have about as much experience with this kind of thing as I do with baking.
I can’t just reheat a man out of a box, yet here one is, pre-baked and steaming hot.
I just don’t know how to go about it.
He seems aware of my problem though, even holding back just a little himself. But I swear, if he touches me like that again, I’ll fall into a wet puddle on the floor.
I try to tell myself to keep calm as he finally moves away, busying himself with a brand new espresso machine I can tell he knows how to work, and I still can’t help but stare and wonder at the man.
Is that his robe, or it his…?
“Milk?” he asks, a devilish grin on his face now, catching me in the act of staring, open mouthed at that huge bulge at the front of his robe.
He’s holding up the carton from the fridge, raising a brow in question.
“Uh… no thanks, just as it is for me,” I manage. I’ve been watching him move about the whole time, not taking my eyes off his crotch for a second.
As if coffee is what I need right now. I’m already buzzing like that fridge and I can see for myself that he’s throbbing down there too.
I glance over to the oven, it’s only been a minute or two since I put that pie in. I start to panic, wondering how to fill in the time, I can’t just stand here ogling the man all day, as much as I’d like to.
Fox rescues me. Handing me my coffee and inviting me to sit at the kitchen table, a huge marble and glass top piece with sturdy hand turned chairs, inlaid with the same marble.
He looks content now, finally having sat down and I figure he might have been struggling to deal with his front, but he opens his legs under the table and although he’s still covered, I can see he’s still towering hard down there.
“What really brought you here, Sonya?” he asks suddenly. His tone is firm but not unfriendly. He’s obviously a successful man and doesn’t mince his words.
“I uh…” I start to stammer, but figure I may as well just come out with it. The truth.
“I thought if the new neighbors had kids, I could offer to sit for them. I used to watch all the neighbors kids… during college…”
His eyes are narrowed, intense as they bore into mine. If this is my best attempt at winning a job, I feel like I’m losing.
I try to think of something, anything I could say to talk myself up, but right now I feel lost. I wasn’t expecting such a direct question from him.
Just as suddenly, he smiles. A winning, broad and perfectly white, million dollar smile that I feel relaxing me instantly, making me feel safe. Secure. Like I’ve already got the job.
“Well. I don’t need a babysitter,” he says, still smiling but his voice is firm, cold again. Business like.
I feel my face falling, but I force a smile, nodding. I kind of figured he didn’t need a sitter anyway.
No harm in trying, Sonya… you did your best.
And as for all that other stuff? That crazy, instant attraction?
I really don’t think a man like this would ever…
“I can do other things!” I hear myself blurting out, sounding more desperate than anything. Fox leans back, his smile settling to a look of total satisfaction, like he’s interested to see what else I have up my sleeve.
Or someplace else.
“What else?” he asks, his voice sounding thick, heavy. A rasping, smoky edge to it as I watch his eyes go down to my chest, shamelessly giving me a serving of the staring gape it feels like I’ve had on my face since I walked in.
“I can cook…” I lie, “I can clean… and I can…” I stammer, failing again as I realize that apart from reading Ancient history, there’s really not a hell of a lot I’m very good at.
His hand’s up, but his eyes hold mine. He’s not even thinking about it, I can tell. He’s already made up his mind, he’s not a man who wastes time with small talk.
“Why do you want to work for me?” he asks, almost like an ultimatum, like he’s throwing me the last lifeline I have to convince him. To prove to him I’m worth it.
“I need money…” I hear myself saying with emotion. “My dad wants me to get a job and move out and I just thought… I only hoped I could…”
“You’re hired,” he says flatly, then holds up a finger before I can squeal with approval.
“But I warn you, Sonya. I’m not an easy man to work for,” he says, sounding firm but fair again. “Once you agree to work for me, you’re mine… You belong to me… Understand?”
I feel my brow furrow, unsure of what he even means, but I feel my head nodding again, agreeing with anything he says.
“Mine.” He repeats with authority, and although it puzzles me mentally. Physically? The sound of his commanding voice makes me feel a fresh wave of wet heat ripple through my panties.
The thought of belonging to Fox, whatever that would really mean, makes me so damned hot and wet I feel like he could tell me to do anything right now and I know I would do it.
And I mean anything.
CHAPTER FIVE
Fox
Any excuse to have her near me will do. It saves me from having to make one up myself, but I do want to know why she wants to work for me.
Everybody needs a ‘why’. It makes me sad that it’s always money. I keep forgetting. Most people don’t have enough to even live comfortably, let alone live well.
As soon as she says it’s because of money, because her own father wants her out of his house, my mind’s made up. I feel my jaw clenching in tune with my hands, becoming fists under the table.
The thought that anyone, even her own family would want to put her out. It’s not right, it makes me want her more than ever.
For. Ever.
She’ll be mine and she’ll never have to worry about something as stupid as money ever again. She’s a goddess and deserves to be treated like one, worshiped not abandoned.
I want to claim her right here, right on the kitchen fucking table. But I know it’s not that simple. I’m used to having what I want but I also know some things have to wait. But for how long?
If this pressure in my cock is anything to go by, not long at all I hope.
But at least she’s willing to work for me, which is a start. It means I can keep her close. Keep my eyes on her at all times.
“Maybe I should speak with your father,” I say, surprising myself at just how stern I sound, sounding like I want to do more than just talk to him. I know what I’d like to tell him, how things are gonna be from now on with me and his daughter.
“Oh, he’s away,” Sonya chirps, sipping her coffee and looking pleased still that she’s got herself a job.
“What!” I snap, fearing the worst. That she’s either all alone in that house or worse, that she has a…
No. I can’t even think it.
“Do you mean you’re alone in the house, at night?” I ask her again, before she can even answer.
“Uh, yeah.” She says, matter of fact, “I’m twenty y’know, not five.”
I groan as she tells me her age, everything about her is just so fucking perfect. The thought of her alone, unprotected is too much though.
“No boyfriend? Fiancé?” I ask cuttingly.
“No,” she responds, flushing and looking a little hurt I’d even ask. “My dad’s on some cruise with my stepmom… I’ve stayed by myself plenty of times.” She adds confidently.
“Well. I won’t have you staying there alone,” I tell her, “not for one night longer. You can move your things in-”
But she cuts me off suddenly, standing up. Looking towards the archway, planning an escape if she needs to make it.
I’ve come on too strong and it’s alarmed her.
“Just a second, wait a minute.” she says calmly, holding both her palms up to face me, darting her eyes towards the door again.
“I just wanted some work… earn some extra money… I already have a place to stay Mr...?”
“Silverman.” I tell her, deliberately lowering my voice and spreading my palms flat on the table. Showing her I’m not going anywhere and that she’s certainly not in any danger.
I’m trying to protect her goddammit!
“Mr. Silverman.” She clips, making my chest ache from the stab of formality. It hurts when I see her face creasing up, getting serious and making me feel like she doesn’t want everything I can give her.
“My home… Mr. Silverman is right up the street,” she says, an edge to her voice that tells me she can leave anytime she wants, that she’d be gone forever.
I nod slowly, forcing myself to relax as I exhale.
“I only meant I don’t want you alone anymore, you should be protected.”
“I don’t need protecting. And I’m certainly not alone…” She scoffs, almost laughing suddenly, as if the idea is ridiculous to her.
But it isn’t to me. I can think of a million reasons why she needs protecting.
The clearest in my mind is to keep her away from prying eyes, to keep her all to myself.
Mine.
I match her smile, but we both feel the seriousness of what I’m saying. My hand strays to my pocket, I keep forgetting I’m in my bathrobe.
“How much?” I ask her point blank, standing up with the intention of getting her cash right now, anything it takes to show her how much I intend to keep her close.
“How much money do you need, Sonya?” She looks baffled as I pat myself down, suddenly feeling naked without ready access to the money I know I have plenty of.
“I mean… if you’re to come work for me. We need to discuss terms… how much you expect to be paid,” I smile, reminding myself to stay calm, to stop acting like such a caveman.
Diplomacy.
It’s key to any successful arrangement. In business and
otherwise.
“I’m sorry if I sounded so dramatic just now, Sonya. It’s just the thought of someone like you by themselves… that your own father would want to put you out on the street…”
“I never said he was gonna put me out on the street!” She protests, and she starts for the doorway. I leap in front of her without even thinking, blocking her path.
“I’m going home now, Mr. Silverman. Maybe I’ll see you around…” she says, her eyes narrowed and I can see she’s trembling, a mixture of anger, fear and there’s still that certain something we both feel for each other.
“Sonya. Wait,” I say calmly, wanting to reach out to her but thinking better of it.
“Can’t you at least stay for coffee? That pie you brought is still heating up.”
She puts both her fingertips to her temples, “I only came over to see if I could get some part time work, welcome the new neighbor…” she murmurs to herself.
I can see she’s weighing things up in her mind, and I know she doesn’t really want to leave. No more than I want her to, but at the same time, she’s confused.
More curious than torn, I’d wager.
I go out on a limb and take my seat again, knowing she’ll rejoin me. If she really wanted out she would’ve left already. And I would’ve followed her until I either got in serious trouble or she agreed to come back.
I’ve already decided I’ll do whatever it takes to claim Sonya. To keep her as my own, so it’s final.
The oven makes a sound, and I make a face which tells her I have no idea what that is.
“That’s the pie,” Sonya says softly, and to my relief she turns to the kitchen and hunts through some cupboards to find the brand new plates and I watch in satisfied silence as she serves us both a slice.
“See?” she says, taking her seat again opposite me with a sly grin. “I can cook.”
CHAPTER SIX
Sonya
This is all happening so fast, and part of me knows he’s telling me exactly what I want to hear.
He’s telling me I’m his, to work for and that he doesn’t want me to be alone.
Possessive Neighbor: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 174) Page 2