At my desk, I click on the latest email from NextDoor.
Ah. I see how it is.
Though I’d love to answer him, I let him stew in my sass. He needs to know I’m not too easy.
A few minutes pass, and another email alert dings.
Let’s just get together. We’ll find out who wants whom and how much. Nothing will happen that you don’t want. You tell me when and where. I’ll be there.
Okay, as long as you are who you say you are, and as long as you look at least mostly like your pictures.
Worried I won’t be who I say, or that I don’t look like my photos?
Let’s just say I’ve had a bad experience with this online-dating thing.
Ah. Don’t worry. I promise, I will look like my pictures—more or less.
More or less?
I stare into the mirror.
For so long, this beard has hidden from the world that I’m fucked up—scarred. Shit… it might even hide that sometimes I’m scared.
It’s shielded me from those who might get too close, because it’s as good a barrier as any I could build around my uncertain life.
Kelsey climbed right over my fences—even though she says she hates the facial hair.
Could she like what’s under it?
The shaving cream and razor wait on the counter.
Can I find the courage to use them?
* * *
My shoes are shined to a mirror finish. And I’ve got six condoms in my pocket—just in case Kelsey doesn’t finish the job that IED started when she learns I’m the one she’s been sending sexy emails to through that dating site.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll be satisfied with a smack across my face. And maybe she won’t refuse to go anywhere with me. If her hand print is still there come show-time, I’ll have to think of an appropriate joke to make when I take the stage.
My asshole is puckered up to my fucking neck, and I feel like a teenager getting ready for my first date, still wet behind the ears and afraid the girl will stand me up. It doesn’t help much that I’m nervous as fuck about speaking at this dinner tonight.
Between Kelsey and my public speaking aversion…well, honestly, it’s more that I don’t want to pop open all my luggage and lay it out for the world to see, and, if I’m not careful, that may be exactly what happens.
But this isn’t my first date, and I’ve already tasted Kelsey, and I intend to taste her again and again—tonight.
I put Spike in his kennel to keep him out of trouble for the evening and make my way across the yard to Kelsey’s place.
She answers my knock immediately, but isn’t even facing the door. “Hey, I’m almost ready.”
A silky, black scrap of fabric that shows every curve hugs her figure. Her back is bare, except for several crisscrossed straps that don’t cover much, but they do show the way her muscles play beneath them.
“You’re stunning.”
A plastic smile is in place when she turns to me, as if to answer with the standard thanks, but she stops in her tracks.
Her beautiful smile melts into something akin to shock just before her expression morphs into anger. “NextDoor? What are you doing here? And how did you get my address? I didn’t give it to you.”
“I didn’t need your address.”
She gasps, her eyes widening. “Are you stalking me?”
“Kelsey? Don’t you know who I am?” I reach for her hand.
She draws away as recognition hardens and narrows her eyes.
Uh oh. Time to head this off.
“Don’t say a word.” I grab hold of her upper arms and push her inside, closing the door with my heel.
She opens her mouth, so I cover it with mine.
Her hands fist against my chest, but it only takes the swipe of my tongue into her mouth and she stops pushing at me. When I nip her bottom lip and suck it in, she returns my kiss. Each stroke is met with the same desire I have for her.
My cock springs to attention as I press closer to her.
She fits in my arms like she was made for me.
Maybe she was.
Only when we’re breathless, do I pull back, leaning my forehead against hers. “I wasn’t trying to trick you. You wouldn’t go out with me when I asked—not without being pushed into it. So I decided to check out that site and see what it is you’re looking for in a guy. Call it research. Then I wanted to get to know you better.”
She steps away and crosses her arms. “I didn’t want to go out with you for a reason, jackass.”
“What reason is that?”
“That’s mine to know and yours to not worry about. I told you one date. You can have it now or forget it.”
* * *
In the car, I reach for her hand.
She jerks away. “No.”
“Aw, c’mon, Kelsey.”
“You pretended we didn’t know each other—like you were someone else. I hate being lied to.”
“I did not lie. Not once. You never asked if we knew each other. You didn’t ask my name. You never asked anything that I could have answered that would tell you who I was. If you had, I wouldn’t have lied.”
She shoots me a disgusted look. “I guess we’ll never really know if that’s true, will we? And you, asking all those questions about what I like. As if you didn’t already know.”
“I don’t know. Except the pussy licking—but I did say you liked that. So there.”
She grimaces. “Ew—now I feel gross.”
“Oh, please. You were just as turned on by our little email exchange as I was. Why are you acting this way? You liked it.”
“Sure. Whatever.” She turns and stares out the passenger window, clearly dismissing me.
“You said it didn’t embarrass you to talk about those things. But now you’ve got your panties in a twist—an even bigger twist than the one you like to go along with your doggie style fucking.”
Her hand flies out and smacks my chest. “Shush.”
I shrug. “I think it’s a good little twist. Definitely something I could accommodate.”
Her face falls into her palm.
After a few seconds, her giggle bubbles through the car. “Okay. Fine. I enjoyed it. But it was still rotten of you not to tell me who you were.”
“Would you have even replied to my email the first time if you’d known it was me?”
Kelsey looks at me out of the corners of her eyes. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Well, you know what they say…”
“About?”
I graze the back of her hand with my knuckles. “War and that other thing.”
“You mean love and war?”
Love? Hmm.
A chuckle rumbles out of my chest. “All’s fair, Beautiful Girl. All. Is. Fair.”
FOURTEEN
Try as I might, every time I forget myself and stare, he catches me. Eventually, I give up and smile instead of trying to pretend I wasn’t looking at him.
Adam takes a bite of his rubber chicken, his hazel eyes never leaving mine.
Finally, I tear my gaze away from Adam’s. I push the rice pilaf around on my plate but don’t even bother with the bird.
He gently nudges my arm with his elbow. “You like the suit?”
Should I answer him?
I suck in a deep breath and hold it for a count of three.
I’m supposed to be angry with him.
I’m supposed to be offended that he wasn’t exactly truthful in those emails.
The problem with that?
I don’t want to be mad at him.
What I want is to shove him across this table and tear that suit off of him. I want to climb on top of him and do all the dirty things I’ve been writing about for the last year but haven’t been able to do in real life.
My body reacts to the image I’ve created in my mind with a little throb between my legs.
Who’d have thought Adam looked like that underneath all the hair?
I let out my pent-up b
reath and smile. “I do like the suit. And your face. You know, without that animal clinging to your jaw, you’re not hard to look at.”
“Not hard to look at, eh?” He runs his finger along his square jaw, following the line of the thin scar all the way to the cleft in his chin. “Even with this?”
I bite my bottom lip and lean closer to him. “That makes you all the more dashing. Like a pirate who’s been in a sword fight.”
“I thought the beard was pirate-like.” He winks.
With a slight shake of my head, I wrinkle my nose. “Not so much. More like a stunted muskrat that’s been shot and taken to a taxidermist.”
“Muskrat?”
“Yeah, you know…rodents?”
He shakes his head and scratches the back of his neck, mumbling, “Muskrat.”
The P.A. system crackles as someone takes the stage.
“Good evening, ladies and gentleman. I’m your MC, Rex Rom—” High-pitched audio feedback interrupts.
The blond guy smiles as he makes his way to the center of the stage, tapping the side of his wireless microphone. “That would be Rex Romans for those of you who don’t lip-read.”
The audience cheers and welcomes Rex to the stage. Adam stands as he slowly claps. One by one, the entire room follows Adam’s example.
After a couple of minutes of trying, Rex finally calms the crowd and gets everyone to take their seats. “Thank you. I appreciate the sentiment, though I don’t deserve it half as much as many of my fellow vets.”
Rex shares a small bit about how he was injured in the line of duty—a grenade took the lower part of his leg.
“However, my affliction is small as compared to some. And really, none of us can truly compare our pain to another’s sacrifice and suffering. Each person’s experience is unique.” Rex straightens his tie and coughs. “But, before I cause any more suffering for my esteemed audience with my droning on and on, please welcome to the stage one of the best men I know—a true American hero and my good friend, Adam Hardick, Staff Sergeant, honorably discharged from the US Army.”
Adam rises, and the room once again erupts in applause.
When he takes the stage, he accepts the mic from Rex, and they shake hands. Then they exchange one-armed man-hugs.
“Thanks, Rex. The check’s in the mail.” Adam’s smile is sexy as hell.
The scar along his jaw seems intensified by the foot lights on the stage. Somehow, it makes him better looking. Hotter, in a tough guy who lived through something traumatic kind of way.
“Evening, folks. I’m a virgin at this public speaking thing, so, please, be gentle.”
The crowd laughs and some applaud a little more.
“As Rex told you, I’m a vet—a proud vet. I had the honor of serving our nation with some of the finest men and women this country has to offer, on foreign soil, in a war torn country, filled with sand and strife…”
Adam talks about the plight of many American Veterans who’ve been all but forgotten. He discusses those crippled by either physical or mental injuries, sometimes both. He speaks about homelessness among veterans, the strides that have been made in improving the numbers, and the work yet to be done.
Clearly, Adam cares about his fellow veterans.
It’s in the way his knuckles whiten around the mic as he asks for those in attendance to get involved—to do more than pay for a meal at a banquet hall. It’s in the crack of his voice, that he tries to disguise with a cough, when he brings up the first few photos on the big screens positioned around the room. Homeless vets, men and women, sit under overpasses with cardboard signs. Wheelchair-bound, disabled, missing limbs, long, unkempt beards. Sad eyes and broken spirits apparent in their dirty faces. Every picture worse than the last.
The entire time Adam’s on stage, walking from side to side, engaging the audience with his sad smile and those beautiful eyes, I can’t tear my gaze from him. He’s larger than life and even more charismatic and charming than I’d realized.
His body language screams confidence and sex appeal, even while he implores the masses to support his cause.
After enough photos have been shown to bring a tear to almost every eye in the room, the credits for the photography and editing of the slideshow roll up the screen. Silence fills all the spaces between the draped tables, the crystal goblets, the shining silverware, and the able bodies of those unmarked by war.
Adam tucks the microphone under his arm and steeples his hands beneath his chin, solemnly looking out across the audience, allowing them time to contemplate the severity of the conditions he’s highlighted. Then he walks to the edge of the stage, carefully placing the microphone onto its stand, gripping the black mic clip.
He leans in and, with a deep, calm voice, he says, “John Bradford is attributed with these words. With your indulgence, I’ll borrow them to close. But for the grace of God, there go I.”
Gooseflesh breaks out on my arms, and the hair on the back of my neck prickles. I swallow the knot in my throat and rub at the sting of tears behind my eyes as I try to imagine this beautiful man wrecked and without a home.
Thunderous applause drowns out all other sounds as Adam receives his own standing ovation for his touching commentary. The man could probably be a politician or a television host with a following of millions, if that’s what he wanted.
As for me?
Right now, all I know is, I want him.
* * *
The ride home is quiet.
I’m full of unasked questions, and Adam seems to be deep in thought.
About his speech? About his comrades in arms? About me? Who knows?
The summer sun has faded, leaving only a faint swath of orange along the horizon.
When we arrive at his house, he hops out and rushes to open my door.
I trail my fingers across his pecs as I step away from the car. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Mr. Hardick.”
“Careful, Ms. Malone. A guy might think you’re coming on to him.” He grabs me and pulls me to him, his arms locking around my waist.
Pushing my hands up to the back of his neck, I rise and nip his bottom lip. “And he might be right.”
A groan comes from deep in his chest as he backs me against the car. His hands find my ass, squeezing.
He wants me as much as I want him. I can tell by the way his tongue delves into my mouth, masterfully, yet softly enough to send warm wetness to my pussy.
He pulls up the back of my dress and slides his hands into the lacy scrap of fabric that is my panties. They pull taut across my clit, and my pussy muscles clench tight.
Headlights from a passing car illuminate the darkness, intruding on the moment.
I push Adam away. “Maybe we should go inside?”
He takes my hand and kisses the backs of my knuckles. “Your place or mine?”
I roll my eyes. “Really? You want to go with that old line?”
He leans in, running the tip of his tongue along the lower edge of my earlobe.
This is probably nuts. I’m likely going to regret this, but something about Adam seems different.
Adam’s breath tickles as he whispers, “I’m going to fuck you so hard and for so long you won’t know where you are. So you’d best decide the location, before you lose your fucking mind under my mouth and at the end of my cock.”
My tongue darts out to wet my lip. “My house. Now.”
He takes my elbow and steers me to my front door. With a slight tremble in my hands, I pull the keys from my purse. Adam takes them, letting us inside. As soon as the door closes, he pushes me against the wall. His lips crash down on mine as his hands hike up my skirt.
My heart thumps, and my nerve endings crackle.
I open my legs. His fingertips ghost over the lace at the apex of my thighs. They push the elastic aside and slip along my already wet slit. I gasp, but he captures the sound with his mouth as his lips glide against mine.
His tongue invades and retreats in rhythm with the thrust of his h
and at my pussy. Each time it dives in, his long fingers stroke that place deep inside that tightens the coil of heat. His mouth finds the pulse point on the side of my neck, where he bites just hard enough to feel good as he jams his fingers further inside.
I tilt my hips to give him better access, but he pulls away and sheds his suit jacket.
My finger follows the scar along his jaw.
He’s strong and brave, and, at least for tonight, he’s mine.
I can do this—this casual thing. I’ll have a little fun, but make sure I keep my heart out of it.
I suck in his bottom lip, and he hooks his thumbs into the top edge of my panties. He grabs hold of them and yanks down. I wriggle out of them while he traces my breasts and smooths his palms down my sides to my hips.
I undo his tie as his hand goes to the button on his slacks.
He kicks off his shoes and pulls a small square from his pocket before he drops his pants.
Adam grins as he tugs his boxer briefs down and his enormous cock springs forth. I slip my finger along the length of him to the tip, where a bead of pre-cum is poised to drip. With the pad of my thumb, I swipe that glistening droplet from him. I stick out my tongue and slather that salty pearl over its tip.
He rips open the condom.
He takes care of protection and guides his hard-on between my legs as he pulls my knee up to hook my leg around his hip.
The head of his erection pushes between my slippery folds.
“You ready for this?”
I nod.
Don’t forget—this is just for fun.
It’s not forever, just for now.
“It’s going to be a long night, Beautiful Girl. So. Long.” Adam rams his cock inside me.
I gasp and grab his shoulders.
He pulls away, excruciatingly slowly, while he licks the seam between my lips. I open my mouth to him, and his tongue slips inside as his cock slides deep into my entrance again.
My fingers dig into his muscular shoulders as his hips pump. I wrap my other leg around him and he presses me against the wall. He grips my ass cheeks, kneading in perfect time with his thrusts. He strokes the deepest parts of me.
I have to keep him away from the deeper parts—the ones he can’t touch with his body
So Long: Bad Boy Next Door Page 13