by Allysa Hart
I took the middle one and turned it in the lock, pushing the door open. I breathed a sigh of relief as I looked around. It was furnished. Not just furnished. It was totally pimped out and looked exactly like my place back home in Greece.
I breathed a sigh of relief and dropped wearily onto the white leather couch, grabbing a gold threaded pillow and stuffing it behind my head.
I propped my feet up on the leather and gold ottoman/coffee table and looked around the room. Everything was here. Bookshelves, and my big soft recliner, and my ginormous flat-screen TV. I leaned forward and peered into the kitchen. Through the glass-front cabinets I could see a set of dishes, and a cabinet of my favorite foods. A case of water sat on top of my dining table.
I would bet that the fridge was stocked with all my favorites, like fresh granola and Greek yogurt, and the makings for cesar salad.
Zeus may be rooting against me, but at least my father had come through. I ate my dinner out of a paper bag on my lap, and downed both of the waters, now that I knew I had more for later.
Finding the remote, I clicked the TV on, letting it rest on whatever channel it was tuned to.
Some sort of romantic comedy by the looks of it.
I turned the volume down, and leaned back in the chair, closing my eyes.
I was in that state of half sleep, half awareness when a knock at my door jolted me out of my comfortable stupor.
Startled, I jumped up, and crossed the room to the door, in three long strides, flinging it open without any thought to who might be on the other side.
It was her.
“Ernest said we had a new neighbor, and I thought I’d give you a proper welcome to the building gift, so I baked you a pie. I hope you like peach.”
She had been staring down at the pie while she spoke, and when she finally looked up at me, her eyes narrowed into slits, and her jaw dropped. “You!”
“Me,” I confirmed with a smirk. “Judging by the mess on my doorstep, is it safe to assume you did not appreciate my gift?”
“I’m allergic.” She scowled. Her teeth were gritted and her jaw was clenched in anger.
Before I could utter a single word of apology, the pie hit my face, straight on. The crust busted into a flaky mess, and the warm peach filling coated my skin. It smelled of summer, with a hint of cinnamon and vanilla.
I dragged two fingers across my cheek, and stuck them into my mouth, smiling widely as I did so. “Thank you. It’s delicious.”
“You can not live here!” she retorted, stomping her foot. “Seriously, can this day get any worse?”
“A day can always get worse. Take mine for example. First, I got cussed out by the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. Not wanting to start off on the wrong foot, I bought her a present, one she was apparently allergic to. Instead of thanking me, and then putting the gift to good use by sharing it with someone who wasn’t allergic, she dumped the flowers on my doorstep and smashed the vase to smithereens. Then, I get home to my new apartment, only to discover that she is apparently my neighbor and has baked me a pie. But when she sees me, she decides to slam the pie into my face instead.So not only did she destroy a gift I had given her as a peace offering, she then made me a gift, and destroyed it as well. Destroyed it, might I add, on my face. So yes, to answer your question, a day can always get worse.”
The cute little scream of frustration that followed simply made her more endearing.
I stared at her, looking for words, and wondering if she was going to say anything or just scream.
I could relate to her frustration. I was frustrated too. Frustrated and angry. I had found my perfect match in my first hour of the mission, but getting her to like me, or hell, just not hate me at this point, seemed to be an impossible feat.
Taking a page from Jake’s book had blown up in my face, so maybe it was time to take a page from Bert’s.
Stepping forward, so that my foot was now resting atop the aluminum pie plate and a pile of warm peaches, I grabbed her waist with one hand, and caressed her cheek with the other. Before she had a chance to push me away, or question my approach, my lips descended firmly onto hers. I expected her to fight me, but she doesn’t. Her lips were soft and pliable. They parted ever so slightly as my tongue pushed past them. I tightened my grip on her waist, and pulled her against my chest. She gave a little mewl of pleasure. I deepened the kiss, kissing her harder and claiming her lips as mine.
My heart seemed to dance in my chest, a little jig of happiness over the fact that I have finally made progress with this woman who I was determined to make mine.
Finally. I realized it had only been a day, but I was not a patient man. I moved my hand from her cheek to the curve of her hip. She moaned, underneath my lips, sending a spasm of vibrations down my body. Her tongue explored my mouth, and I hardened, pressing my pelvis against hers.
And then, it stops. She jerks way from me, and before I have a chance to gather my wits, her hand cracks hard against my cheek.
I blinked, as I reeled back, staring at her in confusion.
So much for progress.
“What in the hell is wrong with you, you crazy woman?”
“What in the hell is wrong with you?” she countered, rearing back her arm as if to slap me again. “Who kisses someone who throws a pie in their face?”
Her hand flew toward my face, and I grabbed her wrist, stopping it an inch in front of my cheek, just before she made contact a second time.
“I don’t know! I’ve never had a pie thrown in my face before! Who does that?”
Her eyes bulged in their sockets, and she stomped her foot angrily, looking like she was a mere inch away from a full blown tantrum. “ I want you to leave!”
“This is my apartment.” I deadpanned, waiting for the imminent tantrum.
It didn’t come.
Instead her face slackened and all her tightened features took on an eerie coolness.
“There’s more where the pie came from, Mr. Adonis. Much more. Mark my words, I will make your life hell until you leave me and my business alone.”
She was cute when she was calm. And when she was angry. Hell, she was just cute. I supposed the threat was meant to be a bit scary, but it was more intriguing than anything else. I loved a good prank war, and I could give as well as I got.
The poor little lover would have no idea what hit her.
Little lover. That’s a cute nickname. Very professionally appropriate, and as a bonus, I know she will hate it.
I let my head drop and rose as I slowly perused her up and down, mentally undressing her before I spoke.
“Sorry, little lover, no can do. I’m stuck here for the foreseeable future and there is nothing you can do to change that.” I winked, watching as she fumed at the new nickname I had bestowed. “I do love a good prank war though, so bring it on!”
Her chin jutted out and her eyes flared with surprise. That was not the answer she had been expecting and now she wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Well...” she stammered. “Good then. I will. And here’s a little lesson for you buddy, never tell a woman she can’t do something because she will dedicate herself to proving you wrong.”
I shrugged. I didn’t want to be mean, but she was just asking for it. I loved seeing her body react as she struggled to get the last word.
My ego won out and I delivered a one liner that I knew was beyond epic. And very uncalled for.
“Well, at least you’ll have something to keep you busy then since all your clients are coming to me.”
She slapped me again. I saw it coming, and I let her because her touching me was better than her not touching me and her torturing me was better than her ignoring me. At least I got to feel her skin against mine, and know that her thoughts would be on me each and every day.
“See you tomorrow, little lover.” I said, closing the door and thus ensuring that I had the last word.
I walked a few short steps to my couch and had just collapsed onto the sof
t leather, rubbing my aching jaw, when the muffled scream echoed down the hall.
This romance stuff was not for the faint of heart, I realized. Being able to spot a perfect match was one thing. Getting that perfect match to like you was another altogether.
The opposite of love is hate, I reminded myself. At least we are on the same coin.
Chapter 5
Rebekah
“A prank war?” I grumbled to myself as I unlocked the door to my apartment a mere five doors down from his. “Where in the hell had that come from?”
I hadn’t said anything about a prank war! I had never played a prank in my life, unless you count calling someone and asking if their refrigerator was running, and then telling them they had better go and catch it.
And let’s be honest, that doesn’t even count. I was ten for one thing, and for another we had prank called my best friend’s mom while my best friend sat there snickering into her hand.
Her mom had known it was us, of course, and played along. I had no game back then. I have even less now.
But in some ridiculous comedy of errors, I had somehow managed to challenge this Greek god of a man with a Midas touch for matchmaking to a prank war.
A war. Two sided. I prank, and then he pranks, and then I prank and so on and so forth.
With my luck, he’s probably as good at pranking as he is at matchmaking.
And flooding my panties.
I groaned as I pressed my fingers to my lips, remembering his kiss.
That’s probably what happened, Bekah. Greek god boy kissed you like you’ve never been kissed before and you temporarily lost your senses.
Temporarily lost your senses? Every time you’re near that man, you want to throw him up against the wall, rip his clothes off, fuck him senseless and call him Daddy.
Again with the daddy thing. Don’t even get me started on that particular issue.
He wouldn’t even make a good Daddy Dom. Too egotistical and stubborn.
And hot. Don’t forget hot.
I really need to get laid apparently. Maybe I should go on Tinder myself and find a one-night fuck-buddy. Maybe then Greek god boy wouldn’t drive me so out of my mind with desire and hormones.
I shook my head hard from side to side to rid my mind of the thoughts that were betraying me, and paced around the living room. Whatever happened to me when he was around had nothing to do with my sex life or lack thereof. I saw hot men all the time, and nobody ever affected me the way he did.
Something about him made me act completely insane when he was around, like some demented sex starved nut-job.
Way to put your best foot forward, Bekah.
And now, my temporary loss of senses had resulted in the declaration of a long term prank war.
Great.
I didn’t want to prank the dude, I wanted to get him shut down and out of my life. Off my street, out of my apartment complex and back to wherever the hell his stupid charming tight little Greek god ass had come from.
I paced into the kitchen and flung open the fridge. I needed to grocery shop. Badly. Devoid of choices, I quickly devoured two slices of cheese and a container of Greek yogurt that was dangerously close to its expiration date, then washed it down with Sauvignon Blanc straight from the bottle.
I didn’t want to be involved in a prank war that dragged on back and forth for ages. I needed one epic prank that would get him out of my life for good.
And we are back to square one. I suck at pranks.
The harder I tried to brainstorm, the more blank my mind was.
Still holding the wine bottle, I slammed the fridge shut and marched down the hall to my bedroom.
The day had been mentally and emotionally taxing, and I just wanted to lay down and close my eyes for a minute. I set the wine on the nightstand, and collapsed onto my bed, face first with my legs dangling off the edge.
I needed to close my eyes, and clear my mind, and try to come up with the prank to end all pranks.
You could drive his car into the lake.
I’d have to steal it first, and that’s a felony.
You could t.p. his house.
He lives in an apartment building. My apartment building.
You could have 100 pizzas delivered to his shop.
And he could share them with his 200 clients while I foot the bill.
“Arrrghhh!” I scream into my pillow, and pound my fists against the mattress. I’d been reduced to tantrums and I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. Throwing flowers all over his doorstep in front of the whole town. Throwing a pie in his face. Slapping him. Twice. Letting him kiss me like that. And then getting drawn into a goddamn prank war.
It was like my body and mind had been taken over by crazy lustful aliens the minute he rolled into my town.
Maybe he’s an alien! It’s not normal to be that hot.
An alien, Bekah, really? Maybe you need sleep.
Accepting that I was not going to come up with the perfect prank in my current state of mind, I rolled over, grabbed the bottle of wine, and sat up just enough to finish off the last bit, before letting it drop to the floor beside my bed, and reaching into the drawer of my night table.
I may not need a one-night stand with a hot fuck buddy to solve my problems, but after the day I had had, I desperately needed an orgasm to take the edge off.
Standing, I shimmied out of my work clothes and undergarments, and threw on an oversized T-shirt.
The wine I had chugged was starting to go to my head, and I held up the pink nubbed vibrator with rabbit ears in front of me, and grinned drunkenly.
“Why hello, there, Bob-ert. You are looking mighty fine tonight. What’s that you say? I’m looking particularly smashing tonight?” I giggled, and fluttered my eyelashes. “Oh stop! You’re too much! You’re not just saying that to get in my pants, are you? Because I’ve got a secret for you.” I lowered my voice to a whisper.
“I’m not wearing any.”
Smashing? Smashed was more like it.
Note to self: Two slices of cheese and four ounces of yogurt does not mix well with a half bottle of wine.
Clutching Bob-ert to my chest as if we were hugging after our flirtatious exchange, I lowered myself onto the bed, on my back this time, with a pile of pillows behind my head.
My battery-operated boyfriend needed an upgrade as badly as my love life did, but he would do the trick for now.
“Okay, Bob-ert. Let’s see what you can do.”
I positioned his head at the entrance of my pussy, and clicked the button that turned him on. The gentle whirring sound he made as he came to life was familiar and comforting.
The rabbit ears were already strumming against my clit, and I whimpered. I should really do this more often.
“Oh, yeah, that’s good.”
You’re talking to your vibrator like he’s a real man, Bekah.
I think you might have reached a new low in life just now.
“Oh shut up! I just need to get off.”
I pushed the tip of the vibe inside of me, arching my back as the vibrations hit my G-spot.
I bent my knees, and flattened the soles of my feet against the mattress, digging them in, as I pleasured myself with gusto.
“Oh god. This was just what I needed.”
Bob-ert was better than any man. Bob-ert did all the work. He didn’t need sweet nothings or dirty talk, or constant encouragement. I didn’t have to grab his ass, or pull his hair, or tweak his nipples or caress his balls. All I had to do was not drop him.
“Oh yes!” I pushed him deeper inside me, and the rabbit ears hit my clit with an unrelenting pressure and speed.
“Oh yes!”
I was hovering right on the brink of orgasm. My hips lifted off the bed, thrusting of their own accord, toward the pleasure source.
My body tensed, and a flush of heat spread up my core. closed my eyes, and curled my toes.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I screamed as the pressure built, knowing I was seconds a
way from climax.
My back arched, and I almost dropped Bob in my frenzied motions as I primed for release. Just when I was about to come, the image of his face popped unbidden into my mind.
I squeezed my eyes tighter as if to block it out, but it was no use. First it was his face. Then his pecs, and abs, and that tight shirt, and the probably huge cock that he had hidden underneath those sexy pants, and the next thing I knew I was reliving that kiss as I screamed my release, and there was no stopping, and there was no getting him out of my head.
Fuck. My. Life.
I exhaled deeply as the tension left my body. My tight muscles became jello as I collapsed back onto my bed, flattening my legs, and letting my hips slacken against the mattress.
My body filled with a deep satiated exhaustion. My eyes were heavy. The orgasm served its purpose in aiding to put the horrible day behind me.
I no longer had the energy to stress about prank wars, or overdue bills, or hot hungry kisses. I didn’t even have the energy to put panties back on, or move Bob back to his hiding place. Curling onto my side, I grabbed the blanket folded at the foot of my bed, and pulled it up over me. The soft fabric was a comforting cocoon, and sleep beckoned, teasing me with its peace.
I totally relaxed as I drifted off to dreamland.
“Daddy is not pleased with your behavior, little girl.” His voice rumbles in my ear from behind me, sending shockwaves straight to my pussy.
“I’m sorry,” I moan as his fingers continue to torture my sensitive nipples. “Please.” I beg.
“Please, what? Please stop?” His hands still and I press my ass backwards into his groin. His cock is hard against the crack of my ass and I revel in the fact that he craves me as much as I ache for him.
“Please, more.” I rotate my hips creating friction between the two of us. His soft moan makes me smile and I attempt to roll out of the spooning position. If he isn’t going to give me what I want maybe I will take it. He tightens his arms around me, halting my advance. My small unathletic body is no match for his strength which only magnifies my desire for him.
“Stop wiggling and tell Daddy exactly what you need, little love.”