P J Mellor

by Make Me Scream (lit)

  “Hmmm?” She turned back to look at him. “No. Why?”

  “Well, you seem to be looking for someone.”

  “No.” She shrugged, her tan skin sparkling with a fine sheen of perspiration. “Just taking in the sights.”

  Taking in the sights. Right. He’d like to take in some sights himself. Sights like Jamie naked and glistening in the sun.

  They walked past the ice-cream parlor, and he pictured Jamie, still naked, sitting on the table, her legs spread wide, bare feet on the bench on either side of his hips. He’d take his big scoop of ice cream and drag it along her pussy, then lean and lick it off. He swallowed a groan at the thought of how her sweetness would taste, mingled with the melting temptation of the ice cream.

  “We can stop, you know.” Jamie’s voice broke through his daydream. “If you really want some ice cream. We can always eat lunch later.”

  “What makes you think I want ice cream?” Oh, Lord, please don’t let him have said anything embarrassing.

  “Well, the way you looked at the ice-cream shop and the little moan you did as we walked by.” She shrugged, and he held his breath when her cleavage threatened to make an escape over the edge of her plunging neckline.

  To his disappointment, she hooked her thumbs under the edge of the bodice and tugged it back up.

  “Do you want to get some ice cream?” she asked again.

  “No, not unless you do.” He wasn’t sure he could live through the experience of watching her eat ice cream and not ache to fulfill his fantasy. “I’m not a big ice-cream eater,” he lied.

  “Then let’s go on to the linen place.”

  He’d never had so much fun buying sheets and towels. He and Jamie tried out small appliances, ate several samples, smelled every candle and still managed to fill their cart with bedding and towels.

  “I still think you should have bought that flavored massage oil,” Jamie said while they waited in line. “It smelled great. Maybe you could have used it for inspiration in your book.”

  Inspiration. She had no idea, standing there in her skimpy fuck-me sundress with all her luscious skin right there to tempt him, what it was he needed for inspiration.

  She inspired him. Inspired him to do things he’d never thought about doing. Well, okay, maybe he’d thought about doing them, but never had he had a face to put on his dream girl. Until now. He knew exactly what he’d do with the pineapple-flavored oil.

  He’d take the bright, tropical-print comforter she bought and lay her back on it in the cart. She wouldn’t have on any panties, for easier access. He’d stroke the sweet oil between her legs and then lick it away until she was writhing, begging him to fuck her, right there in the twenty-items-or-less lane. He wondered if they could do it on the moving conveyer belt without injury.

  “Devon!” Jamie’s voice broke into his fantasy. “Cut it out. You’re pushing the cart into me.”

  “Oh! Sorry.” At least she didn’t realize how he’d pushed the cart. Get a grip, Mac. You don’t want to be banned from the shopping center. “You ready for lunch?”

  “Why don’t we take all this stuff back to the apartment first so we won’t have so much to carry.”

  Devon insisted on carrying all the bags. She held on to his elbow to guide him since his view was obstructed. Where she touched him burned, but she refused to break contact.

  All through the store, she’d fantasized about them being married and that they were buying stuff for their apartment. She’d caught a couple of girls eyeing Devon and glared at them, warning them off. For some reason, it felt like he was hers.

  Maybe because he was safe. Or seemed to be. He wasn’t breathtakingly handsome. But sometimes…sometimes she caught a flash of such pure sex appeal it took her breath away. At those times she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, if he shaved and cleaned up, dressed up a bit, he would be devastating. Literally oozing sex appeal, she’d have to lock him up to keep the women away. Hmmm…locking Devon up definitely had potential.

  It was at that moment she had an epiphany: she wanted to make love with Devon. No, not something so innocuous. She wanted hot, raging, no-holds-barred sex with him.

  Unfortunately she had no clue as to how to bring that dream to reality. Not without sounding like a total slut anyway.

  A tall man walking along the beach several yards from them caught her attention. Fred? Her heart stumbled and then resumed its pace when she realized it was just her imagination.

  “Hey! Hey!” Devon lagged back, shifting his load of white plastic shopping bags. “Wasn’t that the apartments we just passed?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the faded tile roof. “Oops. Sorry. I guess I wasn’t paying attention. I was just enjoying the breeze and the sights and sounds.” She directed him into the courtyard with its terra-cotta tile and colorful tiled fountain. For not the first time, she thought the Spanish hacienda style was very cozy and appealing. “The sign says there’s a pool. I thought it would be in the courtyard. Where is it?”

  He walked into her apartment as soon as she opened the door and dumped the packages onto the sofa. Rubbing his back, he said, “It’s out back. It was supposed to be in front of the complex, according to Francyne, but the builder dug the foundation too close to the easement. Guess no one noticed until after the foundation had been poured.”

  “Too bad. A pool with an ocean view would have been really cool.” She picked up the linens. “Which way is the laundry room? I want to wash and dry these before I put them on the bed.”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “I wondered why you bought detergent and softener at the bed place when it’s cheaper at the market.” He dug in his pocket and brought out a bundle of tokens. “And you’re in luck. The washers and driers don’t use money. We had a problem with kids breaking in and looting the machines. We use these little pink jobs now.” He held up the one-inch-by-two-inch plastic card the machines took instead of coins. “As a renting ploy, we even stopped selling them. So tenants can use the facility for free.”

  “Why use anything? Why not just make the washers and driers work with the punch of a button?” She picked up the fabric softener and detergent bottles.

  “Because anyone could walk in off the street and use them if we did that, and before you know it the machines would need replacing.”

  She nodded. “Good point. Lead the way. I want to get a couple of loads going and then go to lunch. I’m starving!”

  The laundry room was empty, so while Jamie made use of the washers, Devon went and picked up sandwiches at the corner deli.

  A sack in his teeth and a drink in each hand, he was trying to figure out how to open the door or get Jamie’s attention when her laughter floated through the fragrant air coming through the vents in the door.

  Giving up, he set the drinks down and turned the knob.

  Just as he’d suspected, she was not alone. Chris and Drew flanked her like two waxed pit bulls, their laser-whitened smiles dazzling in their tanned faces.

  The good news was that everyone remained fully clothed. The bad news was the fact that the men were there at all. Since when did they do their own laundry?

  Reaching back out for the drinks, he stepped into the open door. “Hey, look who’s here.” He glanced meaningfully around at the empty washers. “Where’s your laundry?”

  Chris’s smile widened, if that was possible. “No laundry. We saw Jamie come in here and thought we’d mosey over and introduce ourselves. Keep her company while she does her laundry.”

  Devon just stared. He knew exactly what those two had on their minds and it wasn’t getting to know Jamie, unless you counted in the biblical sense.

  The men pushed away from the washers.

  “We were on our way to the gym,” Drew said, edging toward the door. “It was nice meeting you, Jamie. See you around.”

  “Yeah. See you around,” Chris echoed, and they left.

  “Is there a problem with me talking to them?” Jamie asked when he handed her a sandwich and h
er drink. “Is there something I should know?”

  Was there? Slowly he shook his head, took a bite of his roast-beef sandwich and swallowed before answering. “No, they’re okay. I was just worried they might scare you. They can be kind of intimidating, especially together.”

  She swallowed a bite of sandwich and grinned. “You’re telling me. The testosterone level was getting a bit high in here.”

  They chuckled and continued eating their lunch in companionable silence.

  Jamie shifted on the vibrating washer and realized it was a poor choice of a place to sit. The vibrations were doing absolutely sinful things to her genitalia. It didn’t help to have Devon sitting there, oblivious to her state, reading a sports magazine. Would he help her relieve her need if she asked him? Would she dare ask?

  Devon hid behind an old magazine and tried to regulate his breathing. From his vantage point, he could see clear up Jamie’s dress to her upper thigh. It didn’t take much of an imagination to know what lay beyond.

  And Devon had a great imagination.

  8

  J amie crunched an ice cube and watched Devon. So immersed in his magazine, he hadn’t so much as looked her way in a good twenty minutes.

  She dug another piece of ice from her cup and glanced his way. Did she dare? What if he saw what she did?

  The thought of Devon watching her pleasure herself fueled her excitement. Instead of putting the ice in her mouth, she shifted on the vibrating washer and slid the cool wetness up her leg until she reached the crotch of her panties.

  Another quick glance confirmed he was oblivious. She closed her eyes and pulled aside her panty leg, slipping the ice along her aching folds. Up, down, around the spot that yearned for more. The ice quickly melted against her heat. She dug in the cup for another piece and quickly returned to stroke her heated genitals until her lips and petals were numb to the touch.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Devon clutched the magazine in a death grip. Sweat trickled down his forehead, stinging his eyes. A drip rolled down his nose, hanging from the tip like a trapeze artist before plopping with a splat onto the slick page. He watched the gray spot enlarge and wondered how much longer he could pretend to be so engrossed in the magazine he did not notice Jamie doing unspeakably erotic things with the leftover ice.

  When she released a shuddering sigh, he almost screamed from pent-up tension.

  Averting his eyes, he threw the magazine down on the blue plastic chair and jumped up.

  “I, um, I’ll go get a laundry basket so you can carry everything back to your apartment in one trip.” He tripped on the leg of the chair, hitting the doorjamb with a painful thud, but straightened immediately and staggered out the door, rubbing his forehead as he made his way back home.

  His toe bumped something warm when he stepped into his apartment. Had he not grabbed the snack bar counter, he’d have done a face-plant onto the tile.

  Petunia blinked sleepy eyes at him.

  “Damnit, dog! Why do you have to sleep right in front of my door?” Now that he thought about it, what was she doing in his apartment in the first place?

  At that moment, Francyne turned her head from the couch. “You’re out of beer.”

  “No, there were three this morning.” He leafed through the mail on the counter.

  “That’s what I said. You’re out of beer.” She lifted the longneck in her hand. “This here is the last one.” She tipped the bottle up and drained it and then belched. “Now you’re officially out.”

  He grinned and tossed all but an official-looking envelope into the trash. “Why don’t you pick up some when you walk Petunia?”

  “I don’t go to liquor stores.” She lowered her voice. “Perverts hang out there, you know.” Leaning back, she resumed her TV viewing. “Besides, I’m watching my soaps.”

  “What’s wrong with your TV?”

  “Someone forgot to pay my cable bill.”

  “That would be you.”

  “No need for name calling.” She flicked off the remote and stood. “It’s a good thing I came over. We had three calls about the sexual-aids tester position while you were gone. I told them the position had been filled. Also called the paper and told them to stop running my ad.” She looked at him over the rim of her glasses. “You should be thanking me. And you didn’t lock your door again. Anyone could have walked right in.”

  He raised his eyebrow and made a show of looking at her. “Looks like anyone did.”

  “Hush up. It’s a good thing I was here. You had a visitor.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who?”

  “Don’t know his name, but he was a big fella.” She raised on tiptoe to hold her hand in demonstration. “And he seemed awfully interested in Jamie.”

  Pausing in his reach for a bottle of water, his stomach clenched. Was this the guy she was watching for? “That so? What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing. He had shifty eyes. Never trust a person with shifty eyes.”

  “Francyne—”

  “I’m getting to it. Anyway, he didn’t come right out and ask if Jamie lived here. Instead, he kept looking around, like he was casing the place. Then he asked if there were a lot of pretty girls who lived here.”

  “What did you say?”

  “What do you think I said? I asked him what he’d call me.”

  “And?”

  “You probably don’t want to know what he said. Anyway, then he asked if any pretty girls had moved in here lately. I said no, that our tenants were mostly men.” She paused and pushed her glasses up on her bony nose. “Come to think of it, he didn’t seem too happy with that answer. Then he says, in a real mean, sort of threatening tone, ‘You mean to tell me no pretty, short woman with dark hair and light green eyes has been here,’ and I said that’s exactly what I’m saying and if you have a problem with that I suggest you take it up with the manager when he gets back from teaching his karate class.”

  “Karate? I don’t even know karate, much less teach it.” Damn, he hoped Francyne hadn’t pissed off some Neanderthal who could come back to rip his arm off and beat him with it.

  “Oh, relax,” she said, waving her hand. “I also told him you had a black belt and were in special services.”

  “What!” The woman was going to get him killed.

  “Hey, it worked, sunshine, don’t worry. He left, and I doubt he’ll be back. I think I scared him pretty good.”

  “I hope so.” He tried not to shudder at the thought of some goon returning to pound on him. “But if he was looking for a short woman with dark hair and green eyes, what made you think he was looking for Jamie? She’s blonde and blue-eyed.”

  Francyne shrugged and nudged Petunia up. “I don’t know. Just a feeling I had, I guess.” She snapped the leash on the dog. “Killer had to be restrained while he was here, and Petunia didn’t like him either. That’s what tipped me off. My daddy always said not to trust anyone an animal doesn’t like.” She opened the door and paused. “Where is Jamie? I thought you told me you’d be gone until tonight.”

  She’s masturbating on the washer in the laundry room. Of course he couldn’t tell Francyne that. “She’s still doing laundry. I came back to pick up a laundry basket for her. We forgot to buy one this afternoon.”

  “Well, you’d better get back to her. Them machines always make me horny.” Francyne chuckled and left.

  “Way too much information!” he yelled as the door shut.

  He hoped she hadn’t ruined doing laundry for him.

  Jamie fanned her sweating face and chest with the magazine Devon had been reading and eyed the washer. Who knew it could be such a seductive appliance? Sitting on it during the spin cycle gave a whole new meaning to being wrung out. She easily came three times after Devon’s hasty exit.

  The laundry room may be her new favorite place.

  Devon stepped through the door, carrying a big blue plastic laundry basket.

  “Is everything done?” He placed the basket on the bright yellow foldi
ng counter that ran the length of the laundry room.

  She shook her head. “No, the driers still have about half an hour.” She patted the chair next to her. “May as well have a seat. Or did you have other things to do? If you do,” she hurried on, “that’s fine. I can fold everything and carry it back to my place and make my bed by myself.”

  “Are you kidding?” He slumped down in the chair next to her and crossed a tan ankle over his knee. “And miss all the excitement?” He grinned. “Besides, after spending most of the day helping you pick everything out, I’m kind of looking forward to seeing how it will look.”

  He shifted, the action causing the leg of his khaki cargo shorts to hike up. Dang. Devon had sexy legs.

  Her gaze traveled from his flip-flop-clad tanned feet up legs that were only lightly furred with soft-looking, dark hair. The tour stopped midthigh, spoiled by the leg of his shorts. Darn.

  “Your shorts got a little dirty today. I don’t mind sharing my supplies, if you want to throw them in for a quick wash and dry.” At his widened gaze, she hurried on. “It’s not like you’d be naked or anything. I mean, face it, most bathing suits reveal more than, um, men’s underwear.” Boxers or briefs? It had been difficult to tell in the dark. She’d been wondering since the first time she saw him. Another one of her weird little mind games. In reality, she’d only found out, up close and personal, with about three or four guys in her entire life. Still, it was always fun to try to guess.

  “That’s okay.” He looked at her like he was worried she might attack him or something and shifted away a little. “I probably have at least ten pair of shorts just like these. All clean, so it’s no problem.”

  “Is it your manager’s uniform or something?”

  He laughed, and she felt the warmth speed through her body.

  “Francyne would say it is. She’s always accusing me of dressing like the Crocodile Hunter.” He glanced down at his shorts. “I always enjoyed watching him. Still can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “I know,” she said softly.