Diana snorted now, remembering all the rumors she’d heard about Ian in high school. Knowing him, every word was true: the girls, the pranks, the traffic citations, the mouthing off to teachers, the partying.
But she couldn’t help feeling warm, remembering what had happened yesterday. She’d run into Ian in the grocery store, and right there in the dairy aisle, he’d looked her over and smirked at her. Turning beet-red, she whirled and marched off to the produce section, where she’d pretended to be choosing just the right bag of cherries until she could be sure he’d left the store.
He’d been laughing at her, no question. Leering at her checkered dress, her bobbed haircut, and her glasses while the giant bags of chips in his shopping cart rustled mockingly at her. So why were her breasts tingling, her hard nipples telling her they could still feel his eyes?
She didn’t even want to think about what she’d done in bed late that night as she pictured Ian unbuttoning her dress in front of the milk and eggs. Of all the people.
But she had to admit: if she was sprawled here on her bed now, listening miserably to the good time next door and remembering all the parties she’d skipped because she feared the drinking and noise and what might happen with the wrong guy; the times she’d left, uncomfortable, when her literary magazine friends lit up a joint at someone’s house; the hard fact that she was eighteen and had never, ever kissed anyone — she had to admit that she was also incredibly, undeniably, inescapably horny.
And this wasn’t anything new. She wondered what the guys at school would say if they knew the shy girl who wore her retro dresses buttoned to the collar, wouldn’t dream of getting less than an A, and kept her arms crossed over her breasts had fantasized about fucking most of them. In groups, separately, or in front of an audience.
She’d spent her eighteenth birthday money on a high-quality dildo that arrived in a plain brown package, and God, that thing was good. It only made her long for the real deal even more.
The doorbell startled her. Quickly, she grabbed a robe, pulled it on over her black bra and panties, and ran downstairs, belting the robe tightly before she opened the door.
One of the twins leaned against the doorframe, wearing a pair of blue swim trunks and a big smile. Diana blinked, her eyes darting away, then back to his long bronzed body. His smile was so welcoming that she began to relax. This was Brendan. The cleft in his chin — and the friendly smile — didn’t leave any doubt.
“You’re all alone this weekend,” he said. She caught a whiff of beer on his breath, but he didn’t seem drunk — just relaxed.
“You’re not.” She couldn’t help sounding snippy. She had a life too. Brendan didn’t have to assume that she had no friends — even if she was avoiding them right now to study.
“You shouldn’t be, either. Come on over.”
“No,” she said quickly.
“No?” He raised his eyebrows.
“I’m studying for finals. Not all of us are done with school for the summer.” God, why oh why did she have to get bitchy whenever she managed to talk to an attractive guy?
But Brendan just smiled more broadly. “All the more reason to come over. You need a break. Mom said you’re going to Yale. We should celebrate.”
Her heart was pounding, just like it had when he and Ian had taken her to school almost four years ago. No. She couldn’t handle the party next door. Thirty people she didn’t know, college-aged, drinking and yelling and laughing. Her throat went dry just thinking about it. And here was Brendan, looking at her expectantly.
“Why are you inviting me over when we haven’t talked in years?” she managed, doing her best not to stare at the floor — though she really, really wanted to. Brendan may have been hot in high school, but he was gorgeous now. His face was more chiseled, his body more filled out. His eyelashes were thick and dark, and a soft line of hair divided his hard abs and disappeared into his swim trunks. She forced her eyes to stay on his face.
He looked up at the doorframe, then back at her. “Can I come in?”
“Oh. Uh, sure. Sure.” Quickly, she stepped back as he entered and closed the door behind him. His arm brushed hers, and her stomach lurched. God, she was wearing a bathrobe, and she’d forgotten that until this second.
“I saw you watching,” he said softly.
Blood rushed to her face. So the twin on the patio had been Brendan.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t be sorry. I figured you were up in your room studying and wanted to have some fun. So go get your swimsuit.”
Diana blinked at his authoritative tone. He was probably used to telling people what to do — telling girls what to do — and having them listen. The easy confidence in his stance made that much clear. And what’s more, it was making her stomach lurch again. Her whole body prickled.
“I’ll be right back,” she heard herself saying.
As soon as she made it up the stairs, she shook her head in shock. Had she lost her mind? No way was she going over there, and no way in hell was she parading around in front of Brendan — or his friends, or definitely Ian — in a swimsuit. The last time she gone swimming, it had been with her family and she’d worn a giant t-shirt the whole time she’d been out of the pool.
But just out of curiosity, she pulled her swimsuit out of her dresser and tried it on to see if it still fit. It was a retro two-piece, yellow with red trim. The waistband was high, but the top showed plenty of cleavage. The bottoms laced up on both sides, ending in cute little red bows, and the top laced up the middle. The kind of suit she pranced around in for her fantasies, but didn’t have the nerve to show off in real life.
Brushing her bangs to the side, she took off her glasses and turned around in front of her full length mirror, studying the body she’d always considered a liability instead of an asset.
Her curves were almost cartoonish, she thought, like a pinup girl’s and then some, with a narrow waist flaring out to her round hips and ass, and oversized breasts that threatened to spill out of the top of the swimsuit. Without glasses, her big blue eyes looked like a doll’s, she thought disgustedly. Put them together with her pert little nose, her rosebud mouth, and her heart-shaped face, and it was basically a given that she needed to wear glasses to get taken seriously. Her straight dark hair, growing out from the bob, tickled her shoulders.
Even if she had the guts to go next door and lounge on a pool chair like she belonged there, she’d stick out like a sore thumb among the tanned, athletic partiers frolicking across the grass. Her skin was pale, and she stayed as far away from sports as possible.
But for just a second, staring at the mirror, Diana let herself see a pretty girl. A…sexy girl. A hot girl, built for action and ready for a good time. The girl starring in her fantasies, who wasn’t afraid of boys and didn’t worry what might happen if she let go.
A knock on her door made her jump.
“Are you okay?” Brendan’s voice came through the door.
“Fine,” she croaked.
“Can I come in?”
“Uh—“ She blinked as the door opened. Brendan’s broad grin turned her prickling skin into liquid heat. Too startled to look away, she stared into his hazel eyes.
“You look great. Let’s go.”
“I— I can’t.” She shook her head.
“What do you mean?” He crossed to her and put a hand on her bare shoulder. Oh God, why did he have to do that? His palm was so warm, his hand big and masculine. She could smell his male scent, cologne or deodorant or something else, salty and fresh. He didn’t even seem to notice that he was touching her, but she could barely breathe. “You’re all ready. You don’t have anything else important to do.” He cocked his head teasingly toward the pile of books and papers on her desk next to her laptop. “Come have fun.”
“You don’t understand.” And she hated the way her voice dropped to a whisper. Dammit, when would she get past this insane shyness? When would she just be able to express herself like a normal
person, as easy and comfortable as Brendan was right now? “I don’t do parties. I don’t hang out with people I don’t know.”
Brendan looked surprised, but he didn’t take his hand off her shoulder. “You need to get past that. You’re going to college soon. Everyone you meet will be a person you don’t know, and the parties—“
“I’m scared.”
Jesus, had she really just admitted that? And was Brendan moving closer and putting his arm around her? He couldn’t be. Yes, he was. He was standing right next to her, right up close, with his arm around her shoulders. And all she could think was that she was in her swimsuit, with her skin more exposed than covered, and he was almost naked too, and tall and muscular and very male, and she was hot and cold—
“What are you scared of?” he murmured.
“People,” she muttered. “Guys especially.”
“Tell me,” he said softly. “Why guys?”
Oh. My. God. He was rubbing her back, gently, and she felt like her body was on fire. Her crotch, especially. Her pussy was going to explode.
“I— had some bad experiences awhile back. I’ve never told anyone. Nothing really bad,” she said quickly, “but enough to…scare me. I don’t trust guys. And I don’t know what to do with them.” She looked up from the floor. Brendan’s head was cocked toward her, listening. His hand still stroked her back. “I’ve never...I’ve never kissed anyone. I’ve never even let a guy touch me the way you are, since—“ she broke off.
She’d said way too much. Any minute now, Brendan would flee her house, repelled by her complete uncoolness. He definitely wouldn’t be leaning toward her the way he was right now, turning his head and lifting her chin with his fingers as he—
His lips met hers in a light kiss. She stared at him, shocked, as he pulled back. Smiling hazel eyes met hers.
“Now you have,” he said softly. “Not so bad, right?”
It was a second before she found her voice. “That was a peck,” she said hoarsely. “That wasn’t a real kiss.”
Brendan’s eyebrows shot up. Before she could backtrack, he cupped her neck, twining his fingers in her hair, and pulled her close.
No. Yes. He was kissing her, his lips soft and alive, the beer on his breath sexier than she could have expected, and — oh God, that really was his tongue snaking into her mouth, hot and wet, touching her tongue, even licking it.
Her nipples were achingly hard, her whole body quivering. Her hands were pressed against Brendan’s chest — yes, his bare chest, feeling thick hair and hot skin. Her bikini bottoms were completely soaked with excitement.
His other hand still toyed with her back, sending shivers down her spine and straight to her pussy. And her mouth was opening eagerly to his as he sucked on her lower lip. All too soon, he let go.
“Come over,” he said softly. “We’ll take care of you.”
We? Meaning who, exactly? Him and Ian? He had to be crazy. Ian certainly wouldn’t take care of her. And even though Brendan had his arms around her right now, caressing the back of her head in a way that made her want to scream from the fever pitch of excitement building inside, this couldn’t possibly mean anything to him that came close to what it meant for her.
He’d kissed a lot of girls, she was sure of it. Screwed a lot of girls, most likely. And if she went next door, he’d probably introduce her to everyone, dutifully, then forget about her.
“Not this time.” Her voice was soft. “I really can’t. But thanks.”
“Then come over after everyone’s left. When it’s just me and Ian. You can handle that, right?” He smiled encouragingly, as if he didn’t even notice that her thighs were shaking as he massaged her back.
Maybe you, she wanted to say, but not Ian. He’s an asshole who won’t give me the time of day. What came out, weakly, was, “I don’t think Ian likes me very much.”
“Sure he does. Come over around eight. We’ll go swimming.”
Brendan gave her a final pat and unwound his arms from her back. She stood rooted to the spot as he left the room. A minute later, the sound of the front door opening and closing sent a sigh of relief through her.
This hadn’t meant anything to him, she told herself, as she tugged down her damp bikini bottoms. It felt all too good to peel off her top and let her breasts surge free. Her nipples were deep red, puckered with excitement, just begging to be pinched and caressed.
She shook her head quickly. Brendan had been tipsy and horny, and probably would have gone for anything woman-shaped. She just happened to be available. Or he’d felt sorry for her and had given her a pity kiss. Or…or…
Two seconds later she lay flat on her back in bed, moaning, rubbing her swollen clit and teasing her birthday dildo in and out of the juicy entrance to her pussy.
“Brendan,” she moaned. “Oh god, fuck me, Brendan.”
She might stutter with boys in person, but in her fantasies she was wanton, confident, all woman and all about sex. As her aroused pussy clasped the thick dildo, she imagined Brendan on top of her, smiling like they shared a special secret, working his cock carefully into her most private place.
And — oh God, Ian was there too, watching exactly the way he’d looked her over in the grocery store, his eyes exploring every detail of her writhing naked curves beneath his brother’s muscular body as he smirked at her. And stroked his hard cock. And—
She groaned out loud as her tingling pussy clamped down on the rigid spear buried in her depths, her frantic circles on her clit peaking in a long spasm that left her gasping as she came again and again.
*
At eight-thirty that evening, the last guest left the house next door, staggering down the front walk and shouting some joke over his shoulder. Diana had been pacing her own empty house for the past half-hour, listening to soothing music that was doing nothing to calm her down, and arguing with herself about whether to take Brendan’s invitation. He’d just asked her over because he felt sorry for her. He’d probably forgotten all about it. And—
Fuck it. She twisted the radio dial to the rock station, cranked up the volume, and swung open the door to her parents’ liquor cabinet for a shot of liquid courage. Rum? Gin? Frangelico? She had no idea which one to choose. She’d never tried more than a sip of wine. But time was ticking, so she did her best to toss back a shot of vodka, spent most of the next minute bent over coughing, then went upstairs to put on her swimsuit, a sundress over it, and just enough makeup to look like she’d tried a little but not a lot.
As Diana walked up the path to the house next door, tingling warmth spread through her arms and legs. She was starting to feel more relaxed. The door opened, and she caught the cleft in Brendan’s chin, relieved that the right twin had answered the door. Then she sucked in her breath as he bent to kiss her cheek. He was still just wearing his swim trunks, and she realized too late that she was staring at his rippling muscles.
“You came.” He smiled at her, walking her into the kitchen with a hand on her back. Her heartbeat accelerated. Oh yes, she had, just a few hours ago. Suddenly she wondered if Brendan could smell her pussy on her fingers, and instead of being terrified, her stomach curled with arousal. A little part of her hoped he could. He was standing much closer than he needed to. “I was about to go over there and get you myself. Beer?”
Party leftovers littered the long kitchen. Diana blinked at the bags of chips spilling out, the bottles everywhere, the open jars of salsa, the melting ice. “I— sure. I’ve never tried it.”
He opened a bottle from the cooler, handed it to her with a smile, and guided her through the house to the backyard.
There was no way he could know what his hand at the small of her back was doing to her. She tried to breathe normally as his thumb stroked her through her light dress, right above the waistband of her swimsuit bottoms.
At least that stupid shot of vodka was helping. Her legs weren’t shaking now, even though her crotch was already damp again.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he
said softly. Was that a joke? She couldn’t be farther from comfortable right now. “Feel free to swim. I’m going to do some cleanup, but I’ll be down soon.”
What? Diana stared at his back as he walked away, outlined against the setting sun. This was what she’d been afraid of. Maybe she hadn’t passed the fun test. Should she have kissed Brendan when he met her at the door? She had no idea what the hell to do. At least he’d stranded her in an empty backyard, with only the chirping crickets and the darkening sky for company, instead of the middle of a big party.
Sighing, she sipped the bitter bubbly drink in her hand, just to have something to do. But as the bottle got lighter in her hand, she began to relax again, leaning back in the chaise longue.
Years had passed since she’d set foot in this backyard, but she still knew it so well. There was the long pool in the middle where she’d tried to hold her own in water fights with the twins, the lights strung up over the patio that had held birthday parties, the darkness at the back of the yard where clumps of trees made tall shapes against the deepening night sky, and, buried in those trees, the treehouse the twins’ dad had built for them ten years ago. She remembered the “no girls allowed” sign Ian had posted on the treehouse, and the way Brendan had tried to convince him to take it down.
It felt good to be back. Safe, really. Comforting. Relaxing. It was probably better that Brendan had left her alone. And the pool looked so inviting.
She stood up, set the empty beer bottle on the patio table, laid her glasses down next to it, and pulled her dress over her head.
More warmth spread through her body, curling out from her stomach in the most relaxing way. Kicking off her flip flops, she strolled to the edge of the pool and jumped in, not with a sleek dive, but a kid’s belly flop.
Ooohh — that stung. In a good way. The pool was pleasantly warm, still holding the heat from the day, and she swam a slow lap, enjoying the way the water caressed her body and flowed over her curves, washing away the stress of finals and all of senior year.
The Boys Next Door: An MFM Menage Romance Page 2