by Roni Loren
“Being here in Texas isn’t a permanent situation for me. I’m supposed to go back to Chicago in a few months,” she said, a little frown line nestling between her brows. “If I can get there. You saw what I’m dealing with this morning. So, really, if we do this, you should know what you’re getting into as well. Things are complicated for me right now.”
The fact that she was planning to go back to Chicago wasn’t welcome news, but he wasn’t ready to walk away from her for that. And he was already well aware that she was dealing with an anxiety disorder. “I’m not afraid of complicated.”
She smiled. “I am. What I need most right now is fun. Like the real, lose-yourself-in-it kind. I haven’t had that in so long. And tonight, well, it’s been nice to get a glimpse of it again. I want to have that kind of fun with you.”
His heart broke a little at the earnestness in her words, that keen need for escape. He wanted to ask what had happened to her, because clearly the life she led now wasn’t how things had always been. But he could tell she wasn’t ready to open up about personal stuff. So if she wanted fun, a break from everyday life, he could give her that. “We can make this as casual as you’re comfortable with.”
“Yeah?” she said, interest in her voice.
“Sure. Just list my number in your cell phone under For a Good Time Call.”
She laughed. “I’d dial that number right now.”
“So is that a yes?” he asked. “To this, to us?”
“I’ve wanted you for a long time, Colby,” she said, sliding her hands from his chest to his shoulders, the slightest tremor in her fingers. “I don’t know if I can play this power game. But I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines too scared to try.”
He couldn’t hide his smile. He spread his fingers over her flared hips, loving the soft warmth of her. “You’re going to be amazing at it. I have no doubt.”
She pressed a whisper-soft kiss to his mouth. “I might freak out.”
He ran his hands along her sides, enjoying the freedom to finally touch her. “And I’ll be there for you if you do to take care of you and talk you down. Plus, you’ll have a safe word to pull the plug anytime you need to. And I will always honor the word stop no matter what.”
She lifted her head, and the last flicker of worry in her eyes seemed to fade as her gaze warmed. She touched his face, her fingertips scoring over his beard like she was learning the feel of it. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this. But I used to be the girl who wouldn’t have been afraid to have a fling with my unfairly hot neighbor. I want to find that girl again.”
“Unfairly hot, huh?” he asked, teasing.
“Don’t get cocky, country boy.” She adjusted herself on his lap, and her heat pressed against him. All desire to joke fell away.
“Tell me what you want,” Colby said, his voice gruff and his arousal firing anew. “I want to hear you ask for it.”
She dragged her body across his hardening erection. “Corrupt my boring, vanilla world, Colby Wilkes.”
He groaned at the words and the feel of her against him. “You’re a liar, gorgeous.”
She lifted her eyebrows.
“There isn’t anything vanilla about you.” He leaned forward and pressed an openmouthed kiss to the curve of her neck.
She tilted her head back, giving him access. “If that’s a black joke, I’m going to kick your ass.”
He chuckled against her skin. “Ooh, you get feisty when you’re turned on. I like it.” He moved his palms down from her hips to cup her backside. “So how daring are you feeling tonight, neighbor?”
He could tell she was losing the thread of conversation, that his touches and kisses were distracting her because it took her a second to answer. “What do you mean?”
“No time like the present to start your corruption.”
Her gaze drifted toward the hallway where Keats had gone, her expression transparent—unsure but tempted by the unknown.
“I told you I wouldn’t touch you earlier, and I didn’t. But now I’m going to give you a choice. We can stop this, and you can go home and watch me from your window.” He nestled his erection against her. “And I’ll gladly give you a show—all while not allowing you to come until next time you see me. Or you can stay right where you are.”
Her voice was breathless when she spoke again. “What happens if I stay?”
“I fuck you right here where Keats will absolutely hear everything from the kitchen.” He nuzzled his teeth against her collarbone and bit gently.
She gasped softly.
“Tell me to stop, Georgia. And I’ll let you go.”
—
The word was a perfectly easy one to say. It was right there on her lips. Stop. She wouldn’t even have to take in a breath to say it. But with him kissing her neck like that and the feel of his erection rubbing exactly where she needed it, she couldn’t find it in herself to say it. Keats will hear. That was a guarantee. She could hear him fiddling around in the kitchen, probably eating his dinner.
The thought only made the ache between her thighs burn hotter. Colby sucked her earlobe between his lips and teased it. “God.”
“That doesn’t sound like stop,” Colby mused.
“We could go in your room.”
“Not an option I gave you,” he said, that tone coming into his voice. The one he’d used in the fantasy. The one she’d imagined when she couldn’t hear what was being said on his side of the window. “Take off your jeans.”
“Colby . . .”
“Is that stop?”
“No,” she whispered.
“I know you’re still wet for me,” he said against her ear. He cupped her through her jeans. “I can feel the heat of you. And I should be patient. I promised myself I wouldn’t rush anything. But I’m also not a liar. I want you. Right now. Here. I want to fuck you hard and fast, and I don’t care who hears it.”
Jesus. If she ever had any doubt about if she could appreciate dirty talk, she had her answer. Phillip had always gone for the sweet and romantic words, the flattering ones. Once upon a time, she’d thought that was what she should want. A gentleman who told her loving things. But right now, filth was working like wildfire. Her whole body burned with the need to be touched, her nipples beading against her bra and her panties clinging to her.
Her body was taking over her brain, saying, Fuck it all. The nerves. The worry. The concern about who could and couldn’t hear them. None of it mattered right now. She scooted off him, stood, and tugged off her jeans.
He watched her every move, his gaze hooded, hungry. When she’d shucked the jeans, he touched the edge of her black panties. She’d worn one of the few sexy pairs she still owned. Even if she hadn’t planned on it, her subconscious must have been hoping for this when she’d gotten dressed to come over here. “Keep these on.”
“Okay.”
He reached behind him, opened the end table drawer, and pulled out a foil wrapper. She wondered if he had condoms stored in every drawer around the house. With the kinds of parties she’d seen over here, probably. He shifted on the couch and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down along with his underwear just enough. His cock sprang free—hard and ruddy and already glistening at the tip.
Her belly clenched low and tight. She’d seen him naked from afar, but in person, he was even more impressive. The man was big all over. She wanted to wrap her hand around that proud erection, lick it . . . freaking worship it. The urge took her aback. Never before had she had such a primal desire to get to her knees for the sole purpose of making a man feel good.
Colby’s gaze flared with dark need. “I like the way you’re looking at me, gorgeous. One day soon, I’ll let you do exactly what your eyes are promising. But right now, I need to be inside you. Straddle me.”
She shivered at the command and climbed on top. She had no idea why she still had he
r panties on, but after he rolled on the condom, she wasn’t left wondering for long.
He tugged the crotch of her underwear aside and ran his fingers along her slick folds. “If a certain someone walks in, you’ll be able to cover up quickly if you want.”
If she wanted . . . like it was a decision. But the more she pictured the possibility, the more she realized maybe it was her choice. Maybe he truly didn’t care if they screwed out in the open. The guy had let her watch him for months. “You’re a filthy, filthy man.”
He gave her a solemn nod and teased her clit with a maddening stroke. “I am. Still want me?”
“Hell, yes.”
He held her panties aside, positioned himself at her entrance, and started to ease inside. Oh, Jesus. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she hummed as the sweet sting of the breach skipped along her nerve endings. It had been so long since she’d been with anyone, and though she had toys at home, none were Colby’s size. Her body seemed to fight and beg all at once.
“Easy, now,” Colby said in that low, cajoling voice, his fingers tucked between them, working her clit. “There’s no rush. Relax and take me in slowly. You feel so good, baby, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
She pressed her forehead to his and concentrated on softening the tension in her body, on letting his beautiful, hard heat inside her. She was slick for him, so her nerves were the only thing fighting her. She was getting too in her head.
He gripped her hip, kneading the curve. “You know how fucking sexy you look right now. These panties shoved to the side like you were so in a hurry to get fucked, you couldn’t even bother to take them off. And you’re so wet against me. Look down and see us.”
She glanced down along the scant space between their bodies, and he moved his hand away so she could see their connection—that perfect carnal joining. The tightness in her muscles melted, and she took him the rest of the way ever so slowly, finally seating him deep.
He groaned and tipped his head back. “Fuck, yes.”
She was making her own sounds, lost in the feeling of being filled and stretched. By Colby. She was with Colby. Part of her wondered if she’d really fallen into some erotic dream and she’d wake up in her house in a few minutes—cold and alone.
Colby found her hot button again, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. The noise in the kitchen had stopped. Keats either had bailed or was listening. She should probably be as discreet as possible. But when Colby began to pump into her, she couldn’t stay quiet.
“That’s it,” Colby said. “Ride me. Take what you’ve been wanting when you watched. Did you think about what my cock would feel like inside you?”
“Yes,” she said on a pant.
“Good. Because I sure as hell thought about how you would feel,” he said, his deep voice going gravelly. “How you would taste. What you would sound like when you beg. How this perfect ass is going to feel under my hand when I take you over my knee.”
She moaned, already close again.
“I can’t wait to see you surrender,” he said, a little breathless because now there was no more slow and easy. The couch springs protested beneath them. He was fucking her hard and deep and fast, gripping her hip and guiding her pace, each thrust punctuating his words. All the pent-up months of watching and being watched careening together in one desperate act between them.
“Yes. God.” She shuddered, barely holding back her orgasm, as he circled her clit with a rough fingertip.
He smiled against her sweaty neck. “No need to call me God. Sir or Colby will do.”
She would’ve snorted had she not been so far gone. But there was nothing that was going to derail her now. The slap of her skin against his filled her ears, and their mingled scents—sex and sweat and soap—were invading her senses like a drug. “Colby . . .”
“Come for me, gorgeous. Let it go and let me feel you come around my cock.”
That was all it took. Sexy, beastly man plus dirty words equaled an impossible mix to resist. Her hands went to his head, gripping his hair in her fists, and she came with a sharp, shaking cry. He followed right with her, apparently a master of control in all aspects, and held her tight as he pumped deep through his release.
The gruff, grunting noises he made were quite possibly the sexiest damn things she’d ever heard in her life. Goddamn.
This was so much better on this side of the glass.
And it was probably going to be a mistake. She already knew that. He and his proclivities were probably going to be more than she could handle once they really slipped into the dominant and submissive roles. But there was no way she was turning back now.
She’d seen his version of wonderland and now she wanted a season pass.
TWELVE
Keats was chewing his thumbnail to a ragged edge at the kitchen table. His enchiladas sat cold and uneaten in front of him.
They’d fucked in the goddamned living room, knowing he could hear. Were they trying to kill him? Or maybe they didn’t care that he’d basically been forced to listen. Maybe he was so insignificant that it didn’t even matter that he was right here. He should’ve been pissed. Instead, his body had only gotten hotter. When he’d heard Georgia’s breathy cries and Colby’s hot-as-fuck groans, he’d gotten so hard, he’d almost taken his dick in his hand right there in the kitchen. Fucking torture, that was what it was.
To distract himself from what he was hearing and his body’s unrelenting reaction to it, he’d grabbed his phone from his bag to check messages. He didn’t leave it on most of the time since it was one of those prepaid deals, and he didn’t want to waste minutes on bullshit. But when he’d powered it up, he had multiple messages from Aaron, the manager of the Texas Star, saying that if he didn’t bring money over by midnight, he was throwing Keats’s shit out and giving the room to someone else.
Keats didn’t have a lot, but what he did have was important to him. He couldn’t afford to have it tossed in the Dumpster. Plus, he’d left his beat-up but well-loved motorcycle in one of the parking spots, and he had no doubt Aaron would have that towed when he realized it belonged to Keats.
Goddammit. He needed to get over there—and out of here. He checked the time on the microwave clock. Things got quiet out in the living room for a while and then he heard a door shut. Colby strolled in, looking tousled and a little smug. The back of Keats’s neck burned hot, but he tried his best to look nonchalant.
“She’s gone?” Keats asked, his knee bouncing beneath the table.
Colby turned his back to him to open the oven and grab the casserole dish Keats had left on warm. “Yeah, I walked her back to her place.”
“She can still walk?” he asked, trying to play off how damn affected he was.
Colby’s smile was wry. “Can you?”
Keats frowned and adjusted his jeans, unsure how to handle this version of Colby. He was used to the stoic, always-in-control version. The teacher. Mr. Responsible. But besides his accidental spying last night, he’d never been privy to this private side of Colby—the sexual side. The man.
Getting a peek behind the curtain felt like a secret privilege. He’d wanted Colby to stop treating him like some innocent kid, and Colby had definitely listened. But the shift was damn disconcerting. Because though Keats’s brain didn’t know how to process all the new information, his body certainly had ideas on how to respond.
Keats cleared his throat. “That was a dick move, man.”
Colby sniffed. “Kind of like eavesdropping on me and a woman in my own house?”
“Dude, I said I was sorry. You could’ve just told me off or kicked my ass for walking in on you and Georgia. You didn’t need to torture me with ringside seats to the show.”
“You could’ve gone to your room. You wouldn’t have had to listen to a thing.”
Keats blinked. That option had never occurred to him. Hell, who was he
kidding? A herd of charging elephants wouldn’t have been able to drive him out of that kitchen.
Colby spooned a serving of enchiladas onto his plate and turned around with a knowing look. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t do it to torment you. I let you listen because it turned her on.”
That sent Keats’s thoughts careening in an entirely different direction—straight toward Georgia. He leaned forward on his elbows. “Seriously?”
Colby gave him a shrug that seemed to say, Hey, my girl is a kinky sex goddess. What can I do?
“Fuck. Me.” If Keats had a spark for Georgia before, it was now a full-fledged crush. “Well, if my torture did it for her, then I guess I don’t mind a little suffering on her behalf.”
Colby cocked his head, studying him for a second. “Quite self-sacrificing there, Keats.”
He shrugged and pushed his food around on his plate. “When it comes to a beautiful woman enjoying herself, there’s not much I wouldn’t be willing to do.”
Colby took a bite of enchiladas, watching him with analytical eyes. “That must make you popular.”
“I do all right,” he said, unable to hold Colby’s gaze. Sometimes it felt like the guy was looking right inside him, seeing all the crossed wires and short circuits. He went back to not eating his food. After a few quiet minutes of rearranging his plate, Keats pushed the enchiladas away. “I need you to drive me back home tonight.”
Colby set down his plate. “You just promised Georgia you’d be here tomorrow.”
Keats rubbed his palms on his thighs, guilt nipping at him. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint Georgia, but what was there to gain by hanging around here longer? Disappointment, that’s what. Colby and Georgia had lives that existed in another realm from his—and they were obviously starting a relationship. No matter how much Keats pretended, this wasn’t his place. Sure, Colby would let him stay for a few weeks, but it wasn’t like his life was magically going to change because he had a nicer roof over his head. Before long, Colby would grow tired of having a guest. He’d want to fuck his hot girlfriend on the couch without worrying about someone barging in and gawking.