Nevertheless, everything in me hurt for him.
Feeling the world dragging at my ankles, I tumbled out of bed and headed for the shower. I dressed, had breakfast, stuffed several granola bars into my purse for lunch and then did something I normally didn’t do in the mornings: I checked my email.
It had been weeks since I logged in. I had to rub my temples a few times to remember what my password was. But I managed to get on with only two error attempts.
Aside from five thousand junk mails and a couple of emails about my student loan payments having been received, there was nothing about potential employment. Of the hundreds of applications I’d submitted over the year after I got out of university, not one had returned my email. Thank God I hadn’t waited on them, or was in dire financial restraint. But if there was anything my mother had taught me, aside from never wear spandex, it was to always have a backup plan when it came to money. Mom was on her fourth husband, Albert something fancy pants, whose family was richer than the husband before him. He kept my mom happy by keeping her fabulously wealthy and by doing so, he would never see the other end of a divorce table.
Only, I wasn’t into marrying for money. My luck came in the form of a generous inheritance my father had set up for me to receive—as per the divorce settlement—once I turned twenty-one. That didn’t include the six figure child support payment he made to my mother monthly until my eighteenth birthday, which I never saw a penny of. But despite the existence of my pot of gold, I had refrained from touching any of it. All through university, I had worked every minute I wasn’t studying. I lived on nothing but granola bars and water for months and tucked every penny away for the three months I spent doing nothing. It had been grueling and painful, but I had done it. I didn’t touch my inheritance until I moved back and got my apartment and even then, I had barely made a dent in the numbers. I hadn’t touched it since.
While I could live comfortably on my father’s money, I had gone to school for a reason. I had spent hours studying and beating my brains in for more than to become some trust fund baby. Plus, in a lot of ways, that money always felt like a bribe. Here’s several thousand dollars, just leave me alone, which was basically what my father did after Mom left him. I hadn’t seen him since my sixth birthday. Just before the cake was cut. Just before my mother served him.
It was a warm and fuzzy memory.
My inbox was empty of anything important, save for an email from Lena asking how I was. That was a sure sign that it was the second Tuesday of the month. That was the only time I ever got word from my sister, which served us both just fine. My excuse was because I hated texting and emailing, but I preferred emailing over texting and phone conversations over both, and Lena hated anything that reminded her of Mom, which included me.
Our relationship had always been something between two acquaintances. While we shared a mother, we did not share a father. Hers was husband number one. Mine was husband number three. But that wasn’t the reason we both broke out in hives when were were forced to socialize.
Lena, despite her many attempts, was a lot like Mom. She was about image, about perfecting oneself to become socially acceptable. I was about staying hidden behind enormous clothes and even bigger glasses. Lena considered that unacceptable. Our monthly emails were just her way of appeasing her conscious.
I sent her a quick note back, telling her I was fine, everything was good, and that I found a job. All the basic stuff. I didn’t mention Q. She wouldn’t understand. Plus, I wasn’t sure how to bring that up in acceptable conversation. So I opted to leave it out.
I hit send and closed my laptop. Then I grabbed my purse, my keys, and walked to work.
Earl greeted me at the office door, his brown eyes shining with excitement.
“There you are,” I said, jogging up the steps. “I was beginning to think you abandoned me.”
“Shuffle board,” he said. “Took my lady friend for a weekend getaway.”
I feigned mocked outrage. “You have a lady friend? I thought I was the only one.”
I did a quick glance around to make sure Gabriel wasn’t nearby and listening. Last thing I needed was for him to think I had dirty intentions towards his grandfather … again.
Earl chuckled. “He’s not here yet,” he said. “But I was hoping to talk to you before he arrived.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not going to offer lunch and then escape again, are you?”
He had the decency to grimace. “I thought it would benefit the two of you to have a little one on one and clearly it worked, because here you are.”
I edged around him and stepped into the office. I took my purse off and dumped it into the bottom drawer of the desk and kicked it shut.
“The only thing you managed to do was get him a free bath in my iced tea.”
He winced again. “Went badly, huh?”
“Just a tad,” I answered with a sigh. “Your grandson has a very unique talent in pissing me off.”
Earl patted me lightly on the arm. “Go easy on him. He’s had a rough few years.”
I started to ask what that meant, but he went on talking.
“Anyway though, that isn’t why I’m here. What are you doing Sunday?”
I frowned. “Uh, I don’t know. Why?”
“I told Lydia, Tammy and Gabriel’s mom, that I would invite you over for Sunday dinner. It’s nothing fancy, just the family. She wants to thank you for helping Tam with her costume.”
I felt myself visibly pale at the thought of meeting the parental unit. I had bad luck with those. Mine hated me and the one time I met Tony’s they hadn’t liked me either. Apparently his mother hadn’t thought I was … pure enough for their precious son. If only they had known he’d been my first, whilst I had been his fifth. But it hadn’t ended well and, to date, had been the most awkward dinner of my life, which was saying something since I spent my childhood listening to my mom telling me how fat I was over meals.
“I don’t know, Earl…”
“Please?” He gave me big, innocent brown eyes that were impossible to resist. “I promised her I would and she’s already got her heart set on it.”
“Damn it, Earl!”
“I know, I know! I’m sorry. I should have asked you first. But what do you say?”
I sighed. What could I say?
“What time?” I grumbled.
“Be there for five.” He fished into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “There’s the address and Lydia’s number in case you get lost.”
I raised a brow. “Not if I can’t make it?”
He chuckled. “I know you won’t do that to me.” He squeezed my elbow. “Thank you again, darling.”
“I can only stay until six,” I told him. “I have to be home after that.”
Earl shook his head. “You’ll be in and out.”
“Okay then.” I picked up the office phone and dialed the voicemail. “But you owe me!”
He chuckled and started for the door. “I’ll see you there. Oh! Gabriel’s here.”
I turned away to punch in the access code to get into the messages. In the background, I could hear Earl talking and the scuff of boots as Gabriel climbed the stone steps. I jotted down the first message into the calendar; some woman who wanted her transmission looked at. I was in the process of getting her number down when I made the mistake of glancing up.
The phone hit the desk with a deafening crack that made Earl and Gabriel jump. I didn’t notice. I was too busy gawking at the mythological god that had stepped into the office.
“Holy…” I couldn’t even think of a proper sentence to finish that.
The beard was gone. Not just trimmed, or buzzed down to stubbles, it was gone, leaving behind smooth, taut skin and lips … oh, dear god, his lips were just … orgasmic. Full and lush and firm … I wanted to do dirty things to them. Then he’d gone and combed all that thick, silky hair back from his gorgeous face and I was weeping. Only the tears were running down my legs in streams
of hot arousal. Jesus, the man was delicious. And he was staring back at me with that ever present scowl of his.
“What?” he muttered.
“What … what happened?” I barely managed.
“I shaved,” he said like I should know this.
“Uh huh,”
I couldn’t stop staring and I was pretty certain my jaw was somewhere at my feet. I mean, I had known he was good looking, but damn the man cleaned up real nice.
“You’re making me uncomfortable,” he mumbled.
“Uh huh…” I mumbled stupidly.
Cheeks darkening to match his deepening frown, he stalked past Earl and disappeared upstairs.
Maybe it was the fact that Q had me all kinds of horny most of the night, and the fact that I hadn’t had a man in four years, but I actually wanted to jump Gabriel. I wanted to rip off his clothes and feast on all those beautiful muscles. I wanted him to slam me into the nearest wall, hike up my skirt, and fuck me like the existence of his cock depended on it. I didn’t think I had ever been so aroused. I sure as hell never thought it would be over Gabriel. But I wanted him like my body was on fire and he was a firehose.
“The door has a lock on the inside.”
I jolted at the intruding voice. I had forgotten all about Earl, but saw him now, grinning at me as he shut the office door behind him.
My face burned until I was sure my skin would melt off. I hurried over and yanked the door open, more to stave off the temptation than to prove I wasn’t going to follow through with my lusty urges.
It wasn’t until midday that I realized I didn’t like Gabriel shaved. In fact, I hated it. I missed his face bush and only because shaved Gabriel flustered me like a virgin on her first night of deflowering. Every time he walked into the room, I dropped whatever I was holding, walked into walls, or suddenly and inexplicably forgot how to speak. Words that I was usually so good with, came out in garbled mumblings that made no sense even to me. My face would heat up to temperatures I wasn’t sure were safe and I won’t even start on how tight my nipples would become, or how hard my clit would throb, or how I was ready to cry at how much I needed to come.
By six o’clock, I had toilet paper wedged between my fun box and my soaked panties to staunch the flow of juices from running down my legs.
“Hey.” The object of my frustrations—sexual and otherwise—stepped into the office, holding a greasy lump of circular metal with small rods jetting out of it. “Can you call the scrap yard real quick and ask if they have a wheel bearing for a Dodge Ram?” His boots scuffed against concrete as he shifted closer.
Grateful for something to do that didn’t require speaking, I punched in the number and waited for someone to pick up.
They had the piece and promised to have someone bring it down in the morning. I relayed the message to Gabriel before climbing out of my seat, careful not to look at, or touch him.
He was still standing there watching me when I jerked my purse out of the desk drawer and straightened. His gray eyes were contemplative and steady, the sort of look that made me nervous, especially since being in that room with him reminded me of the previous day and the sensation of his hands on my jaw. His touch had been so hot, so firm and unyielding, and the way he’d moved to claim my space had done incredible things to my insides. Every inch of me had silently willed him to end what he’d started, to kiss me, or better yet, follow through with his promise and put me over his knee. The mere thought had stolen every rational thought and left me lightheaded and breathless.
“What?” I asked, holding my purse to my midsection.
He shook his head slowly. “Just trying to figure you out.”
I frowned. “I’m not all that complex.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I dropped my gaze, the power of his attention too intense to maintain for long.
“I need to go,” I whispered. “It’s six.”
“What happens at six, Ali?” The quiet question was tainted with a dark undertone that made me painfully aware of just how small the office really was. The fact that the question was followed by a slow, forward step only intensified the situation. “Is there a boyfriend waiting for you?”
My gaze jumped back up to his. “No.”
Something in his eyes flickered, it was quick, but it made my mouth dry and my palms sweat. I hurriedly threw my purse strap over my shoulder and edged towards the door.
“I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I was thankful when he didn’t stop me. I practically threw myself down the stairs and bolted out of the shop at a near run.
At home, I tossed my purse and keys onto the table and kicked off my shoes. I padded quickly into the bedroom and hurriedly undressed. The cool air skimmed over the moist folds of my sex, sending a shiver through me that littered my skin with goose flesh and puckered my nipples. My hand went to the pins containing my hair and I yanked them out hastily. Some dropped to the floor and I left them. The rest were tossed onto the nightstand with one hand while the other shot to the drawer.
Mr. Happy was a birthday present to myself. He’d kept me warm and, well, happy for over a year now and the best part was that we got along amazingly well. He never left his socks on the floor, or whined about my cooking, or lack thereof, and he always made sure I came first.
What a gentleman.
The best part was that there was no vibrator attached. Real men, in the real world, didn’t vibrate. The whole sensation wigged me out. The flesh colored phallus was an acceptable seven inches with a smooth, fat head and rugged veins running up the thick shaft from the twin balls at the end. The base was flat and could suction onto just about any flat surface. I didn’t need a surface. I didn’t even get on the bed. I stayed right where I was, too worked up to wait. My grip was barely steady as I guided the rubber head between my parted thighs and nudged at my opening.
The phone rang.
The unexpected intrusion to my moment of bliss dropped the dildo from my hand and nearly sent me clean out of my skin. The rubber cock bounced on the carpet and hit the top of my foot before wiggling to a stop. My gaze shot to the phone, my heart somewhere in my throat.
“Jesus!” I exhaled a few times before reaching for the phone. “Hello?”
My annoyance must have echoed in my tone, because there was a pause, then, “Uh, is this a bad time?”
It took me several tense seconds to recognize the voice.
“Tamara?”
“Hey!”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and regretted ever giving her my number. “What’s up?”
“Just calling to check in on the costume,” the girl stated. “We’re starting rehearsals in like a week and I was wondering if it would be ready in time.”
I glanced at the small mess taking over the armchair tucked in the corner of the room. From a distance, it looked like a lace factory had exploded.
“Um…” I grimaced slightly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Awesome! Okay, I have to jet, but I’ll catch you later.”
She hung up without waiting. The line went dead in my ear. I set the receiver down on the end table and dropped down on the bed to stare broodingly at the ceiling.
That had not been how I had envisioned myself hearing bells.
With the moment ruined, I rolled to my feet and grabbed my robe. It slithered over my hot skin and settled comfortably around my shoulders. I drew in a breath and checked the clock; there was still half an hour before seven o’clock. Nothing to do but wait.
I made a can of steak and potato soup and ate it while watching reruns of I Love Lucy and waiting to make my call.
“Hey.”
He picked up on the fifth ring and tingles rocketed up my spine.
“Hi.”
“Are you ready?”
I didn’t have to ask for what. I knew and I was ready.
“Yes!”
He chuckled and the sound filled me with a weightless light that glowed bright in my ches
t. I loved how husky and gentle it was. I also loved that I could make him laugh. But more than anything I loved that he was willing to neighbor watch with me. He didn’t think my hobby was odd, or disturbing. It was such a surreal sensation not to be judged.
“What do we have today?” he asked.
I stepped onto the terrace and waited for the windows across from me to come alive with life. I waited for lights to come on and for people to get home.
“Nothing yet,” I said. “But it’s still early. How was your day?” I paused, before asking, “Am I allowed to ask that?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s fine. Exhausting. How was yours?”
I rolled my shoulders in a shrug he couldn’t see. “Pretty much the same. I think I’m going to start looking for another job soon.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
I sighed, hoping it would lessen the weight settling on my chest. It didn’t.
“There’s lots of reasons.” I broke off, not sure how to explain my rollercoaster ride of emotions whenever Gabriel was around. It was just not something you talked about with a guy. “I’m just not sure I belong there.”
“Someone over there giving you a hard time?”
Heat prickled in my cheeks. “Not exactly. At least it’s nothing I can’t handle. I just think it’s the right choice.”
“If that’s what you want to do, then I think you should.”
I nodded in agreement and focused once more on the windows. Most of the top floor was dark. The Asian couple with their daughter came home first. The girl, in her pretty, yellow sundress, was having a meltdown.
“Oh! We got one!” I exclaimed happily into the receiver. “Row two, window one. Asian Couple and Their Evil Spawn.”
Q chuckled. “Do you not like children, or something?”
“Oh, no, I love children,” I protested. “Mine. Other people’s kids not so much.” I squinted at the window. “Evil Spawn is throwing oranges out of the fridge.”
The Voyeur Next Door Page 14