Knock Me Up, Neighbor: A Younger Woman Older Man Romance

by Sylvia Fox

  “Sorry, I’m late. Looks like everyone’s here,” he proclaims, his words rife with sarcasm.

  “Uh. Ian. Glad you uh, made it,” Dad stutters, stepping over to stand beside him. “Shall we go and scout for a better spot?” he asks.

  If that was an attempt to cut the tension Dad, you needed a bigger knife.

  “Rick, if I know you, this is the best damn spot on the pier or you wouldn’t be here,” Ian quips, gently shrugging my father’s arm from his shoulder.

  “Lilly, Samantha…” Ian begins, only to have Gail break in squawking, “Well you certainly have some nerve showing your face here. Where’s your little harlot? Oh, is she not with you this evening? Too embarrassed to bring her around the adults, or is it already past her curfew?”

  Mom shoots me a puzzled look, to which I can only respond with a no clue face and shrug of my shoulders. Sorry, I can’t be more help mom; my worlds are colliding right now.

  “Gail, I hardly think this is the time or place,” Mom interjects.

  “No Lilly, it’s fine,” Ian replies, his voice a couple octaves lower than usual. He turns his attention to Gail. “I’m sorry I can’t introduce the two of you now. She’s someone very close to me,” he retorts.

  Thank God no one else knows enough to pick up on that double entendre, but I’m not making eye contact with Mom right now just in case.

  “Nice to see you again, son,” he says in Chaz’ general direction.

  At this point, for reasons no one will ever understand in the history of logical thought, Chaz finds his voice. “I don’t think you wanna be talking to me like that, bro,” he says daringly.

  As the drama unfolds, fireworks begin to light the sky overhead followed by “oohs” and “aahs” from the crowd around us, each pop and sputter briefly illuminating our faces.

  “Careful Junior. This doesn’t concern you. If you want to keep it that way you should stop now,” Ian says, his arms crossed, as he steps forward squaring off his stance.

  “God damn you, Ian. Are you going to let your jealousy cause you to behave like a child? Obviously, you haven’t moved on.” Gail chides. “What do you think you are going to do? This is not behavior consistent with a man responsible for a teenage boy. Maybe we need to revisit Will’s living arrangements?”

  What planet is this woman from? I can’t fathom what life would be like for Will if he had to live with her.

  “Gail, if you want to go back to court, have your fucking lawyer call mine. Otherwise, for once in your miserable life, please shut the fuck up,” Ian orders.

  Not heeding the good advice shared with him a moment before, Chaz steps into the space between Ian and Gail and obstinately pushes against Ian’s chest.

  Shit.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ian

  Are you fucking kidding me? The thought surges through my head as I take a half-step back to regain my footing. In a blaze of light from the spectacle above, I see the fear in Chaz’ face. I suspect in his head I was going to fly backward through the air twenty feet or so, knocking people down like a bowling ball. Funny how reality manages to surprise us sometimes.

  Now I have a decision to make. He’s crossed a line by putting his hands on me, but I would only be giving ammunition to Gail’s lawyer if she really does intend to go back to court over Will. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let my son suffer because of a lapse of judgment on my part.

  Thankfully, Rick steps in to separate us, directing a lot more energy to ole’ Chazzy boy and saving me the trouble of deciding the next move. “Break it up—this isn’t the time or place,” he yells. He’s not what I would call fit, but what Rick no longer possesses in physical size, he more than made up for with determination because Chaz falls back into Gail almost knocking her down with him.

  Up to this point, the commotion above had been enough to distract everyone around us from our shenanigans, but as eyes begin to focus on us instead of the light show, it is apparent Rick is correct.

  While he offers a hand and an apology to Chaz for pushing so hard and Lilly is helping Gail up, Samantha comes to me and takes my hand.

  “You’re shaking,” she says anxiously. “Mom, Dad, I think I’ve had enough fun for one night. I’m going to walk back with Ian. I’ve got plans later anyway and I want to be sure he gets home without any more issues.”

  “Real nice to see you again, GAIL,” she bites off, before returning her attention to me. “Now come on you, let’s get out of here,” she says, dragging me by my arm.

  We walk in silence down the pier and back on to the beach, before I halt and pull her to me. The moon is small and distant over the ocean, but its steady beam is amplified by the water, creating just enough light to see her face. “Samantha. This is not how I planned for the evening to go,” I tell her.

  “Is this what you meant by fireworks?” she asks laughing.

  “Not even close,” I say, before kissing her. “Not even close.”

  “Can we just go back to your place? I could use a drink,” she asks.

  “What about your plans?” I ask in a concerned voice.

  “Huh? What plans?”

  “You told Lilly you have plans later. I don’t want to keep you from anything,” I answer glibly.

  She responds with a punch to my arm followed by, “You’re just lucky you weren’t up against me back there, ‘cause you wouldn’t have had a chance.”

  The first glass of Jameson almost does the job settling my nerves, but the activities at the pier continue to replay through my mind. Perhaps a second glass will help.

  “Are you sure I can’t get you a drink?” I ask.

  “Thanks, but I’ve been in a fight of my own with my stomach for days now. A cocktail does not seem like the cure.”

  “Samantha, About earlier.” I begin.

  “Yeah, about that, why did you rush off like that after our moment the bathroom?”

  “Actually, I was referring to the incident with Gail and her, friend. But as for earlier, I couldn’t play it cool any longer and, ironically, I didn’t want to do anything to ruin the evening. I had plans for us tonight.”

  “And you’re saying those plans didn’t involve an almost fist fight with your ex-wife’s, boyfriend?” she asks sarcastically.

  “Oh no. That was part of the plan. For sure. Yeah. One hundred percent. Your dad stepping in like he did is where things got off track,” I joke as I set my whiskey down to tickle her. “No, silly. I hoped to meet up with your family, watch some fireworks, and sneak you back here to make some fireworks of our own. Looks like that idea is dead on arrival.”

  “Who says it has to be? Why don’t you tell me your diabolical plan like the bad guys do in the movies?” she asks.

  “Well if I spell it all out in advance, it’s sure to fail. That’s what proves to be the undoing of the villain. What if I just show you?” I take her hand and help her up and slip behind her to cover her eyes with my hands.

  “Ooooh, what is this?”

  “You’ll see. Soon enough, love.” Shit, that was out loud. I can’t let piss poor timing determine the moment I profess my love to her. What if she’s not there yet? What if it scares her and she starts to second guess what we’re doing? I can’t lose her now; I’ve only just found her.

  We stop outside the door to my bedroom. “Wait here, darlin’. I shall return momentarily. Keep those eyes closed,” I instruct her.

  I slip in and close the door behind me. After striking a match, I light the candles I had set up throughout the room earlier this evening. I touch up the path of rose petals from the bed to the door, before sliding the door open and squeezing back through.

  “Alright. Open your eyes,” I say, pushing the door wide to reveal surprise number one.

  “Oh my God, Ian! I love it!” she squeals.

  “Well, my dear—do you trust me?” I ask as I guide her to the bed.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Good. I have some ideas I’d like to try with you, but I
need you to trust me. Are you game?” I ask.

  “Ian, I trust you completely. Yes. Please. Anything you want, let’s do it.”

  “This night is about you. I said before, I want you to see fireworks and I meant it, but for that to happen, you can’t be distracted with anything else,” I say as I reach into a bag of goodies next to the nightstand and present a silk eye mask. “Put this on.”

  “But, I want to see you,” she pouts.

  “Trust me, darlin’.”

  I slowly run my index finger along her thigh from her knee up to her pelvis. First one leg, then the other responds to the sensation with goose bumps. I lay Samantha back on the bed, easing her dress up, stopping just below her breasts. My fingers now gently stroking up and down along her sides, my nails ever so lightly tickling her ribs while I deposit tender kisses across her abdomen and down past her navel.

  In a show of disobedience, she removes her arms from the position I placed them in above her head and reaches for me, grabbing at the space between us, trying to find my body to pull it to her.

  “Ah ah. Put your arms back as I had them or there will be a consequence,” I order.

  She complies, and I resume my work by removing her dress completely, exposing her plump breasts and a delicious white thong.

  I straddle her, my arms on either side of her shoulders, then lower myself down, kissing along her collar bone. The hair of my chest just touches her nipples and I use it to tickle her causing them to stiffen. My tongue grazes up her neck to the lobe of her ear.

  She squirms on the bed in tortuous ecstasy, begging me to make love to her.

  “Lie still or there will be a consequence,” I warn.

  “I … I can’t wait anymore. Please. Fuck. Me,” she cries.

  “Last warning or you will receive a consequence,” I remind her.

  “I don’t care. I need you inside me.”

  “Given this act of defiance, you leave me no choice,” I state, sitting up. I demand she remains still while I reach back into the bag by the nightstand, returning with a small object concealed in my hand. “Are you ready for your punishment?” I ask.

  “Yes, but ... I just want you inside me.”

  I pull her thong to one side creating a path to slide my finger between her lips; she moans in agreement.

  “Yes. That’s what I want,” she whispers.

  I move my finger slowly, gently, before I withdraw it and spread the liquid around her asshole as a lubricant. Samantha moans again, this time with surprise, but also with an eagerness telling me she is open to whatever comes next.

  I slide my finger in, ever so slightly and stop, giving her body time to adjust to the sensation. When she relaxes, I remove my finger and replace it with the object from my other hand resulting in a squeal from her. With the twist of the shiny, heart-shaped dial, it begins gently dancing and humming in place causing her to howl with bliss.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she screams between gasps.

  I can see her, beginning to lose herself, on the path to the special place she goes when she is consumed with pleasure.

  “It’s almost time darlin’. Are you ready for me?” I ask.

  “Ye—Yes. Please.”

  I stand back off the bed and remove my clothes, never taking my eyes off the prize before me. She is magnificent any time but in this moment. Seeing her like this, my cock is so hard it hurts.

  I reach into the bag one more time to retrieve the cock ring I purchased. It takes a fair bit of effort to stretch and pull it back to the base of my shaft, but I get it aligned the way I want it, and twist the dial on the side of it. Holy shit, no wonder she reacted the way she did. This feels amazing.

  I take my place in front of her, sliding my arms under her legs and lifting them, creating the perfect position to enter. By the time we collapse on the bed, both of us soaked in sweat and sex, the first hints of daylight have begun to show on the horizon.

  I wanted to give her a night she would never forget and by God—mission accomplished.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sam

  I’m pulled from what had been a good night’s sleep, by a fierce pain in my abdomen. I rush for the toilet and make it just in time to heave up everything inside me and then some. I wait by the commode a few minutes before leaving, as some mornings have had follow up bouts.

  Eventually, I pull myself up to the sink and rinse my mouth. I feel like shit and can’t believe I’ve caught a bug in the middle of the summer. I want to curl up with Ian, just being near him would help me feel better. Judging by the light piercing through my window and the time on the alarm clock next to my bed he’s at a job site now, probably hot and sweaty, and shirtless… Ugh. If I didn’t feel so damn nauseous, I’d be getting turned on by the thought.

  I swipe my phone from the nightstand and head downstairs for coffee. When I enter the kitchen, the half-ish cup of cold coffee remaining in the pot is evidence Mom and Dad have given up any remaining hope of me being home. Can’t blame them. I know I’ve been a ghost. After I get the java situation headed in the right direction, I plop down at the table and tap out a message to Lexi. We had a full-on blow-up/make up video chat after the Fourth of July, and have been back to daily communication since. Don’t get me wrong, she’s totally pissed that I’ve had this super-hot neighbor crush since puberty and I never so much as mentioned his name, or showed her a picture, or invited her home with me so she could hit on him, but after I spilled the details of our summer together and my feelings for him, she came around quickly.

  Me 9:27 AM: Ugh. Still feeling like shit

  It’s before noon, I know not to expect a response but feel better sharing my misery with someone just the same. To my shock, I get a message back within minutes.

  Sexy-Lexi 9:32 AM: Mr 1st year med school lying next to me wants to know how long you’ve been sick and what are the symptoms???

  Me 9:33 AM: OMG – Who is that? And WHY are you telling him about me?

  Sexy-Lexi 9:35 AM: Because you have bitched about it for-literally-ever and because he’s super into me and wants to impress me with his DR skills.

  Whatever the reason, I guess it’s better than going to an urgent care. Or worse, calling the only doctor I have ever had here—my childhood pediatrician—awkward.

  Me 9:38 AM: 2 weeks-ish nausea, no appetite, hurling in the morn….

  OH MY GOD NO. It can’t be. I can’t be.

  Nervously, I finish tapping the message and hit send.

  Three months pass while I sit and stare at the little black screen waiting for a response, like some hybrid magic eight ball and digital pregnancy test, holding my future in the balance.

  Finally, my phone pulses in my hand.

  Sexy-Lexi 9:50 AM: Are you alone? Can I call?

  Fuck.

  Me 9:51 AM: Yes

  A moment later the phone purrs in my hand, ‘Call from: Sexy-Lexi’ lighting up the screen.

  “Lex? Shit. WHAT did he say?” I ask, impatient.

  “Are you sitting down? You totally need to sit down.”

  “Yes Lex, I am sitting down.”

  “I mean, he’s only a first year, but still he is pretty damned confident and said he literally would’ve been able to diagnose while pre-med,” she rambles.

  “Say it. Just say it.”

  “Ok. Well. When was your last period?”

  Fuck. Shit.

  “Because he says—it sounds like you’re pregnant.”

  Fucking hell. Why’d she have to say it? I know it’s true. I can feel the truth of the words. Besides, it’s not like I’m on the pill, what the hell did I think was going to happen after many weeks of fucking with abandon?

  “Hey, are you still there? Did you hear me?” Lexi asks sharply.

  “Yes. I’m here. And, it’s been. A while,” I respond.

  “Shit babe, what are you going to do?”

  “Right now, I think I’m going to crawl back in bed, pull the covers up over my head and hope it goes away.”


  “Do you need me to come there? I will book a flight like, right now,” she says.

  “Sure, that’s easy to explain to my folks. Mom, Dad, I haven’t been here almost the entire summer, and I have refused to share any details about my activities, but… remember Lexi from school? Well, she’s going to be staying with us. And by us, I mean you, because I’m going to continue being next door.”

  I hope I’m going to be next door. What if Ian thinks I did this on purpose?

  “Lex?”

  “Yeah babe?” she asks.

  “I know you haven’t met Ian, and don’t really know anything about him, but … Do you think he’s going to be angry?”

  “I. I really don’t know. If he’s as amazing as you describe him, I’m sure he won’t be,” she says.

  “Yeah. He is amazing and wonderful. I’m sure he will understand,” I say trying to convince myself as much as her. “I’m sorry, I want to hear all about Mr. Med School, but do you mind if I text you later? I need some time to figure out what I’m going to tell Ian. How I’m going to tell Ian. And my parents. Oh, God. I just need to think.”

  “Sure, sure. Say the word babe. I’ll be there. Talk soon, K?” say asks before hanging up.

  OK, Samantha, this is not life ending. People have handled this very situation for, like, all of human civilization. Get yourself together, this is going to be fine.

  Of course, as soon as I begin to calm myself, reality crashes in on the house of cards I was constructing out of stupid platitudes. I leave to go back to school in two weeks. I will be pregnant my senior year of college. I will be a new, single, mother entering the workforce—if I even make it that far.