Rising Talent

by Sienna Chance

  Just picturing that made my body react even further. I led her into the kitchen and leaned forward against the bar, hiding the fact that I was rock hard and aching thinking about her bare skin, dripping wet.

  “Do you want something to drink?” I asked her.

  “Water,” she said, grinning at me, with a look in her eye that made me suspect she’d seen what I was so desperately trying to hide. It was a playful look, cheeky, like a girl just waiting to be punished. I filled a glass and handed it to her, and she took it gratefully and took a long sip. She held the glass to her face, then, and I watched as a drop of condensation beaded at the bottom and dripped onto the top of her breast, disappearing between them. I looked away, though out of the corner of my eye I saw her smirk at me.

  “Do you live here alone?”

  I nodded.

  “No wife?” she asked.

  “No interest,” I told her, trying to keep my face composed and cool rather than showing the part of me that was aching to lick the trail of water over the curve of her breast. My jaw felt tight and my body was stiff, but I’d had a lot of practice maintaining my composure in stressful situations.

  “Really?” she asked. “You’ve never found a woman you’re interested in?”

  She said it with her eyes on mine, her voice flavored with suggestion.

  “I didn’t say that,” I said, looking away from her to stop myself smiling. Instead, I shook my head. “I’m not the type to settle down.”

  “So you make your way around then?” she teased. I snapped a look at her and her smile was charming and playful. “Love women but you don’t want one in your house?”

  “When did you move in next door?” Her questions were making me feel overheated and the look on her face, the teasing, made me want to bend her over and spank her round ass until it bounced, red and glowing.

  “Just yesterday.”

  She stood up from the stool and crossed the room over to the sink, refilling her glass and then turning around, leaning with her back against the counter. Her body arched slightly, pushing her breasts up, and I looked away from her to keep my eyes from lingering on them. I wasn’t usually this kind of man—I could keep my attraction in check. I had to. At times I had beautiful women in my office, completely naked, and it wasn’t hard for me to completely shut off whatever attraction I might have for them in order to look at them professionally. But Abby was different, somehow. And I needed to get her out of my house as soon as possible.

  “Did you try all the windows?” I asked her. I saw her raise her eyebrows from the corner of my eye.

  “I did. All locked.”

  “Surprising she left you without a key,” I said, glancing over. She met my eye and held me there, captivated by her sly smile.

  “She wasn’t planning on me moving in so quick.”

  “Where did you come from?”

  “Just across town. I’m not used to being in a place so soft and quiet. I’m not sure I like it.”

  “You prefer things a little rougher,” I said in a low voice. She paused for a moment, staring at me, a smile playing on her lips.

  “You could say that,” she said. There was a heavy pause between us as I thought about it, the images running through my head unbidden. The girl with her body pressed forward on the counter, that cute ass in the air as I took her from behind, rough and deep.

  “You don’t talk much, do you?” she asked, peering at my face after a long moment of my fantasy. I met her eyes, trying to shake it off.

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Would a drink help?”

  I shook my head. Just thinking about having a drink with her was a bad idea.

  “I’m not sure it would make a difference.”

  “Something’s gotta get you talking,” she said. “And we have some time. If we don’t talk, what else would we do?”

  I could think of plenty of things. I took a sip of my water and shrugged, smiling at her. She was charming, I had to admit.

  “I can’t think of anything,” I said.

  She licked her bottom lip, grinning. “I can. Let’s play a game.”

  “A game?”

  “Show me your favorite part of the house,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’ll start there.”

  I watched her for a moment and she stared back at me. Then she raised her eyebrows and gestured for me to go, and I shook my head at her with a small smile and began to walk through the kitchen. She followed close behind me, so close that I could feel her there, the heat of her body at my back. We went through the hallway to the back of the house, then through a door that led into the screened-in sunroom in the back. It was a beautiful room, large enough to entertain, full of plants and soft furniture. I spent a lot of time reading out here.

  “Wow,” she said, walking through the room. “This is beautiful. This is your favorite room?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked over at me, that smile on her face again like she was teasing.

  “Not what I would have guessed,” she said.

  “What would you have guessed?”

  She sat down on one of the chairs and spread out on it, her long legs crossing as she leaned back.

  “Man like you. Always gone. You’re probably only ever here to sleep. I would have guessed the bedroom.”

  “I see,” I said, rubbing my hand over my mouth. I stood over her, wondering whether I should sit down. My body was full of nervous energy and I was having trouble standing still. “I guess that would be my second favorite room.”

  “I’ll have to see it sometime,” she said, looking up at me with those green eyes dancing.

  I cleared my throat, looking away from her. “What’s the game?”

  “The game,” she said, then paused to think. “I get to guess what your favorite thing to do in this room is.”

  I found myself smiling, an eyebrow raised. She looked around, leaning back on the chair. She rubbed her legs together in a way that was distracting and made me wonder how smooth her skin was, how her legs would feel against mine. “Go ahead.”

  “Hmm,” she said. “The bedroom would have been easier.”

  “Would it?” I asked her. She grinned at me wickedly.

  “Definitely. I think you like to people watch out here.”

  I laughed. She gestured across the yard, which overlooked an alley and then another backyard on the other side of the fence. “Your neighbor over there—big eye candy.”

  “Mr. Richards is a nice man. But not really my type.”

  “Oh?” she asked, uncrossing her legs and looking up at me. I was looking down at her face and only realized how close I was standing to her when her eyes darted to where my cock was starting to grow against the fabric of my pants. I took a step back from her and she followed me with her eyes. “And what is your type?”

  I opened my mouth to speak but then the doorbell rang. I looked over at my shoulder toward the door, then back at Abby. She stood up, grinning at me as I started back through the house. When I opened the door, her friend was on the other side. I felt relief spread through me when I saw the girl, Jay, whom I’d met a couple of times at neighborhood functions.

  “Hi, Dr. Cunningham,” she said brightly, looking over my shoulder at Abby. Abby brushed past me out the door, her hand brushing my leg as she went. I couldn’t tell whether or not it was an intentional touch, but the look she was giving me told me that she’d been as aware of it as I was.

  “Hello, Jay,” I said.

  “Sorry about the key, Odd,” Jay said. Abby shrugged, casting me a small smile.

  “He kept me entertained,” she said. “Good game, Dr. Cunningham.”

  “Yes,” I said, my throat feeling dry. I looked away from Abby. “You two have a good night.”

  “Thanks,” said Jay, and I felt Abby’s eyes on me as they turned away and went next door, their voices trailing behind them as they chatted.

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  Dirty Ella

  Sneak Pe
ek

  1

  Ella

  I stood up straight, wincing as my back cracked, stiff from having been bent over the pot for so long. I knew that if I left the stove and my stepmother walked in she would chide me for doing so, accusing me of letting dinner burn while I wasn’t paying attention. Lately, I had been having trouble holding my temper around her when she complained about things like that; for someone who did nothing around the house, she sure had a lot to say about the way I ran things.

  I sighed, pulling the pot off of the stove and setting it on the counter. I glanced outside to see my stepmother on the patio, smiling as she held the phone to her ear. I never saw her smile, and a sense of relief passed through me knowing that she would probably be in a good mood for dinner. That meant less nagging and nitpicking about the food, what I was wearing, what I had done with my day. It would mean less having to fight with myself to hold my tongue in her presence. I knew that if I slipped up, if I said the things that I wanted to say, that my grandmother and I would be out on the street with nowhere to go within a day.

  I went to the kitchen sink, rinsing my hands under the water. The window was open and I could hear my stepmother’s voice as she talked, though I could only make out a few words of her conversation over the sound of the water and the wind. She was talking about somebody coming to visit, but I couldn’t tell who it was. I couldn’t even guess who it might be—my stepmother had no friends, no other family but her sons. I took a deep breath when I thought about that. If Eric and Julian were coming to visit, that would mean even more trouble for me. I hoped it wasn’t them as I started serving dinner for my stepmother and me. I put some aside for my grandma, who I would bring a plate up to when we were finished.

  I carried the plates to the table, listening as my stepmother hung up the phone and came inside through the back door.

  “What is that?” she asked in a flat voice when she saw what was on the plate.

  “Pasta,” I told her, turning my face away to hide my annoyance. She sighed dramatically and sat down in her chair.

  “You can sit,” she said, and I did so, scooting as far away from her as possible.

  “So someone is coming to visit?” I asked, trying to make conversation with her. I was curious about who might be coming and was anxious thinking about the possibility of it being the twins.

  “You were listening to me on the phone, Ella?” my stepmother asked. Her eyebrows were lifted and she had a dangerous look on her face. I knew if I said the wrong thing, she would snap.

  “I just overheard you through the window.”

  She stared at me for a long moment.

  “The boys are coming home for a few weeks,” she said, confirming my worst fears. My stepbrothers, Julian and Eric, were twins. I barely knew them—my father had married their mother when I was sixteen and they were eighteen. They had moved away a year later to go to school and had never come back, never even visited once since I’d been there. That was ten years ago and I had started to think that I would never have to see them again. Now I would have to face them both at once.

  “Why?” I asked her, without even thinking.

  “Well, because this is their home,” she said. “Why else?”

  “I mean, why now?”

  “They miss their sweet mother,” she said. I snorted, unable to help myself, and covered my mouth with my hand.

  “Is something funny, Ella?”

  “No, ma’am,” I said. “I’m just surprised. When are they coming?”

  “Tomorrow,” she said. I nearly choked on my food but forced myself to swallow.

  “Tomorrow?” I asked. That was so soon. Too soon for me to steel myself for the extra abuse I would have to endure while they were here. My stepbrothers had never been kind to me—in the year that we’d spent together, they teased me mercilessly, called me ugly and poor and told me that their mother had married my father out of pity. They had tormented me every time they’d seen me, and the only way I could ever get away from them was to hide away with my grandmother. The boys had been scared of Grandma back when she was tall, vibrant and full of life. She could scare them away with a simple stare. Now, though, she was fragile and worn out, barely able to focus her eyes on anything, let alone scare a couple of grown men.

  “Yes,” she said. “And I want this house to be clean. I won’t have you wasting another day away upstairs.”

  “Okay. What time are they coming?”

  “Around dinner time. That should give you plenty of time to dust and vacuum all the rooms, at least.”

  “I will,” I promised through gritted teeth. We had finished eating by then, and I stood up abruptly, unable to be in the same room as her anymore. I collected the dishes, including the plate in front of her, and left her in the dining room without a word. After I’d put everything in the sink, I made up a plate for my grandma and put it on one of the silver trays that my stepmother had brought with her when she’d married my father. We had never had anything half so lavish in our home before my father married her; everything had been simple. We hadn’t been rich, but we had gotten by. Sometimes I still thought back to those days and wished that he had never married Lola, that he had never brought her or her sons into our lives.

  I carried the tray up the stairs, tapping softly on my grandmother’s door before opening it. She was sitting where I had left her in the overstuffed chair that was facing the window. She spent hours and hours looking out of the window, looking over the gardens, lost in thought. I never knew what she was thinking about these days—even when I asked her, she didn’t tell me, just gave me a wan smile and patted my hair with affection.

  “Hi, Grandma,” I said softly as I walked into the room. She turned her face to me, her eyes lighting on mine. Her face broke into a smile and I had to smile back at her.

  “Hi, sweetie,” she said, patting her bed so that I would go sit next to her. I brought her the tray, placing it on the table in front of her, and then took a seat beside her and started cutting up her food.

  “How are you?” I asked her, watching as she picked up her fork with a shaky hand and took a small bite of the food. I was worried about the way she was shaking, barely able to balance food on the fork. It seemed like she had been getting worse lately, but Lola refused to let me take her to a specialist, insisting instead that our family doctor was doing his best to take care of my grandma. I didn’t like the man at all but I didn’t argue—Grandma and I were lucky that she had somebody to take care of her at all. If not for my stepmother’s money, there was no way I would be able to provide the care that my grandma needed just to stay alive. We were trapped there, unable to move away from Lola’s torment without risking my grandma’s life.

  “I’m okay,” she said, her voice soft, throat dry. I put a cup of water to her lips and tipped it, giving her a drink. Her hands were shaking too badly to be able to hold the cup herself. “How are you today? You look worried.”

  I turned my face away, trying to hide the anxiety on my features. I couldn’t stop thinking about the return of the twins and what it would mean for me, how hard it would be just to get through the weeks that they would be here. I didn’t want to worry or bother my grandma, but I had never been able to hide my feelings from her. She always knew when I was upset. To my surprise, she reached forward and touched my cheek, turning my face to hers.

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

  “Julian and Eric are coming back tomorrow,” I told her.

  “The twins?”

  I nodded and chewed my lip, looking down at my hands.

  “They’re not going to hurt you,” she said, her voice soft and comforting. I looked up at her, into her clear blue eyes. “You’re older now, Ella. You’re not a child anymore. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

  “I just don’t know if I’ll be able to stand it,” I said. “Sometimes I can’t even—I can barely hold my temper with Lola, let alone all three of them together. The twins are so awful.”
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  “I know,” she said, her features sympathetic. “If they give you any trouble, you send them to me.”

  I laughed. “That’ll scare them straight.”

  “I mean it,” she said sternly.

  “I know, Gran,” I said, smiling at her. I sighed then, giving her another drink of water. She was eating slowly but her appetite was better than I had seen it in days. I had been starting to think that we were going to have to call the doctor over before his weekly scheduled visit. But she was almost finished with her dinner and her eyes were still as alert as they ever got anymore, though she looked tired and worn from the effort of talking. I knew that simply holding a conversation could be a lot for her to handle, so I stayed quiet for the rest of the time while she ate, staring out of the window over the gardens.

  When she was finished, I cleaned her up and helped her get changed, then lowered her into the bed and sat down next to her. She looked up at me, her eyes growing cloudy and distant, blinking slowly as she fell asleep. I turned the light out when I knew that she was out and crept quietly from the room, going back downstairs to the kitchen to clean up the dishes from dinner. Then I went to bed, stripping out of my dirty clothes and slipping into a nightgown, the only comfortable thing that I owned. I fell asleep that night thinking about Eric and Julian, wondering how it would go when they got here, worried that my life was about to get even more miserable than it already was.

  2

  Julian

  “I honestly don’t understand why we’re doing this,” I said, looking over at my brother where he sat in the cramped plane seat. He didn’t like flying, which is why I had been so surprised when he’d suggested that we go visit our mother, whom we hadn’t seen for ten years.

  “You are doing this because I asked you to,” Eric said. “I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do.”

  “You know our mother, Eric,” I said. “She’s miserable. She’s going to make you miserable.”