by Allen, Jenna
What the hell could he be talking about? A mess? “It’s both, my novel and us.”
My head jerked forward and back as he slammed on the brakes on the uphill slope of our driveway. “If you want forty-three you can’t put it in a book.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t even know what forty-three is. It might not be spicy enough for one of my stories.”
“Whipped cream,” he growled across the console.
Whipped cream? “Fine. If it bothers you, I’ll never write about whipped cream…unless my heroine is a pastry chef.” I smiled at my own joke. I had to, he was not amused.
“I’m not joking, Cassie. No one ever reads about tonight, or playing out the scenes in that book ends now. It’s your choice.” The motor was still running. He knew how I would answer, so I didn’t. He waited to pull away until I’d slipped into the house. Tiptoeing into the living room, I was surprised to find it empty. I crept up the stairs, hoping the boys hadn’t given them too much trouble going down for the night.
I couldn’t hear anything once I reached the landing. The door to the boy’s bedroom was closed, but the light in our room was on. Oh no, had they conned Megan and Trevor into sleeping with them in our room? I walked softly, hoping I could move the kids without waking them up. I wanted to know what was so exciting about whipped cream, damn it.
The world spun by as I peeked into my own bedroom. Megan lay back on the red duvet on our bed, pinching her dark nipples while Trevor’s rock hard ass pumped into her. I should leave, look away at least, but I couldn’t. I’d often fantasized about Trevor, his young bronzed and beautiful body.
I could feel my clit swell as I watched him hammer into her. He held her thighs wide and stared at their joining. I’d never witnessed anyone else have sex before. I hadn’t seen porn since college. I knew I should walk away. I didn’t want to be branded the neighborhood voyeur, yet I couldn’t make my feet move. They were in my bedroom after all. On my bed. I’d wondered what it would be like to have Trevor on that bed.
Their rhythm became more frantic and he wrapped her legs behind his back. They were beautiful together, moving in cadence. Even from here I could tell their eyes were locked together. They weren’t merely racing to orgasm, they were making love. I pressed my back against the hard plaster and watched their tempo peak and wane. Before they were completely finished I crept back downstairs and out the back door. Such a wonderful thing to share, I didn’t want to interrupt it, to embarrass them in any way.
The night offered little respite from the heat. It was so hot most of the neighborhood had their windows open and fans running. I’d slipped off my shoes inside, so the grass was cool on my feet as I crossed the driveways and made it to Megan and Trevor’s perfectly manicured lawn. Leaning against the siding of their house I realized what I found so perfect about Trevor. Sure his body was part of it, but it was the way he looked at Megan. As if she held the power to make his dreams come true.
With a sigh, I sank further against the wall, wondering just how long I should wait to go back in.
“You like to watch?” A voice accused in the blackness.
My blood froze in my veins. Who could possibly know?
“You want to watch me don’t you?” The voice was quiet, but insistent. Almost threatening. To hell with embarrassing the neighbors, I needed to get home. I stepped forward to go, but froze at the sound of a whip cracking. Quietly, as if it were far away. “Say it,” the voice demanded.
“I want to watch.” A thick baritone drawled through the night. I knew that voice from somewhere.
“We’ll just see about that. Lick it. Now.” I shook my head; relieved the voices weren’t talking to me. Curiosity tilted my head as my ears strained to tell just where the sounds were coming from. “Harder. Yeah. Eat me. Eat me you cunt licker.”
Next door. Gail and Dean’s house. Dean, the football coach was being whipped by his happy homemaker wife? I couldn’t resist. I crossed the side yard and pressed against the side of their house, just next to their open window. This was wrong on so many levels. Yet I couldn’t stop my ears from listening, or my cunt from throbbing.
“Ye-e-e-ssss.” A voice I couldn’t believe belonged to Gail hissed. After an awkward silence her rant began anew. “You want to watch, don’t you?” I did, but I didn’t dare. What if they caught me? What if Craig came home and spied me in the neighbor’s yard?
“You won’t be watching this time.” Grunts and groans that sounded more like a struggle than sex emanated from the room. What was she doing to him?
“You’re mine to do with as I want. My living dildo. My fuck toy. And you won’t cum until I tell you. Mmm. Yeah. Do you like that? Do you like my hungry snatch?” I couldn’t imagine ever talking to Craig that way. Would he ever let me dominate him? “Stop it. Stop, or I tie your legs too.”
My neck craned involuntarily. I could barely make them out in the darkness, and prayed they couldn’t see me either. Each of Dean’s arms was tied to the bed with nylon rope, duct tape covered his mouth and a blindfold shielded his eyes, but not mine.
Gail bounced on his naked pole. I’d never seen a grown man without pubic hair. It was stunning, the way she commanded his body, his spirit. They weren’t the physical specimens Megan and Trevor were. No one would envy his rounded belly or her saggy tits, but their beautiful union, the dominance and submission, affected me. So much so, I finally walked away and left them to their moment.
When I entered my home this time, Megan and Trevor were snuggling on the sofa in the living room, blushing at the secret they thought they shared.
It wasn’t so much to ask, really. I was down to one cigarette a day. And it was best to give them up entirely, just in case. When I did get pregnant I’d have enough to deal with. Best to check quitting smoking off the list now.
I crept out of the house with my last pack of cigarettes. Early morning dew coated the grass, but even that was warm. Why couldn’t the temperature drop just a little bit, at least in the morning? I crossed our driveway and Cassie’s, slipping the cigarettes in the planter where she kept hers hidden. I was halfway across her drive when I heard the door open.
“Megan?” Cassie’s straight blond hair smoothed into a ponytail, her face pink and refreshed. Of course, she slept in an air-conditioned house. I slept in an oven with a man still locked in his sexual peak.
I ran my fingers through my unruly curls and smiled at her. “Good morning. I brought you a present.”
“Quitting again?” She stepped outside and shut the door behind her.
I noticed the tiny shorts, tank top, and running shoes hooked onto her left hand. The woman was a wonder. A successful romance novelist, two great kids, gourmet cook, and she found time to exercise?
“The things we do for our men.” Cassie sat on her front steps and pulled her shoes on.
“Speaking of that,” I sat next to her on the step, unsure how to proceed. I wanted to tell her what Trevor said, but didn’t want her to think I was gossiping about her behind her back. “How did things go last night?”
“Better than usual. Why?” Her gaze darted around. Of course she would be uncomfortable discussing this. Who wouldn’t be?
“I’ve just been thinking about your situation. Things started to um, slow down for you and Craig once your books came out, right? Do you think that might have something to do with it?”
Cassie shook her head. “That he’s jealous of my career? No. He’s always saying writing makes me easier to live with. Writers who keep it bottled up are more than a little crazy. He considers my career his retirement plan.”
“No, not like that. Do you think he could be bothered by the content of what you write? That it’s like an open door on your bedroom?”
Cassie’s blue eyes opened so wide I thought they might pop from her head. “What do you mean?”
I shrugged. What did I mean? This would be so much easier if Trevor could explain it. “Men are strange, public and private at the same time. They want the worl
d to know you are in their bed every night, but they want no one to know what goes on there.”
Cassie stared straight ahead. “I think you’re right.”
Trevor was right, but getting credit was another upside to being married to him. “You probably don’t have to change a thing, what you write is fiction anyway.”
Cassie turned her face at me. “You’re right. Besides, I can get my inspiration from a lot of other places.” She leaned in and kissed my cheek for a beat longer than was necessary before hopping to her feet. “Thanks for everything last night. I really needed it.” Cassie gave me a wave and took off on her morning run.
I shook my head, trying to forget Cassie’s soft lips on my cheek. Trevor’s all night assault on my body had my senses going haywire. I pushed off the step and walked across the damp grass and up our driveway, just in time to watch Trevor step out the front door.
He was dressed to perfection. A crisp white shirt he’d ironed himself, a solid cobalt satin tie hanging down his torso. His tailored navy dress slacks fit perfectly, the silver of his belt glistened in the early morning sun.
I licked my lips as I walked toward him, wondering if he’d be late, just this once.
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Desire Renewed
Coming Soon:
Romance Rekindled
Passion Revealed
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Romance Rekindled
Is it the end, or a new beginning?
Jess and Scott haven’t had a conversation in month that didn’t end in a fight. Making up is fun, but the clock is ticking on their marriage. Is a cross-country move the cause of their problems, or the solution?
The hum of the engines echoed in my ear. I never could sleep for long on planes. Maybe if I kept my eyes closed they wouldn’t be too puffy. I snuggled deeper into the pillow, only then noticing where my body had turned.
I peeked up at Scott’s sleeping face, his dark lashes fanning against his cheek. We hadn’t slept this close since before I found out he sold the apartment. Up until then I hadn’t been happy about the thought of moving, but I’d open to the possibility. Then the phone call came and the rug had literally been pulled out from under me. We were going, and to drive the point home, he’d sold ours.
It had been an amazing offer, and if we’d already agreed to the move, I would have been happy about it. As the days passed and moving became imminent it seemed silly to still be angry. I knew everything I held inside I wouldn’t be able to get over, so I let it out.
It was a New York problem. If Portland was to be a fresh start, I needed to leave it there, with the stack of delivery menus and perfect bagels.
I snuggled deeper into Scott, my head on his shoulder, lifting one of my legs across his. And then I realized just where my hand was. On the fly of his slacks. If there hadn’t been a blanket covering us, I might have been mortified. Instead, I was simply embarrassed and moved my hand back to my own leg.
“Now don’t do that,” Scott whispered against my hair, his warm fingers wrapping around my wrist and pulling my hand back to him. “I need to be reminded there are parts of me you like.”
Read on…
Lovers Reunited
Coming home is the only way out.
Paul Bentley is a NARC, his estranged wife Kayla is a drug counselor trying to keep others from running afoul of the law. The stress of their conflicting jobs breaks their marriage, but can the passion that remains reunite these former lovers?
“Kay? I’m lonely.”
“Better to be lonely alone.” Her lip trembled and she prayed it didn’t show in her voice.
“Yeah. Look, I know I agreed to leave you alone. I know there’s no going back. You’re better off without me dragging you down. But I was thinking, maybe I could come over? We could open a bottle of wine and try and talk again.”
“You never dragged me down when you were here. It was losing you and having to see you still here that hurt.” Her stomach twisted and she inched lower in the tub, letting the water soothe her wounds.
“I feel like I should take that hurt away, you know? I want to hold you and let you know none of it had anything to do with you. I didn’t want any of it to touch you.”
“I don’t live in a bubble, Paul.” She took a deep breath for courage. “You don’t want to change. You just don’t want to be lonely right now. And on again, off again is not good for either one of us.”
“We haven’t tried on again. Let me come over. I’ll bring a bottle of your favorite wine and you can mess up my head. And then once I get it together we can mess up our bed. It’s been way too long, Kayla.”
“We can talk on the phone.” Her eyes felt heavy, tears threatening. She wanted him, the old him, here in the worst way. But she didn’t think she had it in her to tell him to leave again.
The phone clicked in her ear. She called his name a few times before giving up and setting the phone on the ground. She closed her eyes, trying not to think of him, but it was too late. His image loomed in her mind, teasing her.
Read on…
About Jenna
Jenna Allen is the original penname of Jenna Bayley-Burke, best-selling author of a dozen sexy contemporary romances. Why resurrect the old penname? It’s simple really, the Jenna Allen stories tease the line between erotica and romance, are told in first person, and delve into the intimacies of marriage. Most of my Jenna Bayley-Burke readers will love the decadent Jenna Allen stories, but not everyone likes their sexytimes edgy and kinky.
The flirty, sexy, fun of Jenna Bayley-Burke is well established and not going anywhere. (Check out the Under the Caribbean Sun series.) I hope to also tell as many Jenna Allen tales as people are willing to read. Always romantic, and with a happy ending. There can never be enough of those in the world.