Lucky Neighbor: A Second Chance Secret Baby Romance

by Gage Grayson

  With the back unzipped, Maddie slides off her bra, balls it up, and heaves it as hard as she can at the wall just behind the bed. I cannot describe why this is the funniest thing in the fucking world, but we both laugh super fucking hard.

  After our laughter finally fades, Maddie begins moving her pussy subtly against my cock.

  “Blugh. Blurg.”

  More dumb noises escape my mouth as I feel the roundness of Maddie’s tits. My hands move softly around the boundaries of her tits at first. As the tip of my cock starts going into Maddie’s pussy, I start kneading her tits with a bit more hunger and passion.

  I let Maddie set the pace, and she starts moving fast, faster than I was ready for. I bite my tongue to keep from any more mortifying vocalizations.

  “Oooooooohhhhhh.” Fortunately, Maddie makes up for my silence with an elated groan.

  Throwing my hands down at my sides, I watch Maddie’s tits bounce up and down vigorously as we’re both overtaken with a flood of physical ecstasy.

  My eyes are wide in disbelief at how amazing Maddie looks as she bounds up and down, grinning from ear to ear. When she tosses her hair, I feel like I’m about to pass the fuck out from how blisteringly fucking sexy she looks.

  Combined with the incredible sensation of late morning sex with Maddie, it really is on the border of too much to fucking handle.

  I don’t dare faint or close my eyes or any of that shit. This moment, the way it’s happening now, is something I want to experience fully, treasuring and savoring every goddamn second.

  “Ah.”

  “Ah!”

  “Ah-hah!”

  We’re both shouting nonsense syllables, which is a sign that things are getting good.

  I mean, things were already pretty fucking good, but things are heating the fuck up for both of us to the point where we may end up setting the fucking bed on fire.

  And if that happens, we would keep going.

  That’s how good it’s getting—this is some worth-risking-your-life-over-sex right here.

  Fortunately, the fire is purely figurative, for now.

  But holy fuck is it fucking hot.

  “Fuccckkkkkk, Ethhhannn!”

  “Argh, ah! Hi-yabahgah!”

  We fall over on our side, and now both of us are thrusting, working together to create a perfect rhythm and ride the wave of unimaginable bliss overtaking everything.

  “Fuck. Fuck! Ethan, it’s so fucking good, oh my god!”

  “Oof! Oooffff!”

  “Aieeeeeeeee!”

  Our noises become heavy breaths as the intensity robs us of our voices.

  Our pace begins to decrease as the world around us starts to flicker and glow.

  I think I hear myself yell something like, “Oh my god! Holy shit!”

  And I think I hear Maddie let out a low growl that reminds me of last Friday night in the living room.

  But after closing my eyes for the briefest moment, I let the world come back into focus, and we keep fucking going.

  We’re not ready for this to be over quite yet.

  After the latest shouted outburst from both of us, we’re back to breathing, thrusting, and staring into each other’s eyes.

  That delicious green hue of Maddie’s eyes is somehow helping me make wordless sense of this mind-boggling ocean of sensation. She’s staring intently back in my eyes, and as usual, I can’t even imagine they could be doing the same for her—although they must be, because I can see the same searching intensity that I’m feeling.

  The intensity in Maddie’s eyes starts to fade gradually. I can see the familiar blissful blankness start to take over, and I know that she’s about to come.

  “Oh, oh,” she whispers softly.

  And then she lets out a hair-raising shriek right in my face.

  And although I think I might be temporarily deaf, I come at the same time Maddie does.

  The thrusting stops, but our heavy breathing continues.

  As does our staring into the universes contained in each other’s eyes.

  “What a day,” Maddie comments, “and it’s not even noon yet.”

  “I don’t even think it’s eleven. We’ve got all the time in the world, Madeline. And we can do whatever you want.”

  “Mm.”

  “So, what do you want to do?”

  “Hmm...I wouldn’t mind starting with a shower.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I wouldn’t mind if you’d like to join me.”

  “Okay.”

  Maddie shoots out of bed faster than a meteor screaming through the sky. She bolts through the bedroom door, giggling as she runs.

  By the time I make it into the hallway, Maddie’s already in the bathroom with the shower running.

  As I open the bathroom door, my cock is well on its way back to full solidity.

  I step into the bathroom just in time to see Maddie’s perfect naked ass walking into the walk-in shower.

  She hears as I close the door behind me, and she turns around with an overly dramatic gasp.

  “Why, Mister Barrett, don’t you see that I’m only trying to take a nice, innocent shower? Now I feel even dirtier than before!”

  “Would you like me to leave?”

  “Well, now I need your help to...fuck it. Dude, just get in here with me. The temperature’s perfect!”

  Maddie smiles as the water wets her hair and flows down to her tits. My cock is at some level beyond fully fucking stiff.

  Maddie turns around to wet her hair even more as I stagger towards the shower.

  I’m so eager to get into the shower I almost slip and collapse onto my knees. I just barely stop myself from slipping—but I do fall intentionally onto my knees, bringing myself face-to-face with Maddie’s magnificent ass.

  I lay my lips softly onto each of Maddie’s ass cheeks. She leans over, pressing her hands against the wall of the shower and her ass into my face.

  I shift my lips downward and kiss Maddie’s inner thighs. I keep the teasing to a minimum this time, licking my way up to her pussy without delay.

  The water from the shower head has not reached Maddie’s lower half at all, but her pussy is absolutely soaked. I run my tongue around the edges of Maddie’s pussy for a second or two before starting a nice, long lick up her lips.

  Maddie moans and pushes her cunt against my tongue. I don’t do any of that stopping shit, I simply move my tongue from bottom to top.

  And from bottom to top again.

  And again.

  Maddie shakes and moans and rubs her hands lightly on the shower wall.

  For stability, I grab onto Maddie’s hips before starting my next slow lick, and she comes with a guttural growl.

  Ethan

  “Welcome to Ohana’s,” I say to a confused Josie as she sidles up to the bar.

  “Who’s Ohana? And since when are you a bartender?”

  I point to a framed photo of an adorable black-and-white French bulldog puppy sitting between two liquor bottles.

  “That’s Ohana. And I’m still tending bar most nights until we can hire some more people. I figured Charles could use a break...”

  “You...what do you do, run this place now?”

  “Run and own, along with my co-owner.”

  I swear there’s something about working at the former Café Kiev/Lush Republic—now known as Ohana’s—that makes you psychic. As soon as I mentioned my co-owner, I knew she was going to walk through the door.

  Maddie walks in, smiling luminously as always, carrying Ohana.

  “Hey, Josie,” she yells across the room. “Good evening, Mister Barrett.”

  It’s past 4:00 p.m. on a Monday. We just opened, and the place won’t get super crowded for another couple of hours or so.

  Maddie carries Ohana into the back office to do some daily bookkeeping. She is, not too surprisingly, better at that shit than I am.

  “Ohana.” Josie becomes lost in thought for a moment. “Isn’t that from a Disney movie or something?�
�

  “Lilo and Stitch. But it’s also from the Hawaiian language.”

  “Doesn’t it mean family?”

  “Well, yeah. We mostly just like the way it sounds. We’ll see if it sticks.”

  “Okay.” Josie nods. “Beats fuckin’ Lush Republic.”

  I shrug.

  “It’s a step in the right direction. What can I get for you?”

  “Tonic water.”

  “Tonic water and...”

  “Lime.”

  “That’s all?”

  “The night is young.”

  Josie’s our first patron of the day, and our second patron walks in while I’m making her drink. It’s someone I don’t think I’ve seen here before, an athletic-looking young man wearing Levi’s and a grey Rutgers sweatshirt. He’s not as fashionable as most of the patrons here, especially Josie...

  But, he walks right over to Josie and they kiss each other lustily on the lips.

  “Hey, have I seen you here before?” I ask.

  “No. This is my boyfriend, Michael.”

  Michael nods and smiles politely.

  “What can I get you, Michael?”

  “Beer.”

  “We have, uh...pilsner draught, coming right up.”

  It’s been a couple months since that night we saw Josie playing darts here on her own. Whether she was seeing this Michael guy then, I have no idea, but needless to say, a lot has changed.

  Maddie did an awesome fucking job negotiating with the landlord of this building. The guy makes a fortune renting the apartments above the bar, and he realized—shortly after the Lush Republic owners left—that the people paying thousands of dollars a month to live here wouldn’t be thrilled about having a tobacconist just below them.

  It would be one of the few places in the city they could still smoke indoors—if you’re wondering why they’d give a shit. This bar may still have an old-school feel to it, but nobody’s fucking smoking inside.

  The space was empty for a couple days before we signed a ten-year lease, which is standard for a place like this.

  More patrons start filing in while I’m serving Michael. Stacia, thank Christ, files in with them.

  I’ve been learning a lot in these first few weeks of owning and operating a bar. I mean, it would be a real fucking problem if I weren’t learning, right?

  Anyway, one thing I learned about this specific bar is that Stacia not only waits tables, but cooks most of the food herself.

  We’re still looking to hire a few chefs, along with a few more bartenders. This place certainly has the cash flow for it.

  Selling my apartment and investing in a few safe index funds didn’t hurt, either.

  As usual, these days, Maddie and I don’t get home until almost 5:00 a.m.

  Where’s home, you ask?

  Hey, if you didn’t, that’s okay. I’ll tell you anyway: Saint Mark’s Place, between First and A.

  We own an entire fucking building. A brownstone.

  It’s been renovated recently, and there are four bedrooms. It was easily affordable after the windfall from my apartment.

  “The Captain’s Demise is doing awesome,” Maddie says as we walk up to our bedroom.

  “I know, that’s half the drinks I serve every night.”

  “I guess you would know, Mister Bartender.”

  Business is booming at Ohana’s, and the fact we’re serving some of our favorite drinks from Hawaii is not hurting at all.

  Maddie and I kiss as Ohana huffs up the stairs in front of us.

  We’re not landlords—this building is meant for a single family, and it has four bedrooms.

  What’s going to happen with all of those rooms, you ask?

  Again, if you didn’t ask, I’ll answer anyway: I don’t know.

  We’ll have to wait and see.

  For now, we’ve got a nice, quiet building in the middle of the East Village. And, thankfully, tonight—or, more accurately, this morning—we’re about to get a few precious hours of sleep.

  Lying in bed, about to drift off, I realize that there’s a question haunting my mind, something I need to ask Maddie before she falls asleep.

  “Hey, Maddie...”

  “Make it quick, I need to fuckin’ sleep.”

  “Whatever happened to that checked baggage bill?”

  “What?”

  “When I gave you all those gifts in Hawaii.”

  “Oh...I actually got free checked baggage. Lifetime perk.”

  “Oh, right. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, love.”

  Yeah, my heart just fucking melted when she called me that.

  Also, I’ve been able to shed light on a lot of the Mysteries of Maddie now that we live together.

  Like, for one, now I know that she was briefly a flight attendant before attending grad school.

  I also now know about her asshole ex John, whom she caught cheating on her just before her Hawaiian vacation. Catching a long termer cheating like that, well, I understand why she was a bit guarded when we met.

  And what kind of fucking crazy person would cheat on Maddie? It beats me. But, needless to say, I’ve never been happier in my entire life.

  Not even close.

  We wake up early the next afternoon, and I make Maddie her favorite Sunday breakfast of red velvet pancakes and Hawaiian roll French toast.

  Afterwards, it’s time to take Ohana on a nice, long walk around the neighborhood before we get ready to open the bar.

  “Man, it’s about time for spring to finally...spring, right?” Maddie tilts up her face to take in the sunshine.

  “So much for April being the cruelest month.”

  Maddie shakes her head. “T.S. Eliot may have known a lot about cats, but he was a shitty meteorologist.”

  It’s a beautiful, warm day here on Saint Mark’s Place. This area has changed a lot over the years.

  Or, maybe it’s just the way I see it. That’s part of it, at least.

  It all seems so much nicer than it once was.

  Warmer.

  Friendlier.

  I can’t wait to see what the future brings.

  Inside Job

  An Undercover Billionaire Romance

  By Aiden Forbes

  Copyright 2018 by Third Base Press

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work intended for adults only.

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  Chapter 1

  Katy

  It’s a small apartment―shaped like a box, in fact―but it has two windows and a closet, and I don’t really need that much space anyway.

  I can see the entire place no matter where I am in the room. Sometimes I sit on the toilet, put my feet up on the bath tub, and watch television. I mean, I don’t do it a lot, but I have done it.

  My computer is balanced on a narrow, blue folding table that I picked up from Goodwill when I first left the group home. It was my first piece of furniture. My computer and that small blue table are the two only things I might not actually be able to live without.

  My coffee finishes brewing, and that last exhale of steam knocks me out of my revelry. My eyes turn away from my tiny room to focus on the screen.

  “Where the fuck is everyone?” I say out loud.

  Two short steps, and I’m back at the desk, sitting at the wooden stool.

  I fold up my body, my shoulders slouching towards the screen, and I rest my coffee—black, always strong and black—on my knees. I check the desktop clock, making sure I’m on time.

  I boot the DDoS window.

  Hello,
I type. Anyone there?

  No reply.

  Assholes? Bueller? I type.

  Nothing.

  “Fuckers,” I mutter.

  I take a sip of the coffee. The jolt of caffeine works like magic―it immediately calms me down and makes me less anxious.

  I open the bank’s website again, going over the plan in my head.

  “This will work,” I say out loud. “We’re ready for this.”

  The chime of the DDoS chatroom sounds. I switch windows.

  Hey, the message appears.

  It’s from AnansiBoy, one of the other planners of this hacking mission. The two of us have worked together for years, but I can’t really tell you anything about them.

  I don’t know where AnansiBoy is from, and I don’t know where the rest of the people I work with is from, either. And, more importantly, they don’t know me.

  We all disguise our IP addresses and bounce our connections out of various countries in Eastern Europe. We should be impossible to find—or, more accurately, nearly impossible to find.

  There’s a whole crew of us who work together to take down banks, bloated conglomerates, hedge funds, and corrupt tycoons. We take their money and channel it to employees’ bank accounts or NGOs. Kind of like a modern Robin Hood mafia.

  We don’t tell each other much about ourselves, though. Take AnansiBoy for example, who is the closest I have to a friend in this world.

  The only thing I know about them is that they smoke and that―I assume―they like reading African folktales. Anansi is the trickster Spider-god, after all.

  Wait. Now that I’m thinking about it, I know this other thing about AnansiBoy: they’re not to be fucked with.

  I’m serious. If you look at this goddamn hacker sideways, they’ll take to their computer and destroy you. They’ll erase your identity, steal every cent you have, tarnish your reputation beyond repair, and then hire someone to kick your dog.

  All while whistling, if I may add.

  But they’d also do all that if someone even looked at me cross-eyed. It’s like having my own personal army.