The slap of a palm against delicate, bare flesh rings out.
A loud wail pierces the night air.
A low, insistent pulse thumps to life in my core.
I can’t believe how turned on I am. There’s no ignoring it anymore- I really am a pervert. Or perhaps it’s been too long since I’ve been with a man.
Sex with Eric, my college boyfriend, was… pleasant. It’s not like I didn’t orgasm. Half the time. But they were all low on the Richter Scale. Nothing explosive. Or cataclysmic. I certainly didn’t scream my head off like I was auditioning for the starring role in a porno. I just assumed stuff like that only happened in romance novels.
And, more obviously, pornos.
How many times have I rolled my eyes when I get to the part where the woman climaxes, sees stars, and nearly passes out?
Too many times to count.
Can’t say I’ve ever come within striking distance of that happening to me.
Biting my lower lip again to stifle a low moan of my own, I can’t deny that whatever is going on next door sounds exactly like something out of a book or porno.
Then again, am I surprised?
The man in the elevator looked like sex personified. He reeked of it. Hot, dangerous, and sexy. With him, there wouldn’t be any slow love-making where you stared into each other’s eyes while whispering I love you before finally orgasming together.
Nope.
The man next door fucked.
Hard, dirty, and with a vengeance.
You only need to be trapped in the stifling confines of an elevator with him once to sense the sexually charged energy he exudes like pheromones.
I chastise myself again for not giving the amorous couple on the patio next to me the privacy they obviously think they have. Yet- I still don’t move a muscle. I’m much too turned on to leave now.
I want to hear how this ends.
Actually, I need to hear how this ends.
Which is exactly why I decide to wiggle out of the silky panties I have on before dropping them to the floor. I’m surprised by how drenched they are. Maybe I shouldn’t be, though. I can’t remember the last time I was this amped up.
Reclining on the chaise, I hike up my gown so I can spread my thighs. A thrill zips through me as the breeze hits my naked flesh. Closing my eyes again, I listen as the man next door fucks the woman he’s brought out to the patio. Her moans swirl around me, escalating in both pitch and intensity.
Breathy words full of need punctuate the thick night air.
Yes!
Oh God!
Please!
Mmmm, right there!
Once in a while, I hear the sharp, stinging slap of flesh hitting flesh as if he’s using his hand in a lightning quick stroke. Not to hurt. She certainly doesn’t sound pained. It sounds like she’s enjoying every delicious moment of contact. I can’t help but wonder what it feels like to have a man spank you in the most intimate spot imaginable.
Another thick sliver of need slides through me like warmed honey.
I’m astonished to realize that I just might enjoy a few smacks.
My mind conjures up an image of my neighbor. Dark, muscular gorgeousness poured into a frame that easily tops six foot three. In my head, he isn’t screwing a beautiful, faceless woman. He’s fucking me. He’s whispering those oh-so-dirty words to me. Laying those wide hands on me. Relentlessly driving me toward orgasm.
My core pulses and throbs as I continue listening. My fingers stroke over my own hot flesh.
How much do you want to be fucked?
God, so much…
Yes, I feel exactly the same way.
I want to be fucked by him. He clearly knows how to push a woman toward untold pinnacles of pleasure. I want him to awaken everything that has lain dormant within me for the last two years. Maybe my entire life.
Hearing the woman next door forced closer and closer to the edge makes everything within my body tighten up like a taut bowstring. I couldn’t hold in the soft moans that are falling from my lips even if I wanted to.
Which I don’t.
At this point, I’m mindless of everything except my own pleasure. My throaty desire mingles with the cries from the woman being fucked not more than forty feet from me. An orgasm hovers as my fingers continue stroking away. Arching my back, I circle my clit with a little more pressure.
Yes!
Oh God, I’m going to come!
Those words could be my own.
I’m right there.
Hovering on the precipice.
I want to hold on to this feeling for as long as I can. I want to dangle here, enjoying all this delicious pleasure as it continues to wash over me. Just when I can’t hold on a moment longer, I hear her scream.
Past the point of caring, I let go as well.
My moans mingle with hers.
He grunts.
I imagine his firm, muscular body hovering over hers as he thrusts into her with hard, demanding strokes.
I can’t help but wish she were me. Wish that he was filling me with all that thickness. Little spasms of pleasure rack my body as I continue stroking my pussy with gentle fingers.
I haven’t felt this blissful in years.
Finally opening my eyes, I stare into the velvety darkness as the breeze hits my now feverish cheeks. Like a contented cat, I stretch lazily before straightening my dress. Scooping up my panties, I tiptoe inside to find my bed.
Chapter Six
When I wake the next morning, the blazing sun streams in through the unadorned windows. As the rays slant across my face, I roll over, clutching the pillow to me.
I feel… absolutely marvelous. Which is surprising, because I drank my fair share last night.
The party was fantastic. I make a mental note to call Dominic later and thank him again for everything. I don’t think the evening could have been more perfect. And I really enjoyed meeting all his friends and colleagues.
Maybe he’ll be able to set aside a little time this week to meet for lunch. We’ve always been close, but since my parents died, we’ve become even closer. It’s nice living near him again. Nice to know that if I want to drop by at a moment’s notice, I’m only forty-five minutes away.
Just as I’m about to snuggle into the blankets and go back to sleep, my eyes shoot open as I remember in vivid Technicolor what transpired on the terrace last night.
Oh my God!
Did I seriously do that?
I pull the pillow over my face before screaming into it.
Laughter mingled with disbelief spills from my lips. The masturbation itself doesn’t bother me. It’s not like I haven’t done that before. But touching myself while listening to another couple having sex is certainly a first for me.
In all honesty, I don’t care.
No one but me knows what happened. It’s not like those two were cognizant of anything but themselves.
Clearly.
If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s them.
Not me.
Pushing thoughts of last night from my mind, I roll out of the king-sized bed and step in front of the windows. It must be around ten or so and the weather looks fabulous. Not a cloud in the bright, azure-colored sky. My eyes fall to the street below. Traffic is heavy, which is normal. Even on a lazy Saturday morning, everyone has somewhere to be and are in a hurry to get there. For a few minutes, I watch a couple of joggers on the sidewalk that winds along the edge of the lake.
A pang of longing shoots through me as I follow their progress.
Once upon a time, that used to be me.
I haven’t run in so long.
I guess I lost the drive to do it.
When my life fell apart, running fell by the wayside. For the first time in years, a spark of desire to feel my feet pounding against the pavement flows through me. To feel my lungs burn as I gasp for breath. To feel my muscles sting as I push them past their limit.
Without thinking, I go to my dresser, pulling out a sports bra, s
horts, and a hot pink tank top. I dress quickly and gather my long blond hair into a ponytail. I don’t give myself any time to reconsider my decision as I grab my phone and a pair of earbuds before heading toward the door.
I don’t have to run far.
I can walk part-way if I need to.
The point is to get back out there and do something I’ve always enjoyed. Something that makes me happy. My dad encouraged me to run when I was in middle school. He ran every single day of his adult life, rain or shine. I think that’s one of the reasons he enjoyed living in Seattle. He could be out on the streets in January or February instead of running laps on an indoor track. Once I worked up enough stamina and could run a couple miles, we started entering 5K’s together. A year before he died, we ran a half marathon. A framed picture of us with our arms wrapped around each other after the race sits on my dresser.
It’s one of my favorite photos.
Stepping onto the elevator, I stick my earbuds in before scrolling through the playlists on my phone. I need music that will get my blood pumping. I’m just about to reach over and press the lobby button when someone beats me to the punch.
Not expecting anyone else in the enclosed space, my head jerks up, and my eyes collide with espresso-colored ones. I suck in a breath as my neighbor’s dark gaze stays pinned to mine.
The way he’s staring at me…
It’s like he knows…
No.
There’s no way in hell that he’s aware of what I was doing out on the balcony last night.
Or that I was even out there in the first place.
I was quiet. Like a mouse.
He can’t possibly know. I’m overreacting. This is paranoia getting the better of me.
Even though it’s Saturday morning, he’s wearing another dark suit and crisp white button-down shirt. The top button has been left unfastened, and he isn’t wearing a tie. A smattering of dark, crinkly hair is visible at his neckline.
Slowly, he lifts a hand, and I find myself mesmerized by the movement.
God… those hands!
My insides shudder with pent-up longing.
Oh-so-slowly, he swipes his thumb across his lower lip. My mouth waters.
Holy hell.
What am I doing? What’s happening to me? This isn’t a normal reaction.
My gaze abruptly jerks back to his. My mouth tumbles open as his eyes slide down the length of my body. My nipples-damn them-tighten under his intense perusal, which feels like a physical caress.
I stifle the whimper of need poised on the tip of my tongue. I realize that I’m wearing nothing more than tiny running shorts, an athletic bra-which does nothing to hide my arousal-and a thin tank top.
When his hooded gaze flicks up to mine, heat radiates from every pore of my body.
If the hungry look in his eyes is any indication, he knows that I not only sat there like a perv while listening to him screw another woman, but got off on it, too. Literally. I literally shimmied out of my panties, spread my thighs, and stroked myself until I came just as hard as the woman he was pleasuring.
Good Lord, even though I thought I’d been quiet, he still heard me.
Kill me now.
I can’t take the way he’s staring at me. Like he’s already stripped me bare and is on the verge of fucking me the way he did that woman. I’m ashamed to admit, even in the privacy of my own head, that I’m conflicted.
Because I want it.
I want him.
And yet…
Before the elevator doors fully open, I squeeze through, shooting out of the car like my ass is on fire. George barely has enough time to open the front door before I fly through.
“Have a good day, Ms. Castile!”
I imagine that by the time my sexy, next-door neighbor reaches the sidewalk, I’m already halfway down the block. I’d also be willing to bet that a satisfied smirk mars his darkly handsome face.
It’s amazing how the hot burn of humiliation can spur you into running three miles in less than thirty minutes. But it does. I guess I’ll have to thank him for making my first run in two years a good one.
Ha!
Not going to happen.
If I never see that man again, it’ll be much too soon.
Chapter Seven
Smoothing over my short skirt, I step away from the taxi and glance around, trying to find Chloe in the thick crowd of people gathered on the sidewalk in front of the club.
But I don’t see her.
Nervousness settles in the pit of my gut.
Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I gnaw on it as indecision sets in.
What if I can’t find her?
There’s no way I’m going inside solo. If worst comes to worst, I can catch another cab home. No big deal.
Everything immediately settles as I catch sight of her rushing down the street in sky-high heels. For a moment, I was worried that maybe she’d forgotten about me. Chloe may be the oldest friend I have, but our friendship has been on hiatus for almost two years.
Maybe she’s changed.
I don’t know yet.
We’re still trying to find our way back to the friendship we once had. It takes a few moments before I notice the group trailing behind her. It looks like Chloe has invited about six other people to join us. I’ll get a chance to meet some of her friends tonight.
Ever since the party at Dominic’s, we’ve been texting back and forth, getting reacquainted. Chloe works at a law office about eighteen blocks away from my building. She’s a paralegal. They must have a lot going on, because she hasn’t been able to get away as easily as she thought she would for lunch. Or maybe her boss is just a demanding jerk. Which is kind of what she’s implied in our conversations.
I’ve spent the last week walking around Northwestern and ordering the books I’ll need for class. I bought a few more things for the condo. And I took Dominic out for lunch. I wanted to foot the bill as a thank-you for the wonderful party, but he wouldn’t allow it. I also spent the last week skulking around the building, hoping I wouldn’t run into my neighbor.
I haven’t.
The man seems to have disappeared.
Again.
Chloe rakes over my outfit with a critical eye. “You look amazing!”
I grin in response, feeling even more at ease. “I love your skirt!”
She’s wearing a very short red skirt paired with a black halter top. It’s a simple outfit, but she wears it well. Chloe is tall and thin. She can wear just about anything and rock it. Her thick strawberry blonde hair has been left long and wild around her shoulders. A pair of black high-heeled sandals completes her look.
Taking a moment, she quickly introduces me to her friends. Four girls and two guys. Everyone seems friendly.
With a smile on her face, she loops her arm through mine. “Ready to have some fun?”
I glance over at the long line of people winding around the side of the brick building. Are we really going to spend half the night waiting to get into some exclusive club? “Maybe we should go somewhere else. This place looks packed.” The bouncer hasn’t let one person in since we’ve been standing here.
“No worries. I know people here.” She gives me a little wink. “Come on.”
En masse, we move toward the brawny bouncer standing guard at the front entrance. It’s quite clear that no one is getting past him. Big, beefy arms are folded across a barrel-like chest. It’s ten o’clock at night, but he’s wearing black sunglasses that hide his eyes. Plus, there’s a no-nonsense expression on his face that looks like it’s been carved from granite.
I slant a dubious look in Chloe’s direction. She looks strangely self-assured regarding the situation.
Suddenly she shouts, “Hey, Lucas! Miss me, baby?”
I hold my breath, waiting for Lucas to laugh in her face before telling us to beat it to the back of the line.
But, in a shocking turn of events, that doesn’t happen.
He stares at her for a hear
tbeat before a big smile spreads across his face. Two muscular arms shoot out, grabbing Chloe and hauling her sandaled feet off the sidewalk. She squeals and slaps him on the chest.
“You better believe I did, sweet cheeks.”
Once he sets her down, she loops her arm through mine before making introductions. I’m still somewhat flabbergasted that this mountain of a man can smile. “This is my best friend, Grace.”
His head swivels towards me. Since he’s wearing dark shades, I have no idea if he’s giving me the once-over. I kind of feel like he might be.
“Hey, best friend Grace. Nice to meet you.”
I give an awkward little wave in response.
Without further ado, he unclips the black velvet rope in front of the door, allowing us entrance. As we walk inside the club, he firmly whacks Chloe on the ass. She doesn’t seem to mind.
“Let me know what you’re doing Sunday night.”
“Will do,” she calls over her shoulder.
I glance back at the people who are now loudly complaining because they’ve been waiting in line and still haven’t been allowed inside. If I were Lucas, I’d be worried that they might decide to storm the door.
“Is he your… friend?”
Catching my meaning, she smirks. “Sure, you could say that.”
That comment has my eyebrows rising, but I don’t ask any further questions. It’s not because I’ve lost interest in the kind of relationship they have, but more because I’m now scanning the night-club we’ve just walked into. From the outside, this place looks unassuming. In fact, I wouldn’t have even known it was a club, except for the long line of people outside.
My eyes widen as I continue taking everything in.
I feel as though I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole.
It’s like sensory overload.
On steroids.
This place is crazy!
Craning my neck, I glance toward the ceiling. It must be four stories high. On the ground level, there’s a huge dance floor with tables scattered around the periphery. A long, sleek glass bar stretches across the far wall. Hundreds of bottles of liquor line glass shelves. Lights flash and fog creeps low to the ground.
Protecting What's Mine Page 5