by Nikki Ash
“Thank you, Emmett, You’re such a big help.”
“Anytime,” I call over my shoulder as I head back outside. Picking up the remaining bags, I close her trunk and retrace my steps back to the kitchen. Mrs.Thatcher is busy putting all the groceries away, so I set the remainder down on the floor. I watch as she reaches to place things on the top shelf of the pantry before bending over to stack cans on the bottom shelf. I could watch her put groceries away all night. But I can’t. I need to go home. “Do you need help with this stuff?” I gesture to the remaining bags to be polite.
“No, Emmett, that’s really sweet of you to offer, but you’ve done more than enough.” Straightening from her bent over position, she rubs her hands along the thighs of her jeans, calling attention to her legs. “Let me give you something for your time,” she offers, reaching for her purse.
“No,” I bark out louder than I intend. “Absolutely not.” I shake my head and scowl. “I won’t take your money just for being neighborly. Yard work is one thing, but five minutes of doing the right thing is completely different.”
“I guess I’ll have to figure out another way to pay you.” I breathe in her smooth, sexy voice like a hit of my favorite weed. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m more than a little curious about what she has in mind.
“That’s not necessary. I’m happy to help you with whatever you need.”
“Do you like baked goods?”
“Yes, ma’am. Especially if they’re homemade.”
She scrunches her slightly turned up nose. “Ma’am? I’m only twenty-eight.”
She’s ten years older than me.
“I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m just using my manners.”
“I know you didn’t. I’m teasing. You’re such a polite young man. Your parents must be very proud of you.” I’m at a loss for what to say because I’m not so sure they are. I can’t remember them ever complimenting me like that. I jerk my shoulders in a quick shrug.
“You don’t have to be so humble with me. I’d like to think we’re already fast friends.” Her full, berry-red lips tip up at the edges, tempting me.
“My parents aren’t really the type to dole out praise. I imagine they’re proud, but they expect a lot from me,” I answer candidly.
“How old are you, Emmett?” she questions. Her green eyes appraise me, slowly moving up and down my body like a familiar caress.
How old do you want me to be?
“How old do you think I am?”
Her pink tongue peeks out to sweep the fullness of her bottom lip as she continues to study me. My dick twitches in reaction, and I quickly glance away. I can’t be getting excited by the thought of her tongue and what it could do to me. Fuck.
“I have a feeling you look older than you are.”
“I’m eighteen.”
The sound of her boot heels clicking against the hardwood floor has my head turning to watch as she glides smoothly toward me. Stopping when there’s only a foot of distance between us, she taps the tip of her index finger to her lips and hums while her eyes study me.
I can’t remember ever being so sexually attracted to someone I just met. Her spicy scent and the sexy little sound she made have me clenching both fists at my sides. I remind myself of the age difference, but it doesn’t help. At all.
My gaze locks on Mrs. Thatcher’s shiny mouth and visions of what she could do with those plump lips assault my mind. Fuck. I’m an asshole. Here she is trying to have a polite conversation and I’m lusting after her.
“I have to go,” I blurt out. Spinning on the rubber soles of my sneakers, I rush from her house as if I’m being chased. Grabbing my backpack from the front seat of my car, I hurry along the driveway to the side entrance. My fingers fumble as I insert the key into the lock. Once inside, my bag falls to the hardwood floor as I slam the door. My heart jumping like it’s skipping rope, I lean both hands flat against the steel, barricading it with my body. The absurdity of the situation crashes into me like an unexpected wave. Only, instead of getting doused with water, I’m awash with shame.
“That was a close fucking call, Hawkins,” I mumble, shaking my head in equal parts relief and disgust.
Chapter Three
Emmett
My fingers dig into her hips, rocking her against the hard length of my cock. She moans as I suck on the delicate skin below her ear. Her nails dig into the top of my shoulders when I add my teeth, biting her neck. “Oh… Emmett.” Her head drops back.“Don’t... mmm... stop.”
“No fucking way,” I growl, gripping the back of her head with one hand. My mouth trails down the length of her ivory neck, placing hot, wet kisses. She grinds on my lap, and my eyes squeeze shut at the exquisite pleasure. “God, I want inside you, baby.”
“Me too,” she whispers.
Capturing her lips with mine, I swallow her sighs of pleasure with a kiss. Our tongues tangle as I rock her back and forth on my dick, driving us both insane. She clings to me, and the twinge in my chest grows into a full-blown ache.
Tearing our mouths apart, I watch as she rides me, driving us both closer to release. I’m about to come in my pants and I don't care. I want nothing more than to be buried inside her, but my parents are due to come home any moment now. We definitely don’t have time for all I want to do to her.
Juliet’s cheeks are flushed pink and her lips are swollen from my kisses. She’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen with her passion-glazed eyes and tousled hair. I want to capture this moment like a snapshot in my mind forever.
The loud chime of the doorbell breaks through the sound of our harsh breathing. Juliet doesn’t stop rocking her pussy into my cock. “Go away, I’m so close,” she groans.
The bell rings again and I snap awake on the couch. “Fuck,” I grit out, pissed that someone woke me from my dream. I roll to my feet and growl, muttering, “This better be fucking important.” Stalking toward the door, I press down on my dick. I don’t even look through the peephole as I turn the knob, ready to bite off whoever’s head is unlucky enough to be standing on the other side.
My expression is murderous, but the moment I see Mrs. Thatcher’s captivating eyes go wide with surprise, my scowl melts away.
“I’m sorry to bother you. I’m sure you must be busy,” she apologizes.
I smile and shake my head. “No, it’s okay. Do you want to come in?” I step back as Mrs. Thatcher moves past the threshold. Shit. Why did I just ask her inside?
“I wanted to thank you again for your help earlier. I made you some cookies.” She smiles and hands me a plastic container.
Opening the cover, I peek inside. “Chocolate chip are my favorite.” I swipe one and take a bite. They’re still warm from the oven, and the chocolate melts on my tongue. “This is delicious.” Snapping the cover back on, I set the container down on the bench near the door. “I can’t believe you made me cookies. No one’s ever done that for me before.”
She arches one eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yeah. My mom works a lot. She doesn’t have time for much else.”
“I’m happy to make you cookies, or whatever else you’d like, anytime. I find it relaxing, so don’t be afraid to ask.” She places her warm hand on my arm, and blood pulses directly to my cock. Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I can only hope she doesn’t notice the growing bulge in my pants.
“Thank you,” I reply, my voice a ragged husk. Guilt and disgust consume me. She’s merely trying to be nice to her new neighbor, and I’m getting turned on like a prepubescent teenager with no control over his dick. I’m beginning to despise the way my body reacts to Mrs.Thatcher. I’ve never had this happen to me before and I’m hoping it will stop soon.
I flick a glance toward Mrs. Thatcher and find a thoughtful expression on her face. “Well, I just wanted to drop the cookies off while they’re fresh. I’m sure you have things to do. Have a good night, and thanks again, Emmett.” She turns toward the door.
Don’t look at her ass. Don’t look a
t her ass. I chant to myself as I follow behind her, but it’s no use. Of course my gaze locks on her curvaceous rear—I’m eighteen and she’s wearing yoga pants for fuck’s sake.
Who could resist?
“Let me get that.” She pauses when I reach past her for the doorknob, placing the front of my body against the back of hers. The floral scent of her hair wafts up, teasing my nose, and the cushion of her ass bumps into my still semi-hard dick. My teeth dig into my bottom lip, suppressing a groan. It takes all my willpower not to slam her face-first into the door and rub my cock between her ass cheeks.
Tugging the door open, I step back and usher her out with a hand between her shoulder blades, needing some distance between us immediately. Of course, touching her isn’t the best idea, but she needs to leave my house, stat.
The spotlight mounted to the side of the door isn’t on and her face is cast in shadows. Her eyes appear dark and mysterious, instead of their usual calming, green color, but I can see them locked on mine.
“You better hurry home before the mosquitoes get you. Thanks again for the cookies.”
“No need to thank me.” She flutters her fingers in a graceful wave, and I find myself watching until she’s safely home. Stepping back inside, I close the door and breathe a sigh of relief.
Pivoting around, I pick up the cookie container and head to my room. There’s no way I’m sharing these with my parents. Sinking onto my bed, I let my thoughts drift into dangerous territory. Maybe she made the cookies because she’s interested in me.
No way. I can’t even indulge that line of thinking. Why would she be interested in me? Good question.
Flames and sparks shoot up from the fire pit with each pop and crackle of burning wood. Watching the glowing flames is mesmerizing. They pulse and flair with ever-changing energy, and having Liz next to me adds to the rightness of this moment. This is the most relaxed I’ve felt since Mrs. Thatcher moved in last week. The night she dropped off the cookies was the last time I’ve seen her. With each new day, I think I blew the whole situation out of proportion in my mind. She’s a beautiful, older woman. What eighteen-year-old wouldn’t find her attractive? What I felt for her was nothing more than a normal hormonal reaction.
Liz leans into my side, like a kitten who always wants to cuddle. I don’t mind. She’s always there when I need a sounding board. If she needs a pillow, or anything else, I’m her guy.
“How’s work been?” I ask.
Her head remains on my shoulder, but I feel her quick shrug. “It’s okay. I don’t love it, but I also don’t hate it, so I guess it’s not too bad.” I laugh. “What?” she asks.
“Your logic is crazy.”
She snorts. “This from the guy who screwed Mindi Allan.”
“What? She’s hot.”
“Typical guy, thinking with his dick,” she scoffs.
And I’m still doing it two years later.
“Are you going to come visit me at school?” I ask to change the subject.
“I could ask you the same question,” she retorts.
“Yes, of course, I’ll come visit you. What a dumb question.”
“You asked it first,” she points out.
Only to get my mind off Mrs. Thatcher.
“Right. We’ll see each other on holidays and vacations. But I don’t want you to miss me too much,” I tease.
“Please. We both know who’s going to miss whom. I might be able to sneak off to Ohio for a few weekends. My grandmother gave me some money and told me to use it for something fun. I can’t think of anything better to spend it on than visiting you.” She smiles.
“We also know who’s the sappy friend, and it’s not me.” I wink.
“Emmett, how have you been?” Juliet calls out as she closes the door to her car. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she walks from her driveway, across the strip of grass, and over to where I’m standing.
“Hi.” I smile. I don’t mean to encourage her in any way, but I can’t say I’m sorry to see her. I like Juliet. She’s a nice woman. “I’m good, thanks. How about you?”
“I’m well, but it’s tough being here alone. I’m dying for some conversation besides the one-sided ones I have with myself.”
Leaning down, I dunk the large sponge in the bucket of soapy water and resume washing the hood of my SUV. “You should get out more or introduce yourself to more of the neighbors.”
“The other homeowners in the neighborhood haven’t been as welcoming as you.”
“Really? There are a lot of older people in this particular area of town who’ve been here for decades. My parents have been here for twenty years. Maybe they’re feeling territorial because the family who used to live in your house had been here for fifty years.”
“I guess that makes sense,” she replies.
“Once they get used to you being here, they’ll probably feel more comfortable with the change.” Dipping the sponge into the bucket, I bend over and put some muscle into scrubbing a dead bug off the headlight.
“Do you have sunscreen on?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I brought it out with me and forgot to put some on.”
“Well, your shoulders are looking pretty red. Want me to apply some for you?”
I glance down at one shoulder and then the other and they do appear to be getting burnt. “Fuck.” I drop the sponge in the bucket and walk over to grab the sunscreen off the deck stairs where I left it.
“Here, let me.” Juliet walks toward me with her palm outstretched. I find myself handing off the bottle without a word as I rub my wet hands on my shorts. She squirts the white lotion into her palm and passes the bottle back to me. Rubbing her hands together, she moves directly in front of me and deliberately slides her hands up my pecs and over my shoulders. Her captivating eyes reverently trace over my skin and her red tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip. Fuck. Having her hands on me is temptation personified. My jaw is clenched, teeth gritting together as I fight off the urge to kiss her.
Juliet reverses direction, sliding back down to my pecs before spreading the sunscreen over the remainder of my chest and along the tops of my shoulders. Her hands massage up the sides of my neck, her palms dragging over the thick, dark stubble as they run along the sides of my jawline. Can she feel how taught my muscles are? I’m strung so tight, I’m sure to snap like a guitar string.
Our eyes meet, her irises shimmering beneath the sunlight, and every logical thought leaves my head. My gaze skims down to her bow-shaped lips, the bottom one plump and biteable. I’m gripped with a crushing need to taste them. I lean forward, and Juliet takes a step back, eyes darting in every direction but mine.
“I should get inside. I have… uh, stuff to do.” She’s flustered.
“Yeah, I need to finish up before the soap dries.”
“See you later.” She whirls around and races to her house.
What a dumbass. I curse myself for my rash behavior. Now things are sure to be awkward between us.
Chapter Four
Emmett
“Hey, there. I was hoping I’d bump into you,” Mrs. Thatcher calls out as she walks over to stand on the strip of lawn separating the two yards.
My head swivels around and my eyes bulge when I notice the red bikini adorning her lithe frame. I’ve seen plenty of bikini clad bodies, but none as alluring as hers. The triangles of the top and the strings on each side of her bottoms are a tease. My fingers are already itching to slide the triangles apart and pull on the ends of each tie and watch them unravel. If it wasn’t for the mirrored shades I have on, she’d notice my gawking stare.
Hell, if she glances down at my groin, she’ll know how much being around her affects me. My cock automatically responds to the sight of her. I can’t seem to control my body’s impulses when she’s around. Which is why I’ve been trying to avoid her as much as possible. But here we are…
“Hi, what’s up?” I keep my tone flat. I haven’t seen her in a few days. Not since the “almost kiss”.
“I saw you vacuuming your pool and I was wondering if you could help me with something?”
Inwardly, I groan. I don’t want to spend any time alone with her. It’s too hard—in every way you can imagine. But I can’t be an asshole. It’s not her fault that I’m so attracted to her. And at this point, it goes beyond physical attraction. She’s intelligent and kind. I like talking with her and being in her company. “Sure, what do you need?”
“I can’t seem to get the vacuum to work. It’s not sucking properly.”
I bet you know how to suck properly.
Shit. Stop. I scold myself. I can’t seem to rein in the unbidden thoughts. They come as they please, usually whenever she opens her mouth.
I’d like to see her open her mouth around my… fuck. I sigh and rake a hand through my hair in frustration.
“Let me take a look and see if something’s blocking the hose.” Walking beside her, we head toward her backyard. “I used to swim in this pool all the time when I was younger. The former owners had a grandson my age.”
“Well, you’re welcome to come over and swim anytime you want. I could use the company.”
Glancing her way, I take in the gentle curve of her smiling lips. Pink and shiny, they remind me of the inside of a watermelon—my favorite fruit. I wonder if they taste as good. Are her nipples the same color? What about her—.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird,” Mrs. Thatcher yanks me back to the present.
“Huh?” I question, snapping out of my lust-infused fog. “I’m sorry, I missed what you said.”
“I said, I didn’t mean to make things awkward by inviting you over.”
Shit. Now she feels bad and she has no reason to. I’m the one who made things awkward between us. I’m the one who can’t keep my feelings for her reined in. I smile to ease her concern. “No, it’s all good. In fact, how about we take a swim once I get your vacuum straightened out?”