by Nikki Ash
“I think that’s a great idea.” She peers over her shoulder at me as she opens the gate on the fence surrounding her back yard. Her eyes sparkle, hinting at how lonely she truly must be if the thought of swimming with me makes her so happy.
I like Mrs. Thatcher and her mild manner. She’s so easy to be around. If it weren’t for my attraction to her, I’d want to spend more time in her company.
We continue across her expansive patio to where the hose is stretched out on the ground.
“I’m really not sure what the problem could be. I used it last week with no issues.” She tucks one side of her hair behind an ear.
“First, I’m going to run some water through and see if it’s clear.” I turn on the outdoor faucet. Grabbing the garden hose, I place it on the end of the unconnected vacuum hose. The water should run through to the other end, but it’s not. Shutting the water off, I wipe my hands on my board shorts. “Do you have a broom handle? Or a plumber’s snake? Either one could work.”
“You know, there was a broom handle left in the pool shed from the former owner. I wondered why, but I guess now I know.” She giggles. “I’ll go grab it.”
I watch her walk off toward the shed, bikini bottoms revealing the bottom of her ass cheeks. Damn. She’s got the perfect amount of jiggle going on.
Is there any part of her body that isn’t banging? I force myself to look away until she’s handing me the broom handle.
“Hopefully this works, because if it doesn’t, I’m not sure what the problem is.” Inserting the handle, I push it through as far as it will go, before repeating the same steps from the other end of the hose. “Let’s try the water test again and see if we have better luck now.” Turning on the faucet, I direct the stream of water into the end of the vacuum hose and this time it runs out the other end, along with the clump of leaves that must’ve been what was clogging it up.
“Yay,” she shouts, jumping up and down. My eyes zoom in another direction like my pupils are in danger of getting burned by the sight of her. “This calls for a celebration,” she announces. “How about a sandwich? Are you hungry?”
I rub a hand over my stomach and smile. “I’m always hungry.”
“Excellent. Make yourself at home and I’ll be right back.” Winking, she hurries off. I settle myself on a comfortable lounger, clasping my hands behind my head. I close my eyes and let the beautiful early June afternoon envelop me. Birds are chirping happily, a slight breeze is wafting over me, and I’m feeling content.
“Here, I thought you might like some lemonade.” She hands me the cold glass, and our fingertips brush. “I made these cookies this morning, they’re chocolate chip.” She winks, placing the plate down on the small table next to the chaise I’m kicked back on. “I figured I’d cover all bases.”
If she made these this morning, then she must have been planning to see me. Unless she eats an ungodly amount of cookies by herself. My heart races at the thought of this amazing woman seeking out my company.
“Thank you, Mrs. Thatcher,” I manage to reply, despite my racing thoughts. Grabbing a cookie, I raise it to my lips, biting off a large chunk. Cookies never tasted so good. “Mmm, this is delicious.”
“I thought I told you to call me Juliet? Mrs. Thatcher is my mother-in-law.”
She’s married?
I cough, choking on cookie crumbs. I take a sip of my lemonade and clear my throat. “You’re married?”
She shakes her head, her expression turning serious. “No, I was. My husband was in the army. He was killed in the line of duty two years ago.”
Oh, damn. Not what I was expecting to hear.
“I’m sorry. That must be hard for you.” And I really am. It’s heartbreaking to think of someone as sweet as Juliet is having something so horrible happen to her.
She sits down on the edge of the chaise next to mine and remains facing me. “It hasn’t been easy, but it’s getting less painful every day. The first year was surreal. I felt lost. I went from happily married, to widowed at twenty-six.”
I shake my head. “I can’t imagine what you went through.”
“When Chris passed, I not only lost him but the military life I’d grown to love and all the friends we’d made.”
“That’s a lot for someone so young to deal with,” I tell her.
“It was. In the blink of an eye, my world flipped over. I lost my own identity and struggled to figure out who I was without my husband—without my military family.”
“Did your own family help you?”
“I went to live with my parents in Maine. I stayed with them until I moved here.”
“What made you choose this area?”
“I wanted a fresh start and I’ve always loved Boston.”
“It might’ve been easier to move somewhere near your family.”
“Maybe, but I need to learn to stand on my own two feet.”
“From what I’ve seen, it seems like you’re doing well.”
“I get so lonely. I don’t have any friends or family in this area.”
“Do you work?” I ask. I’ve never seen her keep a regular schedule.
“I’m a painter, so I work from home.”
“Like an artist?”
She smiles. “Yes, exactly. I’m an artist. Which is another reason I chose Boston. I have some connections here at a couple of art galleries.”
“Can I see your work sometime?” I question. I don’t want to be pushy, but I’m impressed by her job. Hell, I’m impressed by everything about her, and I’d like to see what she paints.
“Sure. I have some of my paintings displayed inside, and my studio is almost set up.”
“How did you end up buying a house here in this neighborhood?”
Her eyes wander over her backyard. “This place felt right when I saw it online, but once I saw it in person, I knew I was home.” Mouth gently curving contentedly, she leans back with her palms on the cushion, supporting her upper body. “I like the close proximity to the city without sacrificing the backyard.” Her eyes settle on me. “And the next-door neighbor’s not too bad.” She smiles, and I bark out a laugh. Tingles erupt from the top of my head and move down through me when I notice the way her gaze leisurely traces over each part of my body. “You work out a lot.” It’s an observation, not a question, said in a breathy voice. “What else do you like to do with your free time?”
“I play football, hang with my friends, do whatever my parents need me to around the house. Gotta earn my keep.” I shrug my shoulders.
“What about your girlfriend?” she asks.
“What girlfriend?”
“The girl I’ve seen you with. The one who works at the coffee shop.”
“That’s Liz. We’re just friends.”
“Really? I assumed there was more going on there.”
I shake my head. “We’ve never crossed that line and we never will. She’s like my sister. She’s family to me.”
“That’s sweet. I never had a male friend… until now.”
“I’m glad we’re friends,” I reply.
“Oh, I meant Mr. Vine and me. But you’re okay too,” she deadpans before giggling. Mr. Vine is our ninety-year-old neighbor who doesn’t speak to anyone. She’s adorable, and her laughter is contagious. Before I know it, I find myself joining in.
Chapter Five
Emmett
I brush the crumbs from my hands. “Thank you for lunch. The sandwich was delicious. How about a swim?” I need to cool off in more ways than one, and it would be nice to get to a comfortable place with Juliet. Maybe the more time we spend together, the less attracted to her I’ll be.
“Sure.” She rises to her feet and walks to the edge of the pool to dip her toe in. “It might be a little cold at first, but I find it refreshing.”
As I stand, I shove one more bite of cookie into my mouth and walk across the patio. I stop next to her and look down into the inviting crystal-clear water. “I haven’t been for a swim yet this year.”
“I see how it’s going to be.” I grin like a shark. “Are you coming in or am I coming to get you?”
Juliet giggles and stretches her arms out in front of her, warding me away. “I’m coming in.”
“Not fast enough.” Pushing my hands through the waves, I send a curtain of water splashing her way.
“Aargh. Stop.” She closes her eyes and turns her head to the side until I stop. Beads of water dot her bikini and drip down her golden skin. When she opens her eyes, I motion like I’m about to splash her again. She shrieks, jumping into the pool, and lands with a splash right in front of me. Immediately, we both begin propelling water at each other. Eyes squeezed shut, Juliet does her best to keep up with the onslaught I’m sending her way, but she’s no match for my longer, stronger arms. She spins around, and a squeak escapes her lips while I continue forward, drenching her back.
“Okay, I give up. I give up,” she yells, raising her arms over her head in surrender.
“Are you sure about that?” My arms slip around her waist from behind as I snatch her up in my grasp. Her back to my chest, I can feel the vibration as she giggles. “Or is this a ruse to get me closer so you can surprise me?”
“Let me go and find out,” she dares.
“Hell no.” I dive to the side, still holding on to her, and we go under together. A flurry of bubbles escapes both of our mouths as we laugh underwater. Releasing my hold, we both rise to the surface. As soon as my shoulders clear the water, Juliet is on me, doing her best to push me back under. She puts up a good fight, but her small frame is no match for my more muscular one. We end up laughing more than battling.
In an instant, we become cognizant of the close proximity of our two bodies, our laughter fading. Tits smashed to my chest, thighs clutching my hips, arms clasped around my neck, she’s wrapped around me like a koala clinging to a tree branch.
My palms press flat to her back as I resist the urge for them to explore. Green desire-filled eyes framed with dark, wet, spiked lashes stare into mine. I’m frozen in place, trapped between my desire to connect our lips and my conscience telling me to break away. Juliet shifts her weight, and her taut nipples sear into my chest through the wet triangles of her top. Her legs clutch my hips tighter, pressing her pussy to my hard cock.
Clenching my teeth, I tell the voice screaming in my head to shut up as it urges me to kiss her. Though my will has never been challenged so much before, I somehow resist the temptation she presents. Gripping under her arms, I break our connection and set her down on her feet, a safe distance between us.
Raking a hand through my wet hair, I nervously struggle for what to say before settling on, “I’m sorry.” She’s been through so much already. She doesn’t need me adding to it.
“Emmett.” She shakes her head, stepping forward.
“No,” I shout. “Don’t. I’m gonna go now.” I nod my head, repeating, “Yeah, I’m gonna go now,” as if I’m convincing myself I’m doing the right thing.
“What if I don’t want you to?”
“I think it’s for the best.”
“Says who?”
My conscience. “Me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you in any way.” Shoulders dropping, she turns around, wading through the water to the stairs. “Thank you for your help,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Juliet, wait.” Hoisting myself out the side of the pool, I leave a trail of water behind me on the patio as I hurry her way. I place a hand on her arm, my thumb caressing her damp skin. “You have nothing to apologize for. I can’t think of anything I want more than to know what your lips taste like.”
“I want that too.”
“You’ve been through so much. I’m not sure we should cross that line.”
“Waiting longer isn’t going to change my past, Emmett.”
“I know that. I want you to think about this and make sure you’re ready for what will happen if we kiss.”
“What do you think will happen?”
“I think you’ll be my ruin.”
“How so?”
“You’ll be the woman who no one else will ever measure up to.”
“You flatter me. There’s only one way to find out for sure.”
“You’re right about that.” I nod slowly. Should I step forward and slam our mouths together, consequences be damned? Or should I press pause and give us both time to make sure we’re ready for what’s to come?
“You never had that sandwich I promised.” Juliet points out, making the decision for me.
I smile, the thick tension between us easing.
“Here, I made you some sandwiches,” Mrs. Thatcher reaches across the table to set the plate down in front of me. My eyes land on the tiny red bikini top barely covering her tits. She moves closer until she’s behind my chair, the scent of her shampoo and chlorine teasing my nose. “I thought you might want to wash it down with an ice-cold beer. It will cool you off from all this heat.” She leans forward, the front of her body making contact with my back as she places the green bottle down on the glass top. The touch is brief, and I imagine the sensation of her taut nipples grazing my skin.
“Thank you, Mrs. Thatcher,” I reply with a raspy husk, my throat unusually dry. Grabbing the bottle, I take a deep pull and then another until half the liquid is gone.
“Emmett, I told you to call me Juliet. And this will be our little secret. You look old enough to drink.” Her hand caresses from the nape of my neck to the top of my head in one smooth motion. “Your hair is so thick and soft.” She combs her fingers through my dark strands. Her nails scrape my scalp, sending a shiver down my spine and blood rushing to my cock. Fuck. I can’t react to her like this. Nothing can happen between us. At least not yet.
Pulling out the chair next to me, she sinks onto the seat and observes as I continue to eat the sandwiches. “I love a man with a healthy appetite.” She winks.
“Would you like some?” I offer.
“Sure, I’ll take a bite of whatever you’re willing to give me.”
Is she talking about the sandwich?
“You can have as much as you’d like,” I reply, not sure what to say. I’m an eighteen-year-old boy, not used to dealing with grown women speaking in possible code.
I move to place the sandwich down on my plate, but Juliet catches my wrist and steers my hand to her mouth. I watch, transfixed, as she sinks her teeth into the turkey and cheese on rye. She moans as she draws back, and the carnal sound has me imagining she’s moaning around my cock. Next, she directs the sandwich to my mouth. I bite around the same area she did.
Juliet smiles and nods. “Good boy.”
I’m not sure why, but hearing her say those two words has my dick responding. This makes no sense—I’m not a boy—I’m a man. But when it comes to Juliet, I want to please her.
She picks up my beer, staring over the top as she raises the bottle. I watch in fascination as her tongue slinks out and licks her lips just before they close around the same spot I drank from. As the glass leaves her mouth, her tongue circles the edge, and I imagine her licking the head of my cock.
Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I capture Juliet’s hand, fingers closing on top of hers, directing the beer to my mouth. When my lips close around the rim, I pretend we’re sharing a kiss. I imagine her taste as I swallow down the remainder. Together, we place the empty bottle on the table, and my hand is slow to end the contact with hers.
She leans in closer and places her palm on my bare leg, just above my knee. “Are you a virgin, Emmett?”
Wait. “What?”
“Are you a virgin? It’s okay if you are.” Her palm leisurely rubs my thigh, creeping under the edge of my shorts. “I�
�m a good teacher.”
“N-no, I’m not.”
“Oh, a boy with experience, huh?”
“Yes, and I’m not a boy.” My words come out stronger now that I’m beyond the initial shock of her question.
“But you can be my boy toy.” Her fingernails drag along the bare skin of my thigh, and I gasp. The slight sting combined with her words has my cock painfully hard. She notices. There’s no way for her to miss the tented material.
“Has anyone ever given you head?”
Head? Yes, please. I swallow noticeably past the lump in my throat. “N-no.” I stutter, shaking my head. “Never.”
“Good.” Juliet rises, stepping between my legs, before lowering to her knees. “I want to be your first.” Her fingernail teases my stomach above the waistband of my board shorts. “Can I be the first person to taste your come, Emmett?”
My nostrils flare as I do my best not to blow just from the thought of her sucking me off. “Yes,” I croak.
Her smile is pure sin as she undoes the tie on my bathing suit. I raise my hips from the seat, and she tugs them down until I kick them off.
“Wow, you are a man,” she purrs, wrapping her hand around my shaft, stroking up and down. Her head drops forward, and I inhale raggedly with anticipation. She rubs one cheek along the length and then turns to repeat the motion with the other.
My fingers clutch her head, burying in her hair. “Please. Suck me,” I practically beg, but I don’t care. I’m past reason—lost in a haze of lust.
“Let go,” she orders, raising her head. “Hold on to the chair arms and don’t move.” Releasing my grip on her hair, I do as she says. At this point, I’m so on edge, I’ll do anything she wants. “Good boys get rewarded. You listened so well, and I’m going to make you come so hard.”
“Please,” I groan, my hands clenched around the metal. Every muscle in my body is taut, as if I’m prepared for battle.
Juliet’s head drops to my lap, her light brown strands teasing my skin. I feel her warm breath wafting over me and then her hot, wet tongue licks from the base of my cock all the way up until she swallows the tip with her plump lips. Her tongue swirls around the head and then she slides all the way down.