Her Big Neighbor
Penny Wylder
Copyright © 2019 Penny Wylder
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is completely coincidental.
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Contents
1. Julia
2. Edward
3. Julia
4. Julia
5. Julia
6. Edward
7. Julia
8. Julia
9. Edward
10. Julia
11. Edward
12. Julia
13. Julia
14. Julia
15. Edward
16. Julia
17. Julia
18. Julia
19. Edward
20. Julia
Epilogue
Books By Penny Wylder
1
Julia
It’s a soft sound that wakes me, but it’s one I’ve been so accustomed to that my eyes open instinctually. It’s the quiet yet distinct sound of my neighbor’s front door shutting. Rolling over and looking out my window, I start my morning routine—looking at Edward Werlin. The hottie next door. We’ve lived next to each other for as long as I can remember, and for that same length of time I’ve had a crush on him. I don’t know him that well since we went to different schools, but I know enough to know that he’s a good guy. And it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that he’s fucking delicious.
Every morning at right around seven, Edward leaves for work. He’s some kind of business and finance guy. And I don’t pretend that that might have influenced my decision when I left for college to get a business degree. Edward always knew what he wanted, and whenever we talked at neighborhood cook-outs or family dinners, he sounded so passionate about it that it made me passionate about it too. Granted, I was pretty passionate about his face and staring at it while he talked too, but he didn’t have to know that.
Edward is standing on his porch, locking his door, and then he heads toward his car. He’s wearing a dark suit today, and the color emphasizes the lightness of his hair and his broad shoulders. Even when we were younger he was attractive, but it wasn’t till I came home a few weeks ago that I saw him again and holy shit, the couple of years that I was gone were good to Edward. He filled out and bulked up, and suddenly a face that was handsome became one with scorchingly hot angles and a jaw that wouldn’t be out of place on a runway.
I can’t deny that he’s been the star of my dreams ever since. He’d pop up occasionally over the years, but now he’s there every night, whispering secrets in my ear and making me absolutely ache with pleasure. Not that I’ll ever be able to act on that.
My mom hates men. She wouldn’t phrase it that way, she would say that she’s being pragmatic about the realities of life. But ever since my dad left when I was too young to even remember him, men have been scum that only think with their cocks and are looking for the newest, freshest pussy. So now that I’m living at home for the foreseeable future, I’m trapped with my fantasies. These few minutes when I can look down at my hot next door neighbor and imagine that the world is different.
Below me, Edward unlocks his car, and when he turns to get inside he looks up straight at my window and smiles. Fuck. He’s never done that before, and my stomach drops straight down to my toes. I swear that his eyes are so blue that I can actually see the color from here.
There’s no way to pretend that I wasn’t staring, and no way to hide that I’m in bed with my hair probably flying around my head after sleep. Super attractive. But I manage to smile back and give a small wave. What other option do I have? My cheeks go hot with a blush, but I don’t look away. I don’t think I could if I tried.
Edward’s smile deepens and he gives me a small nod before climbing into his car and starting the engine. It’s an understated car, not flashy or over the top, but it’s still a nice car. One that shows off taste and status as easily as the cut of his suit.
God, he’s so hot I can’t even breathe, and that smile and nod heats up my body in ways that a smile and nod should never do. Under the covers, I let my hand seek out my clit. It’s been a while since I’ve had sex. I haven’t been dating anyone for a few months and I clearly won’t be able date while I’m living here. But man, I need to get laid.
That’s evidenced by the fact that I’m wet from Edward smiling at me. What I want to happen is for him to come back into his driveway, get out and smile at me again. I want him to climb the ivy that covers the sides of my house and knock on my window. And I want to let him in.
A crash downstairs tells me that Mom is already up and going. But I push it away. I’m taking these few moments for myself before going downstairs and finding yet another pile of stuff that she’s decided to sort through alongside the 700 piles of stuff downstairs that she hasn’t finished sorting through. I can take these few minutes for me.
Focusing on Edward again, I move my fingers faster, and the burst of sensation just makes me wetter. I imagine the way he would kiss me, crushing me to the bed and touching me with sure, steady hands. And then…more.
I want him to kiss and lick my skin, undress me piece by piece and worship every bit of me that he reveals. And I want to do the same to him. I imagine him naked in a way I’ve never seen him. I’ve only ever seen him without a shirt and that was years ago.
I let my mind go, picturing us together and giving in to the feeling of my fingers, driving me higher, using the tricks I’ve learned in a hundred lonely nights to make myself come quickly. I’m so close, and the image of Edward’s perfect blue eyes makes me shake with need.
“Julia, I found some of your old school papers, do you want them?” My mother’s voice sounds outside the door and literally a second later she comes in, holding a stack of papers. I’ve never been so grateful to goddamn heaven that I’m under the blankets, and even though my hand is still in between my legs, I just look like I’m curled up against the window.
My mind is blank and my heart is racing, and slowly, I turn over. “What?”
“Old school papers,” she says. “Do you want them?”
I close my eyes and take a breath, trying to calm my heart and banish visions in my head of Edward fucking me into oblivion. “Do you know what time it is?”
Mom rolls her eyes. She always does this, having woken up at five a.m. for years, she doesn’t quite comprehend that normal people don’t get up that early and that I need sleep. “Come on, we’ve got work to do and I want you go through your old school stuff.”
I sit up, carefully planning my movements so I give nothing away. “I thought we were going to continue working on the dining room today.”
“It’ll get done,” she says, waving a hand. “But the office needs a lot of work.”
I hold back a sigh. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be down in a little while.”
“Don’t take too long,” she says, leaving with the way-too-tall stack of papers. Why does she even still have my papers from high school? I can’t imagine a reason on this earth that I would need to keep them.
I fall back onto my pillows, frustrated. I’m not going to be able recapture the magic of that fantasy. Not when my mom is waiting for me to come downstairs. I’ll file it away for later when I go to bed, and maybe can let my mind be free again.
All of that cleaning is one of the reasons that I decided to move home.
She’s never been one for volunteering, so her sudden fervor for this project took me by surprise.
To be fair, though my mother has always been an odd duck, she accomplishes whatever she puts her mind to. So I don’t have any doubt that she’ll be successful. But that doesn’t mean that it isn’t weird. We’re having this opening gala here at the house in two weeks, and she has enough high-powered contacts from the corporate world that even a mediocre fundraiser will be a huge success.
That is, unless the house is covered in junk that she’s suddenly decided to sort through from our entire lives in this house.
And then there’s me. When Mom asked if I’d move home to help with the charity, I jumped at the chance. Not because it’s what I want to do, but because I was floundering. When I left for college, I thought that business was what I wanted. Get a business degree and an MBA and then start my own business and just crush it. But it isn’t what I thought. It’s dry and boring and a total boys club, and after two years of that, I’m about done. I don’t regret it, even if I decided that it wasn’t for me. I’ve got a lot of knowledge and skills that I didn’t have before.
I’ve got the associates for completing two years in the program, and I have no idea what I want to do. And I didn’t have a clue how to tell my mom that I didn’t want to finish my degree. Or at least that degree. So this came at the right time. But now that I’m here, I feel just as lost as my mom seems. I miss working toward something, even if it’s something that I didn’t enjoy. For now, I’ll have to be happy working toward the charity gala. There’s plenty to do until then.
Sighing, I heave off the covers and head to the shower. I’m hoping this day gets better, because losing an orgasm really isn’t the best start to the day. And I need a goal beyond just sorting through boxes. I’m happy to help my mom get things off the ground, but I need to figure out what I’m doing with myself, because I need something more to work for.
2
Edward
There’s more traffic than usual on the way to the office today, which gives me time to think. Though frankly, I’m kidding myself that I’m thinking and not fantasizing. She was watching me again today. Julia Palmer. Girl next door that I can’t stop thinking about.
I’ve known that she’s been watching me in the mornings for a while, and today’s the first time I let her know. No particular reason, other than I wanted to look at her. She’s been going in and out of the house helping her mother for weeks now. But the mornings, those are a different thing.
Julia has always been beautiful, but I hadn’t noticed her in that way. Not until the summer before she was about to leave for college and it was already too late. But I have incredibly vivid images of her sunbathing with her friends in bikinis so small that they should be illegal and short shorts that made me want to grab her ass and see if it was as firm as it looked.
She’s got this amazing dark hair, and I want to touch it. I can see it now—weaving my fingers through the thick strands and guiding her head downward to my waiting, hard cock. Fuck. I rip my mind away from that image because if I don’t, I’m going to have a hard-on the size of Texas by the time I get to the office. But God, that’s a difficult image to ignore. There are a hundred others like it, taking bits and pieces from my memories and spinning them into something more. Fiery and tempting.
I focus on the road. On driving. Anything but the way Julia’s curves call out to me like they’re begging me by name to touch them and make them mine.
Since coming back, she’s been on my mind nearly every day, though I haven’t thought of a way to approach her yet. I know her mother isn’t a fan of men in general, and certainly not of my family. I don’t want to make things harder than they have to be for Julia. She’s back, and I know she hasn’t graduated, and even though she’s even more beautiful than when she left, I can see the sadness clinging to her like a cloud.
I want to see her smile. Even if it’s just a small one like she gave me this morning.
Hell, I want to do a whole lot more than that, but I’ll start with a smile.
For living next door to each other our whole lives, Julia and I don’t know each other that well. My parents sent my brother and me to a private school. Between that, traveling, and the amount of extracurriculars I had, our lives just didn’t overlap very much.
But what I do remember is amazing and vibrant. She was full of life, and hell if I don’t wish that I had made a move that summer a few years ago. But I’m done spinning my wheels. I’m attracted to her, and I want to get to know her better on both a mental and physical level. I’m pretty sure she’s attracted to me too, otherwise I’d be surprised that she keeps watching me in the mornings.
Finally, after way too long, I pull into my parking spot at the office.
I’m way too young for the position that I currently hold at Werlin Venture, my father’s venture capital company. People don’t get promoted to CEO at twenty-five. But my father decided he was done. He wanted to travel the world with my mother in their retirement and they had enough money to do it, so off they went. I’ve got the house and the company, and I’m working my ass off to make sure that I make him proud. Working for him was all I ever wanted, and why I went into business in the first place.
There was some grumbling when he promoted me, but he’s the majority owner and can do what he likes. I’ve since put a lot of the grumbling to rest and worked hard to show the people at the company that I take my position seriously and that I’m dedicated to not only continuing my father’s legacy but expanding it.
My assistant smirks when I walk through the door. He’s a few years younger than me, and so organized that I think I wouldn’t be able to find my left shoe without him. But Patrick almost never smirks. “Dear God, what happened to put that look on your face.”
“Another message from Kevin.”
I sigh, sudden heaviness and exhaustion weighing me down. My brother has been trying to get a hold of me for weeks. But I don’t really want to talk to him. After everything last year, I just don’t have the energy.
“You want to know what it says?” Patrick asks, following me into my office.
“Not particularly, no.”
He tells me anyway. “He really wants to come for a visit. For some ‘bro-on-bro’ time. He says he misses the long talks that you used to have.”
“He means the way he would go on drunken rants while I was forced to sit there,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Should I put him on your call schedule?”
I glare at Patrick, but he’s practically laughing. “Absolutely not.”
My brother has made some bad choices in his life, and wants to escape them as much as possible. I’m not unsympathetic, but there’s only so much that I can do if he continues to make those choices. And letting him come visit me so he can take a break from the consequences only to go home and fall back into the exact same patterns isn’t the answer.
But I have bigger things to worry about right now. “What’s on top today?”
Patrick runs me through the schedule for the morning, which is a gauntlet of calls on projects we’re trying to get off the ground. Some are in the final stages which means heavy logistics and digging into details that will drive you mad like delivery receipts for construction and delayed progress. Some of them are early in the process which is more brainstorming and hand-holding. But it’s all good. I love the projects we’re working on.
The morning flies by so quickly that I’m genuinely shocked when I look up and see that i
t’s noon. My stomach is growling with hunger, and I’m a little fried from being on the phone for the past four and a half hours. “Patrick?”
He pops his head into my office. “What’s left for the day?” Opening his mouth to launch into my afternoon schedule, I hold up a hand. “Let me rephrase that. It’s Friday afternoon, and I haven’t taken any days off in months. Is there anything on the schedule that will be horribly affected if we push it till Monday?”
Patrick shakes his head. “No, not at all. Your schedule this afternoon is actually lighter than usual.”
“Perfect,” I say, starting to gather my things.
“You all right?” he asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. One of the reasons that Patrick is an excellent assistant is that he is astute. He picks up on things that other people wouldn’t notice, sometimes even before I do.
“Yeah,” I say. It’s the truth. “I’m fine, I just want to relax a bit.” Relax, and make the first move.
Patrick almost rolls his eyes. “You know, housework doesn’t exactly count as relaxing.”
He’s been after me to hire a housekeeper for almost a year, but I don’t want to. I don’t like strangers coming into my house, and I find the simple tasks soothing. They take so much less thought than what I’m doing all day. Besides, I’m just one person—I don’t make that much of a mess. “I don’t need a housekeeper.”
“That’s debatable,” he mutters as he goes back to his desk.
“Call me if something urgent comes up,” I tell him.
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