Blaze: (Naughty Neighbors 1) (3 page)

“
W
hoa
, are you moving in?”

He’d meant it as a joke when she appeared on his doorstep with a small rolling suitcase and a makeup bag. But as he lead her through the apartment on the way to his master bath, he thought he could get used to seeing a face like hers over the breakfast table.

And an ass like that bent over the breakfast table.

Over the arm of the couch. Up against the wall in the hallway. Spread out on his sheets while he—

Fuck
. Basically every piece of furniture they passed on the way to his bedroom inspired a series of increasingly lustful imaginings.

Her voice interrupted the latest filthy thoughts, and Grant was aware he was standing with his mouth hanging half open, having no idea what she was saying. He hadn’t had a woman in his new place, and it was messing a little with his mind.

No, it wasn’t just any woman. It was her. She was messing with his mind.

“I said, thanks for keeping the place up so well.” She gestured vaguely, but it brought both of their attention to his big four-poster. Her cheeks flushed and she bit her lip. But she continued bravely on. “It’s immaculate in here.”

He mumbled something he hoped was coherent, about cleaning services and not being home much and wishing he didn’t have to leave Bess at doggie daycare all the time. And motioned her to the master bath, that marble and metal temple to cleanliness that had damn near sold him on renting the place before he’d even seen it. “I’ll uh, leave you to it.”

“Thanks.”

He stood there, just watching her stand in the doorway to the master bath, knowing the second he walked away she’d be stripping off that tiny little tank top. Peeling those flimsy shorts down her tanned thighs. Was she wearing panties? Did she have a tan line?

Would she be bare and slick if he rubbed his hands over her or would she have a pretty mound of curls?

“Um, Grant?”

“Yeah?” Oh. He was just standing there while she turned the most delightful shade of pinky peach. God he was a moron. This must be so awkward for her, and there he was making it even more so. “Oh, right. I’ll just go.”

“Thanks.” She smiled and reached up for the elastic band holding her hair in some messy ponytail and moved to close the door.

That snapped him out of his trance and he turned to leave.

Shit. A towel. She’d need a fresh towel. Or two. She probably used one for her hair and one for her body.

Oh fuck, the body that was currently, probably, most likely nude behind one little plywood door while he was a hard as the crystal doorknob on it. He hesitated, but knocked. Just a little rap with one knuckle. Maybe she wouldn’t hear and wonder what pervy reason he had to interrupt—

“Yes?” she called out from the other side of the door, and some irrational part of his brain was relieved she hadn’t opened it.

“The, um, there are some clean towels in the cabinets on the west wall.”

“Thanks, I’m good.”

Oh yeah, she was good. She was so damned good. And when Grant heard the exhaust fan whir to life and the shower start up, he thought he might do something completely unmanly like faint.

He was breathing heavily, like the biggest pervert on the face of the earth, just because there was a naked woman on the other side of the door. He should leave. Should absolutely turn around and leave. Maybe get in his car and drive away. Because if he stood there a moment longer, he was going to open that door.

Grant retreated to his office.

It was either that or sit at the foot of his bed and furiously masturbate to the sound of running water.

He could do it, wouldn’t take too long the state he was in. She’d be in there for at least fifteen minutes, wet and slippery with his soap, and all it would take was a couple, maybe three, firm strokes and he’d go off like a bottle rocket. Plenty of time to grab a few tissues, clean up, and fall back dead on the bed.

But that wasn’t the way he wanted to be discovered when she finally emerged from his bathroom.

So here he sat in his executive lounger, adjusting his erection, wishing he’d thought to put on jeans instead of athletic shorts this morning. Jeans would be punishing in this heat, and the press of his hardness against his fly an inconsolable ache, but it would be a damn sight better than the elephant trunk hiding behind flimsy fabric.

But she’d checked him out. While they were on the porch. Laurie had looked him top to bottom like she would use her tongue on the same path her eyes had blazed. And then she’d gone back for a second look in his general crotch region. Fuck yeah, he’d let her go back for seconds. Thirds. Hell, she could feast on him any time she desired.

The thought of joining her in the shower, soaping up, and spending the rest of the hot-water heater’s allowance of steam licking her secret pink skin—and then fisting his hands in her hair as she took him deep—was not helping the situation in his pants.

Water. He needed water. Cold water. And the only shower in the place was deliciously in use, and he wasn’t the type to draw a bath in the tub of the guest bathroom.
Ice water. Kitchen. Move.

It was all he could do to follow his commands when he got to the hall and her floral scent perfumed the air. The smell was a fist around his cock.

In the kitchen, Grant dumped the rest of his coffee over ice and stood still listening for the sound of the water. Wondering if she was soaping up those glorious tits, paying extra attention to her sweet nipples. Were they the same peachy pink of her blush or would they be cinnamon sweet, like the freckles that dusted her shoulders?
Come on, just a little tug, maybe take the edge off
. But no, he’d be damned if he had a walking wet dream currently naked in his house and resorted to jacking off in his kitchen.

His kitchen, of all places!

Bess nudged his thigh, and he absently fished an ice cube out of his tumbler and tossed it to her. She yipped and jumped for it, then chased it round the tiles.

At least someone in this house was happy.

The water switched off.

His breath caught somewhere in his chest. She was getting out of the shower now. Dripping. She’d probably wrap her hair up in that complicated twist of terrycloth women managed. Did Laurie pat herself dry? Or did she rub her towel over her body without remorse, rough and jerky motions that left her skin even pinker?

He headed back to his office, a picture of nonchalance while inside he was cursing himself for inviting her in. “Damn your gentlemanly instincts, Everton.”

Bess made some kind of snort-laugh-bark sound, and he knew her canine assessment was accurate. He was no kind of gentlemen. Gentlemen did not think about fucking their pretty landladies on hot summer weekends.

“Thank you. I think I love you.”

Grant was no gentleman.

He looked up and she was standing in his doorway, perfumed and pink and lovely—and slightly shivering. The air cycled on and he watched her nipples poke through the thin cotton of her dress, the fabric cling to her damp thighs. White. It was white and damn near transparent.

She was braiding her hair, and he wanted to rip the elastic band out of her hands. Wanted to rip the dress from her body and feast on her flesh.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.” Laurie walked a few tentative steps into his office, and the sweet smell of a thousand fragrant meadows followed. He felt a momentary sadness that she hadn’t used his soap, wasn’t branded with his scent.

Disturbing him? Oh, she was disturbing him. He didn’t know his own mind. Had no power over the arms that reached out, grabbed the back of her thighs, and pulled her to him until she was standing between his sprawled legs, saying nothing as he rubbed his hands over her hips in small circles.

“I’m not disturbed,” he said. Liar. Liar! Grant was a depraved lunatic harboring sexual fantasies involving the kinky possibilities of office supplies. “Distracted, maybe,” he confessed.

“Mmm?” Her hum put him in mind of last night, when she was in the throes of pleasure, and he lengthened the sweep of his hands. Up and down her thighs, flirting with the edge of her dress but never delving underneath, he drew out those soft breaths and sighs he’d missed before.

When she whispered his name, he tightened his hold on her hips and beckoned her forward. Laurie moved with him, her knees coming to rest on either side of his thighs in the roomy lounge chair.

She landed with an exhale of air that he stole with his own lips.

G
rant was devouring her
. His lips and tongue hot, so hot on the trail they blazed. Up and down her neck, licking and sucking in huge, hungry sweeps, then returning to her mouth. A wild plunder, a tangle of tongues and the sweet, sweet pass of his hands down her back. Up again until he was cradling her head, positioning her for his maximum enjoyment.

And hers.

He finally pulled back, and the look in his eyes scorched her panties.

Or would have scorched her panties. Had she been wearing any. Which she was not, naughty neighbor that she was.

“I’m not going to apologize for that.” His voice was molten sex, burning away any common sense she had left.

“Who said I’d ask you to?”

Laurie felt the moment her words penetrated the haze of desire they’d conjured around themselves while nestled into his overstuffed chair. As sure as she felt the insistent press of his erection between her legs. It was heavy and thick, and she wanted to use him in wicked, wicked ways. His cock, an object for her pleasure.

His hands made one long, slow pass down her back. Down, down until he reached the swells of her ass, squeezed, and then around to her thighs, where he started grabbing great handfuls of her sundress. When he’d bunched the fabric in both fists and bared her, she felt his cock leap beneath her. She ground down on it, shamelessly ignoring the wetness she was leaving behind and loving the smooth rasp of the fabric of his shorts on her slick skin.

“Saints and angels,” he whispered, staring at the flesh he’d bared. Her pussy swelled, and the friction of his cock between her legs was too much. And not enough.

“Grant.” She wasn’t too proud to whimper. “Touch me.”

In a flash, he’d pulled her dress up over her head. The curse that followed was low and crude and very appreciative.

“No panties. No bra.” She watched him lean forward and close his lips around her nipple. The pleasure was intense and streaked a path straight to her core. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Laurie wanted his mouth back on her, all over her, in all the damp and needy places she’d imagined him kissing while she was in his decadent shower. But when he reached his hand down between them and rubbed at her swollen folds, she guessed that was okay, too.

Yeah. That was more than okay. “Oh, fuck. Grant.”

“We’ll get to that. Come for me. I haven’t been able to think of anything else since last night.” He was performing some magic trick on her pussy, pinching her outer folds together so that only the friction and wetness of her own skin was causing her to come unglued. “Since before. For so long I’ve imagined. All the ways I can make you fall apart in my arms.”

His voice was hot on her neck, thick with desire. He kept up his assault on her flesh and added in some nips and tugs of her nipples to the magic he was working on her clit. “Grant, I can’t—”

“You can, for me. Oh, Laurie, you’re so beautiful like this.”

When he took his fingers away from the exquisite pinch of her flesh, she wanted to sob her frustration. But then both hands were at her breasts, forefingers and thumbs pinching and pulling. Hard. “Grant. Fuck. I need—”

“Take it, baby. Take it. Use me. You’re so wet I can feel you through my shorts.” He fused his mouth to hers and kept up his erotic assault on her breasts.

Hips rocking mercilessly against his hardness, she took nothing but her own pleasure. It was a glittering thing racing through her body, pooling where they touched. Igniting.

She wrenched her head back from their kiss, unable to bear the sensation. She cried out to the rhythm of the pinch-pull on her nipples and shivered as she came, bucking and fucking against him in ecstatic abandon.

“Damn, baby, just like that. God you’re gorgeous.”

G
rant didn’t wait
to bring her down gently, not when he had at least four more orgasms planned for her before he joined her in the conflagration. Fuck, they were going to set his bed on fire.

He stood up, Laurie’s wetness fusing them together where here legs were wrapped around him still. “You okay?”

“Mmmph.” She mumbled something else into his throat and he tightened his hold on her. God, she was sweet.

“Twenty feet to the bed. You with me, sugar?”

“What was wrong with the chair?”

They were at the doorway to his bedroom in no time at all, and it was almost unbearable to let her go. But seeing her spread out on his sheets, fuck, if he hadn’t come in his pants as she writhed against him, he couldn’t allow himself to now by just looking at her.

“Nothing is wrong with that chair,” he said as he yanked his shirt up over his head. She made a small appreciative noise and moved to cup her breasts. She was easy with them, palming the flesh he’d so eagerly abraded. “Absolutely nothing. It’s maybe my favorite chair in the history of furniture after today.”

When he shucked his shorts, she sat up on her elbows. Her smile was pure feminine evil as she spread her legs wide for him.

She was neat and tidy and absolutely soaking wet, and he couldn’t wait to bury himself inside of her.

“I take it back. I fucking love this bed.” He palmed his cock, and the torture was acute. He wanted a taste of her, at least before they got to the main event. “Your elastic band, gimme.”

He had to give her credit: Laurie didn’t even blink at his request. Just unraveled her braid and handed him a red-hot piece of fabric-wrapped rubber. “What are you—oh.”

He grinned when her eyes went wide as he slipped the elastic down over his cock, stretching it under his sac. He winced at the pressure, and she almost undid all of his plans when she reached out a finger to swirl through the precum at his tip. “None of that. Lie back. Spread your legs again. I’ve got plans for that sweet cunt.”

“Condom, Grant,” she said, but she complied, arranging herself back on his bed, legs going even wider than before. Her lips flushed as red as her pussy, just as slick, too. And when he reached out to swipe at her finger with his tongue, he felt an answering pull at his cock. “Oh, fuck, Grant.”

By the way she started shaking as he sucked his wetness from her finger, he knew she was almost over the edge again. “I’m going to put my mouth on you, Laurie.”

“I can’t—”

“You can. Come as much as you like. I won’t mind.” Oh no, he wouldn’t mind at all. She was sweet and wet and fragrant, and when he closed his lips over her clit, she arched up beneath him, a keening sound torn from her throat. “That’s two. Very good, sugar. Very good.”

He didn’t caress her on the way down from her climax, didn’t wait for her to relax. Just sank a finger deep inside her and licked around and around her clit until she was convulsing around him, chanting
please please please
.

“Do you need more, Laurie?” He added a second finger, mercilessly rubbing the front of her tight sheath, and her muscles clamped down on them. She was sobbing her release, the waves washing over and over her, and he knew he needed more.

When he released himself from the improvised cock ring, he almost wept along with her. The relief was agony, and if he didn’t bury himself in her soon, he’d blow his wad all over her soft belly.

Laurie had recovered enough to convince herself she was capable of coherent movement, but he smiled as he had to brush her fumbling hands away as he rolled the condom down his shaft. He was wet and sticky with more precum than he’d ever seen. It had been too long. “Sweet Laurie, can you see what you do to me?”

She grabbed for his cock and guided it to her entrance. The heat of her, even through the latex barrier, was maddening. “If you don’t do something to me in the next two seconds, Grant Everton, I will not be responsible for my actions.”

Ah, she’d recovered enough to resort to threats. This was going to be fun.

But fun was not the word that came to mind when he plunged himself into her. In fact, no words came to mind. He was a being of sensation. Of pure want.

She was all tight heat and slick satisfaction.

Her inner walls grabbed at him when he tried to pull back out, making his retreat a slow and torturous slide. A torture he’d gladly succumb to.

“Again.”

At her breathless request, he flexed his hips and drove into her, mindless to all but the pressure burning deep, the electricity that zigzagged in maddening patterns across his flesh wherever she touched him. The drag of her nails on his ass, the scrape of her teeth on his shoulder. The thigh she’d wrapped around his.

“Grant, please.
Please.
” Her voice was a hoarse cry in his ear, and when he ground his pelvis down into hers, his own shout matched hers in intensity.

“You feel so good, baby,” he crooned to her, senseless sex words that spilled from him like the release that was building. Frantic exclamations and promises, grunts and growls in time with the heavy thrust and drag of his cock inside her until he was shaking with his release. Arms barely holding his torso up off her.

She dragged him down, clutching at his shoulders, rubbing her clit against him until the flutters of her last orgasm faded.