So. Long.: Bad Boy Next Door (30 page)

“So, it’s all instincts?” Poor guy. He really believes this
crap.

He nods once, as though that should put this discussion to
bed. “Purely instinctual.”

“Well, I believe you’re the exception, not the rule.
Besides, what happens when you’re too old for sex? When all the little blue
pills quit working and you find yourself all alone?”

His eyebrows knit. He chews the corner of his bottom lip.

Finally, his perplexed look melts, replaced with a
mischievous grin. “If that day ever comes, I’ll hang out with my friends. We’ll
play poker and talk about when we used to have sex, and I’ll wish I could still
get it up.”

Jackson rubs my knee with his knuckle. “But I
can
still get it up. As a matter of fact, it’s not far from up now. Just a look
from you would set it off.”

“Yeah, I bet it would. Seems like you have a hair trigger
when it comes to your pistol.”

“Nothing wrong with being ready to go in an instant. Don’t worry,
I have plenty of stamina. Not everything happens as quickly as I get hard.
Hell, last night I took three cold showers and still had to jack-off to get
some sleep.”

A mental image of his hand wrapped around his huge, engorged
cock, and him drawing his hand up and down the length, invades my mind. That
vein that runs down the side throbs when he’s aroused; it was thumping my
fingers under the table at the restaurant.

He smoothes his hand up my thigh until his long fingers
nudge the top of my mound.

I take hold of his hand. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can. You just open up and let me in.” He turns his
hand in mine, rubbing the back of my knuckles with his thumb.

“I shouldn’t do anything of the sort.”

Damn. The thing is that I sure as hell want to.

He beseeches me with his eyes. His fingers dig a bit deeper
between my thighs. “Tell you what; you don’t have to do a thing. Simply lie
back and relax. If Dave asks what you did when you got home, tell him you put
on your fuzzy jammies and relaxed on the couch. No lies. No deceit.”

My pulse beats in my pussy, begging for another taste of
what we started but didn’t finish at the restaurant.

Well, it’s not like Dave and I have decided to be exclusive
already. At this point, it isn’t really any of his business what I do.

I let out a little sigh. Now I’m justifying. Great.

Jackson leans over and slides the tip of his tongue over my
bottom lip. “Love the one you’re with, Peaches. Or, just let the one you’re
with love you.”

My breath escapes out of parted lips. He takes full
advantage and deepens the kiss, his fingers stroking my pussy lips in rhythm
with his tongue. I put my hands flat on his chest. His pecs flex like they did
earlier. Wonder if he can make his dick do that?

Heat warms my belly and sends liquid to my entrance.

Jack slows his kisses as he moves down. When he slides his
hands beneath my shirt, he pushes it, and I raise up long enough for him to
yank it over my head.

His eyes go to my naked breasts.

Oh Lord, he thinks they’re too big. Or not perky enough. Or
both. I move my hands up to cover them.

He takes my wrists. “No. Don’t.”

I relax my arms a bit.

He licks his lips and quirks an eyebrow. “Butterfly.”

I look down. The tattoo. I lift one shoulder. “Yeah. I like
them.”

He leans in and places a kiss on the wings. “I like this
one.”

Jackson palms one of my Double-Ds and massages as he licks
and kisses the other. The sensation pulls on my womb every time he sucks in my
nipple, tickling it with the tip of his tongue. Then he switches sides and
lavishes the same sweet attention on the other.

I pull at his shirt.

He stands and divests himself of his clothes. His pecs and
abs are almost enough to send me into a mini-o. His tats climb from his pecs over
his shoulder and spiral around his arms, down past his elbows. His powerful
thighs flex, the muscles defined and the dusting of dark hair over them begging
for me to slide my hand up them. But it’s his cock, long and thick, about to
drip a bead of pre-cum right in front of me, that sends a shiver across my skin
and a flood of wetness to my cunt.

Damn. He’s hotter than the desert sun in August.

I sit up and take hold of his dick with both hands. He sighs
and closes his eyes, letting his head fall backward. His fists clench and
unclench. It’s only inches away. And that drop of glistening moisture calls to
me. I lean to him, breathing over his cock’s head. It flexes in my hands.

Merry Christmas
, Ronnie. Lord. I’ve gotta give it a
lick.

Ronnie sits at the edge of the couch. Her gorgeous, full
breasts, the color of a mocha latte with dark, extra-large chocolate kisses at
their tips, are right there, waiting for more loving.

At the end of my cock, her mouth is poised—breathing over
me. Fuck. I might’ve lied. I may have to come to satisfy this hunger, and then
rise again to enjoy her some more.

Her pink tongue darts out and swipes the drop of liquid off
my erection. I swear, my nuts drew up in preparation for ejaculation. She blows
across the wetness she created, and I have to steady myself with my hand on her
head.

I pull back when she looks up at me. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to
do that. You’re making me weak in the knees, Peaches.”

Her full lips spread in a wicked smile. She pushes my cock
up and licks from my balls to the end. I widen my stance so I don’t fall over.
When Ronnie tips my shaft back down and slides those puffy, perfect, dick-sucking
lips over me, it’s almost more than a man can take.

“Oh, yeah. Like that.” My breathing slows as I wait for her
to move.

When she does, she takes as much of my cock into her mouth
as possible.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She draws back, tightening her lips and creating suction as
the rim of my head catches on her teeth, but in a good way. In again. And out.
And in. And out.

She stops.

My eyes fly open. “Want to do something else?”

She shakes her head as she kicks her slippers onto the floor
and slides her pants off. When she sits, she pulls one of her legs up, propping
her foot on the edge of the sofa. I get a glimpse of her beautiful pussy, a few
shades darker than her thighs. It calls to my dick, but before I can make a
move, her mouth is on my cock’s head, her tongue drawing spirals on its tip.

As she sucks and licks my cock, her hand moves around to my
ass. She pulls me closer as she takes my dick deeper, those dark lips wrapped
around my shaft.

Fuck, I could just shoot my wad right now.

“Damn, Babe. That’s amazing.”

She nods a little, her one hand massaging my ass, the other
moving to her cunt.

Oh shit. She’s fucking touching herself. Aw damn.

My cock might as well be granite, it’s so hard, and it wants
to fucking explode. Her hand moves at her pussy in time with her mouth taking
me deeper and deeper.

The more she pleasures me, the quicker she pumps her fingers
into her own pussy. In and out. In and out. My balls move up as the pressure
increases in my cock, the skin stretching as I grow bigger.

Wet noises smack of self gratification and mutual enjoyment.
The scent of her peaches and cream permeates the air, making me hungry to taste
her.

My fingers find their way to her thick, soft curls. I rest
my hand gently on her crown. The movement of her head and the way her mouth
heats my cock—damn.

She increases her pace with both the fingers she’s pumping
into her very wet cunt, from the sound of it, as well as her warm and silky tongue
on my hard-on—getting harder every second.

Then she makes a little noise, like last night. A mew
crossed with a grunt.

Holy fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She sucks my cock harder as her fingers flex on my ass
cheek. She groans and stops sucking to pant, but then she latches on again, and
she’s moving me in and out of her mouth so hard and so fast, I can’t help but
pump my hips, catching stride with her rhythm.

Ronnie makes a sexy as fuck sound, and her grip on my butt
tightens and doesn’t let go. The suction on my dick is too much.

That’s it. I can’t hold back. “Fuck, Ronnie, I’m coming.
Right now. I’m coming.”

She grunts her reply, the hand at her pussy still working,
the one on my ass gripping tightly. Ronnie sucks harder. As my cum shoots into
her mouth, she swallows every bit of it.

She makes little noises in her throat until a shudder runs
through her. Finally, her hand flexes on my ass and she lets go. She pulls away
from my cock, the suction making a pop as it leaves her mouth.

She looks up at me, her big doe eyes close, and she flushes,
her flawless skin tinges a tad darker. Fucking gorgeous.

I tip up her chin. She opens her eyes but won’t look at me.

“Hey,” I say.

She jumps to her feet and snatches up clothes, shoving mine
into my chest. She pulls on her pants and gets her shirt backward and inside
out.

I slide my jeans on and tuck my junk in, but I don’t zip or
button. Not yet. I still want a taste of those peaches.

“Okay, then. You be safe driving home. Merry Christmas and
all that.” She takes off into the kitchen.

I stride after her, bare feet slapping the cold tile. “What
are you doing?”

She pinches her bottom lip and refuses to look at me.

I back her against the counter. “Ronnie, what’s the
problem?”

Her gaze flits from one corner to the next, her cheeks
flooding with even more pink tint. “I imagine Shay will be home any time. We’re
lucky she didn’t walk in while we were—”

I place my finger over those luscious lips. “Shush. After
the other night, when you sat at the table letting me almost bring you to
orgasm with her two feet from you? I don’t buy that shit. Shay coming in isn’t
your problem right now. What’s really going on?”

She tries to turn her head, but I take her chin in hand,
gently, but with enough force to keep her from dodging me again. “Peaches, tell
me.”

Ronnie looks up from under thick lashes and licks her lips,
sending a shaft of desire through me.

“I just—I’m a little embarrassed about what I did.” She
chews that lip, making me want to taste it again.

“What you did? You mean that amazing thing you did with your
mouth on my cock? That?”

She gives me a one-shoulder shrug, her eyes darting away
again.

I lean down and kiss her, slow and long, letting my tongue
explore her sweet mouth. I get hard again thinking about why she tastes of me.

I nip her bottom lip. “Why would you be embarrassed about that?
If anything, you should be proud of that shit. That was hands down the best head
I’ve ever had. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”

Her eyes come back to mine, a small smile playing at her
lips. “Really?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“I do like to suck cock. Kind of a lot.”

Fuck yes. The woman of my dreams. That is,
if
I was
ever going to have one, she’d like to suck dick. That’s the perfect complement
to my appetites.

I kiss her hard on the mouth. “
Perfection
, Ronnie.
Per-fection.”

Her hands flutter at my waist. “What about the other part?”

I take her hand from where it rests and stick her finger in
my mouth, sucking it as I slowly pull it out. I do the same with the one next
to it, and then her thumb. She stares at my mouth with huge eyes.

“There are very few things hotter for a guy than a woman
touching herself.” Unless it’s a woman touching another woman, but that’s
something I probably shouldn’t bring up right now.

She gnaws on that bottom lip a bit more, and then she pulls
out of my arms to duck around me. “Okay. If you say so.”

I follow her into the living room, plowing into her from
behind. I grab her around the waist, sliding my hand inside her pajama pants and
rubbing my raging erection against her ass. “Now. Where were we?”

The front door opens and crashes closed—it may as well have
slammed on my dick.

Fuck.

SIX

Dickey Bird gets excited every time Shay comes home. He
whistles and calls out, trying to get her attention.

Always happy to show off his growing vocabulary, as soon as
she walked through the door a few minutes ago, he squawked, and then as clear
as day, he yelled, “Fuck, Ronnie, I’m coming. Right NOW!”

Shay was so thrilled that she kicked a not-embarrassed-in-the-least
Jackson out and told him not to come back.

Ridiculous bird. I was going to get laid. That’s twice that
I’ve been robbed by that bird.

At least Shay feels bad—now that Jackson’s gone.

She apologizes for the third time. “I’m sorry. I’ve just had
a shit night. Of course you can have any guest you want. Really. I’m sorry I
overreacted.”

I hold up my hand. “It’s all right. I get it.”

“I can call him, tell him to come back. You guys should have
crazy, life-affirming, monkey sex all over the house. I’ll go to a hotel. You
can even fuck in my bed if you want—just clean up after and don’t tell me.” She
wrings her hands, looking pitiful and remorseful—so unlike the Shayna I know but
I love anyway.

Shaking my head, I laugh. “Thank you. Very generous offer.
But it’s probably best this way. He’s not the guy I want. He’s just a hormone-fog-induced
speed bump on my road to a real relationship.”

“Yeah, maybe. But he’s a fucking hot speed bump, with other
bumps in all the right places. I mean, that guy is seriously shredded, Rons. I
really screwed you by not letting him screw you. I owe you
something
.”

I turn off the light as I head down the hall.

“Shay, stop already. It’s okay. I have a vibrator. I—I will
survive.” I sing the lines from the Gloria Gaynor song Gee-Gee loves so much.

And so another night with my battery-operated boyfriend.
Well, at least B.O.B. is willing to be part of a long-term relationship.

Jackson Tremaine’s idea of a long-term relationship is
probably when he stays in a girl’s bed longer than it takes the wet spot to
dry.

Cock-blocked by a fucking bird.

I slam my hand against my steering wheel.

And to top it off, now I can’t go see Ronnie when I want to.
Whatever crawled up Shay’s ass sure did a job on me and my plans. Fuck.

How else am I going to get some pussy? Well, that
particular
pussy.

The way she looked up at me, all sweet and sexy, embarrassed
because she likes to suck cock. Aw, man. Doesn’t get any better than that.

And I didn’t even get to lick her cunt or suck it or
anything. I hope she was at least somewhat taken care of by her own hand. I’ve
never left a woman hanging. That’s just—no real man does that. But when a lady
says get out of her house, you get the fuck out.

Shit. Now I’ll be jackin’ off again tonight. Damn.

Girl’s gonna give me fucking tennis elbow.

Tennis.

That’s it!

Shayna surprised me last evening when I called and she
actually told me where Ronnie plays tennis. She even apologized for kicking me
out. She said her bird had a dirty mouth anyway and Dickey learning something
new would be entertaining later, if embarrassing for Ronnie.

I laugh at the thought of one of Ronnie’s future boyfriends
visiting, and that bird sounding off about how it’s coming while calling
Ronnie’s name. I have to admit that, as much of a sick bastard as it makes me, that
shit’s pretty fucking funny.

I have a big grin all the way to the park, where Ronnie’s
meeting our boy, Dave.

Dave—the man. The one she’s supposed to make fall for her.

Yeah. We’ll see about that.

I park under a tree and wait.

The sun warms the cool morning air to a comfortable
temperature fairly quickly. Ronnie shows up, ready to play in her tennis pants
and top—she must be a serious player. It looks like she has all the right gear.
With her racket in hand, she lets herself into the court. She goes through her stretches
in preparation for the game.

The park is almost deserted this time of morning. With the
exception of a woman sitting on the bench with children playing on the swings
and slides adjacent to the tennis courts, Ronnie and I are the only ones here.

I get out of the car, careful to close the door as quietly
as possible. Slinking over to the running trail, I find a spot behind a hedge
to stretch. I do some jumping jacks and other calisthenics until I work up a
light sweat. Don’t want to get too nasty, but I have to make this believable.

Taking off jogging around the end of the hedge, I take the
fork in the trail that runs closest to the tennis courts. As I close in, I
slow.

Looking straight ahead. Looking ahead. Okay. Now.

“Ronnie? Is that you?” I wave and raise my eyebrows,
employing the acting skills I haven’t used in quite some time to act surprised.

She turns and shades her eyes. “Jackson?”

“Good morning, Peaches.” I veer off the path toward the gate
to the court. “Odd that we should end up in the same place this morning.”

She props and hand on her hip and cocks her head. “Don’t
even try it, Tremaine. You forget that Shay’s my best friend. She told me you
called.”

“Damn. I should’ve known.”

“What I don’t get is why you’d bother.” She reaches into her
bucket and picks up a ball, tossing it in the air and smacking it with her
racket. It flies down the court and bounces off the fence.

“Call it professional curiosity.”

She grabs a second ball from her supply. “Curious about
what?”

I shrug. “About what you’ll do to catch him. You know,
ensnare
him with your loving ways and all the mumbo jumbo in your book.”

She lobs the ball across the court with a hard swing of her
racket and turns hard eyes on me. “You said you read the book. You should
already know.”

“Actually, I said I read
parts
of it. The chapter
headings, mostly.” I earn a roll of her eyes.

“I’ll treat him with respect. And I’ll make sure to tell him
all the things that a woman who’s interested in having a relationship with a
man should tell him. I’ll make him confident that he can depend on me to
support him when he needs it, but stand back and let him do his thing when he
doesn’t.”

“Sounds good, but it’s all theory, right? I mean, have you
ever used this technique? You don’t have a guy right now, so…”

This time she takes two balls in one hand—like she held
my
balls in her hand.

Great, now I’ve sprung a woody. “Shit. Fuck.”

I turn away to hide the fact that I’m a fucking teenager in
a man’s body. Two feet from me, two little noses and the four rosy cheeks that
belong with them press against the chain link fence. With their tiny fingers
clinging to the wire, two kids from the playground stare at me.

The taller of the two turns away. Never letting go of his
grip, he screams at the top of his lungs. “Mommy! That bad man said bad words.”

I freeze in place, except, out of sheer self-preservation,
my hands cover the tent in the front of my shorts. I whip around to face
Ronnie. Better she sees it than two tots, whose mother is running over as I
stand here, mortified over the fact that I’ve popped a boner.

It’s the first time I’ve gotten embarrassed over going full
salute since I was sixteen. That time, I stood in front of my English class,
and Mrs. Clemson bent over to get a book. That tight little ass on the
twenty-something teacher was more than my teenage cock could handle. I’d take
that experience over this one any day.

Ronnie’s gaze goes to the hands still covering my wilting hard-on.
Nothing like a couple of rug rats to kill a ball buzz. Her eyebrows shoot up.

I try to keep the conversation on track. “No guy now?
Lately? When did you last have a boyfriend?”

“Not that it’s any of your business; no, as we’ve already
established, I don’t have a guy,
right now
. But that really has nothing
to do with whether or not my methods work. I haven’t met anyone I want to date
since…” She bites her bottom lip, and her eyes jump to meet mine, darting away
almost instantly.

“Since?” Why do I even care? What is it about this girl that
makes me curious about all the things I’ve never cared about when it came to
any woman?

Her inhalation sounds tired and deep. With a shake of her
head, she tosses one of the balls into the air and slams it with more
aggression than that ball probably deserved. Why do I get the feeling that she
might be imagining it’s one of mine?

“Since I don’t want to talk about it.” She tucks a stray
curl back into the bun atop her head.

The children’s mother comes to the fence, dragging them away
and chattering on about how people should watch their mouths in public. I give
her a little wave. At least she doesn’t know what else happened in public. I’d
probably get arrested.

I check my watch. It’s seven twenty-two. If they were
meeting at seven, Dave’s late. What the fuck? Is he going to stand her up? He’d
better not pull some shit like that. Not cool.

“So, did Dave text? He’s late, right?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. We’re set to meet at seven thirty.
What time is it?”

“Oh. Guess not then. A few more minutes.” Why do I even care
if she gets stood up?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Okay, so she’s a hot piece of ass that I’m dying to tap, but
whether or not she succeeds with her work really shouldn’t matter to me. And
whether or not she’s disappointed by some guy she’s going on a fake date with shouldn’t
be important to me.

But it is.

Damn. I need to get laid. This is ridiculous.

Tonight. I get fucked tonight. Even if it has to be someone
from my little black book. This shit’s fucking with my head. Both of them.