So. Long.: Bad Boy Next Door (37 page)

We dine in the living room, the same place I sucked his cock
while getting myself off. Every time I raise my eyes, they meet his. As if he’s
been staring at me the whole time.

Is he thinking of that too? His huge dick sliding in and out
of my mouth?

It comes to mind every time I sit on this couch. Sometimes,
when I’m home alone, I sit here specifically to think of it. Those times, I
usually bring my vibrator.

He nudges me with his knee. “Shayna gonna be home anytime
soon?”

“Not sure.”

He sets his plate on the side table and settles into the
cushions, his hands behind his head. “I want to bend you over the back of this
couch and eat some pussy for dessert.”

And that small flame in my lower belly blooms into an
inferno. This is getting ridiculous.

I have to stop this before it ruins my life. “Not today,
Jack.”

His eyebrow quirks. “You sure? Because I have it on good
authority that you like it when I slurp up your juicy-juice.”

“Good authority?” Oh, Lord, here we go.

“Sure. I suck it up, and you immediately make more. Pretty
definitive proof, if you ask me.” His dimples appear, and he runs the tip of
his tongue over the bottom half of his grin.

“You really are something else, Jackson Tremaine.”

“Seriously—you don’t want to get busy?” He lays his hand on
my thigh.

I jump from my seat before I give in to that little voice
that comes from my lower lips. “Yes, I’m serious. There is zero chemistry
between Dave and me. It must have to do with the fact that I’m involved with
you.”

He quirks a brow. “We’re involved?”

Exasperation escapes with my sigh. “You know what I mean.”

Jack rubs his chin, his expression difficult to read. It
takes him a full minute before he pushes to his feet and gathers our dinner
dishes. “All right. What can we do, since you won’t let me suck that pussy raw?
Want to see a movie?”

His mouth moved. The words were audible. But there’s no way
that’s right. “Did you ask me to go to a
movie
?”

He winks. “Sure. Remember? That’s where there’s this big
screen and a bunch of people play-act some kind of story for entertainment
purposes. I hear a lot of people really enjoy going, and even more when they go
with a friend.”

A friend?

I let out a small sigh.
Friends.
Disappointment
dampens the heat in my nether regions.

Disappointment? What is there to be disappointed about?

The answer to my unasked question hovers just out of reach,
perhaps because I don’t really want to know.

He heads to the kitchen. “You don’t like the movies? We can
do something else, if you want—no indoor skydiving, though. I promise.”

My stomach is heavy and my skin prickles.

The water turns on. Dishes clink as he washes them.

Jackson Tremaine—washing dishes in the house I live in.
Jackson Tremaine, who said we’re
friends
. Jackson Tremaine, a man I
never wanted to be my friend.

My feet root to the carpet as I try to work out how I got
into this mess. Was it the way he took such good care of me when I busted my
head? Is it because he keeps showing up, always smiling, joking, bringing the
sunshine from the outside in? Or how he works so hard to bring me pleasure,
even putting off his own?

I swallow. No. This isn’t right. It can’t be. I didn’t even
particularly
like
him when we met. Do I actually
like
him now? Or
could it be that my body likes what he does to it?

My muscles suddenly weaken. I drop to the sofa and squeeze
my eyes shut.

Memories trip through my mind. All the smiles, his green
eyes, his teasing dimples. Extravagant gifts and gentle—and some
not-so-gentle—touches. The truth bears down on me like a boulder coming off a
cliff.

I don’t just like him. I might
love
him.

THIRTEEN

Ronnie’s quiet as I stack the last plate on the drainer. Too
quiet.

I head into the living room. She sits on the sofa, a dazed
look on her face, chewing her thumbnail.

“Peaches? You not up for a movie?”

“Movie?” Ronnie stares at me as though I’ve sprouted a dick
from my forehead.

“Just a thought. What were your plans for this evening?
Besides leaving me with a raging case of blue balls?”

The blank expression fades.
There
she is.

She stands and brushes her curls aside. “Since we’re
supposed to keep our time together on the low down, I have a new desk
I’m
going
to put together. I’m not sure what
you
want to do.”

“I’ll help you. I’m mechanically inclined.”

She leads me to her bedroom, where the box for her particle
board desk lies in the floor. Taking a screwdriver from the top of her chest of
drawers, she pries open the end of the box.

Thirty minutes into it, we still sit in the floor with
pieces and parts and screws and bolts scattered. I’ve put together a large
portion of the furniture.

“It’s starting to look like a desk at least.” I slide my
hand along the smooth surface.

Ronnie’s beautiful lips curl up in a gorgeous smile. She
nods. She’s barely said two words since I started. The few women I know would
probably prattle on and on and on. Not Ronnie. She’s content to just sit and
be. It’s as if she’s happy just to watch me work.

Weird that an audience of one should give me this kind of
thrill, but she’s watching me as though it’s the most interesting thing she’s
ever seen.

I continue working, and she sits on her hands and smiles.

Finally, it’s finished. I flip it over so it’s upright.

Ronnie stands next to me as we both admire the work of art.
Because it
is
art. Abstract fucking art.

I turn to her. “Why are you still smiling?”

She slips her arms around my waist, pushes up on her
tip-toes, and kisses my cheek. There’s a little tingle where her lips press
against me.

“Thank you for taking the time to do this for me.”

I smooth my hands down her arms and set her away from me.
“Did you look at it?”

She nods, her smile still wide.

“Can you
not
see what I see?”

She lifts one eyebrow. “What? All I see is that the desk that
I was going to have to struggle to put together is finished for me and I didn’t
have to do a thing.”

I turn her to face the furniture, holding her gently by the
shoulders. “It’s lopsided. Can’t you see that? I fucked it up.”

“It’s fine. It’ll work great.”

What the fuck? Is she blind?

Several unused pieces litter her carpet, along with a
handful of nuts and bolts. “I should’ve read the instructions.”

She picks up the extra items, stuffing them back into the
box. “It’s great. Really. I appreciate that you spent your time to do it for
me. What counts is that you cared enough to help me. So it’s not perfect. Big
deal.”

Aw hell. Why is she being so nice? Shouldn’t she yell at me?
At least be upset that I didn’t do it right?

I take the box from her. “No. I’ll fix it. Let me look at
the instructions. It’s probably just one board out of place.”

Two hours later, the desk has been taken apart and put back
together. Twice.

This time, it’s right. Ronnie’s smile hasn’t faltered. Who
is this woman? Why hasn’t she come into my world sooner?

“Okay. What else can I put together for you?” I grin.

She takes my hand and drags me to the kitchen. “You deserve
a break. Why don’t I cut you some cake and you can relax?”

I sit at the table. She brings a big slab of chocolate cake
to me with a glass of cold milk, a bottle of vodka, and some Kahlua tucked
under her arm.

Nice.

Then she sits across from me and makes us both White
Russians.

“You aren’t having cake?”

“Nope.” She’s still got that grin.

I cut into the cake and take a bite. It’s superbly
delicious. When I take my second bite, Ronnie scoots off her chair and drops to
her knees.

“What are you doing, Peaches?”

She knee-walks to me and reaches for my belt. “I’m going to
have my snack.”

Insta-erection.

She unbuckles, unbuttons, and unzips me. Then her warm
fingers wrap my hard-on. Hmm.

Ronnie leans close. “Let’s see if you can finish your cake
while I do this.”

Holy shit. “You want me to eat while you suck my cock?”

She smiles. “Have you ever had cake while someone did this
for you?”

I lick my lips. “Never.”

“Good. Every time you eat cake from here forward, you’ll get
a woody and think of me.”

Dipping the tip of her finger into her glass, she slides the
coolness along my shaft. Then she wets her finger again and swathes it over the
head.

Fuck. Me. That’s hot.

She licks my erection with the flat of her tongue, swirling
it around the head. Then she takes me into her mouth and sucks. The heat that
gathers in my dick spreads to my balls. Her hand slips in next to her lips and
she glides up and down, filling me to the brim with all the blood that should be
pumping to the rest of me.

My breaths get shallow.

She stops. “Cake.”

I pick up my fork and take a bite, trying to chew as she
slips my dick between those voluptuous lips.

Three more bites are all I take before my hard-on tightens
and I grunt. She’s got her hand moving, her head bobbing. My balls draw up.

Holy fuck.

Then my cock explodes with sensation. She swallows my cum as
I spurt over and over onto her tongue and down her throat. Her lips stay tight
until she milks every last drop from me.

She pops her mouth off the end of my still-hard cock. “Was
the cake good?”

I grab her, pulling her to me as I slip my hand up her
skirt. “Was the
cock
good?”

She closes her eyes and smiles like she’s in heaven. “It was
fan-
tastic
.”

My dick stirs again. I push the plate away. “My turn.
Dessert after dessert.”

I lay her backward onto the table and pull my chair up
between her legs. She props her feet on my knees.

“Oh. Panties must all be in the wash.” I grin.

She’s propped on her elbows, watching me as I hike her skirt
to her waist.

I keep eye contact as I drag her ass to the edge of the
table and push her knees apart. I kiss the inside of each of her thighs. I
trail kisses to that sweet spot.

Her cream is addictive. Shit,
she’s
addictive. I
could eat her pussy every day and never tire of her. I run my finger over the
lips that hide the little bud I like to play with so much. The way she wiggles
and squirms is sexy as hell. The sounds she makes? Even hotter.

I grab the bottle of vodka and open it.

Her eyes go wide. “Don’t you want the mixed drink?”

“Nope. This right here is more my speed. I’ll make a peach
cream vodka.”

She squeaks, but lays back and tucks her hips under a tad
more. Her pussy opens to me, and I pour in a little vodka. I lap it up, along
with her tasty juice.

I lick her lips clean and delve deep to tickle her inside.
Then I pull back and slide my tongue around her clit, batting at it until
Ronnie starts to wiggle.

I pour another shot and slurp it up. And another.

After the fifth body shot, she says. “Holy crap. I think I’m
getting a buzz.”

“Is it good?”

“It’s different—kind of stings, but also tingly. I like it.”

I slip my finger inside and suckle her bud until she’s
breathless. She pants and her body tightens.

Another shot, and she’s giggling as I slurp up the sweetened
alcohol from her pussy. She wraps my shoulders, with her legs and I lick and
suck, and thrust my fingers deep until she’s bucking against me, at the edge of
her climax.

My dick is as hard as a light post and almost as long. I slide
my hand up and down as I suck Ronnie’s clit. Before either of us comes, I pour in
one more shot, and ram my cock in. The vodka runs out around my balls and down
her ass cheeks.

Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is open. I grab her hips
and drag her in tight to me. Then I pull back and push in again. My thumb
massages her clit, and she tosses her head from side to side.

My erection slides in and out as I thrust harder and faster.
I can’t get deep enough. Something inside makes me need to leave my mark on her
soul, as she’s left hers on mine.

I’ve never seen a woman more beautiful when she climaxes
than Ronnie is when the spasms take over, and her body clenches down. It’s as
though she’s sealing us together.

Like every time, when she comes, it triggers my own orgasm.
I curl my hips forward, jamming my cock as deep as I can. My cum shoots out,
hot and wet, into her warm and welcoming pussy.

She rises up and throws her arms around me as I pump my seed
into her.

My seed
.

Oh. Fuck.

She lies onto the table, her hand over her heart, her
breaths labored. The smile on her face is absolutely radiant.

I drag my finger down her cheek. “You’re so fucking
gorgeous.”

She giggles. “I’m fucking
crazy
. Who lets someone
pour vodka into their twat?”

I smile and pull out. “You. And that makes you sexy as fuck.”

I run my hands up her thighs and sink my thumbs where my
cock just was. “Peaches, I have some bad news.”

She closes her eyes as I work in and out of her slit, one
thumb after the other. Each time I pull one out, it circles her clit while the
other shoves inside.

Her back arches and she gives me a
hmm
.

“I got so heated up that I forgot the condom.”

My eyes fly open, and I bolt upright. “You did
what
?”

“I forgot protection.” At least he has the good manners to
look sheepish.

I push his hands away and drag my skirt over my legs.
Hopping off the table, I run for the bathroom.

When I come back from having a shower, Jackson sits on the
sofa, his White Russian in hand.

He looks up, his green eyes troubled. “Look, I’m really
sorry. I don’t know what happened. I was in the moment and—”

I tighten the belt on my robe. Even my newly discovered love
doesn’t make the prospect of getting pregnant any less terrifying. “No worries.
I’m on the pill. It’ll be fine.”

Hopefully the pills have had time to get into my system.

He reaches for me, hooking his finger into my belt and
dragging me to stand between his legs. “It would be fine either way.”

Jack pulls me into his arms, his head against my belly. “I
mean, I don’t shirk my responsibilities. If anything happens, we’ll take care
of it.”

Take care of it?

What does he mean,
take care of it
?

He looks up, those sage-green eyes almost sparkling.

I wriggle out of his hold. As calmly as I can manage, I say,
“I think it’s time for you to go, Jackson.”