He settled into bed. A quick jack-off in the shower had relaxed the last of the tension of his day. He was tired, but still lay there, semi-awake. He hoped that Tits of New York had no more troubles, and was well on her way to wherever she had been headed to before her unfortunate flat. Which she definitely wasn’t. God, but she was stacked. Her tee-shirt had been tight, the way they wore ’em in the city. Or the way naughty country girls did. Except hers had been impeccable. Country girls tended to hack off the neck and arm bands, let the raw edges of the front scoop low–
and why the fuck was he laying here picturing cleavage? His cock began to stiffen at the memory that fast-flashed through his brain, that of his teen crush, Lorree-Ann Mason. He could look back now with a mix of longing and pity. Poor Lorree-Ann, believing that the bulk of her value lay inside her bra. She would adapt those tee shirts, her jugs jutting up and out, a flagrant taunt to all the young studs at Plainville High. She’d walk by, her cleavage jiggling —
and fuck wasn’t he doing it again?
His hand moved over the thickening between his legs. Geezuz, he’d just emptied his balls in the shower, for fucks sake. His cock was sending his brain messages that he wasn’t willing to listen to any longer. He was tired, for fucks sake! He lifted the covers, speaking directly to the problem at hand.
“Look, boner, I know its been a while, but I haven’t had time to go to the city and scratch that itch for you. Wouldja just lay down and let me sleep, please?”
Smiling at the stupidity of talking to his dick, he half-sat, punched his pillow and flopped down. Light flashed across his ceiling. That was odd. His bedroom was in the back of the house, and only someone going into the Joseph’s driveway would shine their headlights in here. The road he lived on was not heavily traveled, especially in this deep part of the night. Rolling over, he glanced at his clock. Yeah, there definitely wasn’t traffic here at 1:47 a.m. He half-rose, listening intently. There was the humming rumble of an engine, then the sudden silence as it was shut off. A faint soft squeal as a door opened. Silence for a few moments, then the solid thunk of a vehicle door closing.
Sliding from the bed, he peered outside. A van was pulled all the way to the back of the house next door. Back far enough in the curved driveway to not be easily seen from the road. Pulled up right to the back deck stairs. Although there was no occupant in the house currently, he knew that Sam Joseph had done a lot of upgrading, including a lot of copper accents,and including new copper pipes. With the new owner not yet in residence, he decided that it would be prudent to investigate. Perhaps some miscreant was heading in to steal the copper, a common crime in the suburbs, if not out here. Besides, even in east bumfuck, shit happened.
Sliding into pants, stepping into moccasins, he headed downstairs at a quiet trot. Shirtless, he didn’t turn on any lights as he eased open the back door. From his back stoop he could see that there was indeed a light on in the kitchen at the Joseph house, the back door standing open. Son of a bitch!
Sprinting across the lawn that separated his property from the neighbor’s driveway, he skirted around the front of the van, then edged closer. Seeing nothing, he edged along the walkway to the backdoor. The new deck that the nephew had put on here was nice, but gave him a lot of ground to cover. He climbed the first three steps, heard a noise from inside the house, and paused. Deciding to chance it, he fairly leapt up the last of the stairs. He was in position just as the intruder came out of the house. As the sneak slipped from the door, he wrapped him in a bear hug and tackled him. Holding tightly, he swore he could feel the soft squish of tits against his forearm. The girlish squeal and decidedly womanish attempt to elbow-jab him confirmed it.
His intruder was not a he.
Alexandra hit the deck. Someone was holding her, grappling her. She screamed as well as she could, since all the oxygen in her lungs had been all but squeezed out by the monster who held her down, was even now rolling her over.
She expected to be attacked, raped, in New York City.
Never in her wildest imaginings had she thought it could happen here in the safety of the country. It was America’s fucking heartland, for crissakes!
“NO!” She yelled, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.
“What the fuck, lady, cut that out!”
This as she tried to remember the self-protection classes, and managed to slap her hand against his left eye. Her wrists were caught, held over her head. She was sure she felt the bulge of his manhood. It was on her, resting against her womanly bits.
“YOU CAN’T RAPE ME I”LL SCREAM UNTIL MY NEIGHBOR COMES AND BEATS YOU UP YOU JERK GET OFF OF ME OR HE”LL WHIP YOUR SKIN FROM YOUR BONES YOU JACKAL”
She writhed, wriggled, twisted, all to no avail. The guy was like a fucking stone wall.
His voice raised, Caleb got her attention by dropping his full weight on her. The heat from the vee of her thighs pressed against his cock, which had risen when he’d first noted the tits. All this bumping and grinding, the chase, the capture, all sent delicious memories through his body, arrowing up his shaft until it throbbed at the remembrance of such delightful games.
“YOU PERVERT! DON”T TOUCH ME! H E L P!!! FIRE FIRE FIRE…”
His hand slapped over her mouth and nose. He felt the humid breath, heard the fearful whinny under his palm.
“I said shut up. That didn’t mean yell louder. Geezuz. I AM the neighbor. And what the fuck are you doing here at two in the morning?”
Her mouth moved against his hand.
“Nope. Not until you promise to stop yelling.”
He felt her nod of agreement. His hand slipped away. Sure, there was a huge amount of separation between this house and her nearest neighbor on the other side from his, but still. It was late and sound did carry.
“What do you mean you’re the neighbor?”
He answered her question with one of his own.
“I saw you breaking in here. Why?”
“I live here you moron. Great. I had to buy a house next door to an imbecile. Let me GO you dunce!”
He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. Here she was, plastered to the deck, his body full on her, and she called him a moron, an imbecile and a dunce in the most cultured of tones. He couldn’t help what happened next, either.
He kissed her smart-ass mouth.
Frustrated need from months of pent-up desire exploded in her. She had no idea why, but she kissed him right back. Tackle her on her own damn property? Press his privates against hers? She’d show him, the dirty rat bastard!
His fingers tightened around her wrists, his mouth working to devour her. His own desire was fanned by the press of her enormous tits against his bare chest. Enormous tits…van..cultured voice…
“Holy fuck! New York? Is that you?”
She was in a daze. Lost, so turned on she could barely breathe. She felt like she’d been watching the most incredible porn movie, like she was ready to explode in one erotic burst of light and heat.
Her voice sounded drugged.
He released her hands, pushing up from her in one fluid motion. He tugged her to her feet where she swayed in front of him. He led her inside. In the light of the kitchen he could see clearly.
Tits of New York.
Engorged nipples begging for more touch. His. And hers. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to tamp down the sudden inferno inside his belly, to continue where he’d left off. Her face was dazed, cheeks flushed, her breathing deep. He imagined her, coiled in rope, naked, ready to be taken.
That didn’t help at all.
‘Stop it,’ he silently ordered his brain, his cock. His penis responded with a jerk, a little cock huffy fit. He felt the wetness ooze against his boxers, a warm sticky spot of wanna-cum.
“Hey. New York.”
He gave her a little shake, then took a step back. If he touched her again, he might just fuck her on the cool kitchen floor. Her eyes met his, an improbable shade of green. There was something there, he wasn’t sure what. But he knew that if she kept looking at him that way, as though she was stroking him, as though the hot green heat of her eyes were stroking up and down his rigid shaft…he would take her. Use her. Grind into her until they both exploded.
She blinked, held up her hand in the universal ‘stop’ motion. Stepping away from him, clarity mingled with shock flashed across her face, and the moment was lost.
“You…you’re the guy in the truck. The tire change guy…and…” she swallowed hard, eyes closed, then continued, “…and my neighbor. Oh g–.”
She cut off what she was going to say. Neighbor. One she’d see again and again. What had happened to her had been just…chemistry.
“It’s just…chemistry. I’m sorry…I…tired. Long drive…need…”
She paused again, flushing as she stuttered. She never stuttered. Shaking her head, she stared at him as he looked at her, the faintest smile on his lips. Or was it a smirk. No, that was Charles’s way and she wouldn’t paint this guy with that brush quite yet.
“I got a bit of that last part.”
At her curious look he responded.
“Need. You definitely have ’em. Me too. If you’re all set here, I’ll apologize for knockin’ you over…and say goodnight.”
With a little half-salute, he stepped through the kitchen door, closing it quietly behind him.
“So much for the welcome wagon,” she said to the empty room. With a mental shake, she moved at last, locking the back door and turning off the light, and made her way to the living room where she’d stretched out her sleeping bag. Morning was soon enough to sort out this mess. Yet one thought rose, just before she fell over the cliff of exhaustion into slumber.
He hadn’t apologized for that searing, mind-bending kiss.
He hadn’t been sorry about that, at all.