So. Long.: Bad Boy Next Door (4 page)

“Who said I care?”

A light comes into his eye like he’s accepting a challenge.

He grins, and his tongue traces the seam between my lips. “I
think you will.”

His hand dives into my shorts, and his fingers push between
my legs. They glide across my slippery slit.

He lets out a low groan. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

I lift my hips, and his finger sinks deeper.

His mouth finds mine again. His tongue and fingers dip and
withdraw in a coordinated rhythm designed to make me lose my freaking mind.

Even though I have no doubt I’ll regret it, I push my clit
against the heel of his palm, sending little sparks through my pussy. He grazes
that special spot right inside my entrance and rubs it.

I throw my head back and moan as more wetness seeps to my opening.

He pulls away, standing on his knees between my legs. “What
were you thinking?”

I look at him through my lashes. “When?”

“What made you giggle?” He massages my pussy, but through my
shorts, not skin to skin.

I move toward his touch. He retreats.

“It was
nothing
.”

“Do you want me to kiss you again?” His knuckles tease the
inside of my thigh.

I bite the edge of my lip.

I
shouldn’t
want him to touch. I should be running
the other direction.

I nod.

“Then tell me.” He runs his forefinger over the seam of my
pants, right over my pulsing nub. “And maybe I’ll kiss you
here
.”

Yes,
please
.

“Fine. I was thinking that here I am kissing you, but I
don’t know you from
Adam
.”

His face goes serious for a moment. “But I
am
Adam.”

“That’s why it’s funny, silly man.” I prop up onto my elbows
and smile. “I don’t do this sort of thing.
Ever
.”

“Ever?”

I shake my head. “I got married young and haven’t—
you
know
, since the divorce.”

“So, you—it’s been a while?”

I suck in a deep breath and clamp my jaw tight as I nod
again.

He grins as he pops his glistening fingers into his mouth.
“Damn, that’s good.”

Within three beats of my galloping heart, he’s got my shorts
and panties in a pile next to the chaise.

His breath ghosts over my bud as he says, “I’ve got to taste
you. Now.”

He drops his head between my legs and covers my clit with the
flat of his tongue. The warmth and wetness of his mouth slather sensation over
my most sensitive parts as his hands push my knees open wide.

This is crazy.

But…crazy might be good for a change.

Crazy
might be the thing that saves my sanity.

I drop to my back, allowing him full access as my fingers
push through his silky hair.

He tickles my bud with his tongue, and then slips down to my
lower lips, dipping between my folds.

Oh, Gawd.

My hips buck against his mouth. He covers my belly with one
big hand, holding me as he suckles my clit. His other hand slides down so his
finger can slip into my entrance. He thrusts it into my opening as his tongue
circles my nub.

I whimper with pleasure and pant as the coil tightens,
bringing me closer and closer to the precipice.

He looks up, his gaze holding mine as he grinds harder
against my curls with his tongue and teeth.

His finger slams into me, deeper and deeper. He uses the perfect
amount of pressure to keep me at the edge of the cliff, but not send me over.

But then he closes his mouth over my clit and sucks hard,
his finger batting against the inside of my pussy, repeatedly swiping across that
special spot that makes every muscle tighten and strain closer. I push against
him, grabbing at the sides of the chaise, trying to gain some sort of control
as wave after wave of heat washes over me and my body lets go. The liquid
coiled in my belly unwinds in a delicious ribbon of bliss.

I don’t just go over the edge—I dive off the cliff, head
first, into a pool of pleasure.

The hand over my navel migrates so his thumb can massage my twitching
clit. Adam’s tongue dips into my slit, sliding up and down and pushing in as he
sucks and slurps up my cream.

His growl sends vibrations through my pussy.

He raises his head. “I love the way you taste.”

I sit up and pull him to me. His mouth falls on mine, wet
and warm, slick with my cream. My tongue darts past his lips. He tastes of me,
and it makes me all the hotter.

My hands go to the snap on his jeans.

When it pops open, his hands grab mine, and he pulls back
until he’s sitting at the foot of the chaise. “No. This was for you.”

“Why can’t it be for both of us?” I move toward him.

“I’m not worried about me.”

“Maybe I am.” I glance at the bulge behind his straining
zipper. “Why would you deny yourself? Let me do something for you too.”

He stands and adjusts himself. “That’s all right. All I
wanted was a taste of that sugar glider. It was every bit as sweet as I
imagined it would be.”

His eyes flit to the apex of my thighs, and a smile plays on
his lips.

I close my legs, hiding his view. “What a crock of shit.”

“Why? Hasn’t a guy ever just wanted to pleasure you? To get
you off and enjoy the fact that he can?”

I cross my arms. “Only in my books. Not once in my
real
life.”

He tips up my chin. “Well, now you have.”

Adam leans in and brushes his lips across mine. He turns and
walks out the front door, closing it quietly behind him.

I jump up to go after him, but stop when I open the door and
the breeze grazes my coochie.

Shit, not again.

I slam the door before the neighborhood gets a Marilyn
Monroe style crotch shot.

Fine. Be that way.

I just needed a little stress release—and I got it.

It’s not like I’m looking for a relationship.

Blue balls my ass. Try fucking
black
balls.

I stand under the icy spray of the shower, waiting for my
hard-on to relax. At this rate, it could take hours.

When I woke up in the hospital all those months ago, the
doctors painstakingly explained the nature of my injuries. One even used a pad
of paper and drew diagrams of my anatomy, as it was and as it is now. Hell, I
was thankful I had a dick at all. And that first time I got aroused, I was
thrilled it still had full function.

Of course, it only took about six times in the saddle to figure
out there was at least
some
nerve damage.

Damage
that could drive a lesser man to drink.

But I’m not a lesser man. I’m strong.

Strong enough to walk away.

I’m man enough to know that if I can’t come, some women
think it’s their fault, like they aren’t doing something right, or that I’m not
attracted to them or some shit.

I’ll be fucked if I let Kelsey think there’s something wrong
with her. She’s beautiful—hot as fuck—and I won’t have her doubt herself. Just
because I have a problem, doesn’t mean she should ever think she’s not enough.

No. That’s my burden to bear—alone.

At least I’m
here
to bear it. Shulls and the other
guys are gone, and none of them will ever be with a woman again. Whether or not
I can ejaculate is nothing compared to that.

So, the shower it is.

Freezing water. Full blast.

And still, my hard-as-marble erection takes forever to calm
the fuck down.

This house was supposed to take six months to get into shape
in order to sell it and turn a profit. Flipping houses is a pain in the ass. At
least, flipping
this one
is. Since it’s my first, I really don’t know
about any others. Hopefully, they’ll get easier the more I do this. And cheaper.

I grab the pickaxe and make my way around the house to the
old shed that needs to be bull-dozed, but it can’t because the houses are too
damned close together to get one back here.

The temperature gauge reads
hot as fuck
, so I pull my
shirt off. I grab the hose and turn it on. After the water that’s been heating
up in the hose runs out and the cool water flows, I run it over my head.

Spike prances around the yard, running through the stream of
water I spray over him. He barks and jumps, biting at the jetting liquid.

“You crazy dog, you can’t catch the water.” I swear he makes
me smile every day. Wonder if I could write his feed and vet bills off as
mental healthcare costs.

After a few minutes, I twist the nozzle at the end of the
hose to shut off the water.

Spike stops and cocks his head to the side as though to say
why
for you stop the play?

“Sorry, Boy. I need to get back to work.” I turn my cap
backward.

A minute later, he nudges my shin with his ball, dropping it
on my foot.

“No. It’s not playtime. You go lie in the shade. I’ve got
shit to do.”

His brows draw together as his big, brown eyes beg me to
throw the ball. His gaze follows my hands as I stretch, holding the pickaxe
high in the air. It’s as though he thinks it must be a giant stick I’m going to
hurl across the yard for him to chase.

I slip my work gloves on and take position for my first
swing at the broken and cracked brick wall that hasn’t actually protected the
contents of this shed for several years. A ball pressed to the back of my calf
stops me. I shoulder the axe.

“Spike. I don’t want to hit you with this thing. I’m certain
it will win if it comes down to the two of you.”

He lets out a low whine past the yellow tennis ball held
firmly between his slightly crooked teeth.

“Being cute won’t win you playtime right now. It’s getting
hotter out here every second, so scoot.” I wedge the toe of my boot under his
rump and give him a little push.

He jumps up and lumbers across the yard, tossing sad glances
over his shoulder as he goes.

I attack the shed with all the energy I would use to fuck
Kelsey if I’d give myself the chance. I won’t, of course, but if I could, I’d
do it right. Hard and deep.

Three long days have passed since I tasted her sweet pussy,
and I’ve had a craving for more unlike anything I’ve experienced in the past.
I’ve done every hard labor job I can think of on this stinking house, and still
my dick stays erect from morning to night.

Every night, I dream of her. With her knees spread wide and that
pink bit of heaven open to me, like a flower waiting for the sun. Wet with the
dew, smelling beautiful, and tasting like the sweetest ambrosia, she waits for
me, a mischievous smile on her face and a sparkle in those blue eyes.

And every day, I wake with my dick straight as a fucking board
and harder than the head on this pickaxe.

That first morning, I took a frigid shower right off the bat.
But as the day went on, sneaky little thoughts of her crept in, and before
long, I had a woody that would make a great oak proud. Yesterday, I went
straight to work, tearing the brick that needed replacing off the side of the
garage. I’d just about managed to get my shit calmed down when she came outside
to check her mail. Her shorts hugged that ass, and the frayed edges of the
jeans feathered across her thighs as she moved. Even though her pussy was
covered, my memory easily filled in the blanks, and my erection was instantly
harder than ever.

So today, I’m working in the back of the house. A nice, tall
fence stands between me and any possible sighting of Kelsey, Kelsey’s ass, Kelsey’s
legs, and, most importantly, Kelsey’s sweet spot.

Back in the hospital, if someone had told me I’d avoid
getting a stiffy, I’d have laughed in their fucking face.

Now? Not so much.

Every swing of the pickaxe ends with a crack in the brick
and a jolt to my arms that travels all the way through my spine. Sweat races
down my back and over my chest. I drop the tool and run my forearm across my
brow to stem the flow of salt dripping into my eyes.

Something presses the side of my knee.

Spike leans on me, the top of his skull against my leg. I
step aside, and he whips his head up. This time, two tennis balls perch in his
wide mouth. His jowls drape over them on either side of what is surely a smile,
even if some would say dogs aren’t capable of such a thing. His eyebrows rise
as though he’s convinced that this time, I will definitely throw one or both of
his prized possessions.

My aching arms complain with each movement. “Not now,
buddy.”

He looks up at me, his expressive eyes saying everything his
too-full mouth couldn’t—even if he tried.
You no love me?

“Oh, stop. You act like you never get to play. Now shoo.
I’ve got work to do.”

Head down, he drags himself off to the other side of the
yard, where he drops both slimed balls. Then he pounces between them, plucking
one from the grass and tossing it over his own shoulder. It bounces off the
fence, and he chases after it. He does this again and again.

At least he’s smart enough to know how to entertain himself.

I get back to work.

Ten minutes later, an insistent whine halts my progress.

Spike has his ass in the air and his nose under the edge of
the fence on Kelsey’s side of the yard. He furiously digs, all the while
whining like he’s lost his best friend. Since I’m his best friend, I know
that
isn’t the case.

I clap once. “Hey. What’re you doin’, Goofball?”

He pops up and sprints around the yard a full circle before
coming to stop at my side. He paws at my foot, and then runs back to the
beginnings of his escape hatch. He shoves his muzzle into the dirt and lets out
a high-pitched sound designed to convey his unhappiness with—well, whatever it
is he thinks is wrong.

At the fence, I squat. “Nice looking hole you’ve dug there,
young man.”

He pulls out of the gap under the fence and licks my ear. I
push him away and survey the damage.

Wait. Something’s missing.

His tennis balls.

I check around in the bushes nearby and the rest of the
yard.

I pat the top of his broad head. “You went and threw your
balls over the fence, didn’t you?”

He barks.

“Oh, all right. I’ll see if we can get them back. But you
have to stop digging holes under people’s fences. That shit ain’t gonna fly. You
hear me?”

His bobbed tail twitches, and his butt wiggles as though he
understands exactly what I’m saying to him. His eyes answer with a y
eah
yeah, person. I promise I’ll leave the dirt alone, just get my balls back.

I let myself out of the side gate, Spike bouncing along
beside me.

As I approach Kelsey’s front door, a metallic clink comes
from the garage.

I lean against the open door to what appears to be her garage-turned-weight
room. She lay flat-backed on a bench, one foot on either side, her crotch
staring at me as she does dumbbell butterflies.

Fuck me. And here we go—again.

My jeans strain over my engorged erection.

I cough just loudly enough to let her know I’m here.

She sits bolt upright, her cheeks flushed, sweat beading on
her upper lip, her hair up in a pony-tail-braid-thingy that hangs almost to her
waist.

“Hey, Beautiful Girl.”

Kelsey frowns and runs a small towel across her face. “What
do you want?”

Spike dances his ass over to her side, slathering her elbow
with puppy kisses.

She grips his big head between her hands, grabbing his ears.

Oh shit. She’s got him now, and he has no idea how pissed she
was about that chicken.

She pulls his face close to hers, her eyes narrowed.

My gut clenches.

She hates my freaking dog.

“You are
so
lucky I like dogs more than chickens.”
Kelsey’s voice is deep and playful, even though she’s obviously trying to look
serious.

The tension gathering in my chest eases.

Now, if I could get the tightness in my pants to let up,
that’d be something.

Spike’s tongue slips out and slides up the side of her face.

She pulls back, her nose wrinkling.

“Ew. Thanks, Spike—I think.” Her gaze meets mine, and blue
eyes flash. “So? What
do
you want?”

I nod toward Spike. “He lost his balls and asked me to help
him get them back.”

Her left eyebrow quirks. “Oh? I’m not so sure the vet gives
refunds.”

I grin. “No, he tossed them over the fence into your
backyard.”

“And he
asked
you to help?”

“He sure did. He was quite specific in letting me know that
you have his balls, and he very much wants them back.”

She pushes her hands over the top of Spike’s head.

“You lost your balls, eh, Kiddo?” Kelsey looks straight at
me. “Well, that seems to be a common occurrence around these parts lately.”

My jaw tightens. I push off the wall I’ve been leaning
against, which will probably make my condition that much more obvious.