by Jordan Blake
The Girl Next Door
Jordan Blake
Contents
The Girl Next Door
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Also By Jordan Blake
The Girl Next Door
Jordan Blake
© 2017
Editing: CookieLynn Publishing
Cover Design: E Love Cover Designs
1
Dakota
After the five-hour long drive home from college I finally pulled up to the house I’d grown up in and turned the car off with a sigh of relief. This was my first trip home since settling in at school two months earlier. This morning I’d woken up to my first bout of home-sickness, so I packed a bag and jumped in my car for a spur-of-the-moment visit.
As I sat in the driveway excitement bubbled up inside me like a soda can that had been shaken up. I couldn’t wait to surprise my parents. When the plan to come home had formed in my head my first instinct had been to call and let them know, but I fought against that urge. I wasn’t naturally a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda gal. But I wanted to be, and this weekend was the first step.
All my life I’d been a planner. I’d drafted my first ten year plan on my tenth, yes tenth, birthday. Eight years later, I was on track to meet every single one of the milestones I’d laid out. I’d graduated high school with a 4.2 GPA and been accepted into a prestigious liberal arts college. Those things had only happened because I’d spent my high school years taking AP classes, playing volleyball, serving in student government and volunteering at the local animal shelter and food banks. From freshman to senior year, every minute of my life had been scheduled, from the time that I woke up at six a.m. and went to bed after midnight. Spontaneity had historically been a bad word in my vocabulary. Which meant my mom and dad would never expect me showing up at their doorstep.
A large smile spread across my face as my anticipation of their reactions grew as I got out of my car and walked to the trunk of my car. With a click of my key fob it popped open and I pulled out my weekend bag out before slamming it shut. As I started walking up the driveway toward the front door, though, my smile fell. Something seemed off. It was still—too still. It had that odd heaviness about it that buildings get when there’s no one inside. Just something you could sense.
I unlocked the front door and stepped into the entryway, dropping my bag onto the bench that stood along the wall. “Hello?” I called and waited for a response. None came.
Hmm. That was odd. My Dad had retired from his law firm the spring before and my mom was a homemaker. They were very routine people. Mornings were spent reading. My mom loved romance novels, mysteries, and self-help. My dad preferred thrillers, biographies and non-fiction military strategy. Then, they were always home in the afternoons, puttering around and working on their projects, my mom either sewing or gardening and my dad out in his “man cave,” AKA the garage. In the evenings, they had dinner at five and watched shows until nine, then went to bed and woke up at six a.m. to start it all over again. They led a very predictable, ground hog’s day existence.
The apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree, which was precisely why I wanted to insert a little variety into my life. I wanted to really live, to experience life at its fullest.
Figuring they had probably just run out to the grocery store or to do some other small errand, I decided I would go up to my bedroom and set up my computer while I waited for them to come back. If I was going to have to kill time, I was definitely going to do it while connected to the Internet.
As I walked into my room a strange sense of déjà vu came over me. Nothing had changed since the day I’d left two months earlier. I walked over and sat in my pink and chrome Tiffany desk chair and opened up my MacBook Air. Instead of focusing on the screen that lit up in front of me, my eyes were drawn to the same view out the window that they always were, and I felt the same familiar, illicit rush of pleasure skitter down my back.
My bedroom window looked directly into the backyard of our next-door neighbors, the Sheffields. I could even see into the windows of their kitchen and den. Of course, I never intentionally spied on them. That would be wrong. But, hey, whatever I happened to see when I was just glancing out my bedroom window was fair game. Right?
The whole thing was made more complicated — and, I guess you could say, more amazing — by the fact that I had a gigantic crush on Drew, the husband half of the couple who lived next door. I knew it was wrong to crush on a married man. Of course it was. And then, there was the age difference — I didn't know exactly how old he was, but he must've been pushing thirty-five. And me? Well, I had just turned eighteen the summer before. So, obviously, I knew it was just a harmless schoolgirl thing — nothing was ever going to come of my feelings.
That didn't stop me from looking out the window every single time I sat down at my desk, though, just to see if I could catch even a glimpse of the man I fantasized about every time I lay down in bed.
I couldn’t help but think that the long-held crush was impacting my real-life sexual experiences, though. I mean, sure, I’d fooled around. I’d even had sex a few times. But to say it had been underwhelming would be…kind. The nicest way I could think to describe it was meh.
And when I reflected on each and every one of those fumbling, amateurish encounters, I recognized one blazing commonality in my thought process—I always, always, compared them to how I imagined Mr. Sheffield would be as a lover. I compared their eager drooling to how I fantasized his suave seduction would play out. I compared their frat-boy pawing to my projected image of his gentle and expert flicks of the finger and tongue.
An audible sigh fell from my lips as I stared out the window.
Of course the idiots at school came up short in my mental comparison. In my fantasies, Drew Sheffield was a Sex God. No mere mortal could compare, let alone some idiot college freshman whose brain was scrambled by the sight of a real life naked boob in front of him.
I realized I had no basis for thinking that Mr. Sheffield was such an expertly skilled lover other than my crush on him. The only time I’d ever even seen him kiss his wife was… well, as a matter of fact, it had been from this very window, just the summer before. I remembered the day very well, because it had been my eighteenth birthday, and I’d jokingly thought it was the universe’s cosmic birthday gift to me.
After spending the day in my backyard at the pool party my parents had thrown and then having a night out to dinner with my friends, I’d sat down at my computer, exhausted but still fired up from such a milestone age that I’d achieved. I was an adult. I’d felt like one for years, but now I was legally recognized as such. I figured I would wind down by scrolling through all of the “Happy Birthday” messages that were probably sitting on my Facebook wall so that I could “like” them and thank people. Hopefully, by the time I was done I would be ready to go to sleep.
When I performed my automatic ritual of doing a quick visual scan to see if I could catch a glimpse of Mr. Sheffield, I saw them sitting on the couch in their den. The couch sat perpendicular to the window, so I had a clear view of the two of them relaxing, bathed in the iridescent blue glow of the television across the room.
Then… something happened that had never happened before. Not while I’d been watching, at any rate. Maybe he was inspired by something that happened in the show they
were watching, or hell, maybe he was just horny. But Mr. Sheffield leaned over and started kissing his wife and running his hand lightly up and down her body.
My eyes had widened as I froze in place. I knew it was wrong to be watching such an intimate moment, and I tried to make myself feel guilty enough to stop, but it was useless. I didn’t feel anything but the tiniest sense of perfunctory guilt… but what I did feel was increasingly turned on. In fact, I kind of suspected that the forbidden nature of the whole thing made it even more of a turn-on than it would have been otherwise.
He moved closer to her on the couch, deepening the kiss, and his roaming hand settled on her breast. I watched him fondle her and could see her nipples poking through the thin fabric of her tank top. When he rolled one of them between his thumb and forefinger, I’d heard a low moan escape my throat, surprising me. Knowing this opportunity may never again present itself, I made an executive decision to go for it and ride the wave. My hands trembled as I raised them to my own breasts and used my own fingers to tweak my nipples, copying his every movement as closely as I could. I wanted to imagine, to the highest degree of reality possible, what it would feel like if it were my breasts that he was fondling like he would never get enough. As if it were my nipples he was playing with, gently and firmly in turn.
To my great disappointment, she pushed him off of her at that point, though. They argued for a few minutes, and then she stood and stormed off to another part of the house. I watched Mr. Sheffield that night until he turned off the lights and headed to bed, hoping against hope she would have a change of heart and come back down to finish the show they’d started. It would have made such a perfect birthday present!
But, that didn’t happen. He had simply flipped channels for another half an hour or so, then gone up to bed. My night hadn’t ended there, though. I’d pulled off my clothes, crawled between the covers, and touched myself while I let my imagination roam over everything I might have seen him do if his wife hadn’t stopped him.
In every frame of my fantasy, I saw myself in my upstairs bedroom window, mimicking his movements on myself. When he licked her breasts, I wet my fingers with saliva to simulate the hot, firm feeling of his tongue on my nipples. When he lowered his mouth to her pussy in my fantasy, I slid those same fingers down inside my panties and rubbed my clit gently, pretending it was his tongue—pretending his head was moving in between my legs at that moment, and not the spread legs of his wife as I watched him through the window. Then, in my imaginings that night, I saw him climb on top of her and thrust into her, and I pushed my fingers roughly into my cunt, trying to recreate what I thought that sensation must be like. In my bed that night, that’s when I had come. Even though I was normally very controlled and quiet when I masturbated—after all, I didn’t live alone—that night had been so powerful that a strangled cry of “Drew!” had torn from my throat as the all-consuming orgasm had ripped through me.
I shook my head to pull myself back to the present and sighed contentedly. It always put a little smile on my face to revisit that erotic memory, and this time was no exception, but this was the present and there was nothing in the view out my window but an empty backyard and dark windows. Time to turn my attention to the computer.
I pulled up Facebook to see what was going on with my friends, but instead got a surprise update about what was going on with my family. Right there, the first item on my feed, was a photo of my parents, standing on a beach, smiling and waving at the camera. My mother had posted it twenty minutes ago. The caption read, “Hubby surprised me with a last-minute week in Hawaii! He’s the best!”
My jaw dropped. Who were these impulsive people masquerading as my parents? Damn. Maybe they’d had the same inclination as I’d had to live more fully, wildly, embracing it with open arms. The apple really hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
But now I was in the very strange position of coming home to visit… and having no one here to see. I clicked “like” on the photo and posted a congratulatory comment, wishing them a good time. I definitely didn’t want to ruin their fun by telling them about my thwarted surprise. I would just hang out here for the weekend and enjoy the alone time.
Hell, at school, I was surrounded by loud and hard-partying people all the time. I was due for a little peace and quiet. This could actually be even better than I expected.
2
Dakota
I closed the front door behind me and twisted the key in the lock, grasping a hastily scrawled list in my hand. When I’d gone downstairs to make myself a snack, I’d gotten a very rude awakening upon opening the refrigerator—it was pretty much empty. Apparently my dad had decided to throw out or use all of the perishable food before leaving on their Hawaiian getaway. Ahhhh, yes. That was the practicality I knew so well.
So, now I was headed out to stock up for the weekend. It was a strange feeling. First, having the house to myself, which had never happened before, was almost like having my own apartment. Then, going grocery shopping to make meals for myself—again, at school I was on the meal plan. This felt like a very grown-up, out-on-my-own thing to be doing.
I was halfway down the driveway when I caught a movement in the yard next door. I looked over.
Oh, whoa!
It was Mr. Sheffield…and he was waving at me.
My heart sped up, and I could tell that my cheeks were blazing. Even so, I’d just been basking in the feeling of being all “grown up,” and it gave me a little edge of swagger as I sauntered over to the white picket fence that separated our two yards.
“Hi, Mr. Sheffield,” I said, and I was pleased to hear none of the shy, crush-inspired trepidation that had always filled my voice when I spoke to him in the past. Today, I sounded like a confident young woman—which, I realized, was exactly what I was. I was just in the process of getting used to it.
“Hey there, Dakota. You home from college for the weekend?”
Oh God. His deep voice and golden brown eyes were so warm and welcoming they made me weak in the knees. My breath caught. I was going to have to fight damn hard to keep up my confident tone when all I wanted to do was collapse into a giant pile of gooey mush at his feet.
I smiled brightly. “Yep. First visit home, actually.”
“Really?” His brow wrinkled. “I thought your parents were out of town?”
“They are, as a matter of fact.” I chuckled. “Something I discovered once I got here for my surprise visit.”
“Oh, no!” He grinned in a way that warmed not only my lady parts but also my heart. It was like he truly felt bad for my situation. “I guess you were the one to get surprised.”
“Yep. I was.” I laughed then said, “So, now I’m headed out to get some provisions. There’s no food in the house.”
A flicker of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on flashed in his eyes and the energy between us got a little more…intense. Before I could make a guess as to what was going on, the friendly demeanor was firmly back in place and he said, “Well, you’re more than welcome to join me for dinner. I’ve got plenty and there’s no way I’ll finish it by myself.”
“With...you?” I felt a wrinkle form between my eyebrows. “Where’s Mrs. Sheffield?”
His jaw tightened and his eyes cast down to the grass he was standing on. After a long pause he finally lifted his head and explained, “She moved out a couple of months ago. It must’ve been right after you left for school.”
I hated myself for the spark of excitement that fluttered in my belly at those words. He was clearly torn up—who wouldn’t be? I was a terrible person. But I couldn’t help it. Damn. I was only human. All I could think was, He’s single! Hooray!
Who has two thumbs and is definitely going to hell? This girl.
Who doesn’t care? Yep, me again.
Although the response that was rattling around in my brain consisted mainly of incoherent squeals of delight and hope, what I actually said was, “I’m so sorry! That must be so tough.”
“Well, yeah
. But it was a long time coming. We were really young when we got together. We grew apart.”
“Sorry. That sucks.”
He shook his head and smiled wryly. “Less than you might imagine.”
What?!
He continued, his voice lightening to signal a subject change. “So, fair warning about tonight. I’m afraid my cooking skills are nothing to write home about, so if you do agree to dinner, buyer beware. But, to be honest, I’d love the company. Working for myself, I get pretty tired of being alone.”
Holy. Shit.
I made a decision, right then and there in the driveway.
Having the house to myself this weekend, doing my own grocery shopping, cooking my own meals…those weren’t going to be the only “grown up” things I did while I was home. I was going to seduce my neighbor. All of my long-time fantasies were going to come true. It was going to happen.
My inner-self started doing cartwheels and shouting, “Hell to the yes!”
Outwardly, I just smiled politely. “I’d love to.”
3
Drew
I angled my head down and stepped back into the hot spray to let the pulsating streams of water dig into the knotted muscles of my neck.
Shit! Did I really just invite Dakota over for dinner?
I couldn’t believe it. The words had streamed from my mouth as if somebody else were saying them. I felt like I was floating above my body, watching a stranger that looked a helluva lot like me invite my sexy young neighbor over to the house.
Of course, thinking back on how she’d looked, it was no real surprise that my brain had been short-circuited. Her big, wide eyes framed by thick lashes. Her pouty, plump lips. Her dark, silky hair curling softly over her shoulders. Her full breasts straining against the soft, form-fitting cotton t-shirt. Her tight jeans, faded across her ass, showcasing her curves like a work of art.
