Halloween Next Door: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 78)

by Flora Ferrari

  My dad takes a step forward and turns back to face us both. As he rubs his neck he stares at Bishop like he’s shooting lasers right through him.

  And he gives me a look like I’ve never seen. He looks at me like I’m the biggest disappointment on planet earth and as much as I try and let it slide off my back, I can’t. It hits me like a ton of bricks and I feel the tears forming.

  My dad walks right out the front door and I hear an engine fire up.

  “Has he been drinking?”

  “No. I’d stop him if he had. He just got here and he was ready to drink, but no…he hadn’t started yet.”

  Suddenly everything just overwhelms me and I run back into Bishop’s room and throw myself face first onto the bed.

  I notice the ring on my hand and realize the thing that’s supposed to signify the happiest part of my life is causing me all kinds of pain I would never wish on anyone.

  Family is the most important thing in life and it looks like mine just might be turning its back on me right at the moment I win the heart of the only man I want to start a family with.

  This is not how this day was supposed to end.

  CHAPTER 21

  Penelope

  November 1st (the next day)

  I guess it’s no strange coincidence that I’m in a city known for black magic and voodoo on a day that falls right in the middle of Día de Los Muertos, or Day of the Dead as it’s known in English which runs from October 31st to November 2nd.

  I’ve been dragging a bit all morning.

  I’m partially tired because I was up all night celebrating our engagement, but now that it’s light out and I’m on my way home from class by myself I’m thinking more about my family and how things went down with my dad.

  Bishop texted me after class and asked me to come by his place first for a surprise.

  Considering how awesome his surprise was last night he didn’t have to ask me twice.

  As I arrive at his front door I knock, knowing at some point in the future I may not have to.

  “One second,” he says and literally a second later the door come flying open and his arms fly open too.

  I melt into him in a big hug.

  “How was your morning?”

  “Good so far,” I say. When I’m in his arms all the troubles just fade away. I may have been thinking about things on the walk over from my last class for the week, but all those thoughts are gone now.

  “Good and only getting better,” he says.

  “What did you do?” I say as I give him a wink, knowing he’s been up to something good.

  “Come on in and see for yourself,” he says.

  And the minute I step inside the first thing I notice is the three framed pictures I had in my apartment are now sitting on the mantle above the fireplace.

  And that’s not all.

  All my things that were on display in my apartment are now on display over here. I’m not sure how, but somehow he made them fit. And they don’t look out of place or anything.

  “You…”

  “Moved you in. Yep.”

  “Wow. Okay,” I say taking everything in. I’m not sure if I should ask him if he was planning on asking me or just be happy that he literally did everything, and did it all in a single morning.

  “How did you find the energy to do all this?” I ask.

  “It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Really? You’re not tired after last night?”

  “Nope, because every time I carried something over all I thought about was how much closer I was to having you completely moved in and living with me and with my mind focused on that I could have moved mountains.”

  “I see.”

  “But you didn’t have much anyways, so it was quick and easy.”

  “Don’t you think this is too fast?” I ask, but I’m not sure why.

  “Not at all. And more importantly I gave your apartment a good look over, including the structure. I think there’s been some water damage in there. It might have come from Hurricane Katrina and then they just painted over it and tried their best to get out the smell.”

  “Is that legal?”

  “No idea. Not sure what they’re covering up. And I’m not one hundred percent sure that’s the case so I’m not going to go pointing any fingers. But I do know that place wasn’t fit for a queen. My queen.”

  “Thank you,” I say and I move in closer and give him a hug.

  “Does that mean your place has water damage too?”

  “The previous structure here was demolished after the hurricane. This place is brand new.”

  “Really? How old is it?”

  “Ten years exactly. Katrina was at the end of August back in 2005.”

  “Two thousand five?”

  “Exactly. Time flies. Another reason why I want you in here right away. It’s easy to look up one day and wonder where all the days went. And I know with complete certainty that I want to spend them all with you.”

  “How could I ever be angry at you?”

  “You were angry?”

  “No, but I’ll have to admit I was shocked at first.”

  “We’re engaged. It’s way better for you to live in a house than an apartment, not to mention have more room and I made you a room where you can study. A place you can be alone to focus, read books, or even just think.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. Let me show you,” he says as he takes my hand and excitedly shows me the room, which is absolutely perfect.

  “So this is my room, huh?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “No?”

  “I’ll never bother you when you need time to yourself. I’ll always respect that even though I really do want to spend all the time I have together. But there’s no mine and yours here. Everything is ours. That means I want you to feel at home right away. You never need to ask to use anything or do anything. And you never need to knock on the door again.”

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys, which he hands to me.

  “I don’t know what to say?” I say.

  “Say you want a cup of coffee.”

  “A cup of coffee?” I say. “That sure sounds nice right about now, but why would I say that?”

  “Because I have plans for us today.”

  “Plans?”

  “Like I said. I want you by my side and I don’t want to miss one minute of enjoying our life together.”

  “Okay. Better make my coffee a double. I want to keep up with what you’ve got going on,” I say, teasing him about his energy level.

  I give him a big hug and I can literally feel his heart beating against my chest.

  I’m not sure who’s more excited about me moving in. Him or me?

  And I’m very excited.

  And that’s just another reason you know when you’ve found your true love.

  He loves doing things for me that show just how much he loves me and cares for me.

  And that’s why what we have will last forever, even if our relationship isn’t traditional or “age-appropriate” in some people’s eyes.

  Life is too short to care what other people think. I’d rather be happy myself and focus on laughter and love.

  And I’ve found both, and a whole lot more, now that we’ve found each other…forever.

  CHAPTER 22

  Penelope

  “Cheers,” we both say together as I take a sip of my Shirley Temple and he takes a sip of his bourbon on Bourbon Street.

  “You know I almost didn’t answer the door the night you came by with that little girl,” Bishop says.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, my first thought was to pour myself another glass of bourbon and just ignore whoever it was. Then I thought to myself it might be some college boys and if I don’t go see them off they might cause trouble.”

  “I caused trouble alright,” I say.

  “A lot of trouble. You sure did,” he jokes.

  I stare i
nto his eyes as the sweet sounds of Louis Armstrong blend into Harry Connick Junior which then segues right into Sweet Emma Barrett on her piano.

  I swear I could do this the rest of my life. Just relax at the end of an incredible day listening to New Orleans born and bred jazz legends do their thing…while sitting in the French Quarter of New Orleans no less.

  And before we popped in for a drink we took the Steamboat Natchez Jazz Dinner Cruise. Bishop even struck up a conversation with one of their Dukes of Dixieland band members and he took us down into the engine room in-between sets.

  Apparently the engine down there that powers the steamboat is the original one from 1929.

  “They don’t make ‘em like they used to,” the man said.

  “No they don’t,” I replied as I looked up at my real man.

  Bishop made a remark about how our love would outlast the engine to which the band dedicated their rendition of Fats Domino’s “It’s You I Love” to us.

  I’m not sure if by that short conversation we all had the band member got enough insight into our relationship to read into it, but I found the first line to really hit home.

  No matter what the people say, we'll do things our way.

  And the song moved at a fast clip so we both looked at each and jumped up and had our first dance, much to the delight of the band and the other diners.

  And as that song ended the band moved right into Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald’s “Our Love Is Here to Stay.”

  And then we responded with our first slow dance.

  For a big man who claims he has no dancing experience he sure is light on his feet and the perfect dance partner.

  And already the perfect life partner.

  “So, you’ve planned out this day perfectly,” I say. “I was just wondering what else you have planned?”

  I place my hand over his and intertwine my fingers as best I can in his. It still blows my mind how much thicker his digits are and how much space they create in-between my fingers.

  “Well, as I remember we had a bet.”

  “A bet?” I ask.

  “From the pumpkin patch, Pumpkin.”

  “That’s right!” I say. “I totally forgot.”

  “Believe me, I didn’t. And I’m ready for some pumpkin pie.”

  “I think I can whip one up before bed,” I say.

  “Good, because nothing goes with pumpkin pie like whipped cream.”

  “Check please,” I say and we both laugh.

  Bishop throws down onto the table more than enough to cover both our drinks and provide what would be considered a generous tip and we hastily make our way to the exit.

  CHAPTER 23

  Bishop

  I grab one of my simple dining room chairs and flip it around, placing my forearms across the top of the chair as I sit in it in reverse fashion.

  I steeple my fingers and place the tips of my index fingers just under my lower lip and wait.

  Out of the pantry she comes.

  “World’s sexiest chef is right,” I say in reference to her apron which thankfully is about two sizes too small.

  I think it might be almost as tight as that Elastigirl Halloween costume.

  But there’s a big difference. The sides of her breasts are clearly visible from the front and when she turns sideways to reach for something high up in the cupboard I get a clear shot of a whole lotta sideboob.

  “I thought this was going to be fun, but this is gonna be torture,” I say.

  “Well if you don’t want to wait on Pumpkin’s pumpkin pie you can always have cherry pie…right away.”

  “It’s ready to eat isn’t it?”

  “Always,” she says in a sultry voice as she turns back to her mixing bowl before looking back over her shoulder and giving me a wink.

  Causing me to promptly form a fist which I proceed to bite down on. “Uh,” I moan, not in pain but in agony of having what I want right in front of me but not being able to taste it…yet.

  And I’m not talking about the pumpkin pie.

  She goes up on her tiptoes to reach for something again and her calves flex and her ass forms this shape that let’s me know god was most certainly a man.

  And when it’s just out of her reach she goes up higher on one toe as she leans, causing her other knee to flex sending her shin horizontal and flexing her glutes and I have no idea what I’m doing over here and why she’s over there.

  “How long does this take to make?”

  “Be patient. You know good things come to those who wait.”

  She gets to work mixing up the ingredients pretty quick and before I know it she’s sticking the pie in the oven.

  And then she walks right over to me with a can of whipped cream in her hand.

  She reaches around behind her and unties the back of her apron, the pressure from her breasts on the small garment push it to the middle of her chest and I lunge for her perfect chest like a man possessed.

  But she backs away and wags a finger at me before looking down and covering each nipple in whipped cream.

  I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath. By the time my eyes are open she’s right in front of me and I grab her and pull her in close, my mouth crashing down on her chest.

  I lick circles around her quickly hardening nipples and just when I think she’s going to cover her epic tits in whipped cream again she drops to her knees.

  Her hands shoot through the gap in the chair between the seat and the back and she grabs a hold of my belt, unbuckling it and opening my pants wide.

  She takes a hold of my cock and pulls it out of my boxer briefs as I slide forward in my chair and her warm, wet lips immediately cover my rod as her head slides back and forth.

  “Oh fuck,” I moan as she sucks me through the hole in the chair.

  As incredible and creative as this is, it’s not working for me.

  I want to see her blow me. I have to see that look on her face and know that she’s enjoying this just as much as I am.

  “Over here,” I say and her head comes off my rod and I quickly slide my ass back on the chair and take my dick in my hand, safely guiding it out of the hole in the chair so I can stand up.

  I move over to the kitchen table and jump right up on it, taking a seat there and lying back on the thick oak structure, letting my legs hang over the edge.

  She moves right in, picking up where she left off, but the angle and position is much better as she grabs the base of my shaft with one hand and plays with my balls with the other.

  My hands come back to the sides of my head and I grab my scalp as I bend my neck watching her go to town on my dick.

  “Your mouth feels so good.”

  “Ummm,” she moans and I watch as her nostrils flare as she inhales the scent of my manliness as her eyes roll back in her head for a moment before I see her pupils again and she locks her sights right on mine.

  Watching her suck me off while she’s staring at me like that has me on the brink.

  She must see it too, because she pauses momentarily and then covers my cock in the cold whipped cream which had been in the fridge.

  But even though it’s cold it does nothing to cool down my desire for her, and she goes right back to it licking my dick clean, sucking me so hard it’s like my dick has the antidote for what ails her.

  And I know what ails me.

  Not using this very soon to happen orgasm to increase our chances of having a baby.

  I lean forward and gently take the sides of her face, lifting her from my dick.

  “I want to finish inside you,” I say as I quickly guide her over to the marble bar top as I slide my pants off as we move.

  I lift the apron up and over her head and toss it out of the way.

  I spin her around and her hands find a barstool which she bends over, sticking her ass back and at me, and grinding it into my rod.

  I lick two fingers and run them right up her middle, hearing her moan and I drop to my knees licking her pussy
from behind before giving her clit a few passes until the fucker is engorged.