I’m just putting clean sheets on the bed, somewhat soothed by their crisp, clean smell, when Zeus barks twice in the living room.
Pushing my hair out of my eyes, I go out to see what’s caught his attention. It’s Knox, standing on the other side of the French doors. I cross the room and open them.
“You’re making a lot of noise over here,” he growls, pulling me toward him. “It’s distracting. You’re turning out to be a very distracting neighbor, Ivy Kincaide.”
10
knox
I was gonna wait a few days before taking things further with Ivy. Kind of build up the anticipation. But with her right next door — especially with her banging around the place all night so I couldn’t forget she was there — my resolve sort of evaporates into thin air.
I push Ivy up against the wall just inside the doors, and cup her ass to pull her against my cock, which is already hard as fucking iron. Hell, I was hard before I even left my place, knowing what I was about to do. My mouth comes down on hers, hard, and she immediately opens to me, her tongue winding around mine. No fucking resistance at all. I kiss her harder, and she shifts a little on my cock, pressing her pussy into it just like she did last night. A little purr of pleasure comes from low in her throat. My cock gets even tighter at the sound of it, my balls starting to ache even though it’s only been a couple seconds.
My mouth goes down to her throat, then, down to where the purr came from, and she arches her head back, shivering a little when my lips make contact with her skin. I press her harder into the wall, grinding against her, and I chuckle in satisfaction when she lets out a deep moan that tells me how ready she already is for me. Her arms go around my neck as she tries to get closer, writhing against my throbbing cock. Fuck. I pull her away from the wall and carry her into her bedroom, kicking a basket of laundry on the floor out of the way.
When I get there I drop her on the bed and pin her down, my hands locking her arms above her head. Her eyes were closed before, but now they open to stare at me. The lids are heavy, her expression a mixture of shyness and raw, naked desire. Ivy’s mouth parts slightly, and I cover her with my body and kiss her, pressing one knee between her legs so my thigh is hard against her pussy. She moves against it, whimpering. Goddamn, she needs this as much as I do. After restraining myself last night, it’s all I can do to stop myself from just ripping these shorts right off her and plunging inside, fucking her hard, fast, and taking what I need until I’m spent inside her. But I force myself to go slower. I grab the hem of her shirt and lift it up, growling with satisfaction to see she’s not wearing a bra. I kiss her deeper and reach up to flick one taut nipple with my thumb. Ivy cries out into my mouth, shuddering. Leaning down, I take the other taut bud into my mouth, and suckle it as I flick with my tongue. A desperate mewl rips from her throat. One hand reaches up and weaves through my hair. She’s panting, her chest heaving as I continue to lick and suck at the sensitive areolas. Her other hand reaches down between us, tentatively at first, and slides her hand over my jeans to my cock. Fuck, it feels good. I groan loudly.
“I’m not gonna last long if you do that,” I say, my voice thick. Her eyes open wide and she stares at me, her breathing shallow and fast. “That’s right. You’ve got me so fucking close I’m gonna come in my pants if you do that.” I jerk her hand away and pin them both to her sides. Then I let go and grab her cotton shorts, yanking them down. Her pussy, her beautiful pussy, is right there, waiting for me. My mouth waters in anticipation.
“Jesus fuck, cupcake,” I growl. “I’ve been waiting for this for days.”
I rear up and pull my shirt and my jeans off, then move between her legs, thrusting her creamy thighs wide apart. Her pussy is glistening, swollen, the nub of her clit already hardening for me. The muscles in her thighs tense for a moment, and she draws in a sharp breath. I think she’s not used to having a man give her pleasure this way. I bend down and graze a finger softly up the inside of her thigh, suppressing a chuckle as she shivers slightly. My lips come close to her pussy, but I don’t touch her — not yet. Instead, I let her feel the heat of my breath, let her know I’m less than an inch away. At first, the only indication I have that she knows this is that her breathing hitches in her throat. She freezes, waiting, and when I don’t do anything she slowly, so slowly arches her hips up just the slightest bit. I move back a little, and her hips arch further, seeking my mouth. I tease her with my hot breath, and her thighs spread wider. I’m driving her crazy. I can feel it. I can see it.
Then, in the softest whisper, I hear it:
“Please…”
God, my cock is aching. But right now, this is all about her.
I drag my tongue over her pussy, in one long lap. She arches her back and tenses instantly, gasping. She’s so wet, so sweet. I tease her entrance with my tongue, I lick her lips, I suckle her nub, squeezing her ass with my hands so I can pull her close to me. I plunge my tongue inside her, tasting the wet heat of her. Her hips are rocking now, thrusting toward my tongue as I lick and suck, and I can tell by how hard her clit is getting that she’s close, very close now. Every stroke, every lap of my tongue is building it, bringing her closer to the edge, and she’s so responsive that I know, I know that it’s any second, I know that it’s now, this is it, this is the stroke that sends her…
Ivy’s hips buck violently as she crests and cries out, an explosion rocketing through her whole body. It’s fucking gorgeous. I keep lapping at her as she shudders and quivers and clutches at the sheets.
Eventually, she starts to quiet. I move up and lean over her as she opens her eyes, dark with passion and looks at me. “Oh, my God,” she whispers.
I lean down and kiss her deeply, trying to ignore the ache in my balls. “You taste as sweet as your nickname, cupcake,” I tell her.
“Knox,” she breathes. “I… I want you inside me. Please.”
I groan. “Fuck, cupcake, you’re gonna kill me.” I lean over the bed to grab my jeans, and pull a condom package out of my wallet. Ripping open the foil, I pull it out but wait for a second before I put it on. Instead, I position myself between Ivy’s legs and take hold of my cock, dragging the tip of it through her soaking channel. She shivers and throws back her head. “Oh, God, yes,” she moans.
It feels fucking amazing. I want like anything to push into her bare and take her, come inside her, with nothing between us. But I’m not an asshole. Forcing myself to stop, I roll the condom over the length of my cock and slick it over her plump, swollen lips again. Then I push inside, slowly, shuddering as her tight wet pussy wraps around my shaft.
“Oh… oh, yes,” she moans.
I grab hold of her hips and shove all the way inside her to the root. Then I draw back, groaning loudly at how tightly she’s gripping me, and pump into her, hard.
“Oh, Knox, please!” she begs. She arches toward me and I thrust again, my balls already starting to tighten. I’m not gonna last long like this. She’s clutching at my legs now, wanting it hard, and so I rear back and thrust again, and again, and again, her pussy clenching around me. Her moans are getting louder with every thrust, and I angle my hips so my cock slides against her sensitive clit as I move. Then, suddenly, she cries out again, her head pressing into the mattress as she climaxes, and I thrust one final time, burying myself deep inside her as I let go. Her pussy grips me hard, squeezing out every drop.
Holy shit. Holy shit. It’s so fucking good.
I don’t even remember falling asleep. But when I wake up, it’s hours later and a cold, wet nose is pressing into the palm of my hand. I open my eyes and see Zeus staring at me expectantly. Next to me on the bed, Ivy is asleep, one hand flung over her head and snoring softly.
“What’s up, Zeus?” I whisper at him, and then realize Ivy probably usually takes him out for a pee before bed. Moving slowly so I won’t wake her up, I grab my jeans and flip flops and pad out to the living room to put them on. I open the front door as quietly as I can and let the two of us out.
; Zeus and I walk through the dark, deserted street, and I wait for him as he does his business. When we get back to Ivy’s place, I let Zeus in, and I stand there for a second on the landing, looking first at her doorway, then at mine.
Then, without letting myself think about it too much either way, I go back into Ivy’s place and close the door behind me.
11
ivy
I wake up in the middle of the night to hear the front door clicking shut. For a second, I’m confused and startled, but then I remember what happened a couple of hours ago. I reach out my hand to the other side of the bed. It’s still warm, but Knox isn’t there. I guess he’s slipped out and gone back to his place.
I try to push down the wave of disappointment that follows this realization, but it’s too strong. Then I try to rationalize it away. After all, it’s not like he ever gave me any reason to believe this was anything other than a booty call. And besides, it’s not like I want him to be my boyfriend.
Then I try to look on the bright side: this way, I don’t have to do the awkward next morning thing where we wake up and he tries to make a graceful exit while we both pretend to be totally fine and normal with each other. That’s good, right?
I’ve just managed to start thinking it’s all for the best that he’s gone when suddenly, the door opens again. I hear the clacking of Zeus’s paws on the wood floor as he ambles in, and realize that Knox was nice enough to walk the dog for me before he left.
The door clicks shut again. Then, a couple of seconds later, the mattress tilts, as Knox gets back into bed.
My stomach does a little flip-flop.
Then I force myself to pretend I’m asleep, until I hear Knox’s breathing slow and deep beside me.
The next morning, when I wake up, Knox is still there, taking up most of the bed with his bulk. One arm is flung across my stomach, the weight of it pressing me into the mattress. It’s amazing how solid he is. He’s all muscle, not an ounce of fat on him, and since muscle weighs more, his arm feels like it’s probably heavier than my leg.
Which sort of sucks right now, because it happens to be pressing on my bladder.
I really, really want to stay here, enjoying the unexpectedly comforting presence of him. But if I don’t move soon, I’ll pee in the bed, and that’s just not going to do a lot to make this less awkward. So, as carefully as I can, I try to slide out from under his arm without waking him, which is hard because it takes all my strength to pick it up from this angle. As I finally get free, he stirs and reaches for me again, pulling me close.
“Mmm,” he murmurs against my neck. “Morning, cupcake.”
He feels so good, his skin is so warm. I want to snuggle into him, but my bladder has other, urgent plans. “Can’t talk. Must pee,” I blurt out. I wriggle free and flee to the bathroom, hoping he’ll keep his eyes closed so he won’t see my naked butt jiggling as I run. I slam the door shut and sit down on the cold toilet seat, breathing a heavy sigh as I relieve myself. After flushing, I screw up my courage and take a look in the mirror to see how bad the damage is. My hair is frizzy and all over the place from last night’s “activities,” and my face is all pasty. I have a wrinkle on one of my cheeks from my pillow, and I rub it vigorously, hoping to make it less obvious, to no avail. I consider brushing my teeth so he won’t smell my morning breath, but decide it will be too weird if he smells toothpaste. So instead, I grab the glass on the counter and swish a couple of mouthfuls of water around and spit them out, hoping that will be good enough to make my breath less nuclear. I silently open a drawer and find my brush, and try to make my hair look like less of a disaster.
Then I survey my attempts to make myself look less weird, and let out a sigh. There’s nothing more I can do short of putting on makeup, and that just seems like it’s going too far.
I open the door and pad back down the hall. When I get into the bedroom, Knox has rolled over on his side and opened his eyes. Even just having woken up, he’s breathtakingly gorgeous. Of course. Trying to look nonchalant, I resist the urge to cross my arms over my boobs, and get back into bed.
“Hey, there, sexy,” he grins. “All better?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, embarrassed because he knows I just peed. “How’d you sleep?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“Like a baby,” he says. “You?”
“Good,” I admit. And weirdly, I did. I actually have hated sleeping with someone else in the past. The few boyfriends I have had were all huge cover hogs. One of them thrashed around so much that he gave me a softball-sized bruise one night when he kicked me in his sleep. But with Knox, it was actually kind of comfortable. He’s a warm, solid presence in the bed. It felt… safe, sort of. I realize that it didn’t even occur to me to worry about whether there would be another bat last night with him there.
“Good deal,” he nods, and pulls me into his arms. He kisses me, deeply, and somehow I forget my morning breath because he’s doing a thing with his tongue that’s making my toes curl. When he pulls away I’m kind of dizzy, and a little disappointed that he stopped. Because that? That, he can do all day as far as I’m concerned.
“So, what are you doing today?” he asks me. “Wanna go do something?”
I’m a little taken aback by his question. It was already surprising enough that he stayed over last night. I just figured he’d get up and leave as soon as we woke up this morning. Spending the day with him is something that never occurred to me.
And I’m not really sure I’m prepared for it.
“I have to go to the library,” I tell him. “I’ve got hours of research to do.”
“No offense, but that sounds kind of boring,” he smirks. “How about tomorrow? It’s Saturday.”
“I work every day,” I point out. “I’m in grad school, remember.”
“On weekends, too?” He’s incredulous.
“Even on Christmas,” I nod. I’m not lying. My mom has a picture of me sitting with my books next to the Christmas tree last year.
“That is freaking insanity.” His eyes grow wide. “Do you seriously do nothing else but study and take Zeus out?”
I’m still for a moment. I think about lying, but I’m not sure I could really pull it off. “Pretty much,” I admit.
“Miss Ivy, that is just sad.”He shakes his head. “You are in serious need of some down time. How long have you been in Springville?”
“A little over a year.” I sigh. I already have a feeling I know what he’s about to ask.
“And in that time, how much of the city have you seen?”
“Not much.” I shrug. “I’m not here to sight-see, after all. I’m here for school. There’ll be time for fun later.”
“Are you kidding me?” He frowns, disapproval evident on his face. “You are seriously advocating living like a freaking nun during the best years of your life?”
“Well,” I say shyly, nodding down at us. “I wouldn’t call this living like a nun.”
Knox bursts into laughter. “Point taken. But don’t change the subject. You need to get out more, cupcake.”
“So, about that ‘cupcake’ thing,” I begin, giving him an irritated frown. “Are you gonna keep calling me that?”
“It’s either that or something worse,” he smirks. “How about ‘sugar tits’? Or ‘honey ass’?”
“Ugh. How about ‘Ivy’?” I counter, but I can’t stop the corners of my lips from tugging up.
“Sorry, cupcake,” he declares. “You’re just gonna have to live with ‘cupcake’. Unless you can find some way to shut me up.”
“Is that a threat, or an invitation?” I grin impishly.
“Take your pick,” he challenges.
So then, hardly believing my boldness, I do my best to shut him up, for about half an hour.
“Seriously, though,” he’s saying. I’m cradled against his chest, his hand fisting in my hair. I’m still breathing pretty heavily after the intense orgasm he just gave me. “You have got to get out more, cupcake. I’m appo
inting myself your Springville tour guide.”
I laugh and look up at him. “You just got here. You don’t even know anything about Springville yet.”
“I probably know more than you do,” he scoffs. “Promise me. You’re coming out with me tomorrow.”
Eventually, he manages to wear me down, and I agree to take a rare day off on Saturday and spend a whole day with him. “What are we going to do?” I ask him. I’m envisioning maybe a tour of some of the city’s historic sites, though that doesn’t really seem like the kind of thing Knox would be interested in.
“Leave it to me,” he says, brushing me off. “But dress for being active. We’re not gonna spend the day in a museum.”
The rest of the day, I struggle to concentrate as I work on my research, alternating between excitement and dread about tomorrow. I’m more thrilled than I should be that Knox Harper wants to spend the day with me. I know better to think that this is a boyfriend-girlfriend thing, but even so. I don’t know what Knox’s “type” is, but I’m pretty sure it’s not me. He could totally date models. Heck, he probably does date models. I mean, what does a pro football player’s dating pool look like?
During a break between reading, I decide to look Knox up online. First, I go to Facebook. It doesn’t look like he has a personal page, but I find four fan pages devoted to him. One in particular looks like it’s geared towards women, because most of the pictures on it are of him looking ridiculously hot, with tons of comments heavy on the hearts and emoticons.
I click out of Facebook and look for other articles about him. There’s a Wikipedia entry for him, and I click on that, feeling a little bit like I’m spying. Apprehensively, I click straight down to the “personal life” section. It’s mercifully short. There are a couple of women mentioned that he “dated briefly” a while ago, and they have profiles, too. I click on one of them. She’s an actress I’ve never heard of, but she’s a tall brunette with dark skin, and stunningly beautiful. I click out of her entry before I start freaking out. I don’t click on the other one.
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