by Julia Devlin
He stifled a sigh. Drunk andhorny. A combination most men enjoyed, himself included, but this was Abby. Sweet, nice, quiet Abby. Even if she was his type he couldn’t make a move on her. They were neighbors. Girls like Abby liked commitment and strings—he did neither. If she had an itch, she’d be getting it scratched by someone else.
He’d be nice, polite and keep his distance. Hopefully she wouldn’t say anything she’d be too embarrassed by. Really, it was good she’d come here versus going to some sleazy pick-up joint. He cringed, thinking of the men who’d be happy to take advantage of her. As soon as she sobered up, she’d be thankful to have left his house unscathed with her virtue intact, and they could have a good laugh about this.
Ignoring her blatant invitation, he took a seat on the chair across from her. Elbows on his knees, he narrowed his gaze, ready to nip whatever crazy idea she had in the bud.
She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout.
A sudden, visceral image of sliding his cock in between her lips filled his head. He scowled. For god’s sake, what was wrong with him? This was Abby. His neighbor. He raked a hand through his hair, shaking his head. He needed to stick to the plan. Putting on his calmest expression, he asked, “What can I do for you, Abby?”
She giggled like a sixteen-year-old. “Funny you should ask.”
He arched a brow, hoping he looked stern. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Enough to go after what I want.” She gave him a long, meaningful stare. “But not enough that I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Gut tightening, he stifled a groan. Whatever you do, don’t ask.“Sounds like too much to me.”
She laughed a full, throaty rumble that shot straight to his balls. “What are you, my dad?”
“Somebody needs to look out for you. And since I’m the one here, that makes it my job.”
“And what makes you think that’s what I want?” A sinful smile curled over that mouth. Jesus, how had he ever missed that porn star mouth? “Maybe I have other jobs in mind for you.”
He gave her his most friendly smile, the one he used to calm the elderly, and scooped the bottle of tequila from the table and put it on the floor next to his chair. “I think you’ve had enough to drink. Why don’t I get you home so you can sleep it off, Abby?”
Brown eyes flickered and a tiny frown curved over her lips while her shoulders slumped. He felt like an asshole, but really, he was doing this for her own good.
“You want me to go home?” She blinked at him, looking as sweet and innocent as a newborn foal. “But, I want to stay here…and do…stuff.”
Ah hell. Now she was being all vulnerable. This wouldn’t work at all. The last thing he wanted was to reject her on her birthday, but he couldn’t take her up on her offer either. He sat back in his chair and contemplated his options.
Maybe he needed to approach this from a different angle. Obviously, she had sex on the brain and was intent on going through with her drunken plan. But maybe he could get her to reject him. She was a good girl. She never brought guys home. He was fairly sure with the way she acted and dressed, she was innocent. She might want sex, but he was positive she didn’t want the kind of sex he liked. Nice girls never did. Once she knew the score, she’d hightail it right out of there.
Problem solved. He’d scare her straight.
Liking his plan, he relaxed. Scooping up his discarded beer, he met her big brown eyes and gave her his best come-on stare while raising the bottle to take a long drink. She managed to hold the gaze for fifteen seconds before her eyes slid away and her cheeks blushed a pretty pink.
He bit back his grin. This was going to be a piece of cake. “And what kind of ‘stuff’ did you have in mind, Abby?”
“Um…well…” She cleared her throat and straightened in her chair, a determined expression creasing her brow. “The thing is, I’m thirty now…and well…I’m sure someday I’ll marry some nice man, but the thing is, before I do, I want to experience something…different.”
“So, you want to take a walk on the wild side?” He figured he’d help her cut to the chase. The sooner he got this over with, the better.
“Yes,” she said, her fingers coming up to twist the silver necklace at her throat. She bit her bottom lip and uncertainty flashed over her face for a fraction of a second, only to be replaced by a stubborn tilt of the chin and shoulder-straightening resolve. “Yes, I have some fantasies…”
What kind of fantasies? He wanted to know. His cock pressed uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans and he came face-to-face with the truth that he was enticed by her. All that innocence, her flushed, pretty face and killer body far more tempting than her bottle of tequila would ever be.
When was the last time he’d been with someone other than a party girl? When was the last time he’d been surprised? He couldn’t remember. Which was why she needed to leave. Time to shock her before this went any further. “You want to know what it feels like to get fucked properly, is that it?”
Her eyes went wide as saucers and color rolled up her neck to splash over her cheeks. Damn, didn’t she realize she telegraphed every thought and feeling she had on her face like a neon sign?
She shook her head and her hand fluttered to her throat. “That’s one way to put it.”
He took another drink of beer, hoping the few extra seconds would help him find the inner strength to keep up the charade. “And how exactly can I help you with this?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, and her cleavage almost fell out of her damn top. He shifted, trying unsuccessfully to make his jeans more comfortable.
“Well…you…” she cleared her throat, “look like you know what you’re doing.”
“Thank you, I do.”
“In that case, I was wondering…” Spine snapping straight, she took a huge gulp of air before saying on a rush, “I was wondering if maybe you wouldn’t mind teaching me a few things.”
Fuck. He fought the urge to push her to the couch and make her come six ways ’til Sunday. That would be wrong. Very, very wrong. While keeping his expression blank, he asked, “So you’ve chosen me to fulfill your sexual fantasies?”
“God, this is embarrassing.” She shook her head. “But yes.”
Determined to push on, he increased her embarrassment and asked, “What kind of fantasies are we talking about here?”
She blinked as twin scarlet splotches of color stained her cheeks. “Um…well, I can’t say them out loud.”
Surprised, laughter burst from his chest before he could stop it. She frowned, and he held up a hand. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just that you’re so…” he searched for the right words, “cute and sexy.”
Her whole face lit up like the Fourth of July. “You think I’m sexy?”
“Yes, very.” Jesus, the way her voice filled with wonder, as though no one had ever complimented her before, made his chest give a hard thump.
“Thank you.” Her tone filled with so much appreciation and gratitude, he clenched his hand into a fist. He should be thanking her, not the other way around.
After he got through this strange turn of events and he worked her out of her mortification, he’d sit her down and have a long talk about being more guarded. This kind of innocent sexual curiosity would land her in the wrong hands for sure. Especially if she started going out in tight tanks and jeans instead of her normal burlap sack. He gritted his teeth at the thought of her out there, all alone, some sleazy guy with his hands all over her.
Not if you get there first.
He squashed the thought like a bug. She wasn’t for him. He was supposed to be getting rid of her, not contemplating taking her up on her offer. All this hot eagerness would be for some other guy, not him.
He needed to get back on plan. “What kind of fantasies, Abby?”
“Um…” She waved her hand in the air. “Can’t you just take care of the details?”
So, it was like that, was it? He’d always been more on the d
He waited for her to bolt. She didn’t.
Instead she got a thoughtful, faraway look on her face. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
To his horror, she stood up and sauntered over, working her hips in a seductive albeit wobbly sway that made her so innocently sexy he wanted to drag her to the floor and fuck her brains out. God help him, he needed every ounce of restraint he possessed to do the right thing.
She stopped in front of him. “You can see I need a teacher. And who better to ask than a trustworthy neighbor. I promise I’m a fast learner.”
He’d just bet. He cleared his throat. “You’d be better off starting with someone a little more low-key.”
“I don’t want low-key, that’s why I came here.”
At eye level, he had a clear view of her unbelievable breasts, and he had to tear his gaze away. Things were slipping out of his control and he need get back on track. “The thing is, Abby, I like things hard and rough, while you are sweet and soft.”
“I’ve never had hard and rough.” She dropped to her knees. Shit, she was seducing him. He was supposed to be better than this. But damned if she wasn’t surprisingly hard to resist. “I want it.”
He needed her gone. Now! In real danger of losing control and doing something stupid, he said the first thing that popped into his mind. “I’ll tell you what. You go home and think this through. Tomorrow, after the margaritas have worn off, if you still feel the same way, you let me know.” He’d never hear about this again. He was sure of it. Hell, after this debacle, he’d be lucky if he she ever spoke to him again.
“And then what?” she asked with breathless anticipation.
Unable to hold back any longer, he leaned in close so their mouths were barely touching. “I’ll fuck you as hard and as rough as you can take it.”
Chapter Three
After his workout and a shower, Lukas sat down at his kitchen table with his first cup of coffee. His mind wandered to the Abby situation before he could even raise the cup to his mouth.
The question was—what to do about it?
So far, his best idea was to camp out on her doorstep around the time she got from work so she couldn’t avoid him. He’d good-naturally talk her out of any awkwardness and promise he hadn’t taken her seriously to ease her mind. In his experience, letting a woman stew with embarrassment never led anywhere good, so he had to force the issue. While she may be uncomfortable, he’d treat her as he always had and eventually they’d go back to being friendly neighbors.
No harm, no foul.
And eventually, after months of seeing her in mousy clothes, no makeup and pulled-back hair, he’d forget what she looked like in those jeans and skimpy tank top. Forget those lush, pink lips and tumble of brown waves. He was sure, after time, he’d see her as his sweet little neighbor.
Eventually, last night would seem like a dream and he’d stop wondering what it’d be like to experience that kind of innocence. Or what it would be like to teach her about all that pent-up sexuality she’d been carrying around.
He shook his head, clearing it from his lingering lust. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t an option. A girl like Abby deserved to be taken home to the family, and he didn’t do involved.
It wasn’t as if he had anything against commitment. Strings were great for some guys, just not him. While he’d grown up in a great home with parents who’d adored each other, he’d spent too many nights watching his mom worry and fret about his father, and Lukas couldn’t do that to a woman.
Unattached was best.
Some other guy would get to explore Abby and all her curiosity, and he’d stick to his endless parade of pretty, vapid party girls.
He thought of Rachel, the to-die-for redhead from last weekend he was supposed to see on Friday night. She was wild and loved sex. Any and all kinds of sex, and while he should be enthusiastic, his plans now seemed boring and trite. Maybe he’d give her to Trevor, he liked redheads, and Rachel had made it clear she was interested in— What had she called it? He cringed. “Having herself a fireman sandwich.”
Yikes, what the hell had he been thinking? Now that Lukas thought about it, he had no desire to go out with Rachel again. He’d send her an email to cancel and pass her off to Trevor.
He popped open his laptop and powered up, taking a sip of coffee and flipping through the morning paper as the machine churned through the startup.
He clicked on the email icon and waited while his mail loaded. He froze, mid-sip. Abby had sent him an email entitled About Last Night.
How did she even have his address? In the back of his mind, he vaguely recalled them exchanging information about a month after he’d moved in. He checked out the time, she’d sent it at eight thirty this morning, well after the alcohol had worn off.
It must be to explain. He clicked it open and skimmed while taking another sip of coffee—and started to choke, coughing and sputtering as hot liquid clogged his windpipe. When he’d finally calmed down, he started to read.
Lukas,
Yes, this morning I woke up with the appropriate mortification, and I’m sure you can imagine my embarrassment. Of course I’d determined that the only logical course of action was to put my house up for sale and move as far away as possible. But, see, in the shower it hit me…the margaritas just gave me the courage to face what I wanted and take action. Turning thirty has made me realize, if I’m not careful, I’ll go my whole life playing it safe. I don’t want that. So, I’m taking a deep breath and crossing my fingers you’re a man of your word and that you weren’t making the offer in vain.
While I’m terrified to write it, I’m not going to let that stop me. I’d like to take you up on your offer.
I thought about what you said last night, and while I’m not advanced enough to talk dirty, I figured I could start with email and work up from there. As soon as I can figure out how to say the words without sounding stupid, I promise I can try.
So, being a helpful sort, I thought I’d make you a list of the kinds of things I want to try. I’m sure some of this sounds kind of lame to you, but hey, a girl’s got to start somewhere. If you have questions let me know.
Here goes nothing:
1. Have an orgasm. (Yes, I know it’s sad.)
2. Have really great sex. (Another pathetic commentary on my life.)
3. Oral sex, both kinds. (I’m sure you can see why I need you.)
4. Public sex. (Ugh, I’m going to stop making comments now.)
5. Go to a sex club.
6. Be tied up.
7. Get spanked.
8. I’m not sure what this one is called, so I’ll go with “Be handled”.
9. Role playing.
10. Capture fantasy (I lied, one more comment. Tacky, I know, but I read a lot of Harlequins when I was younger.)
Oh my god, this is so embarrassing and this list is getting kind of long, so I’m going to stop. I hope this isn’t too tame for you. I’m sure you can think of other more imaginative things. If you aren’t too bored after this stuff, I’ll leave the rest up to your discretion. Maybe you’ll have some ideas about what I’d like.
So that’s about it. I guess I’ll wait to hear from you. Oh, and one more thing, just to reassure you, I’m not looking at this as a long-term thing, I’m well aware you’re not into commitment. So no worries on your part.
Thanks for being so neighborly,
Abby
Too tame?
She thought this list was too tame? What kind of things did she think he did? Not that he hadn’t done every single thing on her list—but tame? And he suspected this was just the tip of the iceberg. Who knew the conservative woman who’d been his neighbor for the last year harbored these kinds of fantasies? Of course, he’d seen the theme right off the bat after he’d read through the basic stuff no woman of thirty should still have on a sex to-do list. His nice, sweet, innocent little neighbor had a taste for domination.
And that was right up his alley. While he’d never been a hardcore BDSM guy like his friend Charlie, Lukas tended to like things on the rough, dominant side. He just didn’t see the point in getting all ritualistic about it.
He re-read the email again. Definitely serious. And Abby didn’t understand it yet, but she had some definite submissive tendencies.
If Lukas didn’t take care of her list, she’d find someone else. Someone who may not treat her the way she deserved. Or worse, someone who didn’t know what they were doing and would turn her off sex forever.
He raked a hand through his hair. Hell, he could justify all he wanted, but the plain truth was he wanted to be the one to give her every damn thing on this list. Decision made, he got up and rummaged through his junk drawer until he found her business card.
If Abby Simmons wanted to experiment, she’d picked the right guy.
* * * * *
The second Abby had clicked the send button she wanted to snatch the email right out of cyber space. All morning she’d bounced back and forth like a ping-pong ball, vacillating between humiliation and being proud of herself. On one hand, Lukas probably thought she was a sexually repressed psycho, but on the other, at least she was taking action instead of sitting around moping and feeling sorry for herself.
And she was taking action, no more waiting. If Lukas wasn’t interested, she’d find someone who was, damn it!
The phone rang and her heart leapt into her throat. She shook her head and raised her gaze to the ceiling.
Get a grip. He’s not going to call. Guys like Lukas weren’t interested in girls like her. In exasperation, she picked up the phone. “Abby Simmons.”
“I’ll pick you up at eight.”
The blood rushed to her ears and a wave of dizziness flooded through her.
Oh my god, it worked.She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, but no words came out.
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