The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood Book 2)

by Nikki Sloane

  “Goddamnit,” he muttered under his breath, and ran a palm down the front of his body.

  Because the fly of his shorts was tented.

  Like he’d done when he’d caught me topless, I froze in place. It was physically impossible to do anything other than drag hot, humid air into my lungs and watch as he repeated the action.

  If his intent was to make his erection go away, the brush of his hand had the opposite effect. Tortured pleasure twisted on his face as he glared at the wall. I wondered if he was mentally trying to make the blood flow in any direction other than his dick, but then surrendered.

  His large hand closed over the front of his shorts . . .

  And squeezed.

  When he shuddered with satisfaction, his pleasure reverberated through my body. It tingled across my skin like electricity and sent my heart racing.

  I’d never witnessed a more erotic sight than watching this boy tease himself. I was fascinated and mesmerized at the slow rub of his palm over the bulge.

  Was there a chance he was thinking about me right now?

  I couldn’t catch my breath, but then it became irrelevant. The wind outside gusted and sucked the door closed with a loud, abrupt slam, making his attention swing sharply in my direction.

  He didn’t say it out loud, but the phrase ‘oh shit’ streamed across his expression. His eyes went wide with surprise, followed by panic, before finally landing on embarrassment.

  His hand dropped from his crotch as he turned to face me, and his shoulders straightened awkwardly. When he’d caught me, I’d run away, but there was nowhere to escape for him. Instead, he lifted his chin, puffed out his chest, and set his hands on his waist.

  He filled his voice with suspicion. “How long have you been standing there?”

  There was no way I could answer. I had to lick my parched lips to keep from dying.

  And it was unstoppable the way my gaze drifted slowly across his body, taking in the bead of sweat that coasted down his neck and disappeared beneath his shirt. My focus slipped all the way down until it traced the thick line of his cock trying to jut away from his body, trapped beneath fabric.

  I swallowed hard as my gaze worked back up to meet his and found him guarded. He was trying so hard to appear unaffected. To contain whatever it was he was thinking.

  He said it like it wasn’t his fault. “You were topless.”

  I blinked, and as his meaning hit me, I jolted so hard it was a miracle I didn’t crack the screen of the phone in my hand. I whispered it with disbelief. “You’re saying,” I glanced at his erection, “I caused that?”

  His guilty gaze darted away to stare at the hooks once more, and his lips mashed together.

  I hated that I’d accidentally caused him shame, especially when the truth was his words had set me on fucking fire. I hadn’t been able to arouse a man in years, so to do that now, and one as young and hot as this guy? It stole my breath.

  My voice was uneven. “You liked what you saw?”

  His focus shifted back, and he stared at me like I’d just announced I loved the musical stylings of Smashmouth.

  “Yeah.” Troy blinked, considering his words. He shrugged, giving into what he really wanted to say. “I always thought you were hot, but you’re a smoke show now, Ms. Graham.”

  My heart stumbled over itself as my brain tried to process the words.

  He drew in a breath and lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “I’m sorry about walking in on you and what you just saw. Can we, like, forget that happened?”

  There was desperation in his eyes, but I wasn’t in control anymore. Someone else took charge and spoke in my voice. “Show me,” I pleaded. “I want to see it.”

  He went utterly still. “What?”

  Blood rushed loudly in my ears, drowning out the panic at what I was suggesting. “You saw me,” I offered. “I . . . want to see you.”

  As soon as the words were spoken, the sauna-like room became a furnace.

  Oh, my God. What had I just asked for? Anxiety was a drug weaving through my system, making me vibrate, and it worsened as Troy stared at me with doubt clouding his eyes. The air around us was so still, yet tension crackled in it like invisible lightning. We were closed off in this small, oppressive room, which smelled faintly of sawdust and chlorine, and I was so far outside of myself we could have been on a distant planet.

  His voice was rich, but unsure. Like I’d made an offer too good to be believed. “You want to see me?”

  I bit down on my lip and nodded slowly.

  The corner of his mouth lifted in a hesitant smile, and he delivered a look that said we shouldn’t but also let’s do it anyway. It was playful and reckless. A deadly combination.

  He pulled the sunglasses off his head and set them on the unfinished stairs before grasping the hem of his t-shirt and stretching it up over his head.

  Because it was a million degrees in here.

  And maybe because he wanted to show off.

  “Holy fuck,” I whispered.

  His impish smile spread to a full grin as he dropped the t-shirt to the floor. The shorts were slung low on his hips, flaunting the sexy V shape flanking his abs, and above there was his flat, beautifully toned chest. He had a body like Zac Efron’s during the height of his man-candy roles, and his golden tanned skin made my knees go weak.

  I wasn’t thinking about how he was Jenna’s son, or that when I’d met him for the first time, it was during his high school graduation party. All those thoughts were wiped clean by the muscles rippling across his torso, and the way his hands went to the ties knotted at the top of his shorts.

  My heart threatened to beat out of my chest with nervous excitement, and I suspected it was the same for him. Troy seemed to struggle to catch his breath as his fingers worked the strings loose.

  I stood completely motionless, watching as his shorts were undone enough for him to slide a hand inside. His eyes hooded and he gave a low, pleasurable sigh. It was hypnotic how he deliberately moved up and down, teasing both me and himself.

  When we locked eyes, he understood what I wanted, but also how much leverage he had over me.

  “I’ll show you mine,” he said, both joking and entirely serious, “if you show me yours.”

  FIVE

  Erika

  A thrill burst in my bloodstream. This was naughty and sinful, and so wrong; how could I refuse? The lack of sex had voided out my ability to make good decisions, and if seeing me topless had this effect on Troy, I was more than willing to do it again.

  “Okay,” I said, and deposited my phone on the shelf nearby.

  He quirked a sexy eyebrow in pleased surprise . . . and then urged his shorts over his hips. They descended his legs, revealing his fist wrapped around himself, and my breath cut off.

  He.

  Was.

  Impressive.

  I stared at him unabashedly while he stepped out of his shorts. I was in awe, watching as he stroked his hand down the length of his hard cock. Every muscle in me had tensed to prevent me from leaping forward and touching him. The desire to do so was partly because my lust had made me crazy, and partly to see if he was real and not a figment of my imagination.

  God, he was gorgeous, all glistening with sweat as he oh-so-slowly fucked his hand and studied me.

  I fisted the sides of my dress and lifted. Our gaze was only broken for a moment when I pulled the garment off and let it fall from my hands.

  The electricity flowed as a current between us, and it hummed deafeningly in my ears. It had been erotic watching the rhythmic glide of his fist over himself, but it was incendiary to see the desire rolling through his expression as he stared at me. Troy’s eyes were liquid heat, and his chest rose and fell with his labored breath.

  There was a rough, raw edge to his voice. “Your tits are fucking amazing.”

  It seemed to have come out of his mouth before he’d thought it through, and it must have set off warnings he’d crossed a line because hi
s face abruptly went blank. Was he worried he’d offended me? Because all his compliment did was make me burn hotter.

  “Aren’t they?” I said.

  My lust pressed down, molding me into a new person . . . one who wasn’t shy or worried about her partner’s reaction. I cupped the undersides of my full breasts and pushed them together, displaying them to him. Almost as an offer.

  Troy’s sound of satisfaction was like I’d punched it from his center. His free hand moved, rising for a moment, like he wanted to reach out and touch me, but then thought better of it. We weren’t close enough for it anyway, but the action caused my heart to flutter with excitement.

  We couldn’t . . . could we? It’d make all of this too real, with real consequences.

  His gaze stroked over my curves, just as his hand worked himself over, and each pass increased the intensity of the need pounding deep inside my body. It was hard to breathe, hard to stand still, as he twisted his grip and pleasured himself while his stare burned into me.

  “What are you thinking about?” I whispered.

  “Don’t ask me that.” It was part plea, part warning. Because whatever the answer was, it was very, very bad.

  I was drunk, delirious, and out of control with lust. “Do you want to touch me?”

  “Yes.” The word burst from his lips with no hesitation, but then he looked stricken. “No. I shouldn’t.”

  A sobering thought hit me like cold water. “You have a girlfriend.”

  “What?” He froze. “No, no.” He let out a tight, embarrassed sigh. “If I touch you, shit’s going to . . . escalate.”

  Relief washed through and disarmed me. His phrasing was almost amusing. “Escalate?”

  His pointed look was stern and provocative. “Yeah, Ms. Graham.” When he repeated the word, he drew it out, weighting each syllable. “Escalate.”

  “It’s Erika.” It was too formal and impersonal for him to use my last name, given what we were doing. Plus, it was a bit too much like The Graduate, even if I had seduced him into doing this. “Are you worried I won’t be able to handle you?”

  “No.” He was perfectly serious. “I’m worried I won’t be able to handle you.” His gaze dropped down to his dick clenched in his hand. “Look at me. I haven’t fucking touched you, and I’m already close.”

  My excitement ratcheted up to a new level. “Are you going to come?” I was breathless. “Right now, in front of me?”

  He shuddered through the powerful effect my words had on him, and his dick jerked under his grip. “Do you want me to?”

  I hadn’t thought about it until this very moment, and suddenly, I was desperate for it. If we didn’t touch, what we were doing felt “safe.” We’d walk right up to the edge of danger, but not cross over, and I hungered to see him lose control in my presence.

  Need choked my throat, making it hard to speak, so I nodded quickly.

  This time, when his hand resumed moving, it was faster, and a determined, focused look settled in his eyes. Did he feel like he was on stage, performing for me? If so, he didn’t seem uncomfortable.

  Not even a little.

  He put his free hand on one of the treads of the stairs, as if preparing and needing something to hold onto. When he pumped his fist, his hips moved in time. The subtle gyrations ripped me open and poured more heat inside me. I wanted him to move like that against me, in either my hand, or in my mouth, or inside my body. It was pornographic how he swayed and rolled. A private show for me that was so lewd I could barely blink, not wanting to miss any of it.

  His grasp was firm and tight because the skin around his grip moved up and down with him, making the head of his cock disappear as he focused on the tip. Short, heavy breaths worked loose from his lungs, and it was difficult to tell which he enjoyed more: jerking himself off or looking at me.

  He’d been using one hand this whole time, and maybe it’d gotten tired or strained, because he ringed himself at the base, and his other hand came off the stair step to take over.

  Wait, no. He cupped his hand, then tipped his head forward, and I watched as a bead of saliva trailed from his lips down into his palm.

  “Yes,” I encouraged. “Get it wet.”

  Holy shit. How many margaritas had I had? I’d never said anything like that before, and the abrupt dirty talk from my lips was startling.

  But Troy? He very much approved of it. He shuddered as his fresh, damp hand took over, and the fatigued one massaged lower. God, it was sensual the way he touched and rubbed himself, as if enjoying it as much as I did.

  “Fuck,” he groaned in satisfaction. “I want to see all of you.”

  His gaze dropped to the only thing left on my body, the peach bikini bottom, and air whooshed out of me. Wasn’t it silly to be bashful about this? And a little unfair, since he was completely naked and had followed every order I’d given him?

  He wasn’t sure how to interpret my hesitation, so his voice went husky. “You want me to come over there and help you?”

  “Yes,” I breathed. “And no, because if you touch me . . . I don’t know what will happen.”

  His sexy pace slowed a little and confusion pulled his eyebrows together.

  It forced me to continue. “I haven’t had sex in a long time. You don’t want to get within striking distance of me.”

  God, his amused grin made my bones melt. “Like you’re dangerous, Erika.”

  Hearing my name in his seductive voice made all the moisture in my body rush to the center of my legs. I meant for it to sound sultry, but I faltered. “Just thinking about what I want to do to you is dangerous.”

  He closed both hands around himself, and I couldn’t tell if it was to give himself more pleasure or to hold it back. “Fuck. Tell me about it.”

  Instead, I sucked in a breath, slipped my fingertip beneath the sides of my bikini bottom, and began to inch it down.

  His handsome face filled with eagerness, and his hands stroked faster as I let the swimsuit fall away. It revealed the carefully manicured strip just above the juncture of my legs, and his gaze zeroed in on it.

  “Goddamn,” he groaned. “You like this, huh? Watching me?”

  He could see how turned on I was and warmth flooded across my cheeks. “I do.”

  The hurried sound of skin sliding against skin filled every inch of the room, and his rising tempo made anticipation mount inside me. The expanse of Troy’s gorgeous chest heaved with labored breaths as he closed in on his orgasm, and the sexual charge of it raced in my bloodstream.

  I tensed my jaw to hold back a moan.

  His thirsty gaze swept over me from my forehead to the tips of my toes as I stepped out of my swimsuit bottoms, and when his gaze returned to meet mine, the longing in it was so acute, it locked us together. We both wanted him to touch me, and we each had only a fingertip’s grip on our control to prevent that from happening.

  We stood across from each other, stark fucking naked, breathing in the heat and the sex that filled the room, and it was like a fire raging only inches from a barrel of gasoline. If we came any closer, it’d trigger a powerful mistake.

  It came from him in a desperate rush as he heaved his fists over his cock. “You could play with your pussy. I don’t have to be the only one getting off.”

  He was right.

  “You want to watch?” I asked.

  It was like I’d asked him if I could give him a million dollars. “Fuck, yeah.”

  My hand drifted provocatively across my leg, slowly moving to its target, and when my fingertips landed on my clit, Troy’s lips parted and released a moan. It was absolutely the hottest thing I’d ever heard. And it gave me the courage to really touch myself.

  I’d masturbated plenty of times before with Clark in the room, but that was usually when I’d laid beside him in bed after sex, working to get my own orgasm. In the beginning, he’d tried to assist, but it was clear I was more efficient at doing it, so a few years into our marriage, he’d given up being involved. Most times, he’d
fallen asleep before I’d finished.

  Clark had never asked me to touch myself, and he’d never shown any interest in watching me do it either.

  So, it made my head spin that Troy was into it.

  He was so into it.

  We were both panting as my fingers rubbed quick circles over my swollen clit, causing sparks of pleasure to spiderweb across my skin. Oh, my God, it wasn’t going to take me long, not when this gorgeous fucking man was putting on a show and staring at me with so much hunger he was downright ravenous.

  His hips moved, making him slide through his clenched fingers, and I reached out with my other hand to support myself on the nearby shelf. It was getting difficult to stand as the orgasm built inside me. Tremors vibrated up my legs, and I hurried my fingers to match his furious pace.

  “I want those,” he said, between struggling breaths, “to be my fingers.”

  Lightning zipped through me, short-circuiting my brain. I nodded toward his waist. “And I wish those were my hands.”

  A long, deep exhale of satisfaction came from him, and something suspiciously like a growl rose from his throat. It was primal and animalistic, and the hardwired woman in me responded.

  “Oh,” I gasped. “You’re going to make me . . .”

  He groaned with pleasure. “Watching you come,” he said, “is going to make me come.”

  I tensed my grip on the shelf until my fingers ached, but I didn’t slow my other hand down. I moved so quickly, it was probably a blur to Troy, but then again, he was the same. This beautiful boy, wrapped in muscle and freckled, tan skin, jerking himself off so hard and fast, would have stolen my breath if I had any left.

  My vision narrowed in on him as my climax took me. It pulled me into a tight ball and then flung my pleasure out through my limbs, making me shake and flinch with each wave. I cried out, and it was the signal he needed, because then he was the one with the swelling moans and the loud groan as he came undone.

  The movement of his hips was jerky and erratic. His hands clamped down over the tip of his dick, trapping his release, but it meant the rest of him was uncovered, and I watched in fascination as the rhythmic pulses throbbed through the length of him.