Tempting Him

by Jeanne St. James

  “Giving or receiving?” She pushes off the door and I automatically step back. Though, I have no idea why. She looks harmless...

  “I’m not sure why—”

  She tilts her head toward my shorts. “You must be having the same thoughts that I am since you’re as hard as a rock under those silky short shorts of yours.”

  I stop my hand from heading in that direction since I don’t need to feel it to know how hard I am at that moment. I don’t need to see it. And, apparently, I can’t hide it, either.

  No matter what, my first thought was not the same as hers. Ass play certainly hadn’t entered my brain until she mentioned it.

  However, I must admit, now it’s stuck there.

  “Come with me.” Her words come out so huskily that I’m suddenly willing to do any ass play she wants. Even if I’m on the receiving end.

  Chapter Two

  Skylar:

  My luck couldn’t be any better right now. Him falling in the street was my ticket to not only talk to my neighbor, AKA Cade, but invite him into my lair (I mean house).

  I figure getting right to the point and mentioning ass play would be a good test to see if he scares easily. He didn’t run out of the house screaming, so that’s a good sign.

  As I move down the hallway, I hear him following me (willingly) and goosebumps break out all over my body.

  I’ve been watching this man for the past couple of months and my appetite for him has grown to epic proportions. (But again, I’m not desperate or anything, I swear!)

  Oh, wait. I forgot something important...

  “Have a family, Cade?”

  “Should I be worried that you’re luring me farther into your house to murder me, bury me in your backyard and now you want to know whether anyone will come looking for me?”

  I stop abruptly at the entrance to my kitchen and he runs into me, his erection (by the way, he’s definitely not lacking in that department) smashing into the small of my back. He quickly backs away and mumbles, “Sorry.”

  “No, I was just trying to get to know one of my neighbors,” I say as I turn around to confront him.

  “Sorry,” he says again and it looks like he means it. “I have family, but no one nearby.”

  I hope that means he’s single. My gaze drops to his left hand. He lifts it and wiggles his ring finger, which is empty, thankfully.

  “You?” he asks.

  “Nope, it’s just me and my pussy.”

  His mouth opens, then snaps shut and I smile at his reaction.

  I clarify. “My cat. Meowsers.”

  “Meowsers?” His expression tightens as if he’s trying to hide his thoughts.

  “Yes, I know. Ridiculous, right? Unfortunately, it was the name he came with when I adopted him. I just call him Brat to keep it simple.”

  “Ah.”

  Cade might be thinking I’m a little off my rocker at this point. With a last look at him, I turn and head into my kitchen, grab the first aid kit from under the sink and then head right back out.

  “Are our houses set up similarly?” I ask him without waiting to see if he follows.

  “Yeah.”

  Surprisingly, Cade is still on my heels as I head toward my master bedroom. Now I’m thinking he may be the adventurous type. I sure hope he is. No matter what, he’s a brave soul.

  “So you know where I’m headed?”

  “Yeah,” he responds softly.

  My smile broadens as I enter my bedroom, and head straight to the master bathroom.

  I close the toilet lid, then point to it. “Sit.”

  He sits. His dark hair is still slightly damp from running and I want to brush my fingers across the short, bristly cut. Military-like.

  Hmm. I’ve always appreciated a man in uniform.

  He’s not wearing dog tags, though. So, he may not be active duty. Even so, he’d probably look good in camo, and my nipples harden even more at the thought.

  I realize he’s staring at me and I’m staring at him. His dark brown eyes are heated, his lips full and certainly kissable. His bare chest rises and falls at a rapid pace, even though he should no longer be winded from his run.

  Could it be possible he’s as affected by me as I am with him? Has he been watching me on his runs as much as I have him?

  I drop to my knees and open the first aid kit. Time to get down to business. “You’re pretty consistent with your running schedule.” I dig through the kit for the alcohol wipes, find two and rip one open.

  “Need to keep in shape.”

  “Why? What do you do that you need to keep in shape?”

  “I... uh... work for the government.”

  My eyes flick up to his. He’s watching me intently. “This is going to sting,” I warn him, though he probably knows that since he’s most likely around forty and not four.

  He jerks under my fingers as I start to clean off his left knee.

  I drop my gaze back to his leg to concentrate on my task. “Since when do government workers need to keep in shape?”

  “Most don’t.”

  “But you’re special.”

  “Not really.”

  His voice is so much deeper now than it was when he first fell. He’s gathered himself. I like his voice. It fits his physique, his square jawline, his broad cheekbones, his wide shoulders.

  I unfold another alcohol wipe and carefully clean up his right knee. “Do they hurt?”

  “What?”

  I glance up. “Your knees.”

  “Not much.”

  I give him a small nod. “Good. Wouldn’t want you to be out of commission from your government job.” After a few more swipes over his knee, I ask, “Federal?”

  He hesitates. “Yes.”

  Nothing out of the ordinary around here. Our community in Virginia is full of federal government workers.

  It wouldn’t even surprise me if he was FBI or Capitol Police.

  “Are you a cop?” I ask, throwing the used wipes into the small trash can tucked behind the toilet.

  “Law enforcement.”

  I smile at his knee as I rub an antibiotic cream into his brush-burned skin. His knees aren’t bad, but I find myself enjoying taking care of him. And it’s a good time to learn more about him.

  “You must have a cushy schedule if you can run by my house at the same time three days a week.”

  “So you notice,” he states.

  “I do.” I have both hands on his thighs right above his bent knees and I squeeze gently. A little sign he’ll pick up on. Law enforcement officers tend to pick up on subtle hints more than other people. Though, I really can’t say I’ve been subtle. (Remember the ass play question? Yeah, there was that.)

  “I noticed you, too.”

  I sit back on my heels and consider him. “No bandages needed. The cuts aren’t deep or excessive. You’ll live without total amputation of both legs, officer.”

  “Not an officer.” He says that as if it’s important that he corrects me. He doesn’t want to be considered an ambiguous “officer.”

  “Then what?”

  In the short time we’ve spent in each other’s company, he hasn’t smiled once. Not once. I find that odd.

  “Secret Service.”

  With a gasp, I fall backward onto my ass and he instantly jumps up off the toilet, reaching for me.

  “Skylar.”

  My brain has stopped functioning causing my thoughts to swirl. And I stare up at the tall man holding his hand out to me.

  “Skylar, are you all right?”

  I blink a few times, trying to clear my head. “I... Yes, sorry.” I take his offered hand and it’s warm, broad, and strong as he helps me to my feet.

  My master bathroom is a decent size but not big enough for the both of us to stand in front of the toilet and not be pressed against each other. Especially with his size, which now being so close, he seems to be taller and broader than I first realized.

  He’s staring down at me as his hand sweeps the hair ou
t of my face and his fingers brush along my jawline until they hook my chin and tilt my face up to him. “You okay?” he whispers, concern obvious in his eyes.

  I shiver and breathe out a “yes.” Then I shake my head to clear it, plant my palm on his warm (and still bare) chest, and say louder and with more conviction, “Yes. I’m fine.”

  I feel his heart under my hand, beating quickly, strongly.

  “What was that about?”

  “Nothing...” (that I want to admit.) “I just got lightheaded for a second there.”

  His eyebrows dip low. He doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t know me well enough to call me out on my bullshit.

  Although, I can read it in his face.

  I can easily see he is a man who likes direct.

  Well, I like direct, too. But not in this case.

  I quickly do a mental scan of my house to see if there’s anything still out that will reveal to him who I am. Or who I used to be, more like it.

  Because if he finds out, he may just walk out the door and all my planning will have gone to shit.

  Chapter Three

  Cade:

  I find her reaction to my career interesting. Maybe I’m reading too much into it and she really did become lightheaded. But my gut instinct says otherwise.

  I should probably just leave...

  But it’s hard (literally) to step away. Her back is pressed against the wall and my hard-on is pushing against her soft belly. When her hand flexes on my chest, her nails dig into the skin over my heart.

  As I stare down into her eyes the color of a cloudless sky, her eyelids drop, her pink mouth parts and her breath puffs from between her lips. Her nipples are as hard as diamonds beneath her yoga top and I’m tempted to brush my thumbs over the nubs just to test how hard they actually are.

  I force my mind to work, but really there’s only one thing on it. “Do you like ass play?”

  Her breath hitches and she practically melts against me. It feels good, really good. I’ve missed this, this kind of intimate contact.

  “I love ass play,” she answers, tilting her chin up, beckoning me to kiss her.

  I drop my head until my lips are barely above hers. “Biting, spanking, licking, fucking?”

  “Oh, yes,” she whispers, her eyes pinned on mine.

  I exhale a burst of air. “Can I kiss you?”

  “You better,” she answers.

  The last of her words are lost as I take her mouth. I don’t need to force my way in, she opens her mouth, invites me in, teasing me with the tip of her tongue. Grabbing her wrists, I raise them above her head and pin them to the wall. I use my skinned knee to part her thighs with barely a wince.

  I swallow her groan and she swallows mine, as I can’t help but thrust against her. My cock has a mind of its own, that’s for sure.

  Breaking free from the temptation of that hot mouth of hers, I nuzzle the soft flesh of her breasts as they mound out of the top of her yoga gear. I’ve wanted to do this for almost two months, ever since I first laid eyes on her at the beginning of my running kick.

  Transferring both of her wrists into one of my hands, I finally brush my thumb over those pebbled peaks.

  Ah, fuck. I want them in my mouth. I want to squeeze her breasts together and fuck them with my cock until I come all over her. But I also want to come inside her, her pussy, her ass, her luscious lips.

  With so many options, I hope we can get to them all. I have a feeling she’ll be willing to do anything I ask of her.

  And I am certainly willing to do anything she asks of me.

  That thought makes my cock throb.

  “Shower,” she murmurs.

  Without lifting my head, my nose buried between her generous, soft tits, I ask, “What?”

  “Shower. We were both sweaty.”

  Fuck the shower. I need to bury my dick in her first.

  “First we’ll fuck, then shower, then after that I’m going to eat you until you scream.”

  A hiss sounds in my ear as she arches against me, but I don’t think she’s complaining about my plan.

  I know if I don’t knock one out quickly, I won’t have the stamina to take my time with her. So, here’s the plan... knock one out to take the edge off, then take my time and work on giving her the best orgasms of her life. (I’m not putting too much pressure on myself.)

  The last two months of her tempting me three times a week have been like an extended foreplay and now I’m ready to get down to business.

  But first...

  “Condom?”

  She blinks at me, her brain probably as cloudy as mine. But birth control is something I don’t ever forget about. Not ever.

  She tugs on her bound wrists, but I shake my head. “Tell me. I’ll grab them. When I let you go I want you to get naked, lean over the sink, forearms on the counter and I want you to stick that sweet ass of yours in the air. Are you wet?”

  “Yes,” she says, a slight smile curling the corners of her mouth.

  Ah, yes. “How wet?”

  “You’ll have to find out.”

  “That I will.” I give her a wide smile back because I like her spunky attitude. She’s not shy at all, which was clear right from the get-go when she asked me about ass play. Can’t get bolder than that.

  “Condoms?” I ask again. She tilts her head to a narrow closet next to the shower.

  I release her, but she only drops her arms and doesn’t move.

  I don’t move, either. “Get into position,” I demand.

  Suddenly, she’s ripping her top off, her breasts bouncing as they’re pulled up with her top and when the built-in bra finally releases them, they drop. Damn, they’re flawless. Rosy nipples that are the perfect size for my mouth. They’re not small and perky, hell no, they are heavy and full, squeezable. Kiss-, suck- and bite-worthy.

  I can’t keep standing there staring. I need to move. Especially when she starts to peel down those snug yoga pants, the ones that hug the curve of her rounded hips. This woman has plenty of flesh for me to grab onto when I’m pounding into her and, damn, that does it for me. When I enjoy a steak, I want the meat, not the bone.

  I hesitate long enough to confirm my suspicions of her not wearing panties. (I was right, so I high-five myself mentally.)

  I finally unfreeze my feet and open the narrow closet door, scanning the shelves for condoms. I find them way in the back on the second shelf. Way in the back. Which makes me wonder just how long it’s been for her.

  It might be rude of me to ask, so I’ll wait to see if she volunteers that information first. I check the expiration date on the box. Relief floods me when they’re still good. Otherwise, I might have to throw her luscious, naked body over my shoulder and hoof it back to my house.

  Look at me, pretending like I can throw a woman over my shoulder and haul her two blocks away.

  Nice fantasy. Let’s just say, I’m thankful the condoms are still good.

  After I dig one out, I rip it open with my teeth and turn, ready to roll it on.

  She’s done what I’ve asked. She’s bent over the sink and watching me in the mirror.

  Oh holy shit, her ass... shaped like a heart, teasing me, tempting me. I can see her plump pussy lips beckoning me. I can’t wait to spread them, see if they’re slick with arousal.

  I know they are. I just know it.

  Jesus.

  I definitely need to keep it together long enough to make sure she’s satisfied with this first go-around, then we can take our time and play.

  The good news is that I don’t need to be at work until Monday. I have all weekend to explore this woman before me.

  “Touch yourself,” I demand and capture my cock in my own hand, sliding along the length, finding the crown slippery with precum. I’m not ready to put the condom on; I’m not ready to lose that sensitivity.

  In the mirror, her eyes drop to watch me stroke myself. As she does so, she tucks her hand between her legs and slides a finger through her folds.

/>   Jesus.

  My balls tighten painfully and another bead of precum escapes the tip of my cock. With my thumb, I spread the silky fluid around the head.

  I have to have her.

  I have to have her now.

  But, I like to make myself wait, too.

  I like the anticipation. The speculation of how she’ll feel around my cock as I bury myself deep inside her. The wonder of how she’ll sound as I work her to a climax.

  When she spreads herself open, I can see how shiny her pink center is.

  “Tell me what you want,” I say, hardly recognizing my own voice. It’s deep, husky, thick with need.

  I definitely know what I want. I’m a healthy forty-year-old with an insatiable sexual appetite. And I haven’t explored my sexual wants and needs for a great while. It has been a year. At least. Maybe more. Though, I’m a fool for denying myself.

  But I have.

  I just didn’t want the complications. The mess of a relationship. My job is steady now, but for the longest time before I moved up in rank, it wasn’t. I would be gone at the drop of a hat, flying here, driving there. Hotels. Resorts. Anywhere I was needed, depending who I was assigned to.

  Political heads of state tend to be demanding, needy. Just like a woman can be. I didn’t want that in both aspects of my life... professional and personal.

  Then things changed on that fateful day. Now...

  I shake myself mentally. No point in dwelling in the past, it will just make me bitter and what I’m looking at is quite the opposite.

  It’s sweet. Skylar is very, very sweet.

  “Tell me what you want,” I repeat softly, rolling the condom over my hard length.

  “You.”

  “Be more specific.”

  “Inside me,” she tells the mirror as she continues to play with herself, to tease me. One finger, then a second, slips inside her and I bite back a groan.

  Stepping behind her, I stare at the two of us. She is completely naked, exposed. In contrast, my shorts are shoved down only far enough to give me access to my cock and I still wear my socks and running shoes.

  Since I don’t want her to think I’m going to fuck her and run, I kick my sneakers off, peel off my socks, yank my shorts down and kick them away. Then I step closer until I’m tight against her ass as she moves her hand away and plants it back on the counter.