to examine, my pussy was really, really wet.
But that was neither here nor there.
What was there was him, looking like a human
lollipop, having terrorized me with his decibels all frickin’ week ,
stolen my muse, and beaten my sex scene literally to death. The mosquitos in
the shade of his porch were starting to eat me alive— of course he had
particularly ravenous mosquitos—and now he wanted to discuss the origin of The
Panty Hole.
“ You made a hole. In my panties. With a tiny bullet
from your puny gun,” I added for good measure. The hole had looked and the
report had sounded like a .22, and no man liked to be accused of having a small
gun. Which is, of course, why I went there.
He stood up. “My gun is not puny,” he said, crossing his
arms and glaring through the screen at me. “And if I had made a hole in your
panties, it wouldn’t be tiny.”
My eyes flicked to his package. I couldn’t help myself.
“That’s not what it looks like from here,” I said coolly, even though it was
quite the frickin’ opposite of what it looked like from where I was standing.
He started toward me, those delicious muscles flexing in a
way that made me forget the mosquitos drilling my exposed flesh. Oooo, he
looked kinda angry. Why did that turn me on?
My breath caught, and I felt my pussy clenching, the rush of
heat and moisture. Shit. Shit, shit . Why was I so sick and twisted? Why
couldn’t I get this hot for someone who volunteered at a soup kitchen, someone
who helped old ladies across the street? Or fixed my four-wheeler?
This man, coming toward me with that look in his eyes? I
got the feeling he did none of those things.
My heart thumped faster. There was still the screen between
us, but I honestly didn’t know what I’d do if and when he got to me. Punch him
in the mouth, or kiss it just as hard?
I really wanted to touch that chest…
Now is my chance! “I want you to stop waking me up
in the mornings,” I blurted.
He paused. “What?”
“Your sawing and hammering and flying, you start at six in
the morning. You keep waking me up. I’d appreciate it if you stopped.”
There, that had actually been pretty polite. Especially compared to the stream
of profanities I could have unleashed.
Maybe getting the full-frontal of his chest, all that smooth
flesh wrapped around those delicious muscles, was mellowing me out. Even now,
I was having trouble holding eye contact. There was just so damn much of him
that wanted—no, needed —my attention.
He frowned. “You’re outta here in the mornings before I
ever start hammering anything.”
I felt a blush crawling up my cheeks from the
double-entendre, but said, “On the days that I work, that’s true. But I don’t
work every day, and on the days that I don’t, I like to sleep in.”
He crossed his arms, and one of his brows climbed upward.
“Till?”
“Nine.” And I immediately wanted to kick myself after I
said it, because it sounded like a damn question. Apparently my decisive voice
had gone out the same window my libido had come in.
He got a look like he was gonna argue or maybe laugh in my
face, but then a half-naked blonde emerged from the back hall. “Ga-ry,” she
sing-songed in a way that made me want to spank her, unknowingly
interrupting whatever it was that was going on between me and my hot neighbor. She
looked gorgeous and rumpled in nothing but a forest green button-down, and it
shamed me to admit it, but in that moment, I wondered if he preferred blondes.
I didn’t like my neighbor, but I was starting to realize I
wanted to fuck him.
He half turned toward her, then flicked another look at me.
It was a ‘you just wait’ look. “Take your dog,” he said.
I hurriedly opened the screen, and was relieved when Mocha
listened despite my lack of potato chips. We started down the porch, and
behind me I heard, “Who was that, babe?”
“No one, gorgeous.
But that was neither here nor there.
What was there was him, looking like a human
lollipop, having terrorized me with his decibels all frickin’ week ,
stolen my muse, and beaten my sex scene literally to death. The mosquitos in
the shade of his porch were starting to eat me alive— of course he had
particularly ravenous mosquitos—and now he wanted to discuss the origin of The
Panty Hole.
“ You made a hole. In my panties. With a tiny bullet
from your puny gun,” I added for good measure. The hole had looked and the
report had sounded like a .22, and no man liked to be accused of having a small
gun. Which is, of course, why I went there.
He stood up. “My gun is not puny,” he said, crossing his
arms and glaring through the screen at me. “And if I had made a hole in your
panties, it wouldn’t be tiny.”
My eyes flicked to his package. I couldn’t help myself.
“That’s not what it looks like from here,” I said coolly, even though it was
quite the frickin’ opposite of what it looked like from where I was standing.
He started toward me, those delicious muscles flexing in a
way that made me forget the mosquitos drilling my exposed flesh. Oooo, he
looked kinda angry. Why did that turn me on?
My breath caught, and I felt my pussy clenching, the rush of
heat and moisture. Shit. Shit, shit . Why was I so sick and twisted? Why
couldn’t I get this hot for someone who volunteered at a soup kitchen, someone
who helped old ladies across the street? Or fixed my four-wheeler?
This man, coming toward me with that look in his eyes? I
got the feeling he did none of those things.
My heart thumped faster. There was still the screen between
us, but I honestly didn’t know what I’d do if and when he got to me. Punch him
in the mouth, or kiss it just as hard?
I really wanted to touch that chest…
Now is my chance! “I want you to stop waking me up
in the mornings,” I blurted.
He paused. “What?”
“Your sawing and hammering and flying, you start at six in
the morning. You keep waking me up. I’d appreciate it if you stopped.”
There, that had actually been pretty polite. Especially compared to the stream
of profanities I could have unleashed.
Maybe getting the full-frontal of his chest, all that smooth
flesh wrapped around those delicious muscles, was mellowing me out. Even now,
I was having trouble holding eye contact. There was just so damn much of him
that wanted—no, needed —my attention.
He frowned. “You’re outta here in the mornings before I
ever start hammering anything.”
I felt a blush crawling up my cheeks from the
double-entendre, but said, “On the days that I work, that’s true. But I don’t
work every day, and on the days that I don’t, I like to sleep in.”
He crossed his arms, and one of his brows climbed upward.
“Till?”
“Nine.” And I immediately wanted to kick myself after I
said it, because it sounded like a damn question. Apparently my decisive voice
had gone out the same window my libido had come in.
He got a look like he was gonna argue or maybe laugh in my
face, but then a half-naked blonde emerged from the back hall. “Ga-ry,” she
sing-songed in a way that made me want to spank her, unknowingly
interrupting whatever it was that was going on between me and my hot neighbor. She
looked gorgeous and rumpled in nothing but a forest green button-down, and it
shamed me to admit it, but in that moment, I wondered if he preferred blondes.
I didn’t like my neighbor, but I was starting to realize I
wanted to fuck him.
He half turned toward her, then flicked another look at me.
It was a ‘you just wait’ look. “Take your dog,” he said.
I hurriedly opened the screen, and was relieved when Mocha
listened despite my lack of potato chips. We started down the porch, and
behind me I heard, “Who was that, babe?”
“No one, gorgeous.
Similar Books
