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All she does is peer up at me with those wide bright green eyes of hers, her lips suckling me in spite of my words, and that’s it. Unable to resist her willingness, I climax, and she buries me more deeply until I fountain down her throat. After the euphoria rises to a peak and slowly resides, I stare down at this woman, realizing I’m in her debt.
And that’s unacceptable.
Tugging her over to the wooden bench I have tucked beneath my home workstation, I station the bench in the center of the room, strip her down, and lay her across it. Dropping to my own knees, I place myself in front of her core, licking and sucking until she makes these high little keens and purrs. Cupping those glorious tits of hers, I next drag each hand down her slender curves, reveling in how soft her skin is.
Sliding two fingers inside her, I push in and out as I suckle her clit, enjoying the earthy sweet taste of her. Becca’s keens rocket into screeches as she orgasms on my tongue, face, and hand. I keep going until she comes again, afterward laying therequaking and panting. Only at that point does my ability to engage my usual logic reengage.
Shit. We just had a hookup, and with her living right next door, this could get extremely messy.
We didn’t even discuss anything important. How irresponsible could I be?
Hell, damn,shit.
“Um, I’m disease-free, by the way,” I tell her, even though this is information we should’ve already shared.
“Thanks for telling me, hottie. Me, too. Also, I’m on the pill for good measure.”
Hottie? Does that me she finds me hot?
Focus, asshole.
“How…How old are you?”
“Thirty-two. Way over the age of consent, if that’s why you’re asking.”
I knew she must be of age, but still. This is alarming. She’s too young for me.
“I’m fifteen years older than you.”
“Okay.” She says this as if it’s no skin off her nose.
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“No. Is there some reason it should?”
I’m at a loss. Maybe I shouldn’t worry about it if she isn’t. Still, I can’t get away from the fact that I should feel bad about this, even if I don’t.
“Relax, silly,” she says. “We just had some fun. I’m not looking for anything more than that. Are you?” I shake my head. “We’re good, then. Right?”
I guess we are. She dresses and blows me a kiss.
“How about anytime we need to let off a little steam, we’ll hook up? You okay with that?” Becca suggests, and while it may seem awfully opportunistic, I’m not a stupid man.
“I’m okay with that.”
“Super. Gotta go, hottie. See you later.”
Then she’s gone.
Initially, I doubt that I’ll ever receive a repeat, but Becca keeps coming back for more. Eventually, I take a chance and go to her, as well. She doesn’t turn me away. Hell, she doesn’t even hesitate to pounce on me, the sex mind blowing every time.
I become accustomed to the scent and taste of her pumpkin spice pound cake, her spiked coffee, and her fantastic body. Since she enjoys telling me about her day—and sure, chattering in general—I learn a lot about her in a short time.
Beyond her affinity for her original neighbor and baking, I discover that she loves being around people, that she’s rejuvenated by it. I find this fascinating because I’m the total opposite. She makes friends easily, and has become especially close to Jodi Farris, who had also been her friend—bestie, she calls her—in high school.
I hear about her adoration for hair accessories and styling it, about how she wants her salon to be the social hub of the town. She tells me she appreciates my abilities to craft dollhouses because she never had one growing up, despite always yearning for one.
Over the subsequent four months, we continue with our affair, and it’s such an eye-opener for me. Where I’ve felt like this ancient hermit for ages, now I feel alive. Like a man rather than the shell of one. Who knew even a shallow relationship could make such a difference?
