Naughty Neighbors (8 page)

In a matter of two or three seconds, she could have his lips on hers, his body grinding against hers. In the dead cold of winter’s best heat, he could strip her of her senses and teach her a thing or two about becoming a more experienced woman.

There was no denying the man’s ability. Regardless of age, he had experience. A woman could tell when she’d met her match there. She saw the confidence in his eyes. She heard the sex appeal in his voice. Men who enjoyed sex were just as obvious as their counterparts who matched them.

Stirring up a commotion in her mind, she thought of all the ways Zak could set her body in motion. Her gaze went to the bed where she’d dumped an armload of adult playthings. Turning back to him again, she cocked her head and shrugged. “I want you stay. I don’t know how many different ways I can express that but I know what I want and I want you to stay.”

Zak took a deep breath and a side step. Of all the toys scattered across her bed and on the nearby table, he chose the box with the bold black inscription: Spreader Bar with locks included.

He took a sudden breath, his full chest swelling, no doubt with decisions and options more than fresh air. And right when she was certain they had bounded over the first hurdle and were already headed down the first stretch, he said, “I should go. You’ll thank me later.”

Before she could stop him, he exited the room.

His heavy footsteps filled her head as she quickly grabbed the first box she could touch on her way out of the room. Standing at the top of the steps, she stripped her sweatshirt over her head. Folding her arms over her breasts, she clung to the toy—a sex kit per the box’s description—her shirt now dangling from her fingertips.

Taking a deep breath, she stared at Zak’s broad back, willing him to turn around, willing him to stop and change his mind so she wouldn’t call out to him, so she wouldn’t risk another outright rejection.

Pausing on the last step, Zak said, “Either put your shirt back on and come lock the door behind me or drop your arms and leave them hanging at your side.” He turned his head to the side, giving her a great view of his profile.

She shivered then, noting his stern, set jaw. His cheek flexed and he clenched his fist as if he were trying to still the lust she stirred inside him. Her pussy heated at the sight of him. Her nipples began throbbing as if he’d breathed each syllable against her bare flesh.

“If I stay, Kara, we don’t just put one of those toys to the test, we try out several.”

“What if—”

“There are no what-ifs with me,” he said, taking that last step and reaching for the door.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together. Dropping the box and her sweatshirt along with her trembling limbs, she stood there with her eyes closed, half expecting to hear the door open and close.

Afraid to steal a peak to see if he was still there, she tried to wait him out, counting to ten maybe a dozen times. Feeling exposed, so very, very exposed she felt, literally sensed, his dark eyes watching her. “Are you still here?”

Not a word was spoken but she heard the creak in her foyer, a loose tile giving away his whereabouts. Standing straighter, she willed herself to wait, wishing he would say something but realizing then he was precisely the kind of man her writer friend Maggie had warned her about.

She tried to replay their earlier conversation, thinking about his reaction when she’d told him of Kemper’s expectations. His eyes had held keen awareness. There was really only one way to describe them—aglow with knowledge.

She was under his scrutiny. She felt his gaze working its way over her, sliding up and down her neck, working from one side to the other as he took in the fullness of her breasts.

He was a player. God help her. She’d gone from bad to worse. She sensed it. And of course she would recognize the worst of their kind—her father had been a gambler. He’d been a womanizer. He was a good provider and she had been daddy’s little girl, but he had been a player. She’d watched him toy with her mother’s emotions and all the women who later followed behind her.

Now, she was standing before a man who could teach her things she wanted to know and yet she feared he was exactly the kind of man her mother, and even Maggie, had told her to avoid.

He was on the steps now. He was coming for her.

She could feel the chemistry between them, the way he fondled her with his heated stare. He yearned for her. The sexual tension spiraled out of control. She could feel his eyes penetrating her skin, raking over her nipples, and settling at her crotch, willing her to strip off her shorts, demanding of her the type of things that would damn near scare her to death.

Sure, she’d flaunted those toys around like she might have known how to use them but she didn’t. Before the night began, she wouldn’t have dreamed of playing with these kinky items alone, much less with an audience or willing participant.

At the thought, she gulped.

She’d heard of voyeurs. She’d even studied exhibitionists. Was he the first? Was she the latter? Did stripping off in an effort to entice one’s neighbor make the person an exhibitionist?

She balked at the idea, swaying now as her mind became overloaded with illicit notions and images of unsettling acts. Was she really so determined to have sex with this man that she had stripped off her shirt, closed her eyes, and waited as he’d asked?

Come to think of it, he hadn’t told her to close her eyes. No, she’d reached that decision on her own. And why? Was it because she didn’t want to acknowledge the truth? Was she just plain terrified by the idea of sleeping with another man when only one person had held the keys to her heart, only one man had crawled all over her in her bed?

Jerking at once, she grabbed hold of the banister for balance. Simultaneously, his hand slapped over her wrist and her eyes opened.

“I’m rather surprised, Kara,” he said, moistening his lips and staring at her breasts. “You almost outlasted me.”

His heated look was a tell-all sign. She’d heard of looks like these, had even been on the receiving end of a few of Kemper’s, but the certainty she discovered in Zak’s gaze was as damning as it was telling. A smooth operator, Zak had taken her by the hand and led her right into the fire. The heat in his touch wouldn’t just melt butter—a term Maggie often used in her books—oh no. This dude’s level of hotness would fry the bubbling oil right off the doggone skillet.

“If I stay, we play by my rules.”

“Okay.” She might as well agree. His intense stare nearly drove her to orgasm. She could only imagine the pleasure he would bring with his lips, his tongue, or... Good Lord in heaven above...no, she wouldn’t think any lower than his neck. She couldn’t. She was already having a tough enough time with the simple task of standing.

“Okay then. What’d you say we go ahead and get started?”

Eleven

A man’s first mistake with a woman was when he underestimated her power, her insatiable drive to even the score. His second? Being foolish enough to actually think she believed everything he ever told her, even when she possessed solid evidence to the contrary.

The flipside of that coin wasn’t polished with any special cloth. It didn’t carry a more pristine shine, but very often there was a rebound guy. The man there to pick up the pieces, the rebounder was a fellow who tried to make a quick move and take over where one fellow had just left off, and he often made a detrimental error from the start. He frequently underestimated the woman’s level of need, not so much her love, but that profound, unsettling urge her former lover had established prior to vacating the premises.

Zak wasn’t trying to take the place of the man who left Kara alone before charging for the altar. Somewhere deep in his soul, he suspected Kemper would soon return for Kara, to reclaim his position in her life and in her bed.

Zak had ambition. He planned to make it mighty difficult on Kemper Kapertone if he ever came back for the woman he shouldn’t have left behind. His goal was simple. He’d instill in her a longing that no one else could imitate, let alone replace.

Staring down at the lovely beauty stretching her arms high above her head, he allowed himself to dream again. Could Kara be his last real chance at happiness? He certainly believed he could love her. He’d halfway taken that ultimate tumble when he first set eyes on her.

He secured her legs, never tearing his gaze away from her as he carefully tied her ankles to the bedposts. He watched as her full breasts heaved, almost as if each ragged breath had been torn from her chest. Wondering aloud, he asked, “You’re sure you’ve never been trained?”

Rather than provide a verbal response, she shook her head. That alone gave way to opportunity, allowing him to seize the perfect moment for initial instruction.

“You will answer with a yes or no and address me as Sir for the time being.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“So you have been trained as a submissive?”

“I meant yes I understand how you’d like to be addressed, but no, I’ve never been trained, Sir.”

“Why not?”

She arched a brow and stretched her fingers at the same time, perhaps a nervous response since he noticed her leg twitching, too. “I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”

“I wonder why Mr. Kapertone didn’t train you.” He sat on the edge of the bed and chose the container housing the assorted vibrators and dildos. Tearing the safety seal off the top, he opened the box and grinned as soon as he spotted the perfect toy to use for breaking in his submissive.

The thick head resembled his own. He needed to make sure she was accustomed to a wider than normal impalement. He wanted her to easily accommodate his size so when he finally took her, when he finally allowed himself the true indulgence of experiencing her body, she would be ready. She would be receptive. More importantly, she would be properly stretched and prepared.

Realizing she hadn’t responded, he asked her once more, “Why didn’t your boyfriend train you for submission?”

“He always said he would in due time, Sir.”

“I see,” Zak said, though he really couldn’t understand Kemper’s reasoning. Perhaps Kemper wasn’t a Dom after all. Maybe he’d toyed with the idea of Domination and submission, but he wasn’t a Dom where it counted. He couldn’t have been and left this beautiful, sexy woman unschooled.

Clearing the box top, he slipped the vibrator from the container. He turned on the switch and wasn’t at all surprised when the shaft flipped right into action, jerking one way and then the other.

Kara laughed aloud and he shut off the vibrator at once. He glared at her hard, but it wasn’t easy to force a disdainful look when her large nipples popped to upright attention and her pussy lips glistened with a lustrous shine.

His cock stretched forward in his denim and it was all he could do to keep from touching her then. He was pained by her need and his own lack of control. She wiggled her arms against the binds holding her to the bed.

“Lie still,” he said, moving closer.

Admiring her bare mound, he ran three digits through her soaked folds, loving the warm moisture pooling around his fingers. His resistance shattered with the mounting temptation. Oh how he longed to lift those same fingers to his lips, to taste her sweet honey and inhale her rich womanly scent.

“I’m not going to be a very good submissive.”

“What makes you think that?” His cock thrummed in his jeans.

Her mouth puckered and she pulled at her restraints. “Just a feeling I have.”

Those luscious lips called to him in a manner he couldn’t ignore. He wanted to watch her slicken his cock with her mouth, bob that pretty brunette head over him until she drove him wild. She would then beg him to fuck her, plead with him to take her orally or anally, anyway she could have him.

She’d just need him to lessen the burn and dull the excruciating pain.

He gathered the toys he’d placed on the table earlier and sat next to her once more. He then gave in to temptation. He curved his arm around her middle and flattened his hand next to her waist. Raking his thumb across her hipbone, he admired her curves and was in complete awe of her gorgeous shape.

“How long will you keep me like this?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering.

“Are you frightened now, Kara?” He hoped she’d tell him the truth. He didn’t want any woman to fear him. The submissive women he had taken to his bed in the past respected him, but they weren’t afraid of him.

“No, Sir,” she whispered, only he detected a little apprehension in her voice.

“Is the booze starting to wear off?”

“Yes.”

Rubbing his lips together, he held up his right hand, forced his fingers together and flattened his palm against her mound, striking her pussy with a quick swat.

“Oh God!” she cried out, her body wracked by pleasure. Her inexperience likely told her she had just responded to pain. She was too green to know the difference.

He smoothed his hand over her bare flesh. “Do you want me to stop?”

There was a mix of confusion in her eyes, an expression stamped on her face that he would’ve loved to have captured in a snapshot.

Yes, indeed. Mr. Kapertone had made a detrimental error for sure. Zak was bound and determined to make Kara his woman and his willing submissive. He would train her right the first time to insure no other man ever took his place, not even the man who was responsible for sending these glorious gifts he now gladly put to good use.

~ * ~

After he’d spanked her pussy, he left her in the bedroom alone. He’d gone to the bathroom to relieve himself but she was beginning to think he had passed out cold in there. He had been in the master bath for quite a while.

Kara stared at the ceiling and wondered then. Where were Kemper and Carly? Were they on their honeymoon? Were they flying around the country or jet-setting to Paris? Was Kemper planning some sort of in-town rendezvous during the Longhorns’ bye-week or were they just going to live as newlyweds and forego the honeymoon until the season ended?

She jerked her restraints in an effort to sit then noticed the bathroom door was cracked. She stretched her neck in an effort to see. She was far more interested in what Zak was doing than playing the Carly and Kemper guessing game.