The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity
Read The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity Online
Authors: Devon Hartford
The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity
THE BAD BOY
NEXT DOOR
Lance & Chastity
Devon Hartford
COPYRIGHT NOTICE
Copyright ©2016 Devon Hartford
Cover Copyright ©2016 Devon Hartford
Cover Model - Myles Leask
Additional photo elements Copyright © simonekesh, bfoxfoto, kiriak, courtesy of BigStock.com
All rights reserved, worldwide. No part of this ebook may be reproduced, copied, or transmitted in any medium, whether electronic, internet, or otherwise, without the expressed permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, locations, and names occurring in this book are a product of the author’s imagination, or are the property of their respective owners and are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, or persons (living or dead), is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author. All trademarks and trade names are used in a fictitious manner and are in no way endorsed by or an endorsement of their respective owners.
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DEDICATION
To Elle Casey, friend and fellow story-TELLER.
If you hadn’t given me the perfect advice at the perfect time, I might have shelved this book permanently. Thanks to you, it lives.
Now I owe you twice.
The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity
My new neighbor Lance McKnight is rude, crude, and totally irresistible.
My mom hates him. She calls him a bad influence. She says he’s going to corrupt me.
That’s what I’m hoping.
I’m tired of the boring careful little life Mom has built around me like a prison. Besides church and school, there’s not much else. I may as well be living in a convent.
Lucky for me Lance doesn’t care what Mom thinks. From day one, he makes it clear he’s going to have his way with me no matter what Mom says.
Works for me.
I know Mom will crucify me if she finds out about all the sinful things I’ve been doing with Lance. But I’m enjoying his tongue too much to stop. My guilt isn’t the only thing eating me alive…
That’s why I’ll do whatever Lance says.
No matter how bad it is.
WARNING: Just when you think you know where this book is going, it doesn’t. Read with caution unless you want your fingers burned. Recommended for ages 18+
***The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity is a steamy standalone with an HEA***
Chapter 1
LANCE
“Watch where you’re going, dumbshit!” My dad growls as the U-Haul jumps the curb of the new suburban shit hole we’re about to call home. He spills the whiskey hidden in his AriZona Iced Tea bottle onto his wife-beater. Yeah, my Dad is a miserable fucking cliché. “Jesus, Lance, were you drunk when I taught you how to drive?”
“No, but you were.” It’s the truth.
His eyes narrow. He’s thinking about hitting me.
I goose the gas and the U-Haul lurches up the driveway.
“God damn it!” Dad bounces around the cab, almost falling out of his seat because he refuses to wear a seat belt. He’s so focused on saving his stealth whiskey he forgets to punch me.
That’s a good thing for two reasons. One, he hits like bricks and always leaves a mark. Two, I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing because the finest piece of ass I’ve ever seen is bending over the trunk of the Toyota parked next door, pulling something out.
Hole. E. Fuck.
Look at that ass…
Priceless.
A sliver of pink shines between the legs of her cutoff denim shorts like a beacon. Neon pink bikini bottoms. They’re so tight they look painted on. Fuck. My dick missiles in my pants. All I can think about is peeling that bikini off and jamming my face in her pussy. You know it tastes as good as it looks.
Dad is busy yelling at the whiskey soaking into his wife-beater like it’s a silk fucking shirt
I’m busy staring at Pink.
Tan smooth caramel legs and arms. Too bad a baggy white shirt covers her from the waist up. But a tease of side boob and neon bikini top shows through the arm hole. Her surfer blonde hair is a mess of golden tangles. Perfect for grabbing while I hit that shit from behind. If my damn Dad wasn’t sitting next to me, I’d throw the E-brake and rub one out right here.
Pink pulls a big pink box out of the trunk of the Toyota.
The kind of box cakes come in.
Shit, all I want to do is come in her pink box.
But I still haven’t seen her face under that mop of gold. She better not be a butter face. With an ass like that, you know I have to fuck it.
“Stop the god damn truck, Lance! You’re gonna hit the garage!”
I stand on the brakes and the U-Haul skids to a stop inches from demolishing the garage door of the rental house. Good thing I’m quick.
“You idiot! Look what you almost did!” Dad bitches about shit long after it’s a non-issue.
Sudden movement in the corner of my eye shocks me into motion and I twist my shoulders instinctively, just in time to miss getting my jaw clocked. I slide out of the cab before he can take a second shot.
“Get the fuck back here, dumbshit!” he growls.
I ignore him.
Pink walks toward the front door of her house with her unreal ass bouncing under her cutoffs in a way that knots my balls. At this point, she could have three eyes and a beak and I’d still have to fuck her before the night is over. If I don’t, I’m never gonna sleep.
“What the fuck are you smiling about?” Dad grumbles as he walks around the front of the cab. He can’t see Pink because she’s already hidden by the big bush standing between us and her porch.
Fucking bush. Speaking of bush, all I can think about is fucking hers. “Nothing,” I say casually.
“Then quit fucking around and let’s move this shit in.”
His ass-i-tude rolls right off my back. There’s no way he can possibly ruin my day today because this dreary shit hole suddenly got all kinds of sunshine.
The hot pink kind.
Fuuuuuuuck YEAH.
++++8++++
CHASTITY
“Mom!” I holler, standing on the front porch. “Can you open the screen door please! I’ve got the cake!” My birthday cake, which I just picked up from Sweet Lady Jane’s on Melrose, is gigantic. Despite the fact we’re always broke, Mom insisted we buy a nice cake for my eighteenth. Not for my sake, but for appearances. So people won’t
know
we’re broke. “Hey! Mom?! Where are you?!”
She’s inside getting the house ready for my pool party tomorrow night. She isn’t one of those moms who lets you “use” the house for a party. She has to host it and chaperone it so everything will be her version of perfect.
For a moment, I consider opening the screen door latch with my pinky. A vision of the cake box tumbling to the ground followed by me lifting the lid to discover a smear of lavender flowers and frosting glued to the top stops me.
“Mom!!”
“You need help with that?” a strange male voice says behind me.
Startled, I spin around and see…
Goodness!!
The hottest guy ever. Tall, scorching hot smile, broad shoulders, narrow waist, and muscled arms wrapped in tattoos. On a rough looking guy like him, I expect to see studs or tapers in his ears, but instead his ears look mooshed. Both of them. They’re the only part of him that
isn’t
perfect. Somehow it makes him more real.
Where did he come from?
Not from around here. All of our neighbors in this mediocre slice of suburban paradise are families with 2.5 kids or silver-haired old people. This part of the Valley is Boring Central.
Mr. Hot Sauce eyes me like he wants to sprinkle himself all over me and take a bite.
An instant heat wave hits my face. I would hide behind my hair but a U-Haul truck in the driveway next door catches my eye. A trailer holding two motorcycles is hitched to the back. One looks like a racing motorcycle and the other looks like something from Sons Of Anarchy, which I only know about because I secretly watch it at my bestie Lark’s house. Why? Because my mom won’t allow us to watch any worldly programming at home. But who needs TV when you have a real live gorgeous bad boy moving in right next door?
I say, “Are you my new neighbor?”
“Yeah,” he grins, his lush lips relaxing into a devilish grin. “What’s your name?”
“People call me Chaz.” I hate telling people my given name. It sounds
SO
stupid.
“That’s a cool name. Is it a nickname?”
“Yeah.”
Please don’t ask
.
“For what?”
I roll my eyes and sigh, “Chastity.”
He chuckles, “That’s not gonna last.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?!” I demand. Does he think I haven’t heard that before? Of course I have. But from someone as hot as him? Never. Because I’ve never
met
anyone as hot as him.
He shrugs, still grinning.
“What’s your name?” I sneer. “Virginity?”
“No. Virginity is a girl’s name. My name’s Virgil. But people call me ‘The Virgin’.” He winks at me. “Never had sex. Saving myself till marriage.”
I laugh. “Yeah, right.” There’s no way this guy is a virgin. “Come on, tell me your real name. I told you mine.” I stare at him defiantly.
“You show me yours, I show you mine?”
“No!” Could he be any more obvious? “What’s your name already?”
“Lance.” His eyes smolder for a second then boldly drop to my breasts. His eyes just sit there, parked on my chest.
I’m about to ask him if he’s getting a good look, but I realize I
like
him ogling my breasts. Usually I don’t, but gosh, he’s so frickin’ hot.
His devil’s grin curls. “Let me hold your pink box for you.”
My eyes gawk. What the
Eff
did he just say?
He takes the cake box from my hands. His boldness is overwhelming.
I’m powerless to resist him. My heart thuds in my chest.
“I’d offer to shake your hand…” his eyes glimmer wickedly, “…but I’ve got both my hands all over your…
box
.”
I snort a laugh, but I’m literally speechless. Oh. My. Goodness. Is he kidding? I can’t believe he just said that. But my lady parts believe every word. They’re literally shaking between my legs. In fact, my knees are shaking too. It’s a miracle I can even stand up right now. I hope this Lance stud doesn’t notice. I’m usually much more composed than this, but I’ve never had a guy come on to me this hard before. Emphasis on hard and coming. Geez, what am I thinking?
“I’d offer to get the door for you,” he grins, “but I can’t do that either, because—”
“Because your hands are full! Got it!” I am
totally
blushing from head to toe. Even my lady parts are blushing.
“What’s in your
box
, anyway? I’m thinking cherry
pie
…”
“It’s cake! Regular cake!” I blurt as I spin and rip the screen door open.
He glances at the threshold.
Why am I suddenly thinking about that vampire thing where you have to give them permission to enter your house otherwise they can’t come in? I know. Because Lance looks like the sexiest vampire ever. But that’s just kids’ books.
“Can I
come
inside?” His devil’s grin is preposterously cocky.
“You did
not
just say that,” I giggle.
“What, that I wanted to come inside
your
…” He trails off.
Hot sexy images of thrusting naked bodies flash through my brain at ten million miles an hour. Despite what my strict mother believes, I’ve seen internet porn. More than once. Ahem. Meanwhile, my mind is screaming,
Come inside my WHAT?! Come inside my what and WHEN?! Now?! Right here on the porch?! Please do!! Right NOW!!!!
Of course, I say none of these things. Rather, I smile demurely. And blink guiltily and repeatedly.
Come inside, come inside, come, come, come inside my—