Thigh High (9 page)

“Oh God, Frankie. I'm the one who won the real prize.” He brushed the back of his knuckles across her delicate cheekbones.

“Daniel, you're the sweetest man on earth.”

“No, just the luckiest.” He hugged her close and swept his tongue into her mouth, then down her sweet neck and lower.

To Nancy Warren, a dear and much-appreciated friend.
And to E.C. Sheedy, whose midnight adventures in
Emergency came in handy!
And for Ted, always.

“O
h man, he is so buff!” Kat Hardee commented, ogling her next-door neighbor. Her mail forgotten in her hand, she leaned on the mailbox at the entrance to the townhouse complex.

“I'll say,” Celia agreed. “But such a nerd. It's a shame.”

Celia lived on the other side of the man in question, Taye Connors, and Kat had forgotten she was standing there too.

“I didn't mean for you to hear that,” Kat said with a burn on her cheeks. Knowing Celia she'd twist the comment into something it wasn't.

He climbed out of his SUV and headed to the door of his townhouse, briefcase in hand. He bent and picked up a package left on his front step. Wrapped in cozy brown cords, he had a great butt, even from this distance, and Kat found several ways a day to see it. From her back upstairs window she'd watch him put out bird seed. Through his tiny kitchen window she'd catch glimpses of him making dinner.

“He's not a nerd,” Kat said in his defense. “I'm willing to bet under that tweed jacket is a lot of man.”

“You think?” Celia assessed him with her man-hungry eyes.

Kat shifted. A second mistake. Taye's physique was not up for discussion, not with Celia. She was a shark when it came to getting what she wanted. Kat's comment had alerted her to something Kat wanted to keep to herself. For herself.

Not that she had the gumption to go after the man. Chasing a man had created havoc in her life once; she didn't need to do it again. Especially not now! She was finally in college and finally doing something for herself.

A man in her life would only mess up everything! She wrestled the image of Taye Connors's hot, sexy body back under her libido. Way under her libido. Locked in a vault under her libido. No way would the two meet again.

“How much would you bet?” Celia's curious, dangerously calm voice broke into Kat's wrestling match. The look Celia gave her was every bit as dangerously curious as her voice.

Dread leaked into her belly. “What do you mean?” Even she heard the fear in her voice. Celia had a way of making foolish behavior sound like fun. Lots of fun.

Celia clicked her tongue impatiently. She didn't suffer fools gladly. “What would you bet that he's a lot of man under his clothes?”

Everything inside her tightened: stomach, libido, vault, all waiting to see what Kat would say at the idea of getting Taye out of his tweed jacket, then his shirt, then his slacks. “You know I'm broke. I can't afford to bet.”

“Hmm. Wouldn't have to be for money.” Celia pulled mail out of her box and smiled in a way that made Kat nervous. “How's this? You get him naked and let me know how buff he is. I'll give you the weekend.”

“Why?”

“I'm curious. The men I usually spend time with aren't like him. I go for bad boys. I've never done a man like Taye.” She arched one perfectly waxed eyebrow and waited.

“Do you want him?” Celia and Taye: a good man with a bad, bad woman. He was nice, quiet. Kind. Gentle. A woman like Celia would eat him alive.

Celia shrugged one smooth shoulder. “Might be fun, if the bod's up to snuff. But I won't know that unless you tell me what he looks like under his clothes.”

Kat secretly admitted to some curiosity and a dose of reluctant admiration for the woman's want-it, get-it attitude, but she did not want firsthand knowledge of Celia's lifestyle. She preferred a quieter life. She preferred to wait for a man to find her. She preferred not to think of Celia with Taye.

She wanted Taye.

If he took a walk on the wild side with Celia, Kat wouldn't stand a chance. He'd never look her way again.

Up to now, there had been some glances. Second and third glances. A couple of those glances had stretched into looks. Long steamy looks.

“I'd do it,” Celia threatened in a sly tone, “but I'm going away for the weekend.” The lascivious expression in her eyes meant she'd found a new man. But still, she looked at Taye as if she couldn't wait to get her mouth on him. “But there's always next weekend.”

Celia's nipples rose under her low-cut sheer cotton blouse, then Kat saw her upper thighs squeeze and release. Damn it, Celia meant business.

She could let this go. It wasn't up to Kat to keep a nice guy out of Celia's clutches. Especially since Taye never did anything more than chat politely at the front door.

But she couldn't allow Celia to move in on a man Kat wanted. This was way past schoolgirl stuff. Taye's heart might be at stake. The round robin of why she should walk away and let it happen versus the disaster of Celia messing with him bounced around in her head.

She looked up the driveway one more time. He was deadheading some petunias, bent over again, firm ass looking like a fine piece of fruit.

It wasn't her head that made her decision. It was her heart. Followed quickly by a libido that came to life with a roar.

“All right. I'll give it a try. But Taye going from small talk in the driveway to naked in my arms seems like a long shot.”

Celia crossed her arms under her gigantic boobs and shook her head sadly. “Who said anything about naked in your arms? I didn't say you had to fuck him, I just said you had to see him naked. You can leave the fucking to me.” She actually smacked her lips! “In fact, I'd prefer it if you did.”

“No way. If I see him naked, you have to walk away. Completely.” Temptation. The thrill felt good, gave her underused libido a jangle she enjoyed. A jangle of keys, one of which opened the vault under her libido. Once the vault opened, temptation gave way to lust. She was in now, no going back. “If I get him naked, there's no way we're not having sex. A naked Taye means he's mine. Got that?”

Celia rolled her eyes. “There's that puritanical side of yours again.” She waggled her finger in a dismissive gesture. “Sleeping with the same man shouldn't interfere with a friendship, Kat. Men should never come between friends.”

“No, they shouldn't.” Because friends shouldn't sleep with the same man.

“Of course not.” Celia firmed her lips into a moue. “Not unless there's more than sex going on.”

Kat rolled her eyes. “That's not what I meant at all.”

Celia continued as if Kat hadn't spoken. “If you were to get attached and start a thing with Taye, then of course I'd back off. But if it's just sex for convenience, then, honey, I'm up for a roll with our delicious neighbor too.”

“So my choice is to seduce him into a relationship and keep him to myself or play with him for a weekend and leave him wide open to you?”

The last time she'd insisted on a relationship with a man she was in lust with, her life had taken a rotten turn. She was just now repairing the damage.

But, and it was a huge but, she wanted Taye in a powerful way. If she never went for it, Celia would sleep with him. And if Celia slept with him, Kat wouldn't be able to. No matter what Celia said about convenient sex. Kat wasn't capable of sleeping with a friend's lover.

So, if she didn't get to Taye first, she would never have him.

Later she would swear she heard actual creaking as her long-closed vault door opened wide as lust rose in every muscle, ligament and artery in her body. Her heart picked up speed and her breath shallowed. She never could have imagined going head to head with Celia for a man's attention, but damn it, Taye was the one Kat wanted. Celia figured one cock was as good as another. It wouldn't matter a fig to Celia if she lost out on one cock, but it would matter a lot to Kat if she let Taye get away.

Celia watched as Kat fought her silent battle. Then she sighed, letting her breasts jiggle for emphasis. “For a woman as knowledgeable about sex as you are, you're a real prude sometimes.”

“There are two sides to sex, the mechanics and the emotions surrounding those mechanics.” Celia's comment rankled her into a sharp response. “I'm not a prude. I just like a connection with the men I sleep with. There's nothing wrong with that.”

“Sex is a bodily function. A tool,” Celia said. “Nothing more than comfort food. It doesn't mean anything.” Celia frowned and pursed her lips.

“This is why I never go clubbing with you. I can't feel the way you do. It's not in me.”

Heat glowed in Celia's gaze and her frown turned dark. “Be careful, Kat, you're getting awfully close to calling me—”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound judgmental,” she interrupted, slinging her arm around Celia's shoulder. “Like religion and politics, there are some things friends shouldn't discuss.”

“Just remember, it was your need for a connection that got you married and divorced by what? Twenty-two?”

Her spine stiffened. “Point taken.”

“And you're twenty-five now. Three years divorced and you're still clinging to attitudes my grandmother would laugh at.”

“I've met your grandmother, Celia.” Kat crossed her arms. “And using a Las Vegas showgirl as a moral compass has left you jaded and cynical.”

“I meant my other grandmother.” Celia speared her with an intent stare. “Are you going to get Taye Connors naked or not? If you do, will you sleep with him?”

Ticked off by the mention of her disastrous marriage, something she'd only confided after two bottles of wine, Kat rose to the challenge. “Yes!”

Then to make matters worse, she let Celia's mocking stare goad her further. “If I don't sleep with Taye Connors, I swear I'll go out clubbing with you.”

“And you'll find a man when you do?”

“You want me to sleep with a stranger just to prove I'm not a prude?”

Celia clicked her tongue. “Okay, you don't have to go that far. But you do have to come out and have some fun. You're working yourself too hard.” She went back to assessing the man in question. “Must have had a delivery from his mother again,” Celia said with a sniff. “The guy's a high school science teacher, neat as a pin, who gets care packages from his mom. That spells nerd to me.”

To Kat it spelled sweet. She checked out his butt again with a deep lean around the light standard to get a better look. Sweet and hot, she thought, setting out for the short walk to her front door.

With a sultry chuckle that set Kat's teeth on edge, Celia sauntered into step beside her. As irritating as Celia could be, she had a good point. Since her divorce her education had come first. Add that to the fact she hadn't found a man worth more than a second glance and the itch Taye created inside her burned.

If Celia had an itch, she scratched it. She wasn't as picky about male company as Kat was. Being seriously attracted to Taye set up all kinds of conflicting emotions. She had more than enough reasons not to pursue a man right now, but if she didn't take a chance with Taye she'd lose out.

To Celia.

She wasn't prone to adventure and intrigue. She was no drama queen. Chasing Taye was a bad idea, but she couldn't leave him to Celia.

She would have to remember all the lessons she'd learned during the end of her marriage. All her realizations would serve her well now. She'd put too much into her marriage, had given, given, given. She wouldn't make the same mistake with Taye, she vowed.

Turning her back on the idealistic young woman who'd married her high school sweetheart should be easy. All she had to do was have sex without commitment. She could learn to do that. She would learn to do that.

She just had to figure out how to convince her heart to go along for the ride.

T
aye elbowed open his front door and backed in. The package in one hand and his briefcase in the other made maneuvering awkward. Even more awkward was the blood that rushed to his cock when he caught sight of his neighbor, Kat Hardee. She could buckle a man's knees with a glance.

As usual she was at the mailbox when he got home from school. Today she'd chatted with Celia for much longer than she normally did. He'd fiddled around outside in the damn flower bed so long he'd started to feel stupid. And now here he was caught halfway in the door doing a juggling act with his cock going up in flames.

He stalled halfway inside his front hall, shoulder holding open his door as he watched her stroll across his half of the front lawn, mail dangling from one elegant hand. Her breasts were the kind that sloped down to a point, with all the weight on the underside. Natural and heavy, they swayed with each step. She never wore a bra when she was at home, probably thought they were uncomfortable. But the free and easy sway tortured him.

He froze, hoping she'd stop and talk for a minute or two.

His imagination could make a lot of use out of a five-minute chat. Embellish it for hours, take it places she never suspected he wanted it to go.

“Hi,” she said, in the shy, hesitant way she had.

“Hi,” he responded with a quick juggle of his briefcase to hide his rising hard-on.

“Tough day?” she asked. Her lips parted in a smile that raised his temperature. The woman had no idea what she did to him.

“Not bad. Yours?”

She made a face. “My sociology prof hates me, but other than that, it was okay.” Her smile went tentative as she noticed his juggling act. “A gift?” She nodded in the direction of the package that threatened to topple out of his arms.

“I'm not sure. I don't know where it's from. But I order a lot of books and stuff off the net. Probably something like that.” Oh Christ, he sounded like such a nerd. Wake up, asshole, you
are
a nerd.

“Oh.” She hesitated, and the moment stretched as he lost his train of thought. Blood loss from the brain turned him speechless. Puzzling over the fact that she was the first woman to create the effect on sight, he waited and hoped the flow would reverse.

Nope. No reversal. Not yet.

If she looked closer she'd see his hard-on, thick as a tree trunk, trying like hell to spear out of his pants. He shifted his briefcase once more. The mystery package wobbled again.

“Well”—she hesitated and flushed her exclusive shade of pink—“I'll leave you to find out who sent it to you.” She walked into her own place, leaving him hot, flustered and calling himself an idiot.

The box teetered out of his hand and bounced against the door frame. Thank God she hadn't seen that. Not only did he sound stupid when he spoke to her, he was clumsy to boot. He set his briefcase down and slid the box free of the door so it could close. He scrubbed at his scalp, wishing he had the smooth patter other men used.

He'd never been a hound dog with women, but he'd never been tongue-tied in the presence of one before either. Rock hard and speechless. He shook his head at the effect Kat had on him, but there was nothing he could do about it.

If he stayed late after school, it was worse. He missed seeing her at the mailbox, but as he unlocked his front door, he would see her through the sheer curtains in her kitchen window. She'd be hunched over her table, surrounded by books, working on a laptop. She'd have the harried, harassed look of a cramming student.

The hunch in her shoulders made him want to run his thumb down her spine in a straight rush. Loosen her up. The fantasy would move on to where he'd massage her stiff neck muscles until she sagged off the chair onto the floor, where he'd strip off her panties and eat her into a sated marshmallow, relaxed and easy. He salivated at the thought of getting his mouth on her juicy, salty pussy.
Get a grip! The woman doesn't know you're alive.

He should have asked her in for coffee the first day he'd moved in, but he'd been distracted and busy. By the time he'd taken a good look at her and noted the beauty she really was, the days had moved into an awkwardly long stretch.

She had retreated into polite nods and shy hellos, and he kicked himself for not moving faster right at the beginning. The more he saw of her, the more he wanted to find a way to break the ice and start over.

He'd compounded the error by allowing her to enter his dreams and get his libido cranked to the stratosphere. Whenever he saw her, his damn cock took charge, leaving him self-conscious and awkward. But every night, he wanted her more. Every day, he behaved less like himself around her.

With his juggling act going awry he could have asked her for a hand getting the package into the house. If his brain had operated properly, they could have been sharing coffee right now. He could have shown her the real Taye, not this gawky man he'd become.

Frustration ate him. Next time he wouldn't freeze up. He'd be his usual calm, cool, collected self and ask her out.

The box sat on the floor, mocking him. The label had a smudge that covered the shipper's name and he didn't recognize the return address. But like he'd said, the package could be from anywhere. He dug out his pocketknife and sliced the tape that held the box flaps closed.

Inside he found shipping foam peanuts, but no bill or receipt to give him a clue as to who sent the package. He dug deeper and came up with a…double-headed cock about fourteen inches long.

“Holy shit!” Erect, full-veined and flesh colored, it could rock a woman's world.

He dropped it back into the box to lie on the bed of pink and green foam bits. He picked up the plastic package again and let it dangle at eye height. “Who the hell would send this?”

Double your pleasure,
he read,
with this lifelike aid to sexual fulfillment.

Lifelike. He snorted. If fourteen inches was what it took to get this woman off, whoever she was, a real cock wouldn't begin to do it.

He dug deeper, pulled out a tidy package of thigh-high stockings.
Stay ups
, he read.

He held the package up to the light from the front door window.

Black.

Fishnet.

Hot.

He dumped the rest of the peanuts out onto the floor. He had to find out where this stuff came from or at least where it was supposed to go. No matter how tired he was when he ordered off the Internet, he would not make a mistake like this!

A paper fluttered onto the floor. He'd opened the box wrong side up. The receipt was at the bottom. If he'd opened it right side up, the paper would have been on top and he might never have seen the contents.

Kat Hardee, the receipt said. Shipped from the
Sexy Pants Party Plan.
“Oh shit.”

He leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, surrounded by foam peanuts, three packages of black fishnet stockings and a huge dildo. This was some delivery! Shipped to the hottest woman he'd ever seen.

This time his cock threatened to burst through his fly, so he eased down the zipper for more room. So much for the sweet girl next door routine.

If she needed a fourteen-inch cock, she belonged in a circus!

Man, if he thought he could get fantasy mileage out of a thirty-second conversation, this,
this,
would give him wet dreams for a month!

Not only did Kat have a great rack, but her legs went on forever. He imagined those long legs decked out in thigh-high black fishnet stockings. Oh yeah, and four-inch stilettos, the kind they say are killers for a woman's back. Not that Kat would walk around in them.

No, he'd have her legs in the air in no time flat. No walking involved.

He groaned. “Shit!” He looked at the dong again. Was this what she needed? Fourteen inches of artificial cock? And what, three inches around, he estimated. Now he could envision what he'd find at the top of her long sleek legs. A pussy open enough, wet enough to take this dong.

She'd do a wide squat over the head and place the bulbous end against her folds. With a tap on her clit her pussy would open, slick and ready. The head would disappear into her and she'd sigh with relief, close her eyes and take it deep. The image flooded his mind in living color.

He put his head in his hands, scrubbed his face to get some blood back into it because his cock had taken it all. No surprise there; even in his daydreams she made his blood run south.

After he took a shower, a very cold shower, he'd pack all this stuff up again and take it next door. Maybe he could ring the bell and leave the box for her to find without letting her know he'd left it.

Bad idea, Connors. If he didn't hand the package over to her face to face she'd think he was too embarrassed. It was bad enough that he got tongue-tied and clumsy. He refused to come across as sexually inhibited too.

No, he had to admit he opened it and let her carry the ball from there. If there was an explanation she wanted to share with him, fine. If not, he'd come home and forget the whole thing.

Yeah, like that would happen. He'd never forget a fourteen-inch dong heading straight for her wet opening.

Still, this didn't seem right. Not for Kat. He only saw her around the complex, but up to now she'd seemed like any sweet, shy woman. The Kat he chatted with was kind of quiet, studious, worked evenings so she could go to college. The typical girl next door. The kind of woman he'd like to get to know. He'd never seen a man visit. She never went out on dates.

Dare he even think that she seemed like the kind of girl he wanted to take home to his mom?

But she was a different woman than her demeanor had led him to believe. This peek into her sexual needs disturbed and aroused him, made him wonder about her level of sexual experience.

He wasn't a monk and he didn't believe in a double standard. The morals he had worked for both men and women. Neither sex should be indiscriminate in their mating habits. That way lay disaster.

Since he was a product of that kind of disaster, he was particular about his women. He wasn't sure how he felt about dating a woman with a long—very long—string of lovers behind her. He admitted it was old fashioned, but there it was.

He wanted what he wanted. He could no more change that than change his eye color.

If he wanted an easy lay he'd have responded to his other neighbor's offers. Celia had made it plain she was available for some easy fun whenever he felt the need. But going where so many men had gone before didn't interest him.

He wanted his woman to be his. And his alone.

He stared at the double-headed dong again. Could a woman really need all this rod? He couldn't see Kat cuddling up warm and cozy with a dong. But maybe her needs were fulfilled by plastic. No male visitors and no dates did not necessarily mean she was shy and reserved.

Maybe she got along just fine with her battery-operated boyfriend.

Or maybe she never brought her dates home with her.

Who was Kat Hardee? Sexy vixen who wore black fishnet thigh highs or a sweet, shy college student trying to make ends meet?

Puzzles had always intrigued him, and this puzzle screamed to be figured out. Determined not to sound like a fool when he took her package next door, he headed into the shower to take care of a raging hard-on. No way would he be able to think straight with a woody the size of Texas.

The icy spray sluicing over him didn't do much to cool his fire. Instead, it reminded him of the night last week when he'd startled Kat into tossing water on her T-shirt. He hadn't meant to ogle her, but her breasts had peaked and the wet cotton had clung, and his brain had shut down while his blood rushed south.

Typically, she'd been adorable, flustered and shy.

Until she'd caught his look. Something hot and razor sharp had passed between them until he made the mistake of offering to finish watering the rosebush between their front doors.

His voice had startled her again and she'd handed him the watering can without a word before dashing into the house. Would a woman whose sex play included fourteen inches of plastic cock be embarrassed by hard nipples?

His cock rose into his hand as he envisioned Kat opening for him, welcoming him into her dark, wet depths. The vision and steady pump of his hand took him over the edge.

Next time he spoke to Kat Hardee, vixen or sweet girl next door, he'd be able to think.