He takes my hand and pulls me along the sidewalk to a more secluded spot. He wraps his hands around my waist and gently moves me back until I’m in the shadows and against the brick exterior. He leans down and gives me a soft kiss on my lips. “MacKenzie,” he whispers, “I’m not going to let my date hop on a bus. I would like to drive you home. Walk you to your door. And hope for an invitation inside so I can do more than kiss you.”
“Oh,” I sigh. “Okay.”
We walk to the valet and wait for his fancy car. As we wait, he holds my small, cold hand in his big warm one. My mind wanders to my apartment. He’s not going to like my neighborhood. His car could end up on blocks while he’s in my place. Oh, and shoot, is my place even clean?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LET ME IN
The drivefrom the restaurant north of the river to MacKenzie’s house takes thirty minutes. In that time, the only words she’s said are her address so I can plug it into my navigator. Yes, I know where she lives. Shit, I’ve driven past it recently. But I don’t want her to know that. She’s nervous. I can see her leg fidgeting about under that coat of hers. I don’t buy the fact that she wears it because she likes it. I know there’s something about it, but if she doesn’t want to tell me yet, that’s okay. I’ll wait.
Once we approach her place, she says nervously, “I know the neighborhood looks bad, but I’ve lived here my whole life. Plus, my place is kind of cool.” She seems more animated, talking about her home.
“Sounds good. Let’s go.” I help her out of the car and hold her hand as we walk through the fresh layer of snow. No sidewalks lead to the back of her place, and the only light outside is coming from a window from the main part of the house. She needs lights back here with motion sensors. From the little that is illuminated in her yard, I can see fresh footprints in the snow that lead around to her place. Those may be hers, but it snowed earlier today. Perhaps they’re the neighbors.
I watch MacKenzie as she reaches into her large purse and pulls out a set of keys. I’d like to take them from her and unlock the door, but I hold back. Jiggling the lock, she uses her shoulder to force the door open. “It sticks,” she says as she smiles nervously at me.
I’ll add that to my growing list of safety concerns I have for her and her living arrangement. I notice she’s only got one lock on her door. I nod and follow her inside. We go down several steps, and I bend down to avoid an exposed pipe that runs across the entrance. MacKenzie flips a switch, and I’m shocked. Literally gobsmacked. The place looks like it could have been Ron Weasley’s house inHarry Potter. Everything is either natural wood or painted every color in the rainbow. There are shelves and cupboards everywhere.
She has paintings and drawings hanging on the walls. Crocheted blankets and quilts are on several pieces of furniture. There are bookshelves holding everything from encyclopedias to romance books. Photos and other mementos line the shelves and sit in odd little cubbyholes throughout the place. Yeah, it’s amazing. “This place is bloody fantastic,” I say, surprising myself.
MacKenzie giggles. “Yeah, it’s pretty perfect.” She beams with pride.
“Did you do all of this?” I mean, it’s possible. I know she’s an artist.
“No.”
I wait to hear more, but she says nothing. I can tell she’s just not ready to open up to me yet, but I can handle that. I slide my coat off and set it on a chair that’s covered in fabric from the 1970s. Psychedelic. I reach for her coat and pull it off her shoulders, then set it on top of mine.
Nervously, she asks, “W-would you like something to drink? I’ve got beer, water, and, um, that’s it.” She lets out a breathy laugh.
“I’ll have a beer. Thanks.”
I sit down on a love seat that takes up about one-fourth of the space in the sitting room. It’s tiny, but she’s designed the space wisely. MacKenzie returns with a bottle of beer for each of us. I already know she’s not going to give me a glass, so I twist off the top and take a swig. I lean back on the small sofa and pat the seat next to me. MacKenzie sits beside me but only on the edge of the seat. Her back is rigid, and her free hand is twisting nervously in her red polka-dotted dress. A dress I’d love to see on the floor, but it’s too soon for that.
I lean forward and place my bottle of beer on the wooden cube that she uses as a coffee table. I can see it’s been made out of an old crate. Then I take her free hand and pull her to me. “Come ’ere.” I take the bottle from her hand and set it next to mine. I’m being forward here, but I need to touch this girl. I wrap my hands around her waist and pull her against me. I’d like her to be on my lap, but again, it’s too soon.
I slide my hands into her silky red strands and kiss her. No reason to give this little doe a chance to run. I slide my lips over hers as I feel her expel her breath. Relief? I place my right hand on her lower back and pull her closer. That’s when I slide my tongue over her lips and wait for her to open for me. When she does, I slide my tongue in as far as I can go and meet hers along the way. I moan, because damn, this girl is a sin.Mysin. I want her so bad. My dick is twitching and lengthening, and I can’t do a damn thing about it.
I pull away and stand up. She sits with her mouth agape, wondering what I’m doing. I take her hand and pull her with me. I see a small bedroom beside an even smaller bathroom, and I move in that direction.
I sense hesitation when she says, “Um, Sam?”
“We won’t do anything you don’t want to do, MacKenzie. That couch is too small for me.”
“Oh, yeah, I see that.” She expels a little giggle.
Her bedroom is just as quirky as the rest of the place, but she’s painted it in mostly soft blues, like her eyes. The quilt on her bed is made up of blues and oranges. It’s bright and happy, just like her. I kick off my shoes and sit on the bed. She hesitates at the door. “Come here, MacKenzie.” She moves, one, two, three steps into the room until she’s right in front of me. I place my hands on her hips and pull her closer. Even though I’m sitting, we’re at eye level now. I give her a small smile and say, “Kiss me.” I’m putting the ball in her court.
Her tiny hands slide up my arms to my shoulders slowly. It’s killing me. She leans in and places her mouth on mine, and I open immediately. Our tongues intertwine wildly. She presses her body against mine, and I swear I feel her nipples against my chest. There’s only one way to find out for sure—I slide my right palm up from her back over her breast, using my thumb to rub over the hard nub, back and forth.
MacKenzie moans in my mouth, and I feel like I’m about to lose it. While my right hand is toying with her full breast, my left hand moves down and slides up under her dress. I want to know what she’s wearing under this little dress. I skim her knee with my palm and up her thigh. It’s soft and smooth. I move it back to slide it up over her ass, and I nearly come when I feel the edges of lace. I slide a finger just under the elastic and tease the skin on her luscious cheek.
She’s arching her back, and I’m not sure if it’s because of her breasts or her ass. She’s responsive as hell. I pull my mouth from her mouth and move it to her ear. I nibble on her lobe and then down her neck. When I feel the pulse below my lips, I bite downgently. She whimpers, and I know I’ve got to find out. I whisper, “Are you wet for me, MacKenzie?”
She remains quiet, but she nods. I move my left hand from the lower edge of her panties around to the front edge until my finger touches her folds. Her pussy is drenched. I move my finger back and forth and slide just the tip into her center. She’s wriggling in my arms. I pull away from her and look into her eyes. They’re dilated and staring at me like she’s about ready to combust.
“What do you want to do, MacKenzie?” I’m still sliding my fingers back and forth in her center. I want to keep touching her for as long as she’ll let me.
