“Fuck, yes, Beau.” I ride my fingers in unrestrained vigor, my clit grinding against my palm with each uncoordinated movement. “Tear this pussy up. It belongs to you. Fill me with your cum. Every. Single. Drop. Of. It. I want it all.”
My teeth dig into my bottom lip, my limbs stiffening as my dripping pussy spasms uncontrollably. I’m spent. This makes orgasm number four in the last hour. Beau throws his head back at the same time, unleashing his thick, translucent load onto the glass. It sprays out like a never-ending geyser, coating the clear surface. What the hell? How can one man produce so much semen? Finally, it stops. He smirks, staring straight ahead. To my utter fascination, he begins writing letters in his cum.I SEE YOU.
I dive onto my belly, caught red-handed for the second time. How could he have seen me? I kept low. God, he’s going to tell everyone about the weirdo neighbor who spies on him.You stupid, stupid woman.You can’t even try to avoid him because he lives right next door.I army crawl out of the room, grabbing my discarded panties along the way. My only hope is that he has mercy on me and doesn’t mention my voyeuristic behavior when we cross paths.
I lean over my plush, purple sofa and peek through the small crack in the curtains for the millionth time, watching Beau go about his yard work duties. Yoga class starts in five minutes, but I can’t leave with him out there. Not after he caught me being a creep. In my defense, I’m a sex-starved woman. I can’t be held liable for my actions. Besides, he shouldn’t have beenself-caringin front of his window in the first place. Who does that? Doesn’t he have a bed? That’s where self-caring activities usually take place. The shower is another option. If anything, I should be upset with him. What is he doing up this early, anyway? He should be tired. And is mowing the lawn shirtless really necessary? I’ve never wanted to lick a man from head to toe so badly in my entire life. Specifically, the lion and geometric flower tattoo dominating his right pectoral and upper arm.
I moan, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. Beau Wilder is a goddamn tease. Rivulets of sweat trickle down his corded muscles and disappear beneath the dark-blue jeans hanging low on his lean hips. V is my favorite letter of the alphabet because the one on this man’s body could bring world peace. Gripping his golden mane while he ruthlessly fucks me against a wall is number one on my imaginary bucket list. My cell phone chimes, interrupting my lustful musings. I pluck it off the side table and tap the text message icon.
Carla: Where are you?
Me: Leaving in a minute.
I hope.
Carla: Why the hell are you still home?
Me: Long story. Tell you later.
Carla: Tell me now. Is it juicy?
Me: Later
Carla: Bitch
I hit the middle finger emoji three times, then tap on the arrow. She immediately replies with two dozen fist emojis. I roll my eyes and toss my cell phone back onto the side table. Carla is super bossy. It’s why she and Lulu don’t get along—they’re both high-maintenance divas. I’ll never forget the day she came over for the first time and Lulu scratched her on the arm. Served her right for calling my baby a dirty little fleabag. The feline in question rubs herself against my leg.
I lightly scratch the top of her head. “Done with breakfast already?”
She meows in response.
“Well, no more food until lunch,” I tell her. “The doc said you’re getting too big.”
She meows again.
“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”
I met Carla, Wren, and Pete when I started taking yoga class. They’ve been besties for a long time and welcomed me into their inner circle with open arms. Being a homebody made it difficult for me to build lasting friendships—I didn’t have a single friend of my own. Calvin was the social butterfly in our relationship. The group we hung out with occasionally were his friends. I haven’t heard from any of them since the breakup, but that was expected. I decided to reinvent myself in Ridgemont—put myself out there, meet new people, and, most importantly, have fun. I even went on a shopping spree and updated my entire wardrobe. Bought some makeup, too, not that I know how to apply it correctly. I’m learning, though. I registered for yoga classes a week after settling in and the rest is history.
The lawn mower stops. I twist around and look out of the window.He’s gone.This is my cue to vamoose. I grab my yoga mat, purse, cell phone, and keys, then haul ass to my car. I swing the door open and throw my stuff into the passenger seat.Almost home free.
“Where’s the fire, Sweet Peach?”
I shriek and whip around, placing a hand over my left breast. Beau leans against a pillar on the wraparound porch, his massive arms folded across his hard pectorals. That raspy voice could melt a chastity belt. He called me Sweet Peach.Swoon.My nether region flutters.Hold your horses, girl. Don’t overthink it. Beau’s probably one of those guys who calls every woman an endearment.
“Didn’t mean to scare you, Sweet Peach,” he rumbles, his lips lifting in a lopsided smile.
There goes my pussy fluttering again.Bring it down a notch, youshameless hussy.
“I… um… you,” I babble like a freaking moron.
I will the ground to open up and swallow me but luck isn’t on my side this morning. I’m still standing here, embarrassment burning my cheeks.
“We need to talk about earlier,” he states, his steel-blue gaze slowly roaming over me.
My stomach drops out of my asshole. Not literally, but it damn sure feels like it.
“I-I d-don’t know what you mean,” I lie, squeezing my keys in a death grip.
