GirlNextDoor (10 page)

Then he knelt between her spread knees and looked down at
her.

The blindfold was nicely in place. Her dark hair spread
under her, tangled and soft. Her lips were bright red, parted as she murmured
her pleas over and over. She threw her head back and forth, the last part of
her body she could still move. Her hands stretched up over her head and she
wasn’t struggling much against the cuffs. Her shirt and bra were stuffed up around
her arms, her breasts bare and soft, but her nipples hard, dark.

Below, her belly was flat, trembling, her bellybutton
perfect, rising and falling with her rapid breathing. Her skin was flushed,
glowing faintly. Her legs were bare and stretched and beautiful. She still wore
panties—low slung, black—but John had planned for that. In good time.

Seeing her like that, entirely at his mercy, made him more
aroused than he could ever remember being. His cock stood nearly straight up in
the loose confines of his sweatpants. But he ignored the yearning. In good
time. In good time.

He touched the inside of her thigh with the back of his
hand. She flinched, trying in vain to close her legs against him. “Please,” she
cried. “Please stop. Please don’t.”

“You keep saying that,” John answered quietly. He turned his
hand over, stroked the thigh again and then pinched it, making her jump. “You
keep asking me to stop. But then why, Miss Bellino,” he turned his hand again
and brushed the crotch of her panties with his knuckles, “why are your panties
so wet?”

She shook, cried, didn’t answer. John shifted so that he was
stretched out beside her, his face at her ear, one leg tossed over her thigh,
his erection pressing her hip. He put his hand to her crotch again, rubbing
gently. “I think you like it,” he whispered in her ear. “I think you like it a
lot. I think I could even make you come in my hand.”

Her whimpering reached a higher pitch as his strokes became
firmer. She tried to roll away, grinding closer in the process. John closed his
eyes and took a deep breath, slipping his fingers under the panties to feel her
flesh directly. He felt her go still, tense, waiting. “Please don’t,” she
murmured.

“But I want to. I want to.” He took his hand away, ignoring
her whimper, and reached into his pocket again. He watched her face as he
snapped the blades of his bandage scissors together. They made a very soft
metallic sound, unmistakable. “Be still,” he said, “and I won’t hurt you.”

Swiftly he cut both sides of the panties and pulled them
off. He put the scissors away and settled back beside her, whispered to her. “I
want to watch you. I want to watch your face when I make you come. You don’t
want to, but you will, you know you will, you’re so close. And I’m going to
watch. And then I’m going to fuck you.”

He waited then, counted to ten while his hand hovered above
her, watched her breasts heave as her breathing grew faster, more uneven. He
touched her then, not gently, feeling her jump as he jammed his middle finger
deep inside her, rubbed her clit with his thumb. Her body began to coil. “You
like that, don’t you? You like having my finger inside you.” Her hips lurched
up toward him. “You want more, don’t you?” A second finger joined the first,
and a cry that was not protest escaped her lips.

“More?” he demanded, and added a third finger.

She did scream then, her hips bucking straight up. John
stayed with her, thrusting his fingers again and again as her orgasm rolled on
and on. The sensation of her squeezing and releasing traveled down his arm like
an electric shock straight to his groin. His cock began to weep, unwilling to
be denied any longer. He withdrew his fingers and she collapsed to the floor of
the van, squirming and whimpering incoherently as tiny aftershocks ran through
her.

John moved again, knelt between her outstretched legs and
slipped out of his sweatpants. He glanced behind him out the window. It was
lighter now, half-dawn, but there was no one around, only the blank bricks of
his apartment building.

He reached into his pocket and brought out his last prop,
the free condom, the one with the ridges. He took his time opening it, watching
her listen, watching her body tremble with anticipation even as she tried to be
still. He unrolled the condom slowly over his stiff cock, enjoying the sweet
torture of his own anticipation. He glanced down. His cock was rigid, eager,
sheathed like a weapon.

Like a weapon.

John froze. The passion, the fun of the game, faded with
alarming quickness. Like a weapon—her helplessness—this was wrong, this was
very wrong.

“John,” she said very quietly, her voice at the edge of
breaking, “John, please.”

His name reminded him. This was a game. She had a safe word,
one she had not uttered. This was her fantasy. She was not a victim. She was
willing. Very, very willing.

He took her in one long, solid stroke.

She came again immediately, her hips desperately coming up
against him. He used his weight to push her down and hold her, stretching full
length along her body. “Be still.”

She cried again, trying to pump against him.

“Be still,” John repeated. “Just lie there. Lie there and
feel me inside you.” She bit her lip, moaning. “Feel how I fill you. How your
body wants me. It’s mine. You’re all mine.”

“Please,” she whispered, very low.

“Please what?” John demanded. “What do you want? Tell me.”

“Please,” she whimpered again.

He drew out slowly and slammed into her, then stopped again.
“You want that? You want me to fuck you?”

She drew a hissing breath. “Yes.”

“Say it.” He pumped her once more. “I want you to say it.”

“Please, please.”

“Say it!”

“Please…fuck me. Please.”

John complied, taking slow, deep strokes, ignoring the
frantic gyrations of her hips. “I want you to remember that,” John told her.
“When you call the police, I want you to tell them.” He picked up the tempo,
feeling the ache of his own impending orgasm. “I want you to tell them how hard
I made you come. How often. I want you to tell them.” He gritted his teeth as
their strokes finally fell into synch. “Tell them how you begged me to fuck
you. Tell them…I was… The. Best. Fuck. You. Ever. Had!”

She came up hard against him and they froze in mid-air, her
muscles squeezing, milking him as he came. Her orgasm seemed go on forever, and
John felt himself coming with her, so hard it hurt, so hard he screamed before
collapsing onto her.

He lay there, felt their passion subside in erratic pulses,
felt her hot breath in his ear, the damp tears that had sneaked out under the
blindfold. John wanted to untie her, hold her, kiss her quiet. But he knew it
would ruin the game. He jerked out of her, back onto his knees between her
thighs. His erection subsided and he pulled the condom off, tossing it aside.
Wiping himself off on her panties—why not?—he put his pants back on. Then he
climbed over her, opened one side of the back door, and climbed out.

The sun was just peeking red over the horizon. John stood
and stretched, enjoying the cool air.

He leaned back into the van. Lucy lay still, silent, gasping
for air. “Have a good day, Miss Bellino. I know I will.”

He slammed the van door and walked back to his apartment.
When he looked out after his shower, the van was gone.

Chapter Eight

The high was very high, and the low that followed was very
low. By the time he got to the shed, John was practically sick with anxiety.
What if he’d hurt her? What if he’d done something wrong? What if he’d crossed
some line, actually strayed into the unwilling zone? What if…

She’d had a safe word. They’d reviewed it. She’d never come
close to saying it. The whole encounter had been completely consensual. The sex
had been fantastic, for both of them.

So why was he so anxious about it?

Maybe, he thought, there had needed to be some wrap-up. Some
kissing and cuddling afterward, to ease back into reality. Slamming the door
and walking away had felt right at the time, but now he had second thoughts
about that. And third. And fourth.

He didn’t regret it, exactly, but he slipped into an
unfamiliar funk.

She never wanted to stay after sex. She always walked away
before his zipper was closed. She seemed to like him well enough, but the
minute the sex was over, she was gone. Back to cuddle with Nolan, and sleep in
his bed.

His partner had been exactly right. John was banging Lucy,
but Nolan was sleeping with her.

John pondered for a minute. He wasn’t jealous, exactly. He
was a little hurt, though he had no right to be. Usually he was the first one
to jump out of bed and go home. He was only annoyed because she beat him to it.
Wasn’t he? And if Nolan was getting some comfort and affection, God knew he deserved
it. It should have all been perfect.

But the whole situation was, honestly, just sad.

Nolan came into the shed, as fresh-faced and tidy as always,
and John shook off his thoughts. “Hey.”

“Morning.”

“Did you, uh, did you see Lucy this morning?”

Nolan frowned at him. “No, she left early. I thought she was
with you.”

“She was. I just wondered if she got home safe.”

“Give her a call.”

“Yeah.” John gestured. “There’s coffee.”

“Bless you.”

John went outside. It was starting to get muggy already. He
pulled out his phone and dialed her number. She answered on the fourth ring,
sounding like a cat uncurling from a nap. “’Lo?”

“It’s John.”

Her voice woke and warmed. “God, you were perfect.”

John hesitated, aware that already he was blushing. “Uh,
thanks.”

“Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? You were the one—” He stopped himself. Just
hearing her voice on the phone was arousing him. He imagined she was naked,
maybe just stepping out of the shower.
Steamy and soft and relaxed. Damp.
Beautiful…stop.
“I just wanted to make sure you got home okay.”

“You’re so sweet.”

Less than two hours ago he’d had her tied up in the back of
her van. Now he was sweet. John shook his head. “Hey, Lucy, do you think we
could, um…”

“Anything you want, love.”

“Do you think, before you go home, do you think we could
sleep together?”

“Huh?”

John had sounded clingy and needy in his own ears. He
quickly adjusted his request. “I mean, I’d like it if we took a little time
once. You know, got completely naked, sprawled out on a big bed, showered
together. Whatever. If we didn’t rush through it for once.”

“Oh. Sure.”

“Maybe tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I mean, I’m not complaining…”

“John. Take yes for an answer. Your place, tonight? Maybe
around nine?”

“Yes.” He shook his head, trying to clear the fog. “Yes.”

“Cool. See you then.”

The phone went dead. Thoughtfully, John put his cell away.
So, right. Lucy at his house for the night. Lucy naked in his bed, and all the
time in the world to do whatever they wanted. His cock stirred as he vaguely
considered the possibilities.

He’d gotten what he wanted, and all he had to do was ask.

Perfect.

Except it didn’t feel perfect. It felt as if he’d stolen her
from Nolan.

Well then, what the hell do you want?

I want—
But then John shook his head. What he wanted,
what he really wanted, he could never have.

But he could have Lucy. For the night this time.

He nodded firmly and went back inside.

* * * * *

They started the morning with a stroke victim, and by the
time they got him to the hospital they had to race out to a car accident. It
was a minor fender-bender, but one of the drivers was thirty weeks pregnant and
badly frightened, and the other driver was falling-down drunk.

“It’s not even ten in the morning,” Nolan said under his
breath.

“Bars open at seven,” John answered. “Don’t ask me how I
know that.”

One of the responding police officers came over. “You guys
want to hear the weird part?”

“Weirder than being drunk at this hour?” Nolan asked.

“Oh hell, we see morning drunks all the time.” The cop shook
his head. “The weird part of this is, the pregnant woman pulled out in front of
the drunk. She’s the one at fault.”

John looked at the cars. The cop was right, the woman had
pulled out. “Of course, if he wasn’t drunk he probably could have avoided her.”

“True.” The cop scratched his head. “I gotta figure out how
to write this up.” He walked over to meet the first tow truck driver.

“It’s gonna be one of those days,” Nolan said. “I can feel
it.”

John shook his head. His gut agreed with his partner. “And
it started out so well.”

* * * * *

They finally got a break around two in the afternoon. With
no guarantee how long it would last, they grabbed fast food to go and wolfed it
down while they sat in the squad in the parking lot.

Once John had his first burger under his belt, he made
himself chew more slowly. If the radio called them now, at least he wouldn’t be
starving. He sipped his iced tea, opened a little ketchup packet for his fries.
Thought about Lucy. Finally, he was going to actually get her into bed. It was
going to be a great night.

He glanced at Nolan. Suddenly he wasn’t sure it was a great
idea. “Hey. I hope it’s okay, I asked Lucy over to my place tonight.”

“Okay.”

“It’s just— I know she’s leaving this week, I didn’t want
to…you know.”

Nolan chewed a bite of his second burger slowly. Like John,
he’d passed the point of panic eating. “She’s my friend, John, not my
property.”

“I know. I just—if you had plans or whatever.”

“If we had plans, she would have said no.” Nolan shrugged.
“Actually, I was going to work on floor plans tonight, so it’ll be good to have
her out somewhere.”