DirtyInterludes (9 page)

Chapter Seven

She wandered through his house, inhaling his delicious
scent. That woodsy smell she loved so well. Fingers tracing over the white
lounge, she imagined herself snuggling up to him in the evening. Sighing, she
wandered up the stairs into his room. Black sheets with an oriental pattern in
the corners. He loved the subtle undertones of Asia. Hence the dragon on his
chest. The very same one she’d gotten tattooed on her flesh. So they could be
one. So he would know they were meant to be together.

She’d been happy to watch and wait, but circumstances pushed
her hand. Rage, so familiar, black and viscous, burgeoned in her chest. Fists
clenched and she exhaled in an attempt to calm her tumultuous emotions. It was
that neighbor of his. What did he see in her? She was plain ugly. Brown hair,
brown eyes and boring. And not to mention frigging obsessed with gnomes. The
yard was littered with them. That should at least have told him of her mental
stability, but he ignored it and still pursued her. Jealousy fired in her
stomach, eating away at her until her teeth ground together.

That woman next door didn’t know him like she did. She was
nothing but an uptight nobody who lived in a beige house and carried around a
cello. What is more uptight than that? A band geek. The band geek certainly
couldn’t handle someone as sexually explosive as him. She’d probably faint at
the sight of a dick.

Laughing at her own joke, she thrust aside thoughts of the
competition and walked farther into the bedroom. She settled on the bed,
spreading her arms out, inhaling the fresh scent of soap, sheets and sweat. His
sweat. Need surged through her and she curled into herself at the intense buzz
of need. To know he laid his head here and to be one with him again made her whimper.
Her cunt ached for him to fill her up. To fuck her hard as he loved to do.

Spreading her legs, she slipped her hand under her panties
and fingered her aching clit. Pleasure surged along her pussy and condensed in
her stomach. Scissoring her fingers over the hood over her cunt, she whimpered
at the hot need stabbing through her. Inserting a finger into her sopping
pussy, she fucked herself. The sound of her palm hitting her moist sex filled
the room. She breathed his name, imagining him watching her as she brought
herself to climax. Imagined that knowing look and glorying in it. The ripples
of ecstasy pooled in her being, foretelling an upcoming orgasm. She raced
toward it, pumping her fingers and using her spare hand to flick and pinch her
clitoris. The explosion rocked through her and she screamed his name.
Shuddering, she pulled her fingers from her vagina and licked the juices off
the digits. She tasted her love for him and moaned as another, smaller climax
shimmered in her cunt. Sighing, she raked her hair from her face.

Standing on jelly legs, she removed her underwear and placed
it on his pillow so he would know how much she desired him. To smell her love
as she could smell his for her. Sauntering from the room, she smiled, knowing
he wouldn’t want Band Geek, not when she’d left her calling card for him. She
was ready and waiting.

* * * * *

Max pounded the pavement, music blaring in his ears as he
forced himself to work harder. Oxygen burned his lungs, but he wasn’t about to
let up. Bridget haunted him. He still had the vibrator she’d thrown at him. He
heaved out a small laugh. So indignant was his little poser. Secretly he gave
himself a pat on the back over the prank. What had started out as an online
search for a vibrator to have mailed to her quickly became a box full of
different types of glow-in-the-dark cocks. Setting those up was a charm and the
reaction was beautiful. She was beautiful. She handled his prank with gusto and
damn if he didn’t want to kiss those lips of hers.

Pity she didn’t take him up on the offer. But he’d sent out
his warning shot, and fully expected she’d return with something equally
interesting. Max looked forward to it. A sad fact that his life centered on sex
and the pranks he could pull on Bridget. Not very fulfilling, but it was all he
had. He shook his head once, hard. He didn’t know why he even thought of
entertaining having a relationship with Bridget. A minor brain explosion he
quickly got over once common sense kicked in. He hadn’t had a girlfriend since
he’d started his career eight years ago. Sure he got lonely. What person
didn’t? There were times when he’d miss having his arms wrapped around a woman,
or listening to a woman talk of her day while he watched her take a bath. In
those moments he yearned so much for it, it hurt to breathe. But those moments
passed. Just like this one would. This obsession with Bridget would fade away
one way or another.

He turned the corner onto his street and sprinted the rest
of the way. Muscles burned as his lungs screamed. But he pushed even harder.
Max returned home, his chest heaving from a long run. His body ached in ways it
hadn’t in a long while. It was either take a run or go over and convince
Bridget to spread her thighs for him. He picked up a towel thrown over the bar
chair before the jog and wiped away the sweat on his face. Thirst dried his
mouth and he retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge and knocked it back.
Wiping away the remaining sweat off his chest, he hurried up the stairs to his
room. He patted P. Diddy Gnomes on the cheek. “Have fun while I was gone?” he
asked as he pulled drawers open.

Max retrieved fresh clothes. “Oh does Bridget know you’ve
got a dirty mind?” He looked at P. Diddy Gnomes’ smiling face. “Fine, it’ll be
just between you and me.”

He fist-bumped the tiny hand holding a shovel and twisted
away only to draw up short. A pair of red lacy underwear lay on his pillow. His
heart did a little trip-up and he chucked his clothes on the bed as he
approached. With the tips of his fingers, he lifted the pair and stared at it.
It was about Bridget’s size. A smile pulled at his lips as he brought it close
and caught a waft of sex. The bad girl had emerged, it seemed. Pocketing her
underwear, he decided to send a message of his own.

A kick to his step, he exited his house and knocked on her
front door. He waited a while before knocking again. When she didn’t come to
the door, he checked the carport to find it empty. Disappointment weighed in
his stomach, but unwilling to miss his chance, he wandered around the back. Her
yard was simple with trimmed shrubbery and nothing else. Not much of a gardener
he supposed. He dipped under a clothesline with sheets on it and checked her
back door. Locked. He continued on, testing each window until one slid open. A
grin broke over his face. A little break-and-enter for some harmless fun was
okay. After all, turnabout was fair play. Latching on to the window frame, he
pulled himself inside. The room was a small guest room with a single bed and
table with a fine gathering of dust. He figured Bridget didn’t get many people
sleeping over. The layout mirrored his house and he found her room with ease.

Her bed was a queen and looked significantly smaller than
his king. He didn’t realize how small those beds were. Shrugging off the thought,
he searched the room. Wanting to know more about her. Her room was as he’d
expected. Clean, efficient and beige. Teak furniture and a wooden sleigh bed.
The room smelled of magnolia. A fluffy comforter lay on her bed and he imagined
her sinking into it. He opened the top drawer to her bedside table and almost
swallowed his tongue. A chuckle burst from him as he reached inside and pulled
out a blue vibrator. It looked
really
familiar. In fact, he remembered
making the purchase of this particular vibe. He liked the hummingbird on it.
Guess Bridget liked it too.

He grinned, knowing what type of message to leave her.

* * * * *

Bridget returned home. The final month toward the opening of
her performance drew close. That jittery sense of nerves filled her stomach and
she pushed it aside. Placing her cello against the wall, she threw her keys
onto the counter before walking up the stairs. She unbuttoned a couple of
buttons of her blouse and pulled it out from her skirt. After washing off the
weight of light makeup, she loosened her bun until her hair fell in subtle
waves down her back. It was going to rain soon. Her usually straight hair
curled a bit with the humidity in the air.

Brushing out her hair, she hummed a tune playing in her head
of late. It was a sensual song, with a deep cadence and lovely, swaying sounds.
Exiting the bathroom, she entered her bedroom to retrieve a set of clean
clothes and drew up short, her heart stopping in her chest. On her pillow sat
her vibrator. Heart racing, she approached the bed as a shiver of trepidation
ran down her spine.

She snatched it up and backed away from the bed. Who would
break into her home to… Max. She looked down at her precious sex toy,
humiliation burning her cheeks. He knew now. Knew she used his “gift” for her
own satisfaction. A black smudge caught her eye and she turned her vibrator
over and read the scrawled-out letters.
You’re welcome.

Her heart dropped and a squeal of dismay burst from her.
Fingers clenched over the vibe, she swallowed back her embarrassment and
welcomed the fiery rush of anger. Stomping down the stairs, she hurried to
Max’s house, ready to give him a piece of her mind. She pounded on the door. He
better be home or there would be hell to pay.

When there was no immediate answer, she knocked again.
“Max!”

The door opened and she pushed him in the chest. Hard. He
rocked back a few steps and she followed after him. “How could you?”

His laughter incited her further and she pointed her
vibrator at him. “I know you broke into my home. I know you were in my room.
You
ruined
it. You ruined my…my—”

“Orgasm?”

She glared at him. “I’m sure you’re used to doing that.”

He winked. “Giving orgasms. Yeah.”

“
No.
You know what I mean.” Her eyes narrowed on him.
“Do you hold yourself responsible for all orgasms across the world?”

“You’d be surprised about how many orgasms I’m responsible
for.”

“You’re a pig.”

“Pig, ass, baboon. You like your animal insults. How about
this one for size? Hummingbird.”

Her mouth dropped open, fingers tightening over her vibrator.
“You like to make fun of me.”

“Because you’re delicious when you’re mad.”

“Because I’m delicious?” she huffed in disbelief.

He stepped closer, crowding her in. “Very much so. Lush,
sexy and fuckable when you’re mad.”

She shivered as his finger traced down her neck, awakening
nerves she wished would stay silent. “You’re crazy.” Her voice was a whisper
rather than a snapping remark.

He dipped down, his breath on her lips. “Maybe.”

Unwittingly she closed the distance between them, capturing
his mouth, desperate to experience the passion he evoked in her. Max stiffened
and she took advantage of his surprise. Delving inside, she stroked her tongue
along his, her nails digging into his nape. She sucked on his tongue and
moaned.

Max exploded into action, his arms wrapped around her to
bring her flush against his muscular frame. She shivered as he dominated her,
his hand on her ass to bring her into his erection. Hooking her leg around his,
she tipped off her flats and ran the sole of her foot against his denim-encased
calf. A purr rumbled in her chest, her breasts heavy and aching for his touch.

She pulled away to lick his lower lip, a wicked grin pulling
at her mouth. Max’s eyelids fell half-mast, a groan leaving him. He was now a
slave to the very ache that controlled her. Nibbling on his lower lip, she
skated her hands along his back, under his shirt, to rake her nails along his
skin. A ripple rocked his frame, his fingers clenching over her buttocks. Hand
over the hollow of his back, she fisted the cotton, undulating her hips into
his. Bliss surged as his thick girth scraped over her sensitive clit. She
hooked her thigh higher, fitting her body against him.

Breaking off the kiss, she was secretly pleased by his
glazed look and the lust vibrating off his tense frame. “Take this off,” she
whispered.

Max released her long enough to wrench off his shirt and
chuck it aside. He roughly jerked her against him and devastated her with a
ravenous kiss. He devoured her like a man in his last minutes of life. His
tongue mated with hers, slipping and sliding in a sexual dance. His hand stole
under her blouse and glided up her belly. A smooth and deliciously knowing
hand. A finger flicked her aching nipple and she whimpered. Arching into him,
she threw her head back as he blazed kisses down her neck and swirled his
tongue along the pulse point.

Moist heat throbbed in her pussy and she moaned as delicious
warmth filled her. Nerves jittered in places he touched. He hooked his hand
over a cup and yanked. Fabric tore and burned her skin, but she didn’t care.
Her hand rode into his hair as he licked the valley between her breasts. An
erotic thrill shot through her as he pinched a nipple, rolling it between his
thumb and finger. A curse bit at the air and he abandoned her breast. Her protest
was swallowed by the tug of fabric as he tore at her blouse. The ping of
buttons hitting the floor didn’t faze her, she just wanted him. Wanted him to
fulfill that ache deep inside her.

Cool air touched her heated flesh. Max’s gaze darkened with
devilish lust. He made a sound that could’ve been a curse or a prayer. She
didn’t know. He ducked his head and sucked on the exposed nipple, teeth grazing
over the tender nub. Bridget raked her nails over his back and Max bit down on
her. Not enough to cause pain, but enough to send a hot shot of bliss down to
her pussy. Her clit thrummed with the need for his touch. To have his fingers
inside her.

As though hearing her thoughts, he slipped his hand under
her skirt to swipe his finger along her aching clit. Delectable need surged
against her moist pussy. He lifted his head and their gazes clashed. The hot
lust in his eyes made her shiver. Lips drawn tight, he shoved a finger into
her. Bridget jerked, loving the way he commanded her passion. He pressed his
palm against her clit, rocking it to and fro as he pushed his fingers deeper,
finding that delicious spot. She whimpered, rocking into his touch. Knees
weakened and she wrapped her arms around his neck, relying on him to hold her
up.