Into The Sunset: An Erotic Romance Anthology (22 page)

We enjoy dinner sitting close to one another,
easily carrying conversation. He takes great effort to savor each
bite as he looks into my eyes and chews. He rubs my leg with his
under the table, and when he grabs my knee with his hand while
telling me stories about my grandpa, I let him.

It was the most delicious dinner that I've had
in a long time. Afterward, I help him clean up, and then taking my
hand in his, he leads me back to his sofa in the main area of the
great room.

Sitting next to him, I slide away just enough
to give me some much-needed distance. He has not made any
over-the-top advances like he did this morning, but my body is just
as hungry for him as the moment I saw him walk out onto his
balcony. He has only touched me subtly and flashed me that sexy
smile during dinner, and I find that I kind of miss
super-dominating, sexually-aggressive stranger; However, I decide
that normal, but sexy, neighborly, flirty stranger is just as
breathtaking.

Before I can put very much distance between us
on the couch, he reaches down and grabs my ankle, pulling it onto
his lap. I'm forced to turn sideways reclining backward against the
arm of the of the sofa. Never one to refuse a free foot rub, I
place my feet on his lap and close my eyes to the sensation of his
hands on my receptive skin as he begins to knead my sore
soles.

"You grandpa used to take father and me to a
great little pub nearby," he says.

"They bought me my first beer
there."

Vaguely aware that he is still sharing
stories, my body slips into a state of tranquil delight. His voice
trails off, and as his touch moves up toward my ankles after
attending to my feet, his hands settle on my calves, and I have no
inclination whatsoever to rebuff him. My entire body relaxes as I
lie back, my head extended across the arm of the sofa, eyes closed
as I focus on the feel of his ministrations.

"You know, Ash," he tells me, adopting the
nickname Grandpa used for me, "the night I watched you touch
yourself, I was hard for hours." His voice is soft, soothing,
caressing me as his fingers work magic rubbing the backs of my
knees. Tingles of pleasure pucker my nipples and make my juices
flow from my steadily heating core.

I moan in need as his fingers trail up my
thighs. Grinding my hips, I see a flash of him fisting his cock
while watching me finger myself.

"I had to take my cock in my hand because of
your little show, Ash," he says, "and I fucked my hand so hard I
had a blister for a week! I knew then that someday I would have
you, just like you are now, Darlin'." He smiles as I moan in
pleasure, his finger tips grazing my thighs.

I separate my knees as his fingers delve
between my thighs and his fingers draw a line up toward my warm
pussy. Rotating my hips to grind against my pants, I rub my clit
against the fabric, trying to find relief from the pressure
building up inside of me. The sensation of his finger tips leave me
for a moment, and I hear the snap of my jeans pop open even before
I feel his hand on my stomach.

My eyes spring open, and he is staring at my
face. Tearing my eyes away from him, I look down my body past my
hard nipples to his wide hand spread out over my opened pants. He
shifts the material away from my skin and slides his hand inside to
touch my needy flesh.

"I just need to touch you," he soothes as my
eyes widen with alarm. His hand continues to rub gently between my
legs. Listening to his soothing voice, I relax as the realization
that his hands are all over me sets in.

Nibbling on my lower lip, I let out a sigh of
surrender. He raises his eyebrow and runs his fingers through my
folds. It seems a bit too convenient that he neglected to steal
panties from my bag with my clothes, and at this point, I am sorely
grateful.

His finger fills my sheath as his other hand
slides under my shirt to caress my tingly nipples. My inner muscles
accept the intrusion as they clench around his digit. A shot of
pain and then intense pleasure begins at my nipple as he pinches
the bud and stretches my slit by inserting another
finger.

"Ooooh," I moan as the pressure inside me
increases, and my urge to orgasm intensifies. His thick fingers
thrust inside me, causing my inner muscles to clench, and I am on
the verge of exploding on his couch. My hips pump with his rhythm
as I pant and squeeze the cushions with my hands.

"That's it," he coos.

"Come for me. Come hard like you did that
night," he gently commands. His quick thrusts become too much for
my body to take and my back jerks up off the arm of the couch as I
grab his wrist and ride out an explosive climax, my body jerking as
the waves continue. Deeply embedded inside me, his fingers soaked
in my juices press my flesh, prolonging my waves of pleasure until
I fall back to the couch, spent.

The pressure eases and an emptiness settles
inside my pussy as he slowly removes his fingers. Placing each one
between his lips, he sucks off my juices while staring at my
face.

"Beautiful," he says as he and licks his
fingers clean. He eases out from under my legs and stands next to
the couch, proudly displaying a huge bulge for me. Hungry for his
hardness and desperately wanting to explore his body, I reach
toward his swollen cock with my eager fingers.

Grabbing both of my hands in his strong grip,
he intertwines our fingers and pulls me up from the couch, leading
me outside. I wonder if he would like to take me on the deck as he
described this morning, and my insides quiver in anticipation.
Kissing the backs of both of my hands, he leads me to my cabin's
front porch.

My brow furrowed, I try to ask why we are here
when he slams his lips against mine in a passion-filled kiss. My
lips respond by parting as he plunges his tongue into my mouth.
Panting and lost to the slick sensation of his tongue plundering my
mouth, I press my nipples to his chest sure he can feel the taut
peaks through our clothing. His breath is warm, and his mouth wet
as he trails a wet line along my jaw, behind my ear, and down my
neck. Panting and ready to come again almost to the point of
begging, I grab both of his shoulders to keep him pressed against
my body.

Anticipating his need to dominate our embrace,
I accept his molestation eagerly as he runs his hands and mouth
over me. On the brink of exploding, I know I cannot take anymore.
His hands relax and slide down my arms to hold both of my hands.
His mouth comes back to me as he presses his lips against mine and
takes a step back.

Feelings of emptiness engulf me as I mourn the
loss of his body against me, "Good night, Ash," he says. He swiftly
makes his way across the grass and back into his house as I stand
on my porch, watching his escape, feeling utterly
mystified.

Big Boats

The bright sun shining in my window the next
morning, illuminating my bedroom was most unwelcome. The long,
muscular body lying next to me and fresh aroma of coffee calling
from the cup in his hand, however, was not. In the bright light, it
is easy to see the exquisiteness of his eyes, golden flakes
subtlety hidden in an iris of dark mocha. He has a strong jaw, and
I can make out his dimples when he smiles. If not for the acute
need for coffee this particular morning, I would stop resisting the
temptation to crawl on top of him and rub myself against his
body.

"Good morning, Beautiful," he whispers, before
his lips graze my temple.

The effects of the most restless night I have
had in a long time are clearly displayed on my face as I eagerly
accept the cup of coffee from my neighbor. Tossing and turning all
night without even a fan to cool off the room, I discredit
immediately whoever it was that penned the term cool of the
night.

Not only was it sticky and hot, but the lack
of any discernible breeze ensured I would find no rest at all.
Fantasizing about the man next door added to my irritability, and I
spent all night craving him in spite of his mercurial
behavior.

"I am immensely pleased by your lack of a
sleeping attire, I must admit," he teases as the sheet draped over
my shoulders drifts slightly while I sit up to drink the heavenly
brew. I remember stripping down to cool off last night, but have no
recollection of pulling a sheet over my body.

Surmising that he must have draped me before
lying in bed next to me, I ponder which man will I get today, Mr.
Gentleman or Mr. Sexually Aggressive Asshole. Both have their
merits, I determine, wanting them both. My desire for my neighbor
is growing by leaps and bounds the more time I spend in his
presence.

"Get dressed. We are going out. As much as I
liked your one piece yesterday, today I will see you in a bikini or
nothing at all. This red number will suffice," he explains, holding
up yet another garment of mine he has pilfered while rummaging
through my personal belongings. Instead of feeling my privacy
invaded, a wave of relief that my sexy, demanding neighbor has not
gone into hibernation washes over me at his pompous
demands.

"Where are we going?" I ask, immediately
accepting his offer to accompany him. As if I didn't even speak at
all, he rolls over on top of me, and I am forced to place my coffee
on the nightstand as his teeth bite the edge of the sheet, pulling
it away from my breasts, both of my nipples puckering. His knee
slides between my thighs as his mouth envelops my nipple. Pressing
his hardon against my leg, he pumps his hips, rubbing his clothed
cock against my naked pussy.

As I squeeze his head while he devours my
nipples, I discover his hair feels moist like he has just showered.
Too soon, he pulls back from me and places a warm kiss against my
cheek as he rolls away, leaving me a smoldering mess.

"I'm pulling the car around so hurry up," he
demands, leaving my bedroom. He is trying to mock me, I figure,
scrambling to put on my bikini. Covering my bikini with a tank top,
one of the ones with a built in bra that he rejected, I pair it
with my best, most-enticing daisy dukes. Who am I kidding, I
wonder. He is exceedingly better than I am at playing the tease
game, but a girl must try.

Thirty minutes later, we are swerving down the
highway in what, I assume, is a very expensive fire-engine-red
Porsche. The seats are leather, and it is the most extravagant car
I have seen in person. Afraid I have offended him by not giving the
car its proper due, I try my best to be appropriately
impressed.

"So this is a foreign sports car?" I ask,
mentally searching for the right questions to ask about
cars.

He glances at me with a big grin, "Yes,
Darlin'. It is." Releasing the gearshift, he places his hand on my
knee and leaves it there until we exit the highway, heading toward
the ocean.

Salty brine tickles my nose as the Pacific
Ocean comes into view. Blue water as far reaching as the sky
extends from the edge of the water closest to the narrow road we
are driving down. Men in polo shirts and smart haircuts and women
with large designer purses and wearing little else stroll hand in
hand along the docks and walk ways.

The Porsche pulls into a parking garage marked
as private, and we head toward the docks which house rows upon rows
of boats on each side. A grey-haired man with crow's feet and kind
eyes greets us from a few boats down. He looks to be preparing to
climb into a beautiful yacht, and he waves to us and calls out,
"Good morning, Blake, see you at Charlie's later today?" He then
becomes preoccupied with preparing his boat to sail.

"Absolutely, I will definitely stop by, Paul,"
he calls back.

"Ma'am," he tips his baseball cap to me as we
pass by him. Smiling, I give him a friendly wave. Apparently, Blake
is too focused on walking down his dock to give more than a
friendly greeting to his comrade. Paul doesn't seem to mind,
either, as he hurriedly unties the ropes. So his name is Blake. It
bothers me that I only discovered that information now.

"Nice to meet you, Blake," I throw at
him.

"Nice to know you care that I have a name,
Ash," he throws back. Realization dawns on me; I never asked him
his name. Feeling embarrassed, I follow him down the dock toward a
particularly lovely vessel.

Stopping in front of a luxurious yacht, I
guess to be at least forty-five feet long, he spares me the
explanation of the specifics of the vessel, guessing correctly that
I know as much about yachts as I do Porsches. He lets me know that
there is a master bedroom and media room down below, and he will
show me the entire boat after we have set sail. He helps me over
the railing, and I find myself standing on the deck of an amazing
ocean-ready yacht fully prepared to ride the waves.

Pulling away a cover hiding the inside of the
boat from view, Blake confidently prepares to set sail as I watch
excited about being on a boat this size.

"What can I do?" I ask him, ready for an
introduction into boating.

"You want to help me set sail?" he asks,
clearly surprised I am not content to stand by and watch him work
in silence.

"I need to untie something, right?" I ask,
grabbing a snugly-wound rope.

"This is a cleat," he explains, a warm smile
brightening his eyes.