Coming Undone
Page 4
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“Maybe a hot single mom,” Cope, Ben’s younger brother, added. “That would be nice.”
“I’m not looking for hot single moms. I don’t need any baggage or ex-husbands hanging around.” Christ, why would he? There were plenty of single women without kids and exes around. Anyway, she probably had a husband, not that he’d noticed one way or the other.
Cope snorted and got on his bike. “Not for you, dumbass. For me. You can get your own pu**y, I’m not your pimp.”
“Don’t f**k anyone in my neighborhood, Cope. The last thing I need is to be involved in a situation where some woman is brooding over you when you dump her. Don’t f**k where I sleep.”
“You wish I’d f**k where you sleep.” Cope raised a brow, smirking before he slid his shades up over his eyes.
“Ha! If I liked men, yours wouldn’t be the ass I coveted. You’re too short. I couldn’t f**k you without bending my knees and straining my back. Plus, you’re not as hot as your brother, who I’d totally f**k if my sister wouldn’t kill me.”
Ben laughed, tossing a towel at his little brother. Considering that Ben was f**king not only Erin but her husband Todd, who was also Ben’s boyfriend, Brody wasn’t too far off the mark. Both on Ben’s attractiveness and his sister’s willingness to kill anyone who tried to filch one of her men.
“I’d be f**king you, old man.”
Brody barked a laugh. “Now it’s you wishing. Stop harassing my neighbors and their children and let’s get this show on the road.” Brody snorted, shaking his head as he climbed aboard his bike and keyed it on. He slid the strap of his helmet home, tightening it, and adjusted his ass on the seat. A new splurge, comfortable for long rides just like the one he was about to take.
Six of them roared down the street, toward the freeway and a day of riding out in the gorgeous weather. Freedom.
After getting Rennie down to bed, Elise had puttered around the house, folding laundry and returning some phone calls. Then, at long last, she locked the door, ran a bath, grabbed a book and a glass of wine, and settled in for a nice soak.
The bathroom had been remodeled some years before, so it was larger than it would have been for a house this age. It was one of the reasons she had bought the place. Huge jetted tub with a garden window and a skylight. Just the place for an aging dancer to soak away the day’s stresses.
And, she thought as she soaped over her ni**les and they stood at attention, a nice place to masturbate too. Her eyes drifted closed as she thought of him. Of the dark-haired giant across the street.
His voice would be low, she decided, low and gravelly as he talked dirty in her ear. He’d bend her over a desk, or a table, kick her ankles wide to spread her open just for his cock.
Hard. His body would be hard against hers as he f**ked her. Furiously, deeply, so much so that little grunts of air would emerge from her lips each time he slammed home.
Her soap-slicked hand slipped down her belly, finding her pu**y ready. She teased around her clit as she continued to think of him. Of how he’d pull out and pick her up, depositing her on the tabletop and settling in between her thighs.
Ken had hated o**l s*x—the giving of it anyway—but it featured mightily in all Elise’s fantasies. She’d loved it when the men before him had done it for her. Wet, slick mouths on her pu**y, tongues working against her clit. So intimate to be touched that way. A man like the guy across the street would do it and he’d love it.
Her middle finger slid back and forth over her clit as she imagined his tongue would move. She’d arch up into his face, unashamed, demanding more. And he’d give it to her, making her come before straightening to slide his c**k back into her, even as her inner walls still jumped from climax.
She would be able to do nothing but lie there, rolling her hips to take him deeper as he f**ked into her body. His eyes would burn into her like a caress until he got closer to climax.
Her breath came shorter as she neared her own climax, imagining how his neck would tighten, how the muscles on his forearms would cord as he gritted his teeth and came into her, hot and so wet.
She let go, coming, and sliding beneath the water as she could still imagine the scent of the sweat on his skin.
3
Elise enjoyed the early afternoon quiet as she used the long-handled roller to spread paint up and down the section of fence just to the left of her porch. Rennie played with Barbie and My Little Pony on the porch, singing one of her numerous made-up songs that made Elise grateful to have birthed so fabulous a person.
On a Saturday in the early summer, the street was rife with activity, everyone in the yard or dealing with a car. Children riding bikes or roller skating. None of it was overwhelmingly loud, just a quiet hum of activity. Soothing rather than jarring.
The hottie from across the street walked toward his mailbox at the curb, and Elise paused to watch the lope of his strides. Long and sure. Today he wore a black T-shirt and jeans so faded they were pale against the flip-flops on his feet. She wondered what his hair would feel like. Soft?
Close-cropped, it only highlighted the bold lines of his face. Some men were so handsome they were pretty, but this one was . . . not pretty. He was hard. She blushed as she remembered the nights of the past week, using her toys and her fingers to make herself come as she thought of him.
Wow, that guy was going really fast for a residential neighborhood . Elise straightened, checked back over her shoulder to be sure Rennie was still on the porch and out of harm’s way before she looked back out again, only to see the dark sedan careen to miss a trash can and, instead, clip the hottie, tossing him against his mailbox as the car peeled away.
“I’m not looking for hot single moms. I don’t need any baggage or ex-husbands hanging around.” Christ, why would he? There were plenty of single women without kids and exes around. Anyway, she probably had a husband, not that he’d noticed one way or the other.
Cope snorted and got on his bike. “Not for you, dumbass. For me. You can get your own pu**y, I’m not your pimp.”
“Don’t f**k anyone in my neighborhood, Cope. The last thing I need is to be involved in a situation where some woman is brooding over you when you dump her. Don’t f**k where I sleep.”
“You wish I’d f**k where you sleep.” Cope raised a brow, smirking before he slid his shades up over his eyes.
“Ha! If I liked men, yours wouldn’t be the ass I coveted. You’re too short. I couldn’t f**k you without bending my knees and straining my back. Plus, you’re not as hot as your brother, who I’d totally f**k if my sister wouldn’t kill me.”
Ben laughed, tossing a towel at his little brother. Considering that Ben was f**king not only Erin but her husband Todd, who was also Ben’s boyfriend, Brody wasn’t too far off the mark. Both on Ben’s attractiveness and his sister’s willingness to kill anyone who tried to filch one of her men.
“I’d be f**king you, old man.”
Brody barked a laugh. “Now it’s you wishing. Stop harassing my neighbors and their children and let’s get this show on the road.” Brody snorted, shaking his head as he climbed aboard his bike and keyed it on. He slid the strap of his helmet home, tightening it, and adjusted his ass on the seat. A new splurge, comfortable for long rides just like the one he was about to take.
Six of them roared down the street, toward the freeway and a day of riding out in the gorgeous weather. Freedom.
After getting Rennie down to bed, Elise had puttered around the house, folding laundry and returning some phone calls. Then, at long last, she locked the door, ran a bath, grabbed a book and a glass of wine, and settled in for a nice soak.
The bathroom had been remodeled some years before, so it was larger than it would have been for a house this age. It was one of the reasons she had bought the place. Huge jetted tub with a garden window and a skylight. Just the place for an aging dancer to soak away the day’s stresses.
And, she thought as she soaped over her ni**les and they stood at attention, a nice place to masturbate too. Her eyes drifted closed as she thought of him. Of the dark-haired giant across the street.
His voice would be low, she decided, low and gravelly as he talked dirty in her ear. He’d bend her over a desk, or a table, kick her ankles wide to spread her open just for his cock.
Hard. His body would be hard against hers as he f**ked her. Furiously, deeply, so much so that little grunts of air would emerge from her lips each time he slammed home.
Her soap-slicked hand slipped down her belly, finding her pu**y ready. She teased around her clit as she continued to think of him. Of how he’d pull out and pick her up, depositing her on the tabletop and settling in between her thighs.
Ken had hated o**l s*x—the giving of it anyway—but it featured mightily in all Elise’s fantasies. She’d loved it when the men before him had done it for her. Wet, slick mouths on her pu**y, tongues working against her clit. So intimate to be touched that way. A man like the guy across the street would do it and he’d love it.
Her middle finger slid back and forth over her clit as she imagined his tongue would move. She’d arch up into his face, unashamed, demanding more. And he’d give it to her, making her come before straightening to slide his c**k back into her, even as her inner walls still jumped from climax.
She would be able to do nothing but lie there, rolling her hips to take him deeper as he f**ked into her body. His eyes would burn into her like a caress until he got closer to climax.
Her breath came shorter as she neared her own climax, imagining how his neck would tighten, how the muscles on his forearms would cord as he gritted his teeth and came into her, hot and so wet.
She let go, coming, and sliding beneath the water as she could still imagine the scent of the sweat on his skin.
3
Elise enjoyed the early afternoon quiet as she used the long-handled roller to spread paint up and down the section of fence just to the left of her porch. Rennie played with Barbie and My Little Pony on the porch, singing one of her numerous made-up songs that made Elise grateful to have birthed so fabulous a person.
On a Saturday in the early summer, the street was rife with activity, everyone in the yard or dealing with a car. Children riding bikes or roller skating. None of it was overwhelmingly loud, just a quiet hum of activity. Soothing rather than jarring.
The hottie from across the street walked toward his mailbox at the curb, and Elise paused to watch the lope of his strides. Long and sure. Today he wore a black T-shirt and jeans so faded they were pale against the flip-flops on his feet. She wondered what his hair would feel like. Soft?
Close-cropped, it only highlighted the bold lines of his face. Some men were so handsome they were pretty, but this one was . . . not pretty. He was hard. She blushed as she remembered the nights of the past week, using her toys and her fingers to make herself come as she thought of him.
Wow, that guy was going really fast for a residential neighborhood . Elise straightened, checked back over her shoulder to be sure Rennie was still on the porch and out of harm’s way before she looked back out again, only to see the dark sedan careen to miss a trash can and, instead, clip the hottie, tossing him against his mailbox as the car peeled away.
