Welcome to the Neighborhood Ch. 02

Author's note:

This is Chapter Two in a story, but it can be read as a stand alone. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Two

"I'm not saying you should fuck him, but I'm saying you should fuck him." Angie, Cara's best friend, took a sip of her drink. "He sounds perfect for you."

"Ew, no relationships." Cara wrinkled her nose. "I am not looking to date."

"Nope, just looking to make out with your handsome neighbor, and then let him hear you getting off thinking about him. I agree. No dating. Just fucking."

"Jesus, Angie!" Cara choked on her wine and looked around the busy restaurant. "We're in public."

Angie grinned. She liked pushing Cara's somewhat prudish buttons. They'd been friends since the fifth grade. When Cara met Ethan, Angie knew it would never work. She recognized a soul sucker when she met one. But there was no way she could tell her best friend who was walking around with little hearts in her eyes.

Cara's light faded over the years with him until finally, they both figured out how miserable they were and ended things.

It was Ethan who made Cara miserable, Angie loyally knew.

"I've seen him carry groceries from his car. Nice forearms."

"I never should have said anything."

Angie waved that off. "Nonsense, you have to tell me everything. This is all new and exciting. I had no idea you had such unexplored depths."

Cara laughed, "Me either."

"Invite him over for dinner, proposition him, start the fucking. Men are simple creatures..."

"Says the lesbian."

"Exactly. If I wanted something simple, I would date men. Women are more complicated, with unexpected layers. Like a delicate trifle." Angie leaned back in her seat. "As long as you're having fun, you're being safe, and its consensual, do whatever you want. But you have to promise me you'll tell me everything."

"Deal."

***

It took nerve for her to send him a text message. After their exchange two weeks before, they had texted a few times, all casual. As if Sunday night had never happened. Maybe he wanted to pretend it never happened.

Damnit, there was Ethan sliding into her thoughts like a Twitter troll heading for someone's DMs. Not today, Satan.

Cara pulled out her phone and typed, "Free for dinner Friday evening? I don't cook but I order pizza like a champ."

Her nerves had three seconds to frazzle before her phone buzzed. "Absolutely! Dessert?"

"Your choice."

Ok then. She would be seeing Michael on Friday.

***

Fuck him and tell me everything.

Angie's voice echoed in Cara's mind as Michael refilled their wine glasses. "Ready for dessert?"

Cara shook her head and sighed, "Oh no, I'm pretty full --"

Michael leaned in and paused inches from her neck. "Not that kind of dessert."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Oh."

His lips grazed her neck. "Still full?"

"I don't want to marry you!" Cara blurted out. Damn her stupid nerves and her stupid mouth which never shut up at the right time.

Michael didn't run from the house in fear. Instead he leaned back so he could look into her eyes. "Thank god, because I don't want to marry you."

"OK." Cara knew her entire face was beet red, but she had to keep going. "I met my ex when I was twenty-seven and I thought I was an old maid because I was single. I threw myself at him, gave him everything he could possibly want. I kept doing that for fourteen years until I had an epiphany. Ethan never loved me. He loved what I could provide for him. He loved the children I gave him. But he didn't love me. And he knew it. I'm not going through that again."

At this point, she had given him every excuse to go barreling out the door and never look back. He could toss the stray hockey pucks back over the fence, nod at her when they were in their yards at the same time and pretend none of this ever happened.

Instead, he leaned in toward her, his voice just a little huskier. "I've been divorced for twenty years. I date, but nothing serious. I enjoy the company of a woman, but I don't expect her to take care of me. Have you been with anyone since your husband?"

Cara shook her head.

Michael's grin widened. "How bad was he in bed?"

Cara sighed, "He was fine."

"Fine? Fine is how you describe your day at work. The rush hour traffic. The weather. Sex should never be fine." Michael moved closer to her, close enough when he spoke, his breath trailed across her neck. "I want to make you come. In a thousand different ways. I want to hear those sweet little gasps and you scream my name. I want you to want to fuck me. I've thought about it for the last six months." He nipped her neck and she whimpered. "You were opening a box and your shirt gapped --"

Cara angled her head, giving him better access to her neck. "Oh god, I remember that day. You were so handsome, and I thought, of course I would look like this."

"If by "this" you mean sexy, slightly out of breath, with flushed cheeks, and the lushest tits I've seen, then yes that's exactly how you looked." He licked up her neck and bit her ear lobe ever so gently. "I've dreamt of those tits. How they would feel in my hands, on my tongue, on my cock."

He went on, soft kisses along her neckline and up the other side. His breath hissed hot in her ear, "Can I kiss you, Cara?"

"Yes," she breathed.

He sucked on her earlobe. "Can I kiss you anywhere I want?"

Need, fiery and desperate, rushed through her at that question. Louder than she had intended, she gasped, "Oh god, yes!"

Michael grinned, cocky and too sure of himself. Which turned her on, she couldn't help it. He kissed her, slow and drugging. Long drawn-out kisses that made her sink into him, deeper and deeper.

Inch by inch, he kissed his way from her neck to her collarbone.

She sat up to tug off her shirt. He groaned, "I knew they would be amazing." And buried his face in her cleavage.

Cara grinned, weaving her fingers through his hair. Her grin turned to a little moan, when he shoved the bra cup out of his way and made contact with her nipple.

Michael smiled up at her, an eyebrow cocked upward, "Can I keep kissing you?"

"Yes."

In the dimming summer evening light, he took off her clothes, layer by layer until she was spread out on her chaise, completely naked. That he was fully clothed might have bothered her, but the way he looked at her -- like she was a banquet, and he hadn't eaten in days -- made her forget all her insecurities.

Dear God, Michael thought, I want her. He wanted to sink inside her, wrap her legs around his hips and fuck her until they were both screaming.

That would come. Eventually.

For now, he simply wanted to worship her. The way she talked about herself; he knew her ex had done a number on her self-esteem. But here she was, despite that, ready and eager for his touch. Unashamedly arching her hips up toward him when he kissed her soft belly, licked along the outside of her thigh.

He kissed his way down on leg, nibbling at the little curve behind her knee, down her delicate ankle. He rubbed his strong hands over the arch of her foot, and she sighed and sank deeper into the cushions.

He kissed up her calf to the inside of her knee, up her sweet sweet inner thigh, jesus, right there, he was so close. And then he skipped down to the other side of her thigh. Cara's frustrated little whimper made his cock twitch.

"Patience," he whispered. He lifted her hand to his lips and sucked on her middle finger, gently abrading the pad with his teeth, "is a virtue."

"I never learned that one," Cara sighed.

"I'm an excellent teacher." He kissed the inside of her wrist. Nipped at her inner elbow. "Lesson one: redirection." Before the words could fully sink in, he cupped her tits in his hand and sucked one nipple into his mouth.

Cara cried out and gripped his head. He ever so gently sank his teeth down and bit her nipple. Cara's hips undulated and he couldn't stop the rush of heat. Someone liked a little bit of pain with her pleasure.

He moved to her other breast, sucked and bit. She gasped his name and started to sit up and pull him between her thighs. He murmured, "Easy, babe."

"I need..."

"What do you need?" He slid down her body to the end of the chaise.

She pushed up on her elbows and looked down at him, "Michael."

The way she said his name, frustrated and full of passion and wanting and longing. He wanted to give in, just shove her thighs apart and bury his tongue in her wet, pulsing cunt.

He could do that, or he could give her, what he hoped was a somewhat stern look, his voice rough with wanting and just the edge of a command, "Cara. Tell me what you want."

She whimpered, "You."

"And?" He slid a hand up along the inside of her calf, over her knee, pausing halfway up her thigh. Beneath his palm, her muscles quivered.

Another frustrated moan. "Are you going to make me beg?"

"Not this time." He hardened at the slight hitch to her breath. Note to self: Cara liked to be teased. He knew he couldn't handle dragging this out much longer. He was desperate to taste her, and her pussy was so close.

She was going to come before he ever touched her. All because he somehow knew forcing her to voice what she wanted, what she really needed, made her feel powerful and so fucking sexy. Because she knew he wanted to give it to her. He was getting just as excited by the power play between them.

"I want you to..."

He kissed her other thigh, his mouth hot and wet and she knew without a doubt when his tongue touched her she was going to explode. All she had to do was tell him what she wanted.

This time he spread her legs and kissed her inner thigh. His stubble scraped the delicate skin and she moaned. She half sat up. "Michael."

"Yes?"

"Eat my pussy." Her voice cracked on the last word, her bravado not all the way up to the task.

Michael locked eyes with her, all traces of teasing gone. His smile was wicked and sure and god, she could come just watching him look at her. His voice, muffled against her skin, drifted up to her, "I thought you'd never ask."

Technically it was a demand -- holy fuck! The bastard had her spread wide open before him and just him breathing on her made her pussy pulse. She arched up, desperate for his touch, and thank god, he gave it to her, his tongue, flat and wet and hot against her clit. She arched up for more and more.

He licked and then sucked, and she gasped and flexed her hands against the cushions. She was so fucking close. He sensed it, and ever so gently, one of his long, lean fingers slid inside her.

Cara groaned, her thighs tightening around his head.

He slid a second finger inside her and fucked her with his fingers, while he sucked on her clit. It was exactly what she needed.

Lightning arched through Cara and her pussy twitched around Michael's skilled tongue. She came hard, her entire body shaking and pulsing, her muscles tightening and then falling lax, her body so sated, she couldn't support herself on her arms any long. She collapsed into the cushions.

Michael joined her on the couch. She snuggled into him only in that moment realizing he was still fully clothed.

"This one was just for you," he said, reading her mind. "I'm going to think about it tonight, about you, later." He lowered his voice, "I can still taste you."

"Does it have to wait until later?" She traced her hand down his chest to his cock bulging through his jeans.

He pressed his hand over hers. "I wanted tonight to be just for you."

Inspiration struck as Cara stroked her hand across his dick. She propped her chin on her elbow. "Can I watch you...I want to watch you."

This woman with her soft requests and sexy eyes. Michael undid the zipper to his pants, slid his hand into his boxer briefs. Cara bit her lip, her eyes widening ever so slightly.

To tease them both, he took his time, shoved his jeans and boxers down his thighs and sat back, his dick hard and throbbing.

Cara licked her lips. He gripped his shaft and stroked once. It made him groan and Cara whimper.

With the taste of her pussy still in his mouth, and her rainkissed leaves scent all around him, he stroked up and down, harder and faster, while Cara watched him, her own breath matching his, gasping when he did.

Cara coming, her body taut beneath his mouth, her pussy pulsing, god, just throbbing beneath him. Her legs clenched around his head. He didn't even think she realized she had grabbed his hair, her fingers gripping his head, as her orgasm rocked through her.

The sound of her coming, the near scream at the end, oh god, it echoed in his mind, and he locked eyes with her.

She whimpered and he grunted and gasped, "Cara!"

And he was coming, his hand covering the head of cock, catching his cum before it could get on anything.

The look in her eyes -- this time it was she who looked wicked and powerful -- somehow he knew she wanted to be the one to catch his cum, in her mouth, swallowing it as his cock jerked and throbbed. The thought of that, good lord, he didn't think the orgasm could get more intense, but it did until finally he closed his eyes and collapsed back into the cushions.

He felt Cara get up, heard her walk down the hallway away from him. When she came back, she handed him a towel.

"That was fucking hot." She grinned. "I didn't think I could be turned on again after you made me come my brains out, but damn, Michael, that was amazing." She kissed him, quick and fierce. "I'll be thinking about that later.

He left a few hours later promising, "Whenever you're ready for another adventure, you know where I live."

Cara smiled. "I sure do." As she shut her door, he heard, "I'll leave my window open tonight."

It should not have been possible for his cock to harden at words, but here he was, a man over forty, walking home with a boner.

He made sure he left his window open that night.