Needing Him Page 9

  Because me falling over myself is a laughing matter, right?

  Maybe I should start laughing and we both can guffaw, and then I can go limp home and lock myself inside until I find my lost manhood again.

  “Need a hand?”

  A hand. A mouth. A...

  “No, thank you,” I answer and try to prove it by pushing myself back onto my feet. This time I want to stay vertical.

  When her gorgeous sky-blue eyes travel over my body, I have to assume she’s searching for injuries. And I stand there like a dummy as she studies my chest (which I’m hoping doesn’t appall her), runs her gaze over my shorts (I hope my chubby is not detectable) and then down my legs, which are my best feature (if I say so myself) since I do a lot of squats (hey, at least it’s not running).

  When she gasps, I look down. Maybe she’s impressed with my monster cock. But no... she’s staring at my knees. Without warning, she squats down and puts her hands on my thighs. “You’re bleeding.”

  I stare at the top of her blonde head, which is way too close to my package. If she doesn’t get to her feet and take her hands off my legs, she’s going to get a face full of my unruly erection.

  But she’s right, my knees are bleeding, though it’s nothing life-threatening. “It’s nothing. I can go—”

  She suddenly pops up, eyes wide. “Oh no, let me take care of that for you. I have a first aid kit in the house.”

  Suddenly, I picture her in this white, tight, short nurses uniform (the old style with the skirt – remember those?), with white stockings and everything. (Well, except for the matronly shoes. She’s wearing three-inch stilettos in my little fantasy.)

  Then BAM...

  My half-mast becomes a full-blown hard-on.

  “Come on,” she urges as she lays a hand on my arm. I stare at her delicate fingers wrapped around my bicep and discover her fingernails are painted the same color as her cute little toes.

  I realize how badly I want those nails to be raking my back and digging into my ass while she’s encouraging me to fuck her harder.

  Holy hell, I have just fallen into a deep well of depravity.

  I follow her anyway. She’s tempted me for weeks. And I finally have an “in,” even if it’s me being a klutz.

  As she guides me toward her front door, she tosses her blonde hair over her shoulder as she says, “I’m Skylar.”

  Skylar.

  It fits her and her sky-blue eyes.

  I clear my throat, because when I answer her, I want to sound much manlier than earlier. “Kincade.”

  She smiles over her shoulder at me and I just about trip again.

  Now, why did I just give her my full name which I never use? Ah, because all the blood in my brain has now pooled in my cock, that’s why. “Please... just call me Cade.”

  “Cade,” she murmurs as she pushes open her front door and, letting go of my arm, she steps inside and moves out of the way enough to let me pass.

  It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the change in lighting, but while I’m doing that, she shuts (and locks!) the door behind me.

  When I glance around the foyer, I discover her house is set up just like mine, as is probably most of the houses in this neighborhood since they were all built around the same time, by the same builder.

  Because of that, I know exactly where her master bedroom is. Which doesn’t help the blood flow to my cock. Not to mention, the lack of vital blood to my brain.

  Then I realize neither of us have moved. I glance over my shoulder and she’s leaning against the door, eyeing me up like I’m a medium-rare filet mignon at a Ruth Chris steak house.

  “You’ve got a really nice ass,” she murmurs.

  I slowly turn to face her, trying to keep the shock of her comment from my face.

  Ah fuck it... “So do you.”

  “Do you like ass play?”

  I blink. “Sorry. What?” A pain shoots through my brain as it explodes.

  “Ass play.”

  Holy shit. Am I hearing things? I shake myself mentally, and it seems maybe I need to clean out my ears.

  I try to swallow, but my Adam’s apple sort of sticks in my throat. “Ass play,” I repeat, trying to keep my cool.

  “Yes.”

  Here I thought she was going to clean up my skinned knees. However, ass play sounds so much better than alcohol wipes, antibiotic ointment and Band-Aids.

  She’s waiting for my answer.

  “I... uh... I don’t not like it,” I respond, wondering where she’s going with this conversation.

  “Giving or receiving?” She pushes off the door and I automatically step back. Though, I have no idea why. She looks harmless...

  “I’m not sure why—”

  She tilts her head toward my shorts. “You must be having the same thoughts that I am since you’re as hard as a rock under those silky short shorts of yours.”

  I stop my hand from heading in that direction since I don’t need to feel it to know how hard I am at that moment. I don’t need to see it. And, apparently, I can’t hide it, either.

  No matter what, my first thought was not the same as hers. Ass play certainly hadn’t entered my brain until she mentioned it.

  However, I must admit, now it’s stuck there.

  “Come with me.” Her words come out so huskily that I’m suddenly willing to do any ass play she wants. Even if I’m on the receiving end.

  Learn more about Tempting Him (An Obsessed Novella) here: http://www.jeannestjames.com/tempting-him

  If You Enjoyed This Book

  Thank you for reading NEEDING HIM (An Obsessed Novella). If you enjoyed Grace and Nick’s story, please consider leaving a review at your favorite retailer and/or Goodreads to let other readers know. Reviews are always appreciated and just a few words can help an independent author like me tremendously!

  Also by Jeanne St. James

  Made Maleen: A Modern Twist on a Fairy Tale

  Damaged

  Rip Cord: The Complete Trilogy

  * * *

  Brothers in Blue Series:

  (Can be read as standalones)

  Brothers in Blue: Max

  Brothers in Blue: Marc

  Brothers in Blue: Matt

  Teddy: A Brothers in Blue Novelette

  * * *

  The Dare Ménage Series:

  (Can be read as standalones)

  Double Dare

  Daring Proposal

  Dare to Be Three

  A Daring Desire

  Dare to Surrender

  * * *

  The Obsessed Novellas:

  (All the novellas in this series are standalones)

  Forever Him

  Only Him

  Needing Him

  Loving Her

  Temping Him

  * * *

  Down & Dirty: Dirty Angels MC Series:

  (Can be read as standalones)

  Down & Dirty: Zak

  Down & Dirty: Jag

  Down & Dirty: Hawk

  Down & Dirty: Diesel

  Down & Dirty: Axel

  Down & Dirty: Slade (Coming Soon)

  * * *

  You can find information on all of Jeanne’s books here:

  http://www.jeannestjames.com/

  About the Author

  JEANNE ST. JAMES is a USA Today bestselling erotic romance author who loves an alpha male (or two). She was only thirteen when she started writing and her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages.

  * * *

  Want to read a sample of her work? Download a sampler book here: BookHip.com/MTQQKK

  * * *

  To keep up with her busy release schedule check her website at www.jeannestjames.com or sign up for her newsletter: http://www.jeannestjames.com/newslettersignup

  www.jeannestjames.com

  jeanne@jeannestjames.c
om

  Blog: http://jeannestjames.blogspot.com

  Newsletter: http://www.jeannestjames.com/newslettersignup

  Jeanne’s Down & Dirty Book Crew: https://www.facebook.com/groups/JeannesReviewCrew/

  Only Him Sneak Peek

  Turn the page to read the first chapter of:

  Only Him (An Obsessed Novella).

  Only Him - Chapter One

  Sydney

  Holy fuck.

  I peer around the curtain at the man carrying boxes from a rented box truck into the house next door.

  My jaw shuts like a trap. What kind of fucking karma is this?

  My fingers tremble as they grip the curtain. I must be dreaming. Never in my life did I think my high school crush would move… Right. Next. Door.

  Right fucking next door!

  My stomach churns and my pussy clenches.

  I want to call someone. I want to run through the house screaming.

  Reid Fucking Turner is moving next door!

  Fucking pinch me.

  I haven’t seen him in eons. Hell, not since graduation. And that was so, so long ago.

  But I know it’s him. There's no doubt about it.

  Every fiber of my being knows because I spent too many of my teenage years stalking—err, watching—him. I would recognize him anywhere.

  His gait. His hair (though, it’s cut much shorter now). His shoulders (much broader than high school—the boy has matured into a man). Those thick thighs (they’ve always been muscular, due to him being a jock).

  It has to be him.

  My heart stops as he glances toward my window. I drop the curtain like it’s on fire and pin my back against the wall. My heartbeat goes from zero to sixty in one second flat.

  Holy crap, did he see me peeking?

  The pulse in my neck throbs and it may jump right out of my throat at any moment. I clutch my hand to my chest while I try to slow my breathing.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  It’ll be okay.

  The guy never knew I existed in high school, so he probably wouldn’t recognize me now anyway.

  I’ve changed. Matured.

  My thin, flat-chested body has definitely improved. My breasts might be bigger and heavier than I’d like and my hips curvy enough I can no longer squeeze into skinny jeans, but I’ve had no problem attracting men. No problem at all.

  They seem to prefer something to grab onto when they’re pounding into me, sweating all over me, grunting and groaning, and unfortunately, most of the time, leaving me unsatisfied and wanting.

  And, most of the time, I can’t wait for them to fucking put their clothes back on and leave.

  Breakfast? No thanks. I’m on a diet.

  But back to the subject at hand.

  Reid Fucking Turner.

  I peek out the front window again and wonder why he’s moving his stuff by himself. I should head over and offer to help, shouldn't I?

  Then I see them. A whole slew of buff, hot guys marching in and out of the house in a line like an army of ants.

  Where does he find his friends? Studs ‘R’ Us?

  Maybe they’re all gay porn stars. I mean, our classmates did vote Reid most likely to succeed in high school. Porn stars are considered successful, right? They’re stars after all.

  I swipe at the bit of saliva gathering at the corner of my lip. Fuck. Gay or not, that is one hell of a man buffet. But how disappointing would that be? To find out my teenage crush turned out to dislike women?

  Not only disappointing, but devastating.

  I glance up at the ceiling and ask any deity listening, “Oh please, don’t let that be true.”

  Reid has been my ultimate fantasy, my constant masturbation material, since the ninth grade when I first laid eyes on him.

  Well, more like the day I bumped into him. The first time it happened by accident. The other dozen or so times over the course of our high school years were not so accidental. And one time I even accidentally brushed against the front of his jeans.

  He felt warm and soft. But that night, I fantasized about him being hot and hard. And all mine. That ended up being a good night and I might have sprained a finger.

  But no matter how many times I threw myself in front of Reid Turner, he never seemed to notice me. I had no cleavage, no shape. And I certainly wasn’t a cheerleader, or even on the booster team or squad, or whatever the fuck it was called.

  I was a nobody. Just another body moo-ving down a narrow, crowded hallway, going in and out of classrooms like herded cattle.

  I’m not saying I never garnered any interest. Just not from Reid Turner and his ilk. Oh, I got kissed and fingered, and eventually my cherry popped, but none of it was worth writing home about.

  And every time I found myself in some closet, the backseat of a car, the bedroom of some boy’s house whose parents went out to dinner, I’d close my eyes and picture Reid.

  That’s how I had my first orgasm (one without doing it myself). If I’d squeeze my eyes shut really hard and pretend the guy was Reid, then I’d… Yeah. And the poor schmuck probably thought he had skills and most likely disappointed the next girl he fumble-fucked. And if he did, not my problem.

  However, that ended up screwing me, too. Because no guy was ever good enough for me.

  None of them were Reid Turner.

  The fucker ruined me for any other man. And he never once even touched me.

  Not. Once.

  Whether he knows it or not (I’m pretty sure he doesn’t), the man owes me a mind-blowing orgasm.

  I snort as I imagine stomping over to his house to demand he make me climax. Wouldn’t he shit a brick.

  Though… Maybe I should give that some serious thought.

  He may call the cops. Possibly apply for a restraining order. Damn.

  I tap my finger on my chin as I contemplate all the ways I can approach him without getting myself arrested.

  Then it hits me. He won't call the police. It’s not because he’s a criminal and wants to avoid the men in blue.

  No, it’s because he is the police. I forgot he’s a cop. Hot damn. How could I forget that juicy piece of information?

  I remember hearing about his career choice when I was at our lame five-year class reunion. The one I attended just to see him. Though, he never showed. And he never came to our tenth either. It was at that joyous occasion when I found out he had married his main squeeze in high school, Pamela Johnson. Head cheerleader, prom queen, voted most popular. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blech.

  So, that meant he wasn’t gay. Or did that bitch turn him?

  My eyes rake over the man meat carrying the heavy boxes and random pieces of furniture. No sign of her.

  But that doesn’t mean they aren’t still together. Though, that might fuck with my fantasies.

  Damn it.

  And of course, his life choices are all about me. Right?

  Right.

  I pace my living room, wanting to know everything about his life right now. He leaves me no choice.

  I’ll have to do some recon.

  I actually question my own life choices when I sneak around the outside of his house after dark. What have I been reduced to? I feel like I’m a high school stalker—err, student—all over again.

  All those times I attended his wrestling matches, his baseball games, I’d sit in the bleachers and root him on. Not that he ever noticed, even though I was his biggest supporter. The ultimate fan.

  But hell, at least he chose two sports where he wore tight outfits. Both, that snug onesie thing he wore in wrestling and those tight baseball stretchy pants. His round, muscular ass looked spectacular in both. But that unitard… No, I remember being scolded at one match by someone sitting nearby. It wasn’t called a unitard, they called it a singlet. Didn’t matter though, at least in that outfit he didn’t wear a cup. I think all the females, including the mothers, noticed the healthy-sized Kielbasa link in his singlet. You couldn’t miss it. In fact, I wouldn’t doubt a few of our classmate
s’ mothers hit on him. And possibly even scored. What teenage boy didn’t want to fuck a MILF?

  Anyway, now fifteen years later (give or take a year), I’m skulking around my neighbor’s house like a freaking peeping Tom.

  All because Reid Fucking Turner moved next door.

  This isn’t high school anymore, though. No. At thirty-one years old, I’m now dead serious about getting a piece of Reid. Especially since he owes me.

  When I step on a stick, it cracks loudly under my foot and my heart, once again, goes into warp speed. I slam myself against the side of his house.

  Holy fuck, if any of my other neighbors see me…

  Screw them. This is all about me.

  And Reid, of course.

  I blow out a breath when I realize I might be a good candidate for the loony bin. I shake my head to clear it. I’m a freaking adult. What the hell am I doing?

  How can the sight of this man reduce me to this crazy-assed behavior?

  Fuck.

  I drag myself back into the house, my head hanging in disgrace. I should be ashamed of myself. Maybe I should go over, knock on the door, and apologize for my bad behavior. Welcome him to the neighborhood. Invite him over for some sweaty sex.

  I lock my front door and sit in my dark living room totally sickened by my actions.

  Then I run upstairs.

  For more information on Only Him (An Obsessed Novella): http://www.jeannestjames.com/only-him

  Turn the page to read Chapter One of:

  Loving Her (An Obsessed Novella)