The Guy Next Door

Chapter 11

11

LEIF

I pace around the house in my sweatpants and socks.

Last night was fucking everything!

I’m still reeling from the high of having Zane’s fingers in me, working my body like I was his fucking sex puppet. There’s no way he can realize what he did to me by showing me that. And being so patient. So considerate. Dedicated to ensuring it was a mind-blowing orgasm.

I can’t believe he was the guy to introduce me to that part of myself.

Even as we shared dinner after, all I wanted was for him to show me what else he could do with his hands. His mouth. Even that cock.

Imagining the things he’d do to me has got me leaking in my sweatpants.

I pull my phone out of my back pocket for what must be the dozenth time since I woke up, reading his last text from the night before.

ZANE: Thanks again for filling my belly.

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I start to text again: So…you wanna hang toni —

No. It’s too soon.

Keep your cool.

Although, I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to play cool now that I’m so fucking curious, and Zane’s the only one I want to help me figure this out.

I try to distract myself by making a quiche for breakfast, making it bigger than I normally would so there’ll be plenty for Zane for the next few days.

As I’m stirring the egg and veggie mixture, my phone buzzes on the counter.

I’m already smiling as I pick up my phone, frowning when I see it’s a message from Dad: Your mom and I can come home early! Should be there this evening. We’re free! *crying emoji*

I should be thrilled, not just to see them, but knowing they’ll get a break from Linda. But the excited wave that pulled me to the phone collapses into a pit of disappointment. Looks like I’m gonna have to put the whole sexual-exploration thing on hold.

Accepting my fate, I finish the quiche and then pick up around the house throughout the day, and when Zane messages, I tell him the news…but don’t mention how desperate I am to get together with him again.

That evening, when I hear Mom and Dad pull into the driveway, I grab a hoodie from the front closet and throw it on, then open the door. Even with the hoodie on, I can feel my nipples hardening as a cool breeze rushes inside. I slide my crocs on and hurry to help them with their bags.

As I offer them hugs, I say, “I’m surprised you guys made it. Figured Linda might have found a way to get you on a return flight.”

“We’re surprised too,” Dad says, wide-eyed, his expression hinting at the hell the past couple of weeks have been for them.

“Even if they call,” Mom says, “we’re not going back for at least a week. God, it’s cold out here. I think it was warmer in Indiana.”

“It was lovely before y’all got here,” I say, “so I think you brought this weather with you.”

“Back for less than five minutes, and we’re responsible for the weather already,” Mom says with a smile.

I help them pull their bags inside. Dad checks the back door the locksmith fixed, then joins us at the kitchen table, where Mom’s catching me up about their trip and how Linda, my aunt Cathy, and my cousins are.

I should be eager to see them, but I’m tense. On edge. And not just about being deprived of sex.

I’m worried they might be in danger here, but if Zane’s right and someone was trying to abduct me, it’s possible they were doing it when my parents were gone because they don’t want to make a production of it. And if that’s their MO, then I doubt they’ll do something that will keep them from being able to hunt again. Of course, I don’t dismiss the reality that my parents might be more creeped out by finding out there’s a guy next door watching our house, keeping an eye on their son…and who just so happened to get off with him last night.

Yeah…lots of things they’re probably better off not knowing.

“So tell us what you’ve been up to,” Mom says once she finishes showing me pics of the cousins and their new cat. “And while you’re telling me, if you broiled a roast, I could eat about half of one right about now.”

I laugh, heading to the fridge. “I don’t have a roast, but I have some meatballs I can heat up.” I pull the container out and start heating them up in a pan.

“How have you been feeling?” Dad asks. “All right?”

I remind myself they mean well, but I can hear much more behind their words when they ask how I’m doing, which makes sense given how bad it got, but I wish I could just shake them and get them to stop worrying about me.

Although, sometimes I worry too, so I can’t blame them.

“I’m feeling good,” I say, stirring the meatballs.

“You see anybody while we were gone?” Mom asks, which makes me nearly do a double take, her words catching me off guard. “Any of your friends?” she presses.

Of course that’s what she means, dumbass. “Oh, no. Everyone’s in school right now. Studying, finishing up projects.”

“Have you talked to Steven?”

Steven’s one of my buddies I roomed with at the dorms. He always tries to reach out to catch up, but I haven’t talked to him recently.

“No, he’s texted me a bit about this new pickleball league he joined, but I need to give him a call.”

She and Dad are quiet for a few moments before she says, “I wish you had some company and not be cooped up in this house all day long.”

I consider what I should share, but I think this is a safe way to bring up Zane. “I actually met the guy who’s renting the place next door.”

“The one you said was creepy?”

“One and the same.” I chuckle. That wasn’t so long ago, and it’s wild to think how much has happened in the short time since I thought he was trying to kill me. “After he grabbed that can I dropped, we started talking. He’s a pretty friendly guy. Well, friendly might not be the word. He has a friendlier side to him than I thought.”

“When did you talk to him?”

“He came by, actually.” Like when I talked to that detective, it’s probably better to be as honest as I can and skirt around the truth.

“Came by?” Dad asks. “Why?”

Hmm. Finding a half-truth for this bit isn’t going to be as easy… “He wanted to make sure I was okay after the burglary.” That’s reasonably close to the truth.

The meatballs sizzle in the pan, and I stir them around as Dad asks, “But everything’s been fine since?”

“Yeah,” I lie, since I’m leaving out the part that this burglar might not have been here to burgle. “Lock’s changed. Neighborhood Watch on alert. I’ve been keeping the alarm on, and nothing’s come up since.”

“That’s good,” Dad says. “Just strange since this has always been a good neighborhood. But I guess it’s what happens when the economy’s like this. You weren’t hurt. That’s all that really matters.”

“No, and I need to give you back your pepper spray, Mom. Been carrying it around since then.”

“Did you get the one from the office?” When I confirm, she says, “Keep that one. I have another. So tell me more about that guy…Zane.”

“What?” I ask, which makes her expression twist up.

“You talked. I assume you know more about him than that he’s friendlier than he looks.”

“Oh, yeah.” I meant for that to come out casually, but as the words escape my lips, they sound suggestive. I check my parents’ reactions, but they didn’t seem to pick up on it. “He’s nice. I think he just has a hard time warming up to people.”

“What does he do over there?” Dad asks.

“IT work, online.” I take the pan off the heat, turn off the burner.

“Yeah, but why does he live in that house? At his age, he should be going to college or staying somewhere he can go out and party.”

“From what I’ve made out, he doesn’t seem the partying kind.”

I wonder if Dad notices how I evaded answering his question, and I figure now’s my chance to get them off this subject. I talk about Kyra’s health while I fix their plates, and after we finish our little catch-up and the meatballs, I head up to my room and plop down on my bed.

My ass feels so fucking needy right now, but it’s gonna have to wait.

Still…just because we can’t do anything tonight doesn’t mean we can’t make other plans.

ME: So…my parents just got home.

ZANE: I noticed.

ZANE: Obviously.

God, that should be disturbing, not making me laugh.

ZANE: Now maybe I can get some sleep.

I laugh again. Seriously, this shit is fucked up. I shouldn’t be laughing.

ME: I was a little bummed. My ass misses you.

ZANE: Funny ’cause my fingers are missing your ass. *squirt emoji*

Now I’m beaming. And my ass cheeks clench slightly, as if in anticipation of the next chance we’ll get.

ZANE: Don’t worry. They’ll still be here for you when you’re free.

Something naughty rises up within me. And maybe I’m feeling bold because everything he’s texting suggests he doesn’t regret what we did and that he’s looking forward to it again. So I go for it.

ME: I think you know those aren’t the appendages I’m interested in next time.

ME: Not that I would mind being reintroduced.

ME: But you’ve got something else I’m real curious about.

He doesn’t respond as quickly as he did to the other texts, and for a moment, I’m like, seriously? He can’t show me what he can do to my ass and that fat cock and expect me not to be curious. Finally, a response comes through.

ZANE: This doesn’t sound like begging…

I’m getting hard again.

He’s such a dirty motherfucker. I love that as apprehensive and tentative as he can be, there’s this sex-fiend side to him, unashamed of what he wants or how he wants it.

ME: Gives me something to work on before I see you again. ;) x

ZANE: Looking forward to it.

A naughty idea springs to mind, and I head to the window and open it.

ZANE: What are you doing?

ME: Can you see my bed from there?

ZANE: Yes. But so could someone else.

ME: Who’s got their own camera set up or on a ladder?

I get why he’s concerned, and he’s not entirely wrong. It’s a possibility. But I’m so damn horny, I need to do something.

ME: I’m calling.

ZANE: The hell?

ME: Just pick up, okay?

After closing the blinds, I hurry by Kyra’s cage and toss the cover over it, then remove my phone mount from the desk. I roll my swivel chair over to beside my bed and attach the mount to the arm of the chair, positioning the camera so he’ll have a good view.

A part of me is wondering what the hell I’m thinking, but another is so damn excited, I can’t help myself. I pull back the sheets, sliding onto the mattress. Then I retrieve some lube and my new toy from the nightstand.

As I’m sitting up, about to place the call, I hesitate. Should I be doing this?

But the fact that Zane doesn’t want me hesitant, wants me begging for it, encourages me to make the call, and I’m relieved when his face pops up on the app.

“What are you doing?” he asks, squinting.

I turn down the volume on the phone. Mom and Dad are watching TV downstairs, so I doubt they’ll hear, but better safe than sorry.

I display the toy for Zane, and his eyes widen, his lips curling up.

I feel so fucking naughty—wicked, even—as I whisper, “We’ll see who’s begging for it the next time I see you.”