11. Keats

11

KEATS

A rriving home, I carry my small grocery bag of chicken, broccoli, and garlic when I arrive home. The can of nuts are for snacking; they're my downfall because they are salted and not good for my slim physique. Halfway up my porch stairs, I remember.

Mail. I need to check it.

Setting the bag down on a step, I saunter down my driveway. A giggle fills my ears. I look across the street to see our neighbor's contractor talking with Esme. Pretty seems like a word for a teenager with a crush, but right now, that's the word that comes to mind when I look at her. I'm enjoying the warm weather; it means her legs are often bare. What I don't appreciate is that she's batting her lashes, and her smile must hurt.

"Come on, one drink." The contractor, Dave, I think is his name, holds up one finger and seems to be pleading.

Esme smiles. "Really, I think my weekend is full."

"Then what about Tuesday?"

"Tuesday would imply dinner as well."

Holy shit. Are they flirting with one another ?

"I can do that," Dave responds.

Esme laughs. "Good to know, but Tuesday looks to be a long day of shoots, so it's not a great idea."

All her answers are the correct ones that make me internally repeat good girl, but I still don't like this situation one bit.

While I pretend to check my mailbox, they don't seem to notice that they have a spectator. I half turn and probably have a cold look on my face, with my eyes darkened. I'm irritated by witnessing this and more possessive than I could have imagined when it comes to Esme.

"Thursday? My heart's going to break if you say no. I see you every day and have been waiting for the right time to ask."

"I think Thursday she's busy," I pipe up.

Their heads swing in my direction to look at me from across the street.

"Keats?" Esme appears to be completely surprised and puzzled.

Closing my mailbox door with a forceful push, I take a few steps toward them. "Sorry to interrupt this little conversation. Neighborhood watch has a thing about checking in with neighbors who find themselves in conversations with strangers."

The dude looks at me, dumbfounded. "Uh, you've seen me here for a few weeks while I work on the Millers' kitchen."

Esme seems to be fuming and lets me know by slicing me with a pointed look that only I can see. "Thank you for your concern but all is okay. Have a lovely night." Ooh, there's venom under her tone, but only I would know that. Davey here is oblivious to how I bring out this side of Esme.

"No can do." I hold up the three letters I received, of which two are probably junk mail. "We have another mix-up," I lie.

Her loud sigh can probably be heard down the street. "Look at that timing… so convenient." Her contrite smile slays me every time. She looks back to Dave. "Sorry. I need to get something in the oven for dinner and have to handle this mail situation. Maybe we will chat tomorrow, a coffee perhaps."

Dave's eyes zoom between Esme and me. "Yeah… sure." If he feels as though this situation just took a turn and that he shouldn't involve himself in our mess, then he gets a gold star for correctly analyzing this.

"Keats," Esme grits out as she grabs my arm and marches us to my door. She huffs, nails clawing into my arm, and my astute grin stretches on my face. We move fast in our stomp with my small bag of groceries falling off the step in our war path.

She abruptly stops at the bottom of the porch stairs and lets go of my arm. "I'm returning you to your cage and saying adios. So just give me the letter." She holds her palm out.

"Follow me for a second." I step up, and she surprisingly follows. Opening my door, we arrive inside, and I close the door behind me.

"Letter," she bites out, motioning with her hand to give it to her.

"No can do. There isn't actually any mail for you." Honesty always wins, and in this case, I earn her growl which causes my dick to twitch every single time.

Her mouth opens but no voice can be heard because I'm slamming my lips down onto hers, guiding her back to my front door. In one thump, I have her trapped. Parting our mouths, I raise her arms above her head, shackling her wrists, and spear her with my determined gaze .

"Here is the thing. I don't fucking share."

Esme's entire face blazes with excitement, and I see that she's staring at my mouth.

"I'm not yours," she whispers in her gravelly voice, issuing a challenge.

I'm quick to anchor my hand down between us, to touch her panties with her skirt now bunched at her waist, and she gasps. "I beg to differ. As long as you and I keep playing this game and my cock ends up in this pussy, then I'm not sharing. You're mine."

Our lips meet again for a rough and urgent kiss with her body pressing against mine.

Pulling the fabric to the side, I explore her already drenched pussy, my fingers going straight to her clit.

Esme coos a moan.

"Like that?" I husk.

She nods, her eyelids hooding closed.

No foreplay. Not now.

It's a blur how I drop to my knees, drag her panties off, place a few kisses up her legs then stand before her as I unbuckle my belt.

I flip her around with her palms smacking against the door. The moment I slide into her, our sounds merge as one. I press further inside of her, and I can feel her body quiver. I encircle her wrists to keep them firm against the door above her head as I deliver a blunt thrust.

"Don't stop," she breathes with her cheek flat against the surface.

"I won't if you tell me you understand. This pussy is mine."

She bites into my arm. It's not because she's angry, it's because my thrusts are hard and unforgiving. I wouldn't be this way if I didn't think she wanted it, but I've already learned that our sexual wants are aligned.

"It's yours. I only belong to you," she rasps, and she purposely draws me closer by pressing against me.

"That's settled then. Now let me ensure that you won't be able to stand tomorrow."

We work together so well that I'm not sure who is slamming into whom. Our bodies are flush, bringing us together as one, and my door is getting pounded and our breaths fast and heavy.

She turns her head to glance over her shoulder for a crushing kiss. It's unforgiving, and we only give more, our tongues joining in on the ride by twirling around the other.

Holding her tight, we both work our way together to our end. Unloading into her, I'm seeing stars when I come with her. Only with her. Esme strokes her clit until she shakes around my cock, causing me to slip out.

I don't like it when she slides away, but gravity is gravity.

She trudges up straight, and I step back, worn out yet still able to close my pants.

Our panting begins to subside, but Esme turns, with her back against the door for support, as she doesn't seem to be able to move. She's in a daze, with her hair wild and lips swollen. A beautiful mess that's all my doing.

I return to her, swooping down to snatch up her panties. Our eyes lock as I step closer to her with the distance only just enough to enable me to tuck between us to wipe between her legs. The act alone is sensual and slow as our eyes don't drift. Her breath speeds up as I clean her. I fix her skirt that is no longer gathered up, and I throw her balled-up panties to the side.

But now we need space, and the silence is electrifying yet unclear .

"We keep finding ourselves in this situation," I note softly.

Esme smooths her hair. "I've noticed."

My head bows low, the back of my finger tracing a line along my chin. What in the world do we do now?

And she answers.

Esme points her finger at me with emotion flaring up, and now I'm certain that this is her defense mechanism. "How dare you think that at the snap of your fingers you can just order me around because you have some greedy thought. Let alone that I will just fall at your feet."

I shouldn't smirk because if she's upset about this then she has a right, and I should respect that, except I can clearly see that it's not the case, which is why I can prod her a little. "But you did. You agreed to be only mine, remember?"

Her facial expression strains, and she's doing her best not to throttle me. She pivots to open my front door but pauses. "You are?—"

"The guy you were angry at because I didn't fuck you then."

Esme tries to inhale a calming breath. "Well… maybe I figured out that I deserve more and shouldn't get caught in these… moments with you." She turns without closing the door, and I follow and stop to lean against the doorframe to watch the back of Esme who seems in doubt about where she is going as she wrestles with herself at the bottom of my porch stairs.

"I mean, we haven't even figured out if this is a benefits kind of thing or like, I don't know." She's speaking to herself and has no idea that I'm listening. "But no, I'm in a situation where lust makes me do stupid yet delicious things that gives me an O or two. Esme, no. A gentleman, that's what I want… or maybe I want a date. "

"Then go on a date with me," I say unceremoniously. It isn't even me throwing something out there without thought, it's just what it seems to be—my thoughts finally agreeing with my actions.

My voice startles her, and she slowly turns on her heels to face me, now aware that I've been listening. I don't flinch and remain in my spot with ankles and arms crossed and my shoulder against the door. "Go on a date with me," I repeat because her eyes seem wary.

Her mouth opens but only small snippets of a croaked sound escape.

"Well? I don't have all day to wait for an answer." I pretend to be inconvenienced.

"A date?" Her eyes change brightness as she asks.

I scratch my cheek as I pretend to ponder. "Yeah… I believe I said that."

I can't read her, but then her demeanor changes to near sweet. "A date with me?"

Puffing my cheeks out, I thought we would get here sooner. "Yes, you. To clarify, you on a date, with me, but I need an answer?—"

"Yes." She doesn't give me a chance to finish.

We stare at each other, aware that we've taken another twist that seems we both wanted.