6. Keats

6

KEATS

I 'm hungover.

Not from alcohol but her .

I have claw marks on my back to make sure I don't forget, either.

What transpired last night was perhaps needed. Maybe it will calm our constant conflict.

But fuck. Esme felt perfect around my cock. And her afterglow due to me was… breathtakingly beautiful.

And now what the hell do I say to her?

I have to think quickly because as I walk down my driveway to collect my Sunday paper—from the mailbox, not damaged because she was egging me on—my not-so-impeccable timing causes me to see from the corner of my eye Esme is exiting her house in yoga pants with a rolled mat tucked under her arm.

She's fumbling with her keys and dives into her bag for something, and she pulls out her sunglasses. It's then when she peers up and faces me that her rush subsides.

We both stall for a long second, surveying the other and deciding how to act .

"Morning," I greet her.

Her eyes snap open, nearly startled, before she inhales a deep breath. "Uh, I'm expecting a package later this week. I triple-checked the address situation and it should be fine."

Is she nervous or just plain rude for no good morning?

I scratch my cheek. "Great. I'm not sure I will be home much, anyhow."

Hey eyes widen slightly. "Oh?"

That's what you moaned last night.

"Late work week ahead. The team is preparing for the draft and need to be ready to have contracts good to go for signatures."

Her head jostles softly side to side. "Of course, that makes sense."

Now, we are both trying to avoid making eye contact. I rock on my heels, but then realize that acting as though nothing happened is probably what is best. I don't need an awkward morning after. That's what happens with other women. They're eager for me to promise them a romantic dinner or another night together. But Esme? The woman who is standing before me with doe eyes and disdain probably buried deep within? Well, she might be my golden ticket to physical gratification.

She holds her keys up. "Yoga class. I'm going to be late," she mentions and begins to turn her feet.

"Have fun. Oh…" I snap my fingers. "I just assumed the fake pearls could get tossed." I don't mean to bring last night up. It doesn't even cross my mind, but a logistic popped into my head.

Now Esme is hurrying into the driver's seat. "Yeah, sure." She slams her door shut before I can reply, even though I have no clue what words would tumble out anyhow.

Or if I should even bring up that she left her thong at my place. It was destroyed the way her pussy craved me, which is why the fabric found its way to my garbage can. Even though I would probably have fun stuffing it into her mouth.

I wince as she backs her car up in a far-too-fast speed, and she's on her merry way.

Combing a hand through my hair, a long exhale passes through my lips.

Running into one another after destroying my front hall table: Check.

The box of bagels sitting on my kitchen counter are appealing. I'm starving, and maybe I need to stock up on some carbs after ramming into my neighbor until we both came.

I slide the European-sized mug for coffee under my state-of-the-art coffee machine. It's confusing as hell which buttons to use, which is why I normally stop by Foxy Rox in the morning, but my at-home coffee is still a good brew.

"Here." I motion to Oliver sitting at the counter.

"Thanks. My head is kind of slow today. I keep forgetting to remind myself that drinking in our 30s is not the same as our 20s." He brings the rim of the mug to his lips.

I chuckle at that fact as I open the box for an onion bagel. "What was the deal with Hailey last night?"

Oliver scoffs. "Nothing, man, we just joked around."

"Not going to make your move?"

He laughs at me. "And have Liam murder me? Nah."

Pressing my lips out, I consider his plan, and my doubts he will hold strong remain. "Okay, so a quick breakfast and caffeine fix and then we can go over which docs we will divvy out for this week's workload. "

Oliver's growing smirk concerns me, even more so when he slips his hand into his pocket only to pull out a little pearl bead that he holds between his fingers. "Found this in your hall when I came in."

Damn. Must have missed one. Then again, that necklace was demolished in our fucking endeavors.

Casually, I step toward my coffee machine to make another cup for myself. "Did you?"

"Something you want to share?"

"Not particularly." I push a button, and the sound of beans grinding calms me every single time.

"It's okay to say that you had a guest over last night. I won't judge you if it is your favorite neighbor either." He sounds pleased with himself.

My fingers clasp onto the cup, and when the last drop falls, I bring the rim to my mouth. "So what? We got out a little aggression."

He slams his hand onto the counter and seems ecstatic. "I knew it! Eventually, you two needed to work out whatever vibe you have going."

"Vibe?" My brows rise.

He looks at me like I'm crazy. "Everyone knows that bickering is a front for deeper intentions."

I shake my head gently side to side. "Well, it happened, and that is that. We ran into one another earlier as if it is a normal day."

"Really?" His nose wiggles. "Huh."

"The only thing to come out of it is perhaps a period of calm for the coming weeks. A temporary ceasefire in our intent on wanting to kill one another."

Oliver seems doubtful. "But is it, though? Angry sex does things to people. So good luck with your idea."

My exhausted breath can be heard. "Can we just focus on why you came over?"

"Came over? My guess is that it isn't the same as the way you came with her."

"You're a little crass this morning." I throw him a pointed look.

He shrugs. "What? This news makes my day. I want to see this all unravel. I mean, how the hell do you live next to the woman you had meaningless sex with?"

My jaw slides to the side. Huh, I didn't think about that. "It will be fine." Or maybe not.

"Sure. Make that your motto."

"I regret telling you anything."

"Then clean up the evidence a little better," he counters.

I raise my palm to indicate for him to tune down this conversation. "Seriously, can we now focus on work?"

"We have that work event coming up. Are you bringing a date?"

"No," I instantly reply.

Oliver gives me an oh really look. "I'm off the hook, as I'm our representative for that conference out in Anaheim. You're the one who should probably not arrive solo, and you might have a solution for that."

Tightening my jaw, I can't even process anything anymore. "Work," I direct.

Oliver reluctantly agrees, giving me an opportunity to be distracted for a few hours.

It's dinnertime when I get home. Normally, I'm not back this early on a workday, or when the sun is hanging low, but I headed into the office at the crack of dawn. Parking, I see the handyman packing up his truck across the street. They've been working on that house forever.

Walking up the few steps to my porch, I rub my face and groan instantly.

Seriously? A box the size of half my body? This is what the delivery man has left me as a gift that keeps on giving? I tilt my head to read the label. Yep. It's Esme Pines. My little demon.

Purely because it's been a long day, my annoyance scale has tipped to one side and not in her favor.

Opening my front door quickly, I set my laptop bag inside then shut the door. Luckily, I already rolled up my sleeves and got rid of the tie in the car. Carrying the box, I at least get a little arm workout.

Balancing the box as I make my way to Esme's front door, I wonder how she would even lift this thing?

Setting it down again, I knock on Esme's door. Sure, the doorbell would work, but that is far too elegant for my building fury right now. A strong fist against the wood of her door is by far better.

I hear her grumbling something, and she seems to get the message to powerwalk. She peeks through the glass next to the door and immediately her shoulders sag.

When she opens the door, her glare is a reminder that we are capable of forgetting the other night.

Except…

She looks hot with her hair up in a knot on the top of her head, her tight tank pushing up her tits, and her flower skirt showing off her knees. Being easy on the eyes is not new. But having been inside of her? Well, I think my attraction level just went into a different realm.

"Yes?" Esme's hip tips out and her arm rests above her head on the door pane .

"Ah, there is my sassy little demon." I give her a fake smile then tap the box with my foot. "How the hell is this still happening?" My demeanor changes.

Her face falls. "Again? No."

"Did you not see this thing sitting on my porch? Couldn't have taken it away?"

That glare of hers is like an arrow to my dick. "Excuse me for not crossing private property, and no, I didn't see it."

"Here. It's yours."

I notice her eyes drop down, and she bites her bottom lip. A few reangles of her head and I realize she is trying to figure out how to get this beast into her house.

A groan leaves me, and I lean down because there is no way she could move this, to be honest. "Where does it go?"

"You don't need to?—"

"Don't fucking argue while I have whatever the hell this is in my arms."

She opens the door wide open. "Upstairs to the right."

Scurrying past her, I move quickly, as this box isn't the lightest. Finally, when I set it down upstairs, I take a moment and realize I'm inside her house. I've never been here.

Where am I exactly? "What is this place?"

There is a bed with old-fashioned bars at the headboard, and it's simple. Camera equipment is stored in the corner. Something about this room doesn't feel like your average guest room.

"This room is for photoshoots."

Ah.

"And in the box?"

She clears her throat. "A new pouf for the end of the bed."

I squeeze the bridge of my nose. "Humor me. What is that needed for? "

Esme licks her lips that begin to slyly stretch. "A place where women can sit… in lingerie."

I kind of want specifics but display that I'm unaffected, rolling my eyes. "How is that riveting news?"

"Maybe because your mind hasn't yet imagined in what position she's sitting." That sultry voice of hers, I want to punish her for it.

Stepping closer to her, I grimace. "Aren't you cute."

She glances away for a quick second then back to me, feeling satisfied with herself. "Thank you for carrying the box. See? I have manners." Her eyes seem to be challenging me, inviting me.

Surveying her, I take one determined step, causing her breath to catch. "I'm not sure words are enough."

This is escalating quickly, and I don't give a damn.

A flicker in her eyes and the way her body changes stance instantly snaps the air in the room. My hand comes up and I cup her jaw with a little force, causing her eyes to tie with my own.

"Which one of us is going on their knees? Because I'm the one who really has manners tonight," I rasp with my thumb dragging her bottom lip side to side.

She swallows. "Isn't the answer clear? I'm supposed to be thanking you." This woman's sensual voice is her curse, and I want to cause her to beg.

Dropping to my knees, I slowly reach under her skirt, with my eyes arrowing straight into her. "I want you to suffer."

Her breath grows heavy, and I feel her fingers rake through my hair.

The moment she steps out of her lace panties, my lips are placing kisses up her calves and then I switch to my mouth skimming up her inner thigh .

"How is this not in my favor?" she wonders in a breathy voice.

I snicker against her skin. "Because once my tongue is on you, then you'll never have it better."

Up, up, and then I'm there.

The apex of her thighs, her scent hitting my nose and my center of gravity easing. My tongue darts out and circles her skin, but I don't give her what she wants, and she tries to hide her pout.

"I want to taste you," I admit my impatience in a whisper that wasn't supposed to be heard.

Esme begins to tilt her hips forward as if she can bring her pussy to my lips.

"On the floor," I murmur into her skin.

No reluctance, she kneels down with her eyes still stabbing my own. She lies back on the hardwood and rests on her elbows, with her legs parted and her feet firmly planted.

I have no intention of stopping on this road. I'm on knees then my stomach and make her whimper the moment my tongue makes contact with her wet pussy, and her taste could be my dessert every day.

Her moan encourages me, and I lap her up a few strokes before I explore her clit.

"Fuck, Keats."

My eyes shift up while I continue to work her. Esme's head falls back as she hums a sound. I want her completely naked, but that's not what this is.

Dipping my tongue inside of her brings her writhing underneath me. Her face is flushed when she peers down at me with her one hand fisting my hair. I know that I'm doing something right as her hips slant up and she begins to ride my mouth .

"I think I want to be punished more by you," she softly cries out.

Pausing on her pussy, I give her one more lash against her swollen nub then abandon her.

"You might regret saying those words one day," I playfully warn her.

"Let's not debate this. Please make me come," she pleads.

I grin in pride. "Esme, your pussy has to wait. It doesn't deserve a quick release. And as much as your mouth needs to be stuffed with my cock, fucking your pussy is what I want because it's a good way to destress from my day at the office."

Hovering over her, I hold my weight on one arm, nudge her arms against the rug above her splayed body, and jam two of my free fingers into her mouth, catching her off guard.

"I bet this mouth can handle it." She nods, and I add another finger, her eyes mesmerized on me. "Your mouth likes to be filthy." I'm not asking, I'm telling her as her mouth salivates and she begins to suck. "My little demon is eager."

Popping my fingers out, I grip her chin and slant my mouth over hers but not touching. I squeeze her jaw and her lips part open, purposely allowing my spit to slowly fall from my mouth to land in her own. "And a dirty girl, too," I whisper.

One kiss. That's all she gets.

She feels desperate to kiss me harder, and I only reward her with my mouth capturing her bottom lip for a nip.

After all, she's submitting to everything I'm doing.

Dropping my touch from her jaw, her swollen lips that are my doing look natural on her, the rose on her cheeks too. Sliding down her body, I push her thighs apart with not an ounce of gentleness, and I quickly unbuckle, unzip, and pull down my pants just enough. It happens so fast, yet I still appreciate the way her arms stretch out, attempting to touch me in awe. I'm cocky that way to assume it's that.

"Keats." My name trailing out of her mouth in a labored breath is making me eager to slam into her.

"Is this what you want? To be filled up?"

Her body thrashes and twists, struggling to bring my tip closer to her pussy. "Yes," she gasps.

"That's a good girl. Begging." There must be a glint in my eye that translates to a warning.

"If my begging is to your fucking standards then hurry up," she replies in a playful clipped voice.

Aligning to her entrance, I nudge in. We moan together in the instant feel of one another, her pussy tight around my cock.

I begin to move, working my way up to being relentless in my pursuit to make us come.

Her nails. Why do they feel so damn perfect when she claws into my shirt? She's attempting to imprint on me like a wild wolf.

There is no doubt in my mind that she might be sore tomorrow as we continue to fuck roughly on the floor.

I'm not sure who is grunting and who is moaning, who is thrusting harder, because she's clenching around me and moving to accompany every plunge in and out.

We get there. A mind-blowing, coming undone, will-struggle-to-recover orgasm.

Esme wails, and I roar out my release shortly after as we grind against one another.

It takes half a minute before we sink onto the floor to come down until I end up as a starfish on my back, and her knees remain pointed to the ceiling with her thighs splayed out and her skirt bunched around her waist. We both wait for our breaths to even out.

She felt so damn good, the room is spinning.

On the outside, I may have control of her, but inside, I'm unhinged around her.

Then it dawns on me.

"Condom." My tone is flat because I'm still trying to lower my heart rate.

"Pill. As much as you're an ass, I know you're not that much of one."

My face puzzles as I continue to stare at the ceiling. "That's a lot of trust."

She shimmies her skirt back down. "Regardless of what we may think of one another, we're not that far off the crazy wagon."

I let it go because she's right. Under our barbs, we don't really think the other is a bad person. We are annoyance.

Continuing our deflation of the last ten minutes, we say nothing. But she finally opens her mouth and in a plain tone asks, "Pizza?"

"Sure."

"Good. Because the pizza that I ordered before your arrival should be here any minute, and I need you to open the door while I clean up."

I smile, but she can't see it. "Ah, you need my services. Give me a second."

Which means that neither one of us is storming off like last time.