Double Team Read online

  Noah rolls his eyes. "I can see it in your eyes."

  "She's definitely hot," I remind him. In fact, the thought of her pretending I wasn't standing there naked, glancing away but then looking back at me because she couldn't help herself, makes my dick twinge. The girl is tightly-wound; that much was written all over her. And I could be the one to loosen her right up.

  “Get your naked ass out of my kitchen. And stop parading it around the front yard.”

  Upstairs, I glance out of my bedroom window toward Stuck-Up Chick's house. I told Noah she was hot, but hot is an understatement. The chick is the sexiest thing I've ever seen in a long time - not trampy and overdone the way most of the groupies who hang around the players are. And she didn't have a damn clue who I was.

  When the hell is the last time that happened? Noah and I are two of the most famous faces in the state, at least to people who follow football – Colorado's golden boys, born and raised in a little town in the middle of nowhere: West Bend. It's the reason we get cut a lot of slack for the crap we pull, like when we got arrested in West Bend.

  The whole prim-and-proper vibe the neighbor has going on is even hotter. I've never much been into chicks who look like schoolteachers, but I'd definitely let that one rap my knuckles with a ruler.

  I step inside the shower intending to shake off the image of the hot little next door neighbor, but instead I just wind up picturing her more vividly. The way she pulled her lush lower lip between her teeth when she looked at me. The way she sucked in a breath as her eyes lingered on my chest. The way she focused on the bongos like she wished they'd suddenly become transparent. The way she looked at me, her jaw set like she was offended by the whole naked with bongos thing, except she couldn't take her eyes off them.

  My cock twitches as I picture her standing mere inches away from me.

  "I shouldn't be doing this," she says, her voice breathy.

  "You practically begged for it."

  Her eyebrows go up. "I do not beg."

  "No?" I ask. "Well, I'll have to do something about that."

  "There's nothing you can do," she says, her jaw set, “because I'm not one of your desperate little groupies who's going to lose my damn mind at the sight of Aiden Jackson's dick."

  I like her sass. I can barely hold back a smile as I reach down with both hands and slowly slide her skirt up her thighs. "No begging, right?"

  "None." She speaks the word matter-of-factly, except she inhales sharply as I yank the skirt roughly up over her perky ass.

  "Even when I do this?" I ask, sliding my fingers between her thighs until I find the spot covered by her panties. I press my fingertips against the cotton fabric and she gasps louder. "You're soaked right through these."

  "So?" she asks. "Doesn't mean I'm going to ask for anything from you."

  The warm water from the shower pounding on my back, I stroke my hard cock as I picture her face upturned, inches from mine, and imagine sliding my fingers down the front of her panties.

  I roll my fingers over her clit, and she grasps my biceps, her grip getting tighter and tighter as she gets closer and closer to orgasm. When she tries to close her eyes, I order her to look at me, and she does, her eyes clouded by lust. She makes little panting sounds, her breasts rising and falling in the fitted button-down oxford shirt she wears, unbuttoned enough that her cleavage is visible.

  I bring her to the edge. Then I pull my fingers away and she whimpers her response, the sound nothing more than a needy whine.

  I stroke my cock harder now, the image of her desperate and wanting pushing me closer to the edge.

  She whimpers again, her mouth opening and forming a word, but she doesn't speak it. Instead, she presses her thighs together.

  I unzip my jeans, pulling them down and gripping my hard shaft. She looks down and the expression on her face is agony. "Put your hand on my cock. Feel how hard you make me."

  She reaches for me tentatively, her thumb pressing against the tip where pre-cum drips from it. "Aiden," she whispers.

  I reach between her legs again, my fingers slipping easily inside her and she groans as she strokes me. "You're not going to come so easily, sugar," I warn her. "Not until you ask nicely. Not until you tell me how much you want to feel my hard cock inside your tight little pussy, filling you up."

  Her muscles clench down around my fingers, her swollen pussy warning me how close she is. "Yes," she whispers.

  "Yes, you're asking me to make you come? Is this you begging me?"

  She whimpers as I stroke her, pressing my fingertips against the place inside her that causes her to make the expression of unbridled lust that I can't get enough of. "I want you inside me."

  That's what I wanted to hear. I slide my fingers from her and pick her up, pressing her hard against the wall behind us I thrust inside her in one easy stroke. She gasps loudly as I enter her.

  Fucking hell. She's warm, wet, tight, and smooth as silk. It's all I can do not to come the second I'm inside her. Soon, she's groaning loudly, making these little whimpering noises that come faster and faster as I fuck her up against the wall, one hand gripping her hair and the other under her thigh, pinning her in place. Then she's screaming my name, her pussy tightening around my cock suddenly as she climaxes and I can't hold back any longer. I let go, flooding her sweet pussy with my hot cum.

  "Shit!" I call out the word as the image pushes me over the edge, and I come.

  When I step out of the bathroom, I glance over at her house. The hot neighbor is sitting on her balcony drinking a glass of wine and reading the newspaper, a pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose and her long legs stretched out in front of her. Who the hell our age reads the newspaper anymore?

  God, she is such a little nerd.

  A sexy little nerd just waiting to be defiled.

  Noah thinks that staying in this neighborhood is going to make me behave? Yeah, right. Behaving is overrated.

  5

  Grace

  "I take it that since I'm talking to you, the neighbor wasn't totally psycho?" Vi asks on the phone.

  "Well…" That's up for debate. My cheeks warm at the thought of the sexy neighbor and the way I laid in bed last night fantasizing about what exactly I'd like that over-muscled brute to do to me.

  "You owe me a hundred bucks, don't you?" Vi asks, her voice light.

  "How did you know?"

  "Because you have a tone in your voice."

  "What tone?" I ask. "There is no tone. I simply said, ‘Well...' That indicates that he could completely be psycho."

  Vi ignores me. "I did some digging on your neighbor. Do you want to know what his name is?"

  "Nope," I say primly. "I'm not the least little bit interested."

  I'm lying.

  "Right," she says. "He's a - "

  "La la la."

  "Very mature."

  "You're worse than my parents, Vi. I don't want to know what you found, spying on my neighbor."

  Vi sniffs. "The next time I see you in person, I'm going to slap you for your insolence, comparing me to your parents."

  "For most people, being compared to the President and First Lady would be a compliment."

  Vi and I both know that neither of us is like most people, and we know far too much about the President and First Lady to consider the comparison a compliment.

  Vi snorts her response. "Where are you?"

  "It's ten in the morning," I say, glancing at my watch. "I'm working. Where are you?"

  "Lying in a hotel, waiting for room service," Vi says, her voice languid. I can practically hear her stretching like a cat over the phone.

  "Room service?" I ask absently, squinting at the projections for next quarter on my desktop. Those numbers can't be right. "Where?"

  "Where?" Vi pauses. "I'm actually not sure. Where are we, baby?" I hear a rustle and the sound of a sleepy male voice. "New York."

  "Is that your skier boyfriend?"

  "No, that's old news," Vi says dismissively.