And a moment passes as we stare at one another, hotly aroused, the air sizzling. My fingers squeeze him again, eliciting another low growl.
And then the moment snaps. Like nothing’s wrong, I swim to the ladder and lever myself out of the pool. It’s not easy. I’m a big girl who’s now wildly turned on, and body parts fly this way and that.
But finally, I’m standing on the concrete, wrapping a towel around myself. Dripping wet, I walk over to the glass door head held high, hoping no one’s looking. Now would not be a good time.
But before going back in the house, my body turns of its own volition to look one more time.
And whaddya know, but Matt’s still in the pool, staring at me with a knowing smile on his face. Those blue eyes are hot, trailing over my curves, like they can see through the thick terrycloth.
Oh god, oh god! What did I just do? I behaved like a slut in front of him, squeezing his dick when he asked, showing him my nipples. I didn’t act outraged, I didn’t act like I was offended. Instead, I wanted it, thick and demanding.
And I want it even now.
Taking a deep breath, I break the eye contact, and step into the house. Fortunately, the A/C’s on full blast, cooling my heated skin. Hurriedly, I take the stairs to my room two at a time, eager for privacy.
Because did that really just happen? Out in front of everyone? Sure, we were partially shaded by the bushes next to the pool, but still, the water’s clear. Anyone could have seen.
But it did happen, it wasn’t a dream. In fact, it was the best thing that ever happened in my life.
Naked and wet, I grab the vibrator in my nightstand, fingers fumbling at the switch. And standing in front of the full-length once more, one hand spreads my pussy lips. Oh yeah, I’m horny. My pink walls pulse, clit big and standing up at salute.
And trembling somewhat, I guide the little toy home. Ah, that feels amazing. I imagine Matt Morgan’s hands on my creamy tits, his mouth on my erect nipples, his fingers in my dripping pussy. The build-up is instantaneous, and oh god, but I come right there. That’s right, standing up. I didn’t even need to be flat on my back, enjoying a long, drawn-out session. The alpha was so magnetic, so incredible, that immediately, ecstasy sweeps me like a tide, pulling me out until I’m jerking and clamping, mewling my pleasure.
Holy cow. Is this really me? Is this really happening? Because if Matt Morgan’s going to be living next door all summer … then I’ve got a lot of sweet dreams ahead.
CHAPTER TWO
Matt
Being the youngest of seven brothers means people often forget your name. I get called Trent-Sam-Ford-Matt-Goddammit a lot. Or sometimes I get called Pete, our dog’s name. It’s all good. With so many of us underfoot, you learn to let things roll off your back.
But none of my bros are home just yet. It’s me and the Morgan parents, together in the kitchen.
My mom has made her delicious and world-famous strawberry crepes this morning, along with bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, and biscuits. When there are seven dudes in a household, you learn to make way more food than the average person might consider ingestible.
“Theesh are sho tastee,” I mumble around the huge wad of goodness stuffed in my mouth.
Maddy smiles and tells me not to talk with my mouth full, like I’m twelve or something. As I swallow, a hand claps me on the back and I nearly choke.
Dammit, they’re here early.
I glare at Tim and Will, my nearest-aged brothers and twins. They’re both a couple of inches shorter than I am, but with the same black hair and blue eyes that we got from our dad. Heartbreakers are what the twins are often called. Or assholes.
They load up their plates and plop into kitchen chairs. Meanwhile, Maddy exits, waving at us.
“Sweethearts, make sure you eat healthy okay? All three of you. I don’t want my boys downing only bacon and pancakes. There’s yogurt and fruit in the fridge,” she calls, stepping outside. “I’ll be back later, after book club!”
And we nod, waving.
“Bye Ma,” I manage through another mouthful of pancake.
“Bye Mom,” chorus the twins as they squirt syrup everywhere. Not just on their pancakes, but on their toast, the berries, and even into their yogurt. Damn, that’s gross, but we’re all grown men. I’m not going to comment.
So instead, I turn to Will and Tim, one eyebrow raised.
“How’s it going?” I ask. It’s kind of a lame question, seeing that I work with them every day, but hey, sometimes you gotta spew niceties just to survive.
“It’s going,” Tim says with a shrug.
“Yeah,” Will agrees, “It’s goin’,” he repeats. “Money’s flowing like water, this shit is amazing.”