Dirty Neighbor (The Dirty Suburbs) (23 page)

“Put me down,” I laugh, pounding my fists against his chest as my stomach roils with morning sickness. “Put me down right now unless you want my breakfast all down the front of your shirt.”

He deposits me softly onto my feet but holds me close, swaying his body against mine. His face is still buried in my hair. And I take a quiet moment to process what just happened. Keeland Masters is mine, finally. All mine.

He grins at me and tugs on my short ponytail just like old times. He runs his finger down my cheek.

“Tag, you’re it, Sammie…You’re
everything
.”

Epilogue

"Is that a foot-long zucchini in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

I place the hot casserole dish onto a potholder on the counter and look over at my husband, wiggling my eyebrows at him as he enters the backdoor.

"Actually, it's a cucumber."  He says with a chortle. He pulls the vegetable from the front pocket of his muddy, distressed khakis. "Compliments of your mother. From her garden.” Keeland’s been next door at my parents’ house working the garden all morning while my mother dotes over Baby Hannah. I’ve been preparing for the housewarming dinner that Keeland and I are hosting in our new home tonight. “But I did miss you like crazy," he says as he comes up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist and kisses my cheek.

I sigh and melt into his embrace. “This is nice,” I whisper into the air.

I feel his grin against my cheek. “Why don’t you get your fine ass into bed and I’ll show you just how nice it can be?”

I giggle. I’m so happy. So, so happy with this man and our baby. I couldn’t dream of anything more.

“We don’t have time for that,” I say easing away from him before he convinces me to change my mind. “The guests are gonna start showing up any minute now and I don’t want anyone walking in on us naked…again. It was super awkward the last time.”

A few neighbors had stopped by with baked goods a few weeks ago. I’ll never forget the blush on Delores’s cheeks when she’d pushed open the front door to find Keeland on his knees, face between my thighs, both of us butt-nekkid.

Hey, what can I say? We’ve got to find creative ways to occupy ourselves while Hannah naps.

I feel Keeland shudder against me. Our neighbors sometimes seem to forget that doorbells were invented for a reason.

“Okay, but in all seriousness, can you give me a massage after the party? My back is killing me from all that garden work today.” He rotates his shoulders and cranes his neck from side to side in attempt to relieve some of the tension.

“Sure, baby,” I say, “but you’ve gotta stop letting my mother work you so hard.” I squeeze on my husband’s tense neck muscles.

Keeland has had a bit of free time on his hands since he sold Master Ink. My mother has been putting him to work on repairs, gardening and little renovation projects. At first, it was cute, but now, she’s starting to get a bit carried away. Aside from that, it’s super convenient living next door to my parents. They gladly watch the baby, drop off prepared meals and help with the cleaning when we need a hand.

Keeland doesn’t mind being my mother’s personal handy man in return, but he’s been craving something more, though. We’ve been talking about what’s next for him. He’s considering subletting one of the rooms in Isla’s yoga studio to open a small tattoo parlor. It would be the first in Reyfield and it would help Isla out with her financial woes.

As for me, I plan on opening my very own virtual auditing practice as soon as Hannah’s old enough to be away from her mommy for a few hours a day.

All-in-all, life is perfect. I never thought I’d say this, but little, quiet Reyfield is perfect for us.

“Mmm…now, I’ll be thinking about that massage all throughout dinner,” Keeland says wistfully.

“Will you be requiring a happy ending, sir?” I say with a mischievous laugh as I rope my arms around his neck.

He smirks at me. “Well, I won’t stop you if you want to give me a blowjob, but this –” he waves his arms, motioning around our messy kitchen; the sink piled high with dirty pots, the casserole ingredients on the counter, the baby paraphernalia covering every flat surface. “This…You and Hannah in our home – you’re my happy ending.”

Thanks so much for reading “Dirty Neighbor”. There’s lots more planned for the “Dirty Suburbs Series”.
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If you enjoyed “Dirty Neighbor”, I think you’ll enjoy “Waiting, Always”, a friends-to-lovers story from my Esquire Girls Series. It’s included here as a bonus. Turn the page to start reading!

Waiting, Always

(The Esquire Girls Series)

Madison (book 1)

Cassie-Ann L. Miller

Waiting, Always (The Esquire Girls Series) – Madison (Book 1)

Description

He wants me in his bed.

He’s extended an open invitation but taking it will have consequences – I know this...

Madison Moretti is a good girl.

She's focused on finishing law school, earning a leadership role in her father's law firm and getting over the guy who keeps breaking her heart.

She can list a dozen reasons why she should avoid becoming involved with sexy, tempting Domenic Gattusso. Aside from his troubled past, he’s her best friend’s brother and her ex-lover’s best friend. She’s always seen him as just a friend but all of a sudden, she’s discovering an alluring side of him that she never noticed before.

Madison is used to playing by the rules but when Domenic offers her a tempting invitation to his bed, she’ll have to decide if he’s the titillating exception that she’s always been waiting for.

Chapter 1

I swirl the red around in my long-stemmed wine glass, glaring at my buzzing cellphone on the mahogany coffee table. I sink back into the plush, beige cushions of the couch and with my free hand, pull the cream throw blanket tighter around my shoulders.

The phone rings once more.

Twice.

Three times.

My resolve breaks.

I pounce on it and hit ‘Answer’ right before the call is filtered to my voicemail.

When wrestling against my better judgment, my neediness wins out every time…at least when it comes to him.

“Madison, I’m coming up.” His commanding voice rushes out of the earpiece before I even have the chance to say ‘hello’. “I’m entering the lobby,” he announces.

“You’re
here
?”

“I said I’m coming up, Madison.”

“That’s a bad idea, Chase.”

“Go unlock the door. I’m in the elevator.”

“No, Chase.” I glance over at the tabloid laying on the coffee table. As many times as I’ve told myself that I am done with this bullshit, I always somehow end up underneath him, sweating and panting and screaming out his name. And he enjoys it. He gets high off of the power he has over me. “Not tonight,” I mutter under my breath tossing back the last of my red wine and setting the goblet down on the coffee table.

The line goes dead as the elevator climbs to my 16
th
floor apartment.

I rush over to the door and turn the locks shut.

Within moments, his palm is banging against the door. “Madison – open up.” His tone is even but firm, betraying no emotion in particular.

I press my back into the door but say nothing.

“Madison – open the door. Stop playing around.”

I’m not playing. I’m definitely not playing. I’m serious this time.

I press my ear to the door and hear him grunt angrily. His voice drops. “Madison – I know you’re standing right there, leaning against the door. You like listening to me beg, don’t you?”

“No – I don’t want you to beg, Chase. I want you to leave.”

He pounds into the door again. “Open. This. Door. Madison.”

“I’m sick of you embarrassing me, Chase.”

“Maddie…” His voice is now soft and coaxing. “Come on, pretty girl. Let me in.”

I turn around and glance into the peephole.

He’s standing there, looking utterly gorgeous. As always. His jet-black hair brushed back off of his forehead, his chiseled face freshly-shaven, that moist bottom lip pouting slightly, those dark brown eyes veiled with mystery and intrigue. And he’s the only man I’ve ever met who can look so utterly debonair in a three-piece, custom-tailored periwinkle suit with a pale pink shirt and matching pocket square.

What the hell!

I throw the door open and head back towards the living room without even looking at him.

I feel his arm circle my waist as he whips a bouquet of white lilies from behind his back.

White lilies…my favorite.

I spin around to look at him. I snatch the flowers out of his hand and set them down on the table, struggling to maintain my poker face.

“You keep embarrassing me, Chase,” I say accusingly as I reach for the tabloid sitting on the table.

He stops me, taking me gently by the wrist and bringing the back of my hand to his lips. “I’m here with you. I don’t care what that rag says,” Chase announces dismissively gesturing towards the magazine with his chin, “I’m here with you – not with
her
.” He makes the statement as if it’s sufficient to excuse his behavior.

His lips crash over mine in a passionate kiss that makes my stomach flutter. It takes every ounce of strength in my body to push him away.

Tears spill down my face. “What you did – With
her
–Why
her
?”

“Why are you letting that get to you, Madison? She’s nobody to me. And you…you’re just…
everything
.” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth in that way that makes my skin tingle, in that way that makes me imagine him biting down into my flesh.

I look him directly in the face. “This is serious, Chase.”

“I’m being serious, Maddie.” His eyes lower, peering at the bit of skin peeking out from beneath my plum-colored satin robe. He pulls on the sash and the robe tumbles from my body.

I’m exposed.

Wearing nothing but my flimsy, lace g-string in front of Chase DuBois, my ultimate weakness. He leans back against the wall and flicks his thumb across my pebbled nipple. I sigh with want.

“Take those panties off,” he orders in a lusty rasp. Goosebumps spread across my skin as the implication of those words registers in my body.

I lean forward and slide my underwear to the floor.

He strips out of his pants and sits on my couch. He slips a condom over his stiff cock and spreads his legs wide. “Come here.” His voice is a low growl.

I ease into his lap and tingles creep up my spine as his cock pierces through me. He grips my waist in place and surges through me with blunt, heavy thrusts. My breasts bounce each time he slams his pelvis into mine. I squeeze my eyes shut and thread my fingers through his hair. His warm hands trail slowly up and down my back. I moan his name and he answers with primal grunts. I love it when he takes me savagely. Just like this.

I feel the orgasm building within me…I’m getting close…So close…Just a few more strokes…

His body stiffens against mine. His face is red with strain. His short fingernails rip into my hips as he empties himself into my body.

He didn’t wait for me…

The bastard.

He throws his head back against the couch and calms his breathing before tapping my butt softly. “Get off,” he says still breathless.

I move and sit on the couch feeling half-done as he rolls the condom off and heads to the bathroom. I pull the robe around my shoulders and fasten the sash at my waist.

Shit – I did it again
, I think feeling utterly disappointed in myself.

He reemerges a few minutes later and I hand him his pants and boxers. He tosses me a charming smile as he slips back into his clothing. “Fucking you feels so much better than fighting with you,” he muses as he playfully taps my nose with his finger.

“Stop seeing her,” I demand. My arms are folded tightly across my chest.

He sighs heavily and looks at me with irritation. “I’m not
seeing
anybody, Madison.” The inference in those words is that he’s single. He’s not committed to anyone or anything…not even me.

That hurts.

“You know what I mean,” I retort. I’m pouting and I have every right to. I’ve been gifting my body to only him since I was 19. Yet he runs around town slamming every ‘model’ or ‘socialite’ that comes his way.

It’s not fair.

I want
more
.

He tucks his shirt into his pants and fastens his belt. “You’re a beautiful woman, Madison. But I need…variety.”

The words sting deeply. So deeply. “Fine then. Go. Get your ‘variety’. But you can’t have
that
and have me. I refuse to be just another – another
flavor
.”

He leans in close to me. “But you’re my favorite flavor,” he whines with a wicked grin before deftly running his tongue along the skin between my breasts.

“Stop it!” I hiss weakly, gripping my throw blanket and pulling it to cover my chest. I can’t feel this exposed, this vulnerable while I’m trying to push him away. “I’m serious, Chase,” I growl, leering at him.

He sighs heavily before glancing at his reflection in the decorative mirror adorning my living room wall. He swipes his finger across his tongue and then thumbs his eyebrows into place because god-forbid that Chase DuBois’ eyebrows be out of place.

He glances over at me, bundled up on the couch in the fetal position. “You’ll be back,” he shoots casually, confidently, as he strolls out the door, dragging my heart under his shoe.