Into The Sunset: An Erotic Romance Anthology (20 page)

"Hello," I say louder, "is anyone home?" Okay,
so that didn't work out too well. It is probably best to let the
authorities handle this anyway. I turn around to leave, when a door
at the top of the staircase opens and a large, hard-muscled,
half-naked man steps onto the lower balcony.

Staring into the hallway, I see the tops of
his thighs draped by an ivory towel tied right under his belly
button. His skin obviously no stranger to the sun, glistens with
moisture from his shower. Droplets of water cling to the ends of
his short dark brown curls as his shadowy eyes evaluate me from
above.

Images of that body pressing against mine
invade my senses. I see myself touching those muscles, running my
fingers over his shoulders, digging my heels into the backs of his
legs. Fantasizing I'm running my tongue along the dark line of hair
that goes from his taut stomach to below the knot anchoring the
towel around his hips.

Pangs of curiosity grip my core, as I wonder
what he looks like under that towel. Spotting me gawking at him, he
flashes a wide smile and makes his way closer to where I'm
standing, while I stare at him the way a ravenous dog would stare
down a piece of meat.

"Please, come in?" he invites, smiling down at
me, "and tell me exactly what you want me to do for
you."

Naked Man

The way he asks me what I want by commanding
me to do it has my body's attention. I find myself wanting to do
whatever he wants. Something makes me think he is used to directing
women with what he wants from them. He probably just has to stand
around, and any woman within sight rushes straight toward him to do
his bidding.

Positive he is accustomed to beautiful,
elegant woman, I feel self-conscious standing before him. Sweaty
from the warm weather, I regret my decision to turn off the
air-conditioning in exchange for fresh air. Thankful I wore my
high-cut shorts so I can at least display my toned legs, I wish I
had worn something more attractive than my sports bra, smashing
down my breasts under a white tank top. My auburn hair is braided
down my back, and I know if he comes any closer, the freckles on my
nose will no longer hide from view.

The longer I stare at him, the more I think
touching him is not such a bad idea. Before I start to look like a
quivering mess in front of the half-naked man effortlessly putting
Adonis to shame, I raise my head to look up into his dark eyes and
ask him with as much courage as I can muster, "What are you doing
on my lake?"

His jaw goes rigid for just a moment, and then
a slow smile appears on his sensual lips.

"I just got back from running five miles
around my lake, and then I took a shower in my home. Now, if you
are planning to stay in my living room for a prolonged period of
time, I must insist you do so naked. You may start by removing your
blouse. I would love to see what you have for me," he offers very
generously.

I stare at him, eyes wide with
shock.
Did he just invite me to take off
my clothes?
Why is a voice inside my head
agreeing completely with his suggestion?

"Look Mr. Tall, Dark and Crazy, I am not going
to get naked in your living room. I mean- my living room. I mean-
my lake. What are you doing on my lake?" My voice rises an octave
the louder and madder I get. And somehow the madder I get, the more
turned on I feel by this half-naked man.

My arousal peaked by his dominant
manner, I admire how he seems in command of everything around him.
If I get close enough to him, I know that will mean me, too. Water
drips down his hard pectorals, making me want to suck in each
drop.
He must be keeping his chest wet on
purpose just to taunt me.

His eyes refuse to leave mine as he walks
slowly down the staircase, stalking me like a lion toying with his
prey. As he prowls closer across the massive wooden floor, I catch
the scent of his aftershave and Irish Spring soap.

I am beginning to think maybe I should have
stayed in my car and called the cops instead of barging into a
stranger's home. Maybe then, I would not be subjected to this
onslaught of desire for a stranger. He comes within easy reach of
me, and I rebelliously cross my arms across my breasts, blocking
his view and hiding my hardened nipples in one swift move. No need
to broadcast how he is affecting my body, mind, and better
judgment.

He walks straight up to me, getting so close,
I can see tiny hairs on his sun-kissed chest and his dark brown
eyes. He pauses in front if me, close enough I could tilt my head
and press my cheek against his damp chest. For a split second, I
imagine doing just that and ripping the towel from his body,
dropping to my knees, and discovering his cock with my
mouth.

Just before I lose myself completely and fall
down to my knees in front of him embarrassing myself, he passes by
my side without so much as a small brush of his moist skin and
lounges on a rather large arm chair facing toward me. Placing both
feet on the ground, his towel rides up his legs reaching mid
thigh.

Ignoring my questions completely, he commands,
"I would much rather have instantaneous obedience, but since you
seem reluctant, you may pleasure yourself for me. Slide your hand
down your pants and rub your clit until I tell you to do
otherwise." Strumming the arm of the chair with his fingers, he
waits.

Standing frozen, I notice my
discombobulated brain taking way too long to formulate a response.
Ultimately, I realize he's playing with me
. I guess this is how he gets his kicks, making fun of a
perfect stranger.
Of course, he knows the
affect his presence has on me, turning my head to mush, making my
panties wet and pussy throb. I wear my emotion right on my damn
sleeve like a badge of dishonor.

I take a step back to regain some
composure.

"Sir, " I begin.

"That's right," he interrupts me.

"It is acceptable for you to call me Sir. Sir,
may I come? Sir, may I suck your cock? Sir, will you fuck me? You
can pick which question you prefer."

"Listen," I place both my hands on my hips. I
don't think I can handle another minute of his sexy voice or his
unashamed sexual innuendos and demands, "what are you and your
house doing on my land?"

"Sweetheart," he replies, "if you would like
to see the deed to my land and house, it is right inside the top
drawer of the dresser in my bedroom. I will gladly take you
upstairs and show you. I promise it will be an eye-opening
experience." He smiles at me in challenge.

"The deed to this land is owned by Henry
Williams. Well, it was until two years ago when he left it to me. I
am Ashley Williams, not Sweetheart. There has to be some kind of
law against putting a house on other people's lakes," I yell at
him.

"I bought all but one acre of this land eight
years ago, Ms. Williams, when my father's long-time friend needed
to raise money to send his granddaughter to college. Your part of
the lake is situated right next to mine, it would seem," he informs
me, clearly amused.

"It appears as though we are neighbors.
Tonight, you will come for dinner," he states matter-of-factly. He
is not one for asking questions, I am quickly learning.

I struggle to make sense of what I'm hearing.
Grandpa sold his rights to the lake, almost everything he owned, to
pay for my college. The only thing he had to pass on in his will
was this cabin, and he gave that to me also. He gave me everything
he had. My heart swells with love for my Grandpa, just thinking
about how much he loved me and how happy we were here at this lake.
It feels right to be here now. I need to get to my cabin and call
my dad to verify Mr. Sexy Towel's claims.

As if on cue to take my leave; my tall, dark,
accosting stranger steps toward me, gripping his towel. He throws
me a disarming smile.

"Seven o'clock," he says, "and you
do not want to know what the consequences will be for tardiness."
Then he strides away blessing me with a display of his firm ass
stretching the towel draped over it. I stare mesmerized as the
towel slowly drifts down showcasing more and more of his lower
back. Right before he exposes that ass I am rooted in my spot to
see, he disappears around the corner and into his kitchen.
What an incredible, frustrating, incorrigible
man!
I turn around and walk toward the
door after my obvious dismissal.

Can I Handle This?

"Mom?" I ask as I hear someone picking up the
other end. Apprehensively, I clutch my cell phone to my ear,
storming around the living room in my grandpa's cabin.

"Yes, Dear Heart, I'm glad you were able to
call. We made it fine to Aruba. I wish you were here. Your father
and I are just about to have drinks on the cabaña deck," she states
excitedly.

"Oh, right, yes, Mom. I'm glad you made it
okay. I have to ask you something, though. Did Grandpa sell his
lake property?" I wait eagerly for her answer.

"Oh, Dear Heart, wow, where did that come
from?"

"I just need to know. I thought he had money,
at least enough to put me through school," I implore
eagerly.

"I think he sold some of his lake property to
raise the money. His old friend owns the other half of the lake
with his son. I don't remember the son's name. I think he is just a
few years older than you, Dear Heart. They made arrangements so
that your grandpa would retain an acre with his cabin and rights to
the lake. Is something wrong?

Oh, no, his friend didn't sell the lake did
he?" she asks worriedly.

"No, no, Mom," I try to calm her, sure this is
not the time to bring up Mr. Indecent Proposition.

"I was just curious. Their land looks well
kempt. The weeds on the bank were cut down, that's all. I was
worried that someone may have trespassed."

"Oh, well, that's nice. I'm sure grandpa's
friend won't mind you being there. You still own the cabin, Dear
Heart."

"Okay, Mom, have a good time. I'll talk to you
soon." Ending the call, I slide down onto the dusty cushion, glad
to know how much grandpa sacrificed for me, and it is wonderful
that the cabin is filled with so many memories, but how can I spend
the next two weeks on this lake?

How can I be near my very sexy and
obviously horny neighbor without making a colossal fool of
myself?

Pacing back and forth, I debate whether or not
I should venture out to bring in the supplies I brought for the
house. The milk I bought half an hour ago at the country store is
probably already spoiled in the summer heat.

I am a grown woman, a nurse who's had people's
lives literally in my hands. I can handle this situation, I
reassure myself as I open the front door of the cabin, march
straight to my car, and start unloading my belongings.

Night Spying

Just as I feared and hoped, I see Mr. Wild
Fantasy standing on the second-floor balcony. He is holding a mug
of coffee in one hand, finally wearing a blue shirt and Bermuda
shorts. His bare feet are crossed as he leans against the railing,
staring at me with an ironic smile.

To the best of my abilities, I ignore him and
start unloading the car. On my third trip outside, I notice his
balcony is now empty, and instead of relief at being rid of him, I
feel kind of disappointed. Well, I guess he doesn't have all day to
waste, staring me down.

Bending over and pulling an overfull bag out
of the trunk, I realize someone has materialized next to me, the
hairs on my neck standing on end. I straighten my back, leaving the
bag in place, and find myself a few inches from my neighbor's
brawny chest. The only thing going through my mind is I know what
that chest looks like under his shirt and how much I would love to
see underneath it again.

"Hello, can I help you?" I ask, unable to
think of anything witty or clever to say to him.

"Hi, " he replies, grabbing the bag with one
arm and strolling up my porch steps and into my cabin as if he
owned that, too.

"Ash, does this go in the bathroom?" he yells
from inside the house.

I run in after him as he strides out of the
bedroom adjacent to the main living room.

"You know, I always thought you were a boy,"
he states, lifting a box of canned food, placing it on the
counter.

"Your grandfather always called you Ash when
he talked about you." He starts placing cans in the cabinet while I
stand staring at him, trying to make sense of what he is
saying.

"Well, until I watched the two of you build
the deck out on the lake a few years back. I remember thinking how
sexy that ass of yours looked in those cut off jeans."

He must be Grandpa's friend's son, I surmise.
His friend was the only other person to own land around here, and
his father's house is directly across the lake. Me and grandpa
could see it with our telescope when we looked at the stars at
night.

A thought just occurred to
me.
If he saw us build the cabin, would he
have been awake late that night when I was alone on the
deck?