Chapter 1

Reed

“We are so good together, baby,” she pants from underneath me. “The paparazzi got some amazing shots of us tonight, and your silver tie complemented my dress wonderfully.”

A bead of sweat trickles down my temple as I start to drive deeper.

Harder.

Faster.

Anything to get her to stop talking. How in the fuck she can have coherent thoughts when her ankles are resting on my shoulders is beyond me. I sure as hell can’t think straight. Nothing past getting her off so I can tumble after.

“I’m going to Fiji next week,” she tells me in staccato bursts, each word popping out of her mouth to match my thrusts. “You should come with—”

Fuck this.

I pull out, flip her over, and draw her up to her hands and knees. I drive back in and am rewarded with a long moan in return that seems to go on and on and on.

Finally. Her yammering has given way to the sounds of pleasure, and I can get back in the game.

One hand on her hip, the other on her shoulder to hold her steady, I give it to her hard. She told me that’s what she likes, but fuck if you’d know that by the way she was trying to carry on a conversation.

This position seems to work, and all talk of a trip to Fiji seems to be forgotten. As my breath starts coming out faster and my balls tighten, her moans turn into screams.

Sharp, piercing, eye-watering screams. The type that make me think my ears are bleeding, and I suddenly long for her to start talking again.

I consider for a brief moment slapping my hand over her mouth, but thankfully she lets out one last bloodcurdling shriek as she starts to come. Probably more from relief her screams will stop than from anything else, I go ahead and let loose, one last thrust, and I have a lukewarm orgasm at best.

Flopping to the mattress beneath me, I’m boggled when she turns over and says, “Like I was saying, you should come to Fiji with me. I’m doing a swimsuit shoot and…”

She keeps talking but I stop listening. Jesus, when did casual sex get to be so difficult? It makes me wonder if celibacy and the palm of my hand isn’t the better option. I roll off the mattress and pull the condom off. I notice her sit up on the bed, her mouth still moving as words pour out. I stare at her, and I just don’t hear a word.

With a sigh, I head into my bathroom, where I ditch the condom in the toilet and flush. Bracing with my hands on the vanity, I lean forward and take a good, hard look at myself in the mirror.

I don’t look like a guy who just had some amazing sex with a supermodel.

Well, yes, she’s a supermodel, but the sex was mediocre at best.

Fuck…maybe I’m getting tired of sex. I sure hope to God I’m not, because I really don’t want to be celibate.

“Reed,” she calls out from my bedroom. “I’m going to grab some water out of the kitchen. Want some?”

“Yeah,” I call back, although I really don’t. I want to go to sleep in my bed.

By myself.

I want to sleep in and be lazy tomorrow. It is, after all, the start of my summerlong vacation. It’s what a hockey player does when he just won the Stanley Cup. Not a fucking worry or responsibility other than trying to stay in shape.

My doorbell ringing startles me from staring at myself in the mirror.

What in the hell? It’s past 1 A.M.

Walking back through my bedroom, I snag my jeans from the floor and slip them on. My master bedroom is on the second floor, so I make it down the stairs and to the foyer just as the bell is ringing again.

Without looking through the peephole, I swing the door open and stare dumbfounded at a petite brunette woman on my porch. I note she’s wearing pajamas. Pale blue cotton pants and a matching T-shirt that while somewhat baggy can’t hide the fact she’s got a nice pair of tits. I also note that her long hair is a tangled mess and she looks cranky.

“Can I help you?” I ask her as I stand on the threshold, holding the door halfway open.

At that same moment, warm hands slide around my stomach from behind and I feel a naked body pressed up to my backside. A bottle of water appears in front of me from an elegantly manicured hand and she whispers in my ear, “Here you go, baby.”

I take the bottle but don’t spare her a glance, instead watching as the brunette on my porch narrows her eyes at me.

“Yes, you can help me,” she says in a husky, raspy voice, and I wonder if that’s her normal voice or her “I just woke up” voice. She points a finger at the woman clinging to my back. “You can put a muzzle on Screaming Barbie there. Her shrieks are enough to wake up the dead, so you can bet your sweet ass they woke me up.”

“Why, you bitch,” Screaming Barbie screeches from behind me, but I ignore her. I concentrate instead on not laughing.

“I take it you’re my neighbor,” I tell the dark-haired woman in an apologetic tone. It’s true…those screams would wake up the dead. It doesn’t help that my town home is built right up against hers, and since the master bedrooms on these floor plans take up the back half of the second story, that means my bedroom sits adjacent to hers.

“We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting formally, but yes, I just moved in a few weeks ago.”

I have to marvel at the way she ignores the naked woman behind me who just called her a bitch. Her eyes don’t even stray from mine once.

I stick my hand out to her. “Reed Olson.”

She surprises me by shaking my hand. “Josie Ives.”

She’s got a strong grip, and I like that. It tells me she’s a confident woman, which I find to be a tremendously sexy quality. And yes, I know I’m a douche for having Screaming Barbie attached to my back while checking out this woman whom I happened to wake up with some very loud sex.

“I can’t believe you’d come over here, calling me names, and now you have the gall to shake his hand,” Screaming Barbie says, and I have to call her that because fuck if I can remember her name right this very minute. I know I knew it when we had dinner, but it’s completely gone right now. After my neighbor nicknamed her, that’s all I can picture her as.

Josie still doesn’t even acknowledge her, keeping her eyes pinned on me. “Listen,” she says as she releases my hand with a sigh. “I’m sorry to be a bitch, but I just came off a thirty-six-hour shift and I’m exhausted. Can you just keep it down a little?”

“Thirty-six-hour shift?” I ask curiously as I manage to pull away from the angry blonde behind me. I lean an arm against the doorjamb and cross one ankle casually over the other.

“I’m an ER doctor,” she explains. “And despite how tired I am, I’m still a really light sleeper.”

“Well, my apologies,” I tell her sincerely with a slight bow of my head. “I think I’ve got a ball gag in one of my drawers I’ll use the next time.”

I’m completely fucking bowled over when Josie laughs, ignoring another screech of indignation from the woman behind me. Two deep dimples pucker just outside of Josie’s full lips, and her eyes dance with amusement.

She inclines her head at me and says, “Appreciate it, neighbor.”

And then she turns and trots down the porch steps to the sidewalk. I watch with an amused smile on my face as she turns left, walks ten paces, and jogs up the matching steps to her own veranda-style porch. I live in a townhouse in a very wealthy and exclusive area of North Raleigh. I bought this home because it was gorgeous, with custom interior upgrades and an Old Charleston feel to the neighborhood. The units are three stories with veranda porches at the entry level as well as the top level, where the master bedroom is. There’s a basement below where my man cave is set up.

I watch Josie all the way until she walks through her front door, even leaning out my door just a little until she’s out of sight. A total little hottie in her own right, and I admire her spirit.

“Reed,” the blonde whines as she tugs on the waistband of my jeans, and I suddenly remember her name is Natasha. “That was just rude.”

With a sigh, I step back into my foyer and shut the door. Turning to Natasha, I can’t help but admire her naked beauty before me. She’s tall, which is my preference, with a small waist and huge tits…also my preference. I tend to date models, and her blond hair is also to my taste. Total opposite of the petite, curvy, and dark-haired doctor just on my doorstep.

“I’m feeling horny,” Natasha pouts sexily as she steps into me. “I need more.”

I try not to wince at the prospect of her potential screams, so I ask her instead, “How do you feel about ball gags?”

Her expression is blank for a moment, and then her eyes narrow at me as she gets the implication. “Seriously?”

“I’m just saying,” I tell her with my hands held up. “They can be sexy. A total turn-on. And we won’t piss off my neighbors.”

“I’ll have you know many men enjoy my screams and what I do to get there,” she huffs out, completely offended.

“Many men?” I ask her slyly, to throw the heat off myself.

“Well, I’m choosy,” she starts to backpedal. “I’m not a whore, I’ll have you know.”

“Never said you were,” I tell her blandly.

“I can be quiet,” she murmurs, then licks her lips as she steps back into me. “I promise.”

I study her face for a moment, taking in the heavy makeup she’s still wearing and the fact her hair looks as perfect as it did when the evening first started. I’m guessing that’s the miracle of hair spray at work. My gaze cuts down to her breasts, which are so huge they look like giant balloons. They’re also overly firm, which attests to the large amount of fluid her plastic surgeon used to fill her implants.

“Actually,” I tell her gently, “how about we get you dressed and I’ll get you back home. I’m ready to call it a night.”

“But I thought I’d stay all night,” she pouts with her lower lip stuck way too far out for a grown woman.

Hell, I’d thought she’d stay all night too.

But I’m not feeling it now, even with a ball gag. My dick has zero interest right now. Screaming Barbie just isn’t doing it for me anymore tonight.