Page 10 of Rose and the Grouch Next Door

“Look at me, Rose,” He commands. “Tell me you are okay with this. I won’t do anything you don’t consent to, baby.”

“No, I’m fine, really. Please, please, Braxton.” I’m begging, not even sure what I’m begging for at this point, but I know I need this man. I need to ease the ache building inside me. I needhiminside me.

He sits up, sliding the hem of my skirt to my waist, where my top has fallen. He’s holding me by the hips, eyes glued to my simple white panties. I try to pull my legs together, embarrassed he can see the damp, wet spot of cotton between my legs.

“Don’t hide from me, Rose.” He scolds as he’s holding my thighs open under his gaze, not allowing me to close them. “I need to see this beautiful pussy.” He moves his hands down, thumbs skimming the outside of my panties, running back and forth over my tiny bundle of nerves. He’s lightly grazing my clit with his movements, teasing me, but not applying enough pressure to give me any satisfaction. Leaning down, he runs his nose against the damp fabric, inhaling deeply.

I cover my face with both hands. Can someone die of both embarrassment and desire at the same time?

“Rose, I told you I want to see your eyes, and I want you to watch everything I do to you,” he says, looking up at me from between my legs. “I need to see every glorious emotion cross your beautiful face when I make you come. Do you understand?”

Removing my hands to place them at my sides, grasping the fabric of my skirt, I nod in agreement. I’d do anything he wanted at this point. He’s promising to fulfill every dirty fantasy I’ve had since he moved in next door.

“Words, baby girl. I need you to use your words. Tell me you understand and want this as much as I do.” His voice is stern, but I don’t feel threatened. He’s taking care of me and because I want to please him and desperately want him to please me, I say, “Yes, I want this, Braxton.” My voice is soft and breathy. “Please, I want you.”

Sitting up, he grabs the sides of my panties and slides them down my legs, tossing them to the side, eyes focused on what’s revealed to him. “So beautiful, so wet and needy. And it’s all mine,” he murmurs possessively, leaning down to run his tongue up my seam.

I arch upwards, seeking his tongue as he continues to lavish my folds, circling my clit, before lightly sucking on it in a rhythmical pattern. At that, my moan is so loud, I know Honeybun can most likely hear me next door and might come looking for me.

My hands move to grasp his hair, holding him against me as I seek relief from the pressure building in my core. Expertly, he continues licking my clit and circling with light motions of his tongue. I feel two of his large fingers slowly move inside me, stretching me with a pinch of pain, but made easier by the wetness of my arousal.

Everything around me is fading, and I can only focus on Braxton and the need spiraling within me. He’s so intense, so much, too much, I think as I tug on his silky strands, wanting my release. A release only he is capable of providing for me.

His fingers are now pulsing in and out of me, going deeper with each thrust until they suddenly stop. Everything stops.

I know then that he knows. He can feel it. Proof of my virginity.

Dang it. I should’ve told him.

He’s older. Used to women with more experience. Will my inexperience be a deal breaker for him? I squeeze my eyes tight, waiting for his reaction.

Gently, he withdraws his fingers, moves to a sitting position, and smoothes my skirt back over my naked body.

Tears well in my eyes, and I know I’ve disappointed him.

Sighing, he turns to face me, tugging my top over my breasts once more, tying the strings. Then he finally makes eye contact. His ice-blue eyes are remorseful, but grow distant once again.

“This was a bad idea.” He gestures to me, sprawled on his couch. Standing, he roughly runs both hands through his hair and looks at the ceiling in frustration. He has to be in pain as I can see his hard, long length pressing against his pants. It’s likely begging for release if it feels anything like me, who’s sitting on his couch, impossibly wet and turned on.

“You are too young for me, Rose.” He growls, swiping his hand down his face. “Fuck, I know better.”

Emotional and embarrassed, I stand up, straightening my clothes.

“I’ll go home now.” Tears are glistening in my eyes as I turn away from him, going to retrieve my bag and dish from his kitchen. “No big deal, Braxton. I’m actually a big girl. It’s fine. I get it.” I continue to mumble and prattle nonsense with falsebravado as I make my way to his door, not even bothering to see if he’s watching me or giving him a chance to speak.

“Have a good night, Braxton.” With that, I grasp the handle, holding back my sobs, and stumble back to my small cottage, where my precious puppy is happy to see me with a wiggling butt and sweet smile. The one time I’m grateful he doesn’t talk, so he can’t demand to know what’s wrong. He just offers cuddles and comfort because he knows it’s what I need the most right now.

I certainly don’t need the grouchy jack wagon next door. Not now, not ever.

Chapter Eight

Braxton

Sitting at my desk, the clicking of my keyboard punctuates the silence. I pause, fingers hovering, then sigh in frustration, taking off my glasses and rubbing my temples. The feeling of guilt gnaws at me. Rose's crestfallen face haunts my thoughts.

I'd rejected her.

What a dick.To finally taste her, tease her, and then reject her because she’s a virgin.A fucking virgin.When I realized how close I was to taking Rose’s innocence the other night, I had to stop the madness. I’m too old for her. Period. She deserves better.

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