Page 3 of Cautious

I open my mouth to apologize, although I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for, but a different set of words fall out instead.

“You know, it’s kind of rude to wave a cock in someone’s face.”

Yep. That just happened. It’s like my own brain hates me.

Snatching the plastic dick from his hand, I slam the door in his face. I bang my head against the wood repeatedly before knocking, making me sigh again.

Why won’t he leave? Doesn’t he realize my mouth is only big enough for one foot?

Pulling the door open again, I paste on a big-ass smile.

Fake it till you make it, Callie.

“Go out with me.” It’s a demand, not a request, his gruff voice making my nipples harden.

Wait, what?

Blake

I wait for her answer, still unable to move my eyes from that fake dick and the image I have burned into my brain of this vixen, sliding it in and out of her slick pussy. I left, knowing if I didn’t, I’d have come in my pants just from the sound of her breathy voice.

“Huh?” she questions, looking adorably confused.

I take in her petite but curved-in-all-the-right-places body in denim cutoff shorts and a baggy yellow T-shirt that keeps slipping off her shoulder to reveal a violet-colored bra strap. Teamed with her long, sleek, strawberry-blonde hair and light brown, almost copper-colored eyes, I have to fight to remind myself that fucking someone in their doorway, who you’ve just met, is not polite in most social circles. Not that I give a fuck about being polite. But my grandmother, who lives next door, could probably do without a live-action porn show featuring yours truly.

“Did you just ask me out?” she says with a frown.

“I did, and I’d like to point out at this juncture that you haven’t answered, so…” I drift off, prompting her to respond, hopefully with a yes.

“Are you a serial killer?” she asks, watching me warily for a response.

“No, not a serial killer,” I answer dryly, not even trying to fight my grin.

“Do you have a red room of pain?”

“What the fuck is a red room of pain?” I cross my arms and stare at her with morbid fascination.

“So that’s a no then… do you live in your parents’ basement?”

“My parents are dead. But even if they were alive, the answer would be no. I left home at eighteen and never went back.” I surprise myself by candidly answering her. I don’t usually do the sharing thing, especially with women I’ve just met.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she says softly. Something about the guarded look in her eyes tells me she gets it more than most.

“It was a long time ago.” I shrug. “So, if I promise not to take you to any red rooms of pain or dismember you and bury you under my parent’s basement, you’ll go on a date with me? Perfect. I’ll pick you up next Friday at 7 pm.” I turn and walk away with a grin, not giving her a chance to say no.

“Erm… just saying… promising not to dismember and bury me in your parents’ basement is oddly specific and not really all that reassuring, Mr. Bundy,” she yells behind me, making me chuckle.

I look over my shoulder and see her arms crossed over her chest, the tip of the pink cock poking out from the crease of her elbow where she still has it in her hand.

“Friday. And it’s Blake. Blake Price,” I tell her, figuring she’ll need to know my name so she can scream it before I fuck her into a coma.

“I think I’ll stick with Bundy until I make it home safe and sound if it’s all the same with you. And my name is Callie, with an ie. Make sure the newspapers get it right if I become your next victim,” she yells again before slamming the door behind her.

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

I nod to Ned as he passes me the next morning. He’s one of the men who works at the steel factory just across the road. For years, the factory was the only business here on the outskirts of town that remained open after the recession until I bought one of the two empty buildings across from it. Small-town living means everyone tends to know your business. Being this far out at least gives my local clients the illusion of anonymity when they come in need of my services.

I push the door to my building open and stroll into my office after having had breakfast with my grandmother. My mind is still very much on my encounter with her bewitching new neighbor.

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