Free thenoondaydemon by Anastasia Rabiyah Page A

with its fresh, white paint. The pecan trees looked wider than the ones on Abra’s property.
    The strangeness of the thought to sell struck her. Only moments before, she’d felt her parents’ property was paradise. Not now, not since —
    “Afternoon,” the stranger said.
    Abra shivered as she rose to face him. He stood atop her porch, flashing a sly grin. His arms looked well-made, built for heavy lifting and his firm chest and stomach showed beneath his white shirt. She studied his narrow face, the arch of his ebony eyebrows and the lure of those eyes. Her pussy moistened as she imagined their bodies heaving together in a sordid union.
    Blushing, Abra tried to look away. She glanced at the peeling paint on the side of the house, at the window she’d left open to let in the cool breeze. Where did this heat come from? But she knew. Her head turned slowly and she stared at his crotch and the round bulge there. She raised a hand to fan her face. “It got hot all of a sudden,” she said, thinking it an awkward remark.
    “It’ll pass.” He blinked, that smile only just fading.
    She watched as he looked her up and down as if appraising her figure. Beneath her tank top, her nipples hardened, pushing against the white lace of her bra, reaching toward him. Abra realized just how alone she was, and how sweaty and unkempt she must appear to this handsome man. Why did he stop here? she wondered.
    “My name’s Val,” he offered, stepping closer with one hand held out.
    Abra gawked at his palm, taken off guard. I shouldn’t touch him, not him. She reached out, nevertheless, her hand grazing his and let him shake her fingers. He didn’t let go, but remained there, holding on to her, with his smile tickling the sides of his full lips. What would it be like to taste those lips?
    He chuckled to himself as if he could hear her thoughts. Abra pulled her hand away, the heat of him blazing across her skin. She shot a wary glimpse over her shoulder at the wall, that hard, sturdy wall and pictured him holding her against it. His fingers would burn into her wrists as he pinned her there, unable to escape.
    “Do you have a name?”
    Laughter danced in his eyes when she looked up. She couldn’t decide on their color. Are they black, or brown, or some odd mix of hazel? Abra determined she would have to find out before he lost interest and wandered on down the road to someone else’s house. “I’m Abra , Abra Helene.”
    “Nice to meet you,” he said, and she imagined he wanted to tack on a few more words but held back.
    “Would you like a drink?” She wanted to offer him more than that, a shower, a bed, a fuck against the porch slats. What’s come over me? The turning of her mind rolled forth at top speed.
    “I’d like that.” He tilted his face up, and she noticed that indeed, his eyes shone like emeralds and amber, an odd mix of hazel. He strode closer, his boots loud against the wood.
    Her chest constricted. Abra sighed, fighting the tension in the hot afternoon air. “I made some lemonade.”
    “Is it good?” His fingers came against her left shoulder, sending a ripple of heat through her body. Her womb cried out for release, for attention and a man who knew how to touch her in all the right ways. He slid her bra strap back under the wider strap of her shirt, the familiarity of the gesture unsettling.
    “I used real lemons.”
    He licked his lips and sucked at the lower one for an instant. Moistened, they appeared tempting and ripe.
    Abra ran a hand through her hair, turned on her heels, and headed for the metal screen door, her heart aflutter with desire. The hinges creaked, an annoying reminder that this old house needed work, oil and attention. She didn’t know how she could do it all alone. She didn’t turn to see if he followed; she didn’t need to. His boots clunked across the linoleum floor.
    She bent to open the fridge, reached in and found the glass pitcher. The crack in it seemed so beautiful just this