Free For Your Pleasure by Elisa Adams

Chapter One
    The heat was almost too much to take. Humidity robbed me of a decent breath and sweat coated my brow no matter how many times I swiped it away with the back of my hand. The misery would last for three more days, according to the radio news broadcast I caught this morning on my way to work. Three more days before we got a little relief.
    Birds chirped in the trees overhead. Even their songs sounded weak. Uncomfortable. Summers in New England tended to be like this. Hot and sticky for days on end. Some people loved the heat. I hated it. Hated the way my hair and clothing seemed plastered to my body. Hated the restlessness that settled into my gut and wrapped its fingers around my throat.
    Even now, I shifted in my lounge chair, wishing I’d put in a pool last summer like my sister had tried to talk me into doing. The air conditioner was on the fritz. The repairman couldn’t get here for two more days. I groaned. The only place to escape the heat would be the office.
    A flash of movement drew my attention and a smile tickled the corners of my lips. The slight breeze wasn’t the only bonus to being outside. A light in my neighbor’s window reminded me of the real reason I’d come out here after dinner. He always got home from work at eight-thirty on weeknights. And changed with the lights on.
    My neighbor had yet to put curtains in his bedroom windows.
    I’d seen him for the first time two weeks ago, when he’d moved into the house across the yard from mine. The second-story windows were tall and narrow, spaced three in a row with only inches between them, affording me a very nice view. For days I’d been telling myself watching the guy was only wrong if I got caught, but it didn’t matter. Wrong or right, I couldn’t stop.
    From the first moment, I’d been obsessed. I didn’t know his name, didn’t know anything about him, and yet all my fantasies in the past few weeks had revolved around him. Tonight was no exception. Already I could feel my pussy getting damp. Primed. I knew what would happen next. Most nights, he did more than change with the lights on.
    My skin tingled with anticipation. I ran my hands up my sides, teasing my breasts until my nipples peaked, all while wishing it was his touch instead of mine. I just wanted him to fuck me. Was that too much to ask?
    Apparently. A sigh born of frustration burst from my lips. Two solid weeks of watching, and he never even looked my way.
    Sad, Callie. So very sad. At thirty-two, I’d been reduced to a voyeur, wanting what I could never have, logging way too many hours with my battery-operated boyfriend. I tucked a sweat-slicked lock of hair behind my ear. My sister, the psychiatrist, would have a field day with this one.
    My neighbor was gorgeous, but not in a conventional way. Toned muscles. Tanned, tattooed skin. Long, dark hair and an ever-present five o’clock shadow. Ripped T-shirts and worn jeans, the kind of man every girl’s mother warned her to stay away from.
    The kind of man I needed over me, inside me,making me scream his name.
    I wrapped my hand around the glass of iced tea sitting on the table next to me, stroking up and down like it was his cock. The condensation cooled my hand and I wiped the liquid down my neck. It did little to slow the fire raging inside me, both from the weather and the man across the yard.
    He stripped off his shirt and it dropped out of sight. Next, his jeans followed and he dropped to the bed in just his boxers. He ran his hand absently over the bulge there, the muscles in his abdomen flexing and bunching as he stroked his cock through the fabric. I mimicked the motion, sliding my hand over the wet bikini bottom between my legs. Two seconds in and I was already squirming, striving for release. It came quickly when I thought about him, about that big cock and what it would feel like inside me.
    I waited, breath held, muscles tense, for him to take off the boxers, but tonight it didn’t happen. My neighbor got up