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Artwork by Moira Nelligar
Copyright @ 2018
~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~
The new people who’d just moved in next door were…well, a little odd.
Peter banged around under the hood of his old broken-down car a while longer, just to watch them from the corner of his eyes. The woman, Danni, was hugely pregnant. The first time Joyce had seen her, she’d snickered that she must have swallowed an elephant. But he’d noticed his stepsister watching her with thoughtful, wistful eyes, and resting her hand on her own flat stomach. Was she trying to imagine what it felt like?
Danni had admitted that she was nearly forty, and a little nervous about having a baby this late in life. But she didn’t look forty. She looked a whole lot younger—and really pretty, if you could get past the gigantic bulge just under her swollen breasts.
Her husband looked even younger. Not teenage-young, like Peter and Joyce…but not forty-ish, either. Late twenties at the most.
Sometimes she called him Damian, and sometimes she started to call him Hunter but then flushed and changed it to Damian in mid-word. He never seemed to notice. So maybe ‘Hunter’ was some private, intimate nickname between them, he thought, the way his dad and Joyce’s mom had teasing little pet names for each other.
But it sure was weird to watch them together. Sometimes they acted like husband and wife, and sometimes…well, they didn’t, exactly.
“Peter!” Joyce came outside, and nudged him with one slender hip. “Don’t be so obvious.”
His fair skin darkened with an embarrassed blush. “Busy working here,” he muttered, leaning a little deeper into the innards of the absolutely hopeless engine that he’d been puttering with for months. “Go ’way.”
She ignored his surly command, and leaned a little closer. “How do you think they still manage it?” she whispered with a sly grin. “It must be like humping The Great Pumpkin!”
“What?” He shot up so fast that he nearly banged his head on the open hood. “What are you talking about?”
“Them!” She canted her head toward Danni and Damian, who were sitting on their apartment steps a few dozen yards away, basking in the warm sunlight. “Their bedroom is right on the other side of mine, and the walls are so thin that I can hear them banging and moaning half the night.”
“Jesus, Joyce!” His blush deepened. He and his stepsister had shared damned near every little thing since their folks had gotten married, and were better friends than just about anyone he knew. But still… “You shouldn’t be talking about things like that.”
“Well, they shouldn’t still be doing it when she’s almost ready to explode!” Joyce smirked, and covertly rubbed her own slender belly. “He bounces on her too hard, and he’s gonna set off a chain reaction, and that poor kid’s probably going to burst right through my wall like a rocket!”
“Will you just shut up?” He’d heard them last night, too, when he’d gotten up in the middle of the night to go pee. And he’d spent the next twenty minutes in the bathroom, vigorously whacking off. The illicit pleasure had both thrilled and appalled him.
Oh sure, it was natural enough for a guy to get horny when he heard another couple moaning and screaming with delight. But it hadn’t been pregnant Danni he’d been thinking about, last night, when he’d grabbed his stiff meat and pumped away.
What had hearing them done to Joyce? He couldn’t tell if she was aroused, amused, or just plain scornful. Maybe all three. She was good at hiding her real emotions behind a sly little grin, so sometimes even he couldn’t quite tell what she really thought. It was annoying.
She bent under the hood to stare at the big engine block. “You’re never gonna get this thing running,” she finally decided.
Her long honey-gold hair tickled the back of his hand. He jammed his thighs against the curving fender as his eager cock jerked awake with an electric thrill, and began to swell inside his now-painfully-tight jeans. “I will, too. It just needs some new parts.”
“That you don’t have the money for. You never should have bought it, Pete. Waste of money.”