It’s not. I open the door. Mac is standing there with his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“I heard Nathan’s truck roar out of here. I wanted to see if you were okay.”
“You can’t be here. If Nathan sees you he’ll lose his mind.”
“I’m not worried about Nathan. I’m concerned about you,” he says, wiping at a stray tear with his thumb.
“I’m okay. We used to fight like this from time to time growing up. It just feels a little more dramatic now that we’re both adults. He’ll calm down. Once you go back with your team, I’m sure he’ll forget about it all together. I think having you next door has just rattled his cage a bit,” I say.
He looks down at his shoes, and swats at a bug flying past his face in the porch light. “I’m not going back to my team.”
“What?” I say, surprised.
“Can we go somewhere and talk? These bugs are dive bombing me.”
I don’t want to invite him in and risk Nathan coming home. He’d really lose his mind then, and I’m not sure Mac would make it out of the house alive.
He motions over to the rope swing in the front year. “Climb up, I’ll give you a push,” he says.
My hips and ass are too big to climb through the hole of the tire like I used to, so I sit on top of it, wrapping my legs around and locking my ankles so I don’t fall off as he pushes me. The tree branch creaks, and I just hope I’m not too heavy for the old oak.
“What happened?” I ask. “Why aren’t you playing for the Whalers anymore?”
He lets out a long sigh. “When my mom died last year, I came home to take care of the house and her affairs, but after I went back to the team, things just weren’t the same. My head wasn’t in the game. I realized the only reason I was still playing for the Whalers was because it made my mom so happy to watch me play. Now I just don’t see the point. It doesn’t make me happy anymore. I’m sick and tired of not being happy. I want to do something that matters and that helps people. That’s why I’m opening my gym. I want to make a difference.”
“I didn’t know,” I say. “I followed your career closely, but I never heard anything about it on the news or in the papers.”
“The media doesn’t know yet. I’ve only told my coaches. They’re trying to get me retired instead of having me quit so I can keep my endorsements. They’ve been supportive and they understand.”
“You’re amazing, you know that?” I tell him.
He stops the swing and stands in front of me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “So are you.” He brushes the hair out of my face. My eyes burn. I can feel them swelling up the way they do after I cry. “I want you to know this isn’t just a fling for me. Now that we’re both back in town to stay, I want to get to know you better,” he says.
I nod, trying not to cry again. Hearing him say that makes my heart burst with joy. Even though it might destroy my relationship with my brother, I want to be with Mac. At first, when I thought Nathan had a genuine reason to hate Mac, I was willing to back off. But now that I know his hatred for him is only based on Nathan’s own insecurities, I’m not going to let him keep me from something real, something I’ve always wanted. Mac is too important to me to just let go.
He kisses me and I don’t care who sees. A neighbor will probably tell Nathan, but I’m not worried about it any longer. I’m done hiding from my brother.
“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asks.
I smile and nod at him.
“Good. I’m going to hold you to that.”
He kisses me one last time and I watch him walk back to his house. I stay on the swing a while longer, wondering if Nathan will come back or if he plans to stay mad at me all night.
I stay on the swing and think, and watch the lights in Mac’s house go off. It’s midnight by the time I go inside the house and Nathan still isn’t home. He must’ve been really pissed. I wonder who he could be staying with. Maybe he has a girlfriend he never told me about.
I go to my room. Mac’s bedroom light is on. I sit on my window seat and watch as he gets ready for bed. My light is off, so it’s easy to see him. He glances at my window, but I don’t think he can see me. He stands right in front of the window, facing my house as he takes off his shirt. I can’t help but giggle and wonder if he’s trying to give me a show to make me feel better. If so, it’s working. Maybe he can see me after all. Was he watching me on the swing? Did he see me go into the house and assume I would go back to my room and see him changing?
I pick up my phone and find the number he gave me.
Looking good, I text him.
He picks up his phone. Even from this distance I can see the smile on his face as he reads it. He puts the phone down on the desk next to him and takes off his jeans next. I sit up a little straighter.
Take it all off, I tell him.
He glances at his phone seconds after I hit send. Again he smiles, showing teeth this time. His boxers come off next. He’s hard, his dick pointing at the ceiling. The head rests right above his belly button. My breaths become shallow as I watch him stand there. He doesn’t do anything. Just stands like a statue, holding his phone and watching my window.
Touch yourself, I respond.
After a quick glance at his phone again, he starts to slowly stroke his already hard cock. Apparently I’m in control of this show. I like that.
Take a picture and send it to me, I say.
He holds his phone at a downward angle. The flash goes off and seconds later there’s a chirp on my phone notifying me I have a new text.
I get the photo and cover my mouth in surprise. He actually did it. And God, is it beautiful. That’s one photo that will be going in the private collection with the photos I took of him in high school when he wasn’t looking. This will definitely help when I’m alone and feeling frisky.
I suppose the polite thing to do would be to send one back to him. I’m not sure if the picture will show up in the dark, but I don’t want to turn on the light and ruin the effect. I take off my clothes, except for my bra and underwear and stand in front of the mirror and take a selfie.
With the flash on, it takes a fairly decent shot. I send it and go back to the window.
He doesn’t smile this time when he sees the text. He gets an intense look on his face and starts to stroke faster.
Slow down, I don’t want you to come yet. I tell him. This show is far too much fun to stop anytime soon.
He stops stroking all together and fondles his balls instead. It’s so sexy to see him touch himself.
I take off my bra and snap another picture to send to him. He looks at his phone again and starts to reach for his cock, but stops himself. I can see the lust-filled look and the frustration on his face from not being able to stroke himself. If he can’t even touch himself, that means he’s probably so turned on right now that he will come soon.
He lets go of his balls and types back. You’re driving me crazy.
If you’re good and do as I say, I’ll send more, I reply.
His smile is back. Yes, Ma’am.
Take a picture of you holding yourself, I tell him.
He’s a good boy and does as he’s told. I get the picture seconds later.
I take off my panties and take a full nude shot this time and send it his way. I know I’m torturing him with these pictures, but I’m torturing myself as well. I’m so turned on that I will barely need to be touched to get off. Now that I’ve had sex with Mac, masturbating seems like a sad substitute.
I throw on a l
ong t-shirt and nothing else, and slip out of my bedroom window the way I used to as a teen when I was grounded. Our house is ground-level and easy to get in and out of. I leave the window open a little so I can sneak back in. I locked the door just in case Nathan decided he wanted to talk when he gets home. This way he’ll think I just didn’t feel like talking to him. I’m not too worried about it, though. He’s not the type to want to talk right after a fight. He’s the type to let it fester and then blow up when it all gets out of control. I will never let that happen, though. I’m the type who confronts things and sticks with it until it’s all smoothed over.
I sneak over the fence into Mac’s yard. It feels like a really creepy thing to do, but I’m fairly certain he will appreciate the visit right about now. Why see things in a picture when he can see the real thing?
Open your window, I text.
I’m standing outside, just to the side of his window like a total stalker. He can’t see me from where I’m standing, and I have to admit, it’s thrilling to watch him.
He stares at his phone, a confused look on his face. I can’t help but laugh. Maybe he thinks I’m about to yell something to him. He looks up from his phone and toward my house, then opens his window.
He doesn’t startle when I appear right in front of him, but he looks surprised and starts to laugh.
“I’m way too horny to do this at a distance,” I tell him.
“This would be superhot if it didn’t remind me of every horror vampire movie I’ve ever seen,” he says with a chuckle.
“That might actually work in this scenario, because I’m about to suck you dry.”
His eyes widen. “By all means, come inside.”
He reaches toward me and helps me in through his window.
My shirt is damp from the drizzle outside. It clings to my skin and makes it obvious I have nothing underneath. “Naked looks good on you,” he says in a deep voice, and traces my curves with his hands until he reaches the hem of my shirt and slowly lifts it off of me.
“You too,” I tell him.