Make Me Scream. P.J. Mellor
they could be trusted.
“No. It’s safe.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I’ll go get it while you finish looking around.”
Practically tripping over his own feet, he didn’t breathe until he closed the door behind him.
Following her around the small apartment, watching the sway of her sweet little ass, his shorts had shrunk two sizes. When she’d licked her lips, his respiration changed. Then when she’d puffed out her chest, he thought for sure she’d fall out of the low-cut neckline. That’s when he knew he had to get out of there.
He adjusted his shorts and took the long way back to his door in order to get his body to calm down. After months of abstinence, it was primed and ready for action.
Jamie was the first woman in a long time his dick had been even remotely happy to see. He sure as hell didn’t want to scare her away.
Jamie opened a vanity door and looked under the sink in her new bathroom. Maybe Devon would also loan her a couple of towels. She frowned. And soap. And shampoo.
Allowing her legs to push out in front of her, she sat back against the open bathroom door. She’d been in such a rush to escape Fred, she’d taken off without much more than the clothes on her back.
Thoughts of Fred sent a shiver through her. Money was getting low. If he found her again, she wasn’t sure how much farther she could run.
“Don’t borrow trouble,” she whispered. She had no reason to think Fred would find her. He wasn’t that smart. The last two times were just dumb luck. She hoped.
Her thoughts strayed to Devon. He had a nice smile, an open, friendly face. Of course, he could stand a shave. But he was still kind of cute, in a frumpy kind of way. He seemed harmless enough. And she could sure use a friend.
Jamie’s suitcase felt almost empty. Tamping down the urge to unzip it and see what was inside, Devon strolled toward the group of men at the fire pit.
Dropping the small suitcase by the center fountain, he plopped down on a vacant wrought-iron chair and stretched his legs toward the fire.
“Hey,” he said to the group.
They mumbled their greetings.
“So who’s the blond chick?” Drew from unit two asked, stretching to look past Devon as if he might find Jamie hiding behind the chair.
The others quieted, waiting for Devon to answer.
“Jamie,” Devon answered. “Jamie Cartwright. And before you ask, no, I don’t know much more than that, and, no, she is not interested in being shown around. Keep away from her until she at least gets settled in. Remember what happened with Alexis.”
3
“Aw, shit, Dev, you make it sound like we gang-raped her or something.” Chris scowled and flipped his long ponytail over his shoulder and then crossed his arms over his tanned chest. He referred to himself as a dancer, but Devon knew a stripper when he saw one—male or female.
“I’m not the one who got in the shower with her,” Drew pointed out then glared at Chris. “I still can’t believe you did that.”
“So I read the signals wrong,” Chris groused. “Sue me.”
“You’re lucky she didn’t have your ass thrown in jail!” Drew shot back.
Todd, the newest resident—until now—shifted and glanced around. Todd worked with Chris and had already gained a bigger reputation with the ladies. He snickered and crossed one bare foot over his waxed leg. “Dude, what were you thinking?”
Chris took a swig from his longneck beer before answering. “Her pussy was practically dripping for me. Why do you think she was squirming on my lap? Plus,” he said, pointing the beer-bottle neck at the crowd around the fire, “she had her hot little hand in my pants not fifteen minutes before she went to her apartment to shower. Any one of you sons of bitches would have done the same thing. You’re just pissed because she chose me.”
“That’s not what she told me when she came in to break the lease.” Devon, along with the others, had seen the foreplay in the courtyard and had the same interpretation as Chris. But Alexis told an entirely different story. Not wanting to get in serious shit with the management company—or worse—he’d gladly refunded her deposit and waved good-bye.
He glanced at his watch and wondered if he’d given Jamie enough time. Immediate memories of her straining sweater had the fabric of his shorts doing the same. Down, boy.
“But all that’s history,” Devon said with a smile, glancing around. “My point is you need to play it cool with Jamie. We don’t want another woman to run screaming from the complex. I mean, who knows if this one would run straight to the police.”
The men shifted in uncomfortable silence, and Devon heaved an inward sigh of relief.
He wasn’t ugly, but he also wasn’t stupid. Compared to most of the specimens gathered around the fire pit, he would come up lacking. He’d had a view of Chris’s package when he crossed his legs. He absolutely did not want to be compared and come up lacking—in any area.
“Leaving already?” Chris asked when Devon stood and retrieved the suitcase.
“Hell, no,” Devon answered, wracking his brain for a reason not to return. “I’ll be back in a few. I need to drop off the suitcase. Need more beer? I can make a beer run after I do this.”
The men voiced their approval, and he nodded, then turned toward Jamie’s door.
He knocked and waited, his overactive imagination playing out a scene he craved with every cell in his body.
Jamie would open the door, dressed in nothing but one of the old yellow towels and a smile. He’d kick the door shut just as she dropped the towel, her nipples puckered and hard on her firm breasts.
“I’ve been waiting for you all my life,” she’d say in her little sex-kitten voice as she walked to him and rubbed her nipples across his bare chest. Her hand would close around his erection.
He wondered when he’d undressed, but since it was his daydream, he went with it and pulled her into his arms.
“Devon? Are you okay?” Jamie stood in the open doorway, fully clothed, a puzzled look on her face. Her gaze dropped to his obvious erection, made all the more obvious by his death grip on his shorts. “What are you doing?”
Did he detect horror in her voice? Damn straight, he did. Of course she was horrified to open her door to find her apartment manager fondling himself. Hell, he was horrified.
“Ah…” Think, McCloud, think! What would Trent do? He’d whip out a smart-ass reply, that’s what. “Um, I read once if it moves, fondle it.” He grimaced. Smooth, real smooth.
Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Ha. Ha. Just kidding.” His smile felt as if it might fracture his cheeks, but he’d be damned if he’d retreat. She hadn’t slammed the door or screamed. That had to mean something.
She just stood looking up at him, making his mouth water with the view he had down her cleavage.
In his mind, she was naked again. This time she stood beneath the daisy light, the shadows playing peekaboo with her close-shaved pussy. She placed one stiletto-clad foot up on the chair, exposing her moist lips. He briefly wondered when she’d put on high heels, but since he was lost in his sexual imagination, he put it out of his mind.
She reached between her spread legs and flicked a tiny gold ring.
His penis tried to escape his shorts the hard way—through his zipper. Oh, my God, she had a pierced pussy. The little gold labia ring sparkled in the dim light.
“What did you say about a ring?” She closed the door behind him, once again fully clothed. Damn. “I