Dirty Cupid

Excerpt From: Dirty Cupid

You’re as beautiful as the roses in the daylight, I’ll make you scream and beg all night. I want you wet and whimpering when I come for you. — Cupid

Cupid was at it again, this time delivering a pink rose bouquet with sprigs of baby’s breath in the mix. Cupid had left the flowers on her doorstep in the frigid weather, conveniently placed for her to trip over when she went to retrieve the morning newspaper. The card stated the same thing, minus the new poem—same flower shop, same handwriting, same Cupid—all inadvertently arousing a strong reaction from her.

Wet and whimpering? Oh, dear Lord. Scream and beg? Tiffani swallowed hard and clenched her thighs. No man had ever said anything like that to her before. No man ever made her whimper or beg or scream. She reread the note and blushed.

She should be offended. She wanted to huff and scream at the absurdity of the situation. It should have scared her knowing some stranger was making sexual remarks towards her and knew where she lived. But it didn’t. Her mind played vivid images of her mysterious lover licking and stroking her to orgasm, continuing well into the night until she begged him to quit.

How twisted was that? Tiffani’s cheeks heated despite the winter breeze blowing in her face.

“Early Valentine’s present?”

Tiffani jumped at the sound of her neighbour’s voice.

“Uh…no.” She quickly stuffed the card in her pocket.

“Boyfriend’s apology?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the railing on the porch they shared.

She’d only met her neighbour twice after purchasing the town home five months ago. The first time he’d caught her ogling him the day he’d moved in, and the second time when she’d pounded on his door to request silence. To her surprise a woman had answered that last time.

Tiffani didn’t know his name and worked too much to bother learning his habits. She left the house at six and came home around six. He, however, was at home at both times.

“I don’t have time for a boyfriend.” Tiffani sighed thinking of the note again. “I honestly don’t know who they’re from.”

“So you’ve got an admirer.”

“Something like that.” Tiffani raised her eyes to meet his and reminded herself to breathe.

His dark hair was tousled, his green eyes still filled with sleep—both giving him the just out of bed look. Though outside it had dropped to nearly freezing, he stood in a simple T-shirt and jeans watching her. Oh, shit. Tiffani glanced away quickly picturing how awful she looked without makeup and wearing her favourite snowflake pyjamas.

“Uh, I’m Jay, by the way.” The corner of his lips tilted in a small half-grin. “Jay Stewart. I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself since I moved in.”

Tiffani nodded dumbly. “I’m Tiffani McIntire.”

She stood waiting awkwardly for him to say something else. Instead he simply stared at her, with a maddening hit of arrogance. She shivered as an unexpected tingle crept down her spine.

“Well, uh, I need to get my work done.” Tiffani bent to pick up the bouquet. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Tiffani?” When she looked over her shoulder, Jay smiled. “Good luck with your admirer.”