Chapter 24 I WANT YOU
I WANT YOU
DIANE MAX (FL) — 21YRS
NICHOLAS JAX (ML) — 26YRS
NICHOLAS
The sound of my own grunts filled the empty room, raw and unfiltered. My body was tense, my hand moving faster over my shaft, chasing that sweet edge. I could see her in my head—Diane—like she was standing right in front of me. Naked. Teasing. Her perfect ass swallowed the thin strip of her panties, her breasts straining against a bra that looked seconds away from surrender.
It was obscene how often I thought about her. No—how often I needed her. The way her skin seemed to glow when light hit it. The little flick of her lips when she smirked. Every move she made was seared into me, a living, breathing fantasy I couldn’t put down.
The images in my head shifted like a slideshow, one filthier than the last—her slowly peeling off her shirt at her window, biting her lip, knowing damn well I was watching… bending over just enough to give me the perfect view.
My muscles tightened. The heat in my gut curled tighter, sharper.
“Just a little more,” I breathed, my own voice low and rough in my ears. My hips jerked upward, chasing that breaking point. Her name tore from me like a prayer—“Diane…”—just as my release hit.
Hot ropes of cum spilled from me, streaking across my stomach, splattering the sheets. I lay there panting, my forearm thrown across my eyes. My chest rose and fell fast, heart pounding like I’d just run miles.
After a long moment, I sat up, my skin cooling in the quiet. I turned toward the blinds, parting them just enough to peek across the gap between our houses.
And there she was.
Diane was sprawled on her bed, hips swaying slightly as she bobbed her head to music in her earbuds. The faint glow from her lamp painted her skin in warm tones. She didn’t look at me—but she didn’t have to. I could still feel her in my chest, in my cock, in the back of my mind where she lived rent-free.
It had been four months since her family moved in next door. Four months since she’d walked into my life and flipped everything upside down.
I remembered the day they arrived perfectly. I’d been outside, dirt under my nails, tending my mom’s flowers. I’d looked up—and there she was. Leaning out her bedroom window like she owned the world. Smiling in a way that wasn’t innocent at all.
That smirk had been the start of everything.
From then on, it was a game. She’d stand in front of her window—her window that lined up perfectly with mine—and put on little shows. Sometimes slow, teasing undresses that left me aching. Sometimes she’d drop her towel right after a shower, letting me drink her in while steam curled from her hair.
Never closing her blinds. Never drawing her curtains. Always leaving me with a perfect view.
She wanted me to watch. And I did. Every single time.
But with every night, every silent exchange, the line I told myself I wouldn’t cross kept blurring. At school, we acted like we barely knew each other. At home, we both pleasured ourselves to thoughts of the other. I kept telling myself it was safer that way—that I wasn’t the kind of guy who would just climb through her window and take her the way I wanted.
But tonight felt different.
When I saw her light flick off, it left a hollow ache in my chest. She could turn me on until my cock hurt, then just slip into bed and fall asleep like nothing had happened. That quiet dismissal lit a spark in me—a restless, impatient hunger.
I pulled on a shirt, adjusted the heavy bulge in my shorts, and slipped quietly out of my room.
The air outside hit me, cool and sharp, but it didn’t cool me down. If anything, it made me harder. My erection throbbed, pressing against the thin fabric of my shorts, every step reminding me of just how badly I wanted her.
I crept around the white picket fence that separated our houses, my footsteps silent on the grass. A walnut lay near the base of the tree. I rolled it in my hand, thinking, before aiming and flicking it up toward her window.
Thud.
A small, satisfied smile tugged at my lips—then doubt crept in.
What if I’d been wrong? What if I’d mistaken her teasing for something else? What if, for the last four months, I’d been building up this fantasy in my head while she thought nothing of it?
But then—her voice.
“Nico? Is everything okay?”
God, her voice. Sweet, curious, soft—and all I could think was how it would sound moaning my name, breaking apart under my hands.
“Yeah,” I said, forcing myself to keep my tone steady. “Everything’s okay. Can you come down here? I want—need—to talk to you.”
Her eyes lingered on me, scanning me in the moonlight. She tilted her head slightly, and I saw the moment she noticed the hard bulge in my shorts. My pulse spiked.
“Sure,” she murmured, disappearing from the window.
I didn’t know what she was doing up there, but I could imagine. Later, I’d find out I was right—she was slipping out of her sweatpants and t-shirt, sliding into a silk nightgown that clung to her like it had been sewn on her body. I hoped she had no underwear.
When she stepped outside, I forgot to breathe.
The moonlight touched her like it knew her, making the satin of her nightgown glow with each step. The fabric hugged every curve, the hem brushing her thighs with each sway of her hips. Her hair spilled around her shoulders, loose and tempting.
She stopped just a few feet away, and I noticed the subtle press of her thighs together, like she was trying to contain something. Maybe the cold. Maybe arousal. Maybe both.
“Are you cold?” I asked, stepping closer.
Her lips curved—not quite a smile. The breeze teased her, hardening her nipples into little peaks that pushed against the silk. My eyes caught on them, then dipped lower, where the nightgown swayed lightly over bare skin.
The air between us was electric. I could smell her—warm skin, faint perfume, and something sweeter beneath.
She looked up at me through her lashes, voice low and deliberate.
“What do you want, Nico?”
I swallowed hard, my answer sitting heavy on my tongue. The t
ruth was, I didn’t just want her—I needed her. Not later. Not in some fantasy. Now.