Compulsion Read online

  Compulsion

  JB Brooks

  Plain Jane gets caught spying on her sexy new neighbor and asks him for an audacious favor. He could be the answer to her prayers, but he demands a shockingly high price in return. Jane is soon out of her depth in a scorchingly sensual BDSM pact with Matt, but this kinky and imaginative Dom has his own agenda. The stakes get higher, and the sex gets hotter, as Jane risks everything under Matt’s compulsion.

  A Romantica® BDSM erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  Compulsion

  JB Brooks

  For Simmy—thank you for everything. I would never have done it without you.

  Chapter One

  Monday

  Libido and curiosity were an unhealthy combination. Dangerous, actually. I was a good girl—boringly so—but I was about to do something that was wrong. It was foolish, a very bad idea, and there could be serious consequences if I were caught, but I was going to do it anyway.

  I was going to sneak into my next door neighbor’s garden under cover of dark and spy on him.

  I’d never done anything so audacious in my entire life, and as I got dressed for my adventure I went over my plan in my mind.

  I was going to creep to the bottom of my own garden. A narrow gap had opened where the fence between our two houses met the perimeter palisade of our housing estate. It would be a tight fit but I was sure that I was small enough to squeeze through. I suspected that my neighbor didn’t know about the gap in the fence yet because he’d only been living in the house for twenty-four hours, but when he discovered it he might repair it, especially if he wanted to keep a dog. Then my opportunity would be lost, so there was no time to waste.

  My plan was simple—slip into his garden, slink up to his house using the bushes to hide behind and take a quick peek through one or two of his windows, then sneak back out again.

  I wiped my sweaty palms on my black jeans.

  Come on girl, get a grip—you haven’t even left the freaking house yet!

  My glasses slid down my nose as I bent to tie up the laces of my black trainers and I pushed them up impatiently. A long-sleeved t-shirt, also black of course, completed my spy outfit. The clothes were too hot for such a sultry Brisbane summer night, but I couldn’t have my pale arms and legs flashing in the dark. Besides, the jeans would help protect my legs as I crawled about.

  Oh yeah, that’s glamorous! And you’re all sweaty too!

  I twisted my ponytail up into a knot at the back of my head, secured it with a black hair tie and seated my glasses firmly onto my nose. I looked at myself in the mirror. It was now or never—I was as ready as I could possibly be.

  I switched out all the lights and headed for my back door. On the way, I stopped to peer out my kitchen window, which looked onto his back garden. The moon was almost full. His windows were lit up but he didn’t have the outside lights on and his garden was a maze of black shadows. Just perfect.

  I slipped out my back door, closing it softly behind me but not locking it. I walked stealthily down my garden, keeping toward the shadows on the left. Some of his windows looked onto my garden and I didn’t want him to catch a chance glimpse of me if he was anywhere near one. I hunkered down next to the gap in the fence and frowned. It looked even smaller than it had in the daylight. I tugged at the end post to try to widen it a little more. With a harsh, grating noise it suddenly moved a few more centimeters. It sounded very loud in the peaceful darkness, but it probably wasn’t as bad as it seemed to my guilty ears.

  I straightened up and stepped through with my left leg then slowly pushed my body between the barriers, the fence post pressing between my breasts and the perimeter fence straining against my shoulder blades. With a stinging scrape along my back I was on the other side.

  For a long moment I stood listening, but there was nothing to be heard except crickets, the evening breeze in the trees and the pounding of my own heart.

  When I was satisfied that all was quiet I sank to my hands and knees and started to crawl toward the house, keeping the bushes between me and the brightly lit windows. I stopped to listen, again and again, until I was close enough to hear faint sounds from inside the house. The TV was on and there was a tinkling of glass from the kitchen. I wiped my sweaty forehead on the sleeve of my t-shirt and crawled to the next lot of bushes.

  My knees were getting really sore but I was almost up to the house now, and could smell the faint odor of chlorine from the swimming pool just to the right. For my next move I would have to leave the relative safety of the bushes and run up to the wall of the house. Once there I would be exposed against the pale wall, with no cover, but at least I wouldn’t be visible from the windows. I breathed deeply, trying to calm my racing pulse, and it crossed my mind that for once I was behaving on the outside like the person I was on the inside. The thought gave me a surge of satisfaction that almost overcame my nerves.

  I was just bracing myself to go for it when, with a click and a swoosh, the sliding door opened. I froze, my throat constricting in fright, then sank back down behind my bush.

  My neighbor stepped through the open door, silhouetted against the light from the room behind him. He carried a drink in one hand and had a white towel wrapped around his waist. I held my breath as he walked toward the pool. He passed out of the light from the sliding door and I could see him more clearly as the pale moonlight shone on him from above.

  Here was the reason for my foolishness, the reason why I was trespassing, invading his privacy and probably doing a dozen other illegal things that I didn’t even know about—he was heart-stoppingly, mind-bogglingly and gut-wrenchingly gorgeous. I had never seen such a man, not even in the movies, and I could hardly believe that he was real, let alone living next door to me!

  The moonlight made his short blond hair shine like silver and it cascaded over his exquisite body, throwing his musculature into a harsh relief of gleaming planes and dark hollows. I feasted my eyes on the clusters of muscles that bunched around his broad shoulders as he moved, and his perfect, smoothly glistening pecs. His abdominal muscles rippled like sandbars in a silver river and his taut obliques disappeared under his towel so enticingly. His arms were huge, defined and covered with twisted, black tattoos—just enough ugly to make him sexy as hell, as well as sublime.

  Looking at him made me hot and bothered and not like the sweetly flustered maidens in the historical romances that I secretly loved to read. This was hard-core hot and bothered. I wanted to wrap my body around his, hot skin on skin. I wanted to crawl up his wide torso in a frenzy, lick him, bite him, rub my breasts over those gleaming ridges of muscles and make him feel as crazy as I did, until he pinned me down with his big, hard body, trapped my greedy hands and tortured me with his mouth. I wanted him to force his thighs between mine, splay me open and push himself into me, and fuck me, fuck me, for hours. I didn’t care if it would hurt. My body was a virgin, not my mind. My books had taught me everything I needed to know. I’d been in love with dozens of Regency heroes, western cowboys and pirates of the high seas. I particularly liked stories where the heroine resists the amorous advances of the hero until he forcefully overcomes her, kissing her into submission and seducing her with the ultimate pleasure. When I read those I made myself come, imagining that I was the one submitting to his dominant lovemaking. But until now my fantasies had been about imaginary men. Now here I was, soaking my panties behind the bushes while my neighbor decided to…have a swim?

  Oh yes, he was definitely going to swim. He bent and put his drink next to the pool then he came around to the side closest to me, where the steps were. He was only a few meters away, his back to me, and he dropped his towel. To my mortified delight he was naked, and I actually gasped at the sight of his tight, muscular ass, framed by a sculptured back above a
nd corded thighs below. Fortunately he was stepping down into the pool and his splashing masked the sound of my indrawn breath.

  Seriously, you’ll be in such shit if you get busted now. Just calm down!

  Getting caught spying on your neighbor skinny-dipping was much worse than getting caught watching him read the newspaper or cooking dinner, assuming that he usually wore clothes for those activities.

  Now that he was in the water only his head was visible, and it was too dark to see his features clearly.

  I realized that I might be stuck behind the bushes for some time, so I eased myself onto my bum and rubbed my sore knees.

  Toughen up, for god’s sake—no wonder you always fade into the woodwork!

  He tried to swim some lengths, his powerful arms slicing through the water, but the pool was too small and he could barely take four strokes before he hit the other side. He gave up but I thought I could sense a restlessness in him, the need to drive that big, powerful body into some sort of action. He snagged his drink from the side of the pool and tossed it back in one gulp then headed for the steps. Oh shit, he was coming out, and facing directly at my bush!

  I was suddenly convinced that he’d see my pale face or the shiny lenses of my glasses, he was getting so close. In a panic I dropped my face to my knees and squeezed my black-clad arms around my head. He climbed out of the pool and I could hear him toweling himself off, so close to me that I hardly dared to breathe for fear that he’d hear me. He finally moved off and I risked another peep. The towel was back around his waist and he looked neither left nor right as he headed into the sliding door again.

  He left the door open and disappeared from sight.

  I realized that I was shaking, though whether it was from relief at not being caught or an overwhelming onslaught of lust, I couldn’t be sure. Probably both.

  Come on, Smooth Operator, keep control!

  I wondered what to do next. This was a safe opportunity to bolt for the bottom of the garden, because he was probably dressing in the bedroom, which didn’t face this direction. I could save myself a long and painful crawl if I made a dash for it now, and besides, I had seen a lot more of my neighbor than I had dared hope. I grinned in the dark. Yeah, this was mission accomplished!

  On the other hand, it was going so well, and I was here, mere meters from his windows. Curiosity was still burning strongly in me. Maybe I should just have a quick peep and see what he’d done with all that furniture.

  This house had stood vacant for about a month and I’d wondered why it was taking so long to get a new tenant, because this was a popular housing estate, well priced and very central.

  Then two days ago things started happening. That was Saturday, so I stayed home all day and watched from my study window.

  A whole lot of furniture was delivered, but not by a moving company. It was all new stuff, delivered by the stores where it had been bought—lounge furniture, a dining room set, a big bed—probably an extra-length king, I thought—and kitchen appliances. An elderly man arrived in a little yellow Toyota. Armed with a pen and clipboard, he directed the delivery people and signed for the stuff. I soon realized that he wasn’t the one who was going to live there, because he kept making calls on his mobile then buzzing around, telling everybody what to do. It was obvious that he was getting instructions from somebody else.

  A cleaning crew also arrived, a man and two women, and they stayed for about an hour. Just after lunch a big flat-screen TV was delivered in a giant box.

  As the furniture deliveries tapered off a Woolworths truck arrived and a whole canteen-load of food, beverages and household consumables were unloaded. The elderly man disappeared from view, closeted inside with the delivery people for so long that I could only assume they were unpacking the stuff in the kitchen.

  Eventually, in the late afternoon, an unmarked van pulled up and another crew of men unloaded about twenty large cardboard boxes. Personal belongings, I surmised. They also spent a long time inside unpacking.

  I watched again on Sunday, ostensibly working on my computer in my study. I was certain that the new tenant would make an appearance, but nothing happened all day. At last, at five o’clock, just when I was about to give up and head off to gym, a black Jeep pulled up in the driveway and my world tilted on its axis as the most beautiful man I’d ever seen climbed out. My new neighbor had arrived.

  Damn it, there was no way that I was going back without first taking a look! I’d dithered behind the bush too long and he’d be finished in the bedroom at any moment. If I wanted to look, I’d best move quickly.

  Before I could tense up again I jumped to my feet and shot over to the wall between the sliding door and the lounge window. I pressed myself against the wall, heart pounding, and inched my way over to the window. Holding my breath, I craned my neck around the window frame and peered inside. He had no curtains and the light blinded me momentarily, but I got a fleeting glimpse of a comfortably arranged lounge with black leather couches and recliners arranged around the giant TV.

  At that moment my neighbor emerged from the kitchen, holding a beer and a sandwich on a plate. I yanked my head out of sight and waited. After about ten seconds I risked another peek. He had settled on one of the couches facing the TV with his back to me. His food was on the side table and he was using the remote to flip through the channels on the TV. He had on a pair of old, faded jeans, buttery-soft by the look of them, which molded over his heavy thighs. He was shirtless and looked good enough to eat.

  I thought he still seemed restless and tense, his movements a bit jerky, as if he were impatient with the TV. Suddenly he stood up and, crossing to it, quickly loaded a disk into the player. I pulled out of sight again as he headed back to the couch and counted to ten.

  When I looked again he was sprawled on the sofa with his jeans unbuttoned. He had them pushed down over his lean hips and was fisting the biggest erection that I’d ever seen. I couldn’t believe it. He was magnificent. I could almost feel those hard muscles under the smooth, lightly tanned skin and the throbbing pulsing of his cock in my hand. Desire exploded inside me, so intense that I was paralyzed, crouching by the window, struggling to get simple breaths of air into my lungs, but unable to look away from his sculpted body—a priceless work of art thrown carelessly over the couch.

  Oh girl, this image is going to haunt you!

  You’re never going to sleep again from sexual frustration!

  Belatedly I noticed that he was now watching porn on the TV, but he seemed to find it unsatisfactory and was fast-forwarding with his free hand, slowing to watch every few seconds then flipping on again. Suddenly he snapped it back to real-time and although he didn’t move I could sense a sudden sharpening of his focus on the screen, and my gaze followed. My eyes boggled. There was a naked woman strapped to a round table, blindfolded, surrounded by five men in their shirtsleeves and ties. She was spread-eagled on her back. The men stood around, talking and laughing, almost ignoring her. Then suddenly one of them reached out and pushed the table. It spun smoothly around, completing about three full spins before coming to a smooth stop. The man who ended up standing between the woman’s spread legs said something to his companions then bent forward as they all laughed. He drew a long, slim dildo out from under the table and, without touching her in any other way, inserted it into her vagina, where he swirled it and pumped it in and out. The woman arched and I could hear her faint cries of pleasure. My knees wavered.

  Abruptly he withdrew the dildo and spun the table again, hard, so that the woman ended up positioned in front of one of the other men. I didn’t know where to look—at the TV, which I was finding startlingly erotic, or at my neighbor, who was now jerking off in earnest, his muscular body strung out with tension, fist flying, eyes fixed on the screen.

  I don’t know if I made a noise or if he somehow sensed me there just because I was radiating heat and riotous emotion, but without warning he leapt up from the couch and landed in a crouch, staring straight at me.

>   Oh this was so not good! I turned and sprinted down the garden.

  He caught me before I got halfway.

  Strong hands grabbed my shoulder and I swung round, crashing into his chest. I panicked and immediately began to struggle. He wrapped his thick arms around me, trapping one of my arms along the side of my body, and squeezed. I struggled harder, flailing and pushing with my free hand. He squeezed harder and lifted me until my feet no longer touched the ground.

  Suddenly the fight went out of me and I had to battle to breathe instead. His arms were like titanium bands around my chest. I could feel my bones creaking, lungs wheezing, and black spots danced across my vision. I went limp, sagging against him. He loosened his grasp a fraction and I managed to drag a thin trickle of precious air into my lungs. The black spots cleared but strength did not return to my muscles.

  Awareness rushed through me—I felt his hard torso crushing into me, utterly unyielding, a brick wall covered in velvet skin.

  He was cool from his swim and his skin had a clean, male smell, faintly over-layered with chlorine and freshly applied deodorant. I fought off my sudden impulse to lick him, to run my tongue over the smooth skin in the dip of his collarbone.

  Christ, girl, what’s wrong with you? You’re in deep shit here, and you want to lick him like a freaking lollipop!

  “I’m going to put you down. You are not going to scream and you are not going to run. We’re going to sit down inside and we’re going to talk. Okay?”

  He was panting, his voice rough. When I didn’t answer, he shook me. “Okay?”

  I nodded. He released me slowly. It was a long slide down his cool skin before my toes touched the ground again. He kept a hold on my arm, strong fingers wrapped just above my elbow. No chance of escape yet—he was just waiting for me to try.

  He pulled me back toward the house—so not where I wanted to go! I had a sudden, terrifying thought. What if he thought I was a criminal, a burglar? Oh shit, what if he called the police? I started to shake. Why, oh why, had I done this?