My Neighbor’s Forbidden Touch Novel – BABYSITTING FOR MY NEIGHBOUR Chloe’s POV My name is Chloe. I’m nineteen, a community college student, and for the last three years, l’ve babysat for the Evans family next door. Mr Evans Mark—is a divorced financial consultant in his late thirties. His ex-wife moved across the country two years ago, leaving him with their two boys: Jason, who’s six, and Leon, who’s four. I’ve always seen him as just… the nice dad next door. He’s quite handsome, in a tired, responsible kind of way. We’d exchange waves over the fence. He paid me well, always on time, and his boys were sweet. Everything changed on a rainy Saturday in October. He texted me that morning: *Chloe, I have an emergency client call. Can you come over at 11? Might be a long day. I’d double the rate.* I didn’t mind. I needed the money, and my own house was too quiet.
My mom was working a double shift at the hospital. I threw on a simple, light blue sundress, it was still warm for fall and my white Converse, and jogged next door through a light drizzle. The boys were already hyped up on cartoons and cereal when I arrived. Mark was rushing around, looking stressed but… different. He was dressed for work, but not in his usual suit. He wore a dark fitted jeans and a crisp grey button-down that clung to his shoulders. He’d clearly just showered; his dark hair was damp, and the scent of his sandalwood soap filled the hallway. “Chloe, you’re a lifesaver,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “The client is a nightmare. I might not be back until after dinner. Pizza money’s on the counter. Bedtime routine’s on the fridge.” “No problem, Mr. Evans. We’ll be good.” “Mark, please.
‘Mr. Evans’ makes me feel old.” He gave me a quick, distracted smile, then winced, rubbing the small of his back. “Damn. Pulled something at the gym yesterday Listen, could you do me one huge favor? My good leather Oxfords are somewhere under my bed. I can’t bend down for the life of me. Can you fish them out? I need them for this meeting.” “Sure thing.” I followed him to his bedroom at the end of the hall. It was neat, masculine—a king-sized bed with a navy duvet, a sleek dresser, a big TV on the wall. The blinds were half-closed, casting the room in soft, grey light. He gestured to the bed. “Should be near the middle. I appreciate it.” I got down on my hands and knees. The dress was my first mistake. It was short, hitting mid-thigh when I stood, but now it rode up dangerously as I crawled onto the plush carpet. I felt the cool air-conditioned air on the backs of my thighs. l ignored it, focused on the task. I spotted one sleek black shoe and dragged it out. “Find one?” he called from behind me. “Yeah, just one so far.” I shimmied further under, my nose almost touching the bed frame. I couldn’t see the other. “It might be pushed wayy to the other side.” “Take your time.” His voice was closer now.
I wiggled back out, my dress bunching around my waist. I didn’t even realize until I was kneeling back on my heels, feeling the carpet texture against my bare thighs above my stockings. I’d worn cute, lace-trimmed white panties today. I quickly yanked the hem down, my face heating. “No luck on the other?” he asked. He was standing by his walk-in closet now, leaning against the door, watching me. “No. Sorry.” “Hang on.” He disappeared into the closet. “Yep, here it is. Fell off the shelf. It’s on the top rack. My back… I can’t reach it. There’s a stool in the corner.” I fetched the small wooden stool and carried it into the closet. It was a big, organized space, smelling faintly of cedar and his cologne. The shoe was indeed on a high shelf. I stepped onto the stool, my dress hem brushing my thighs. On my tiptoes, I could just brush the shoe with my fingertips. “A little more,” he encouraged from right behind me.
I strained, my body stretching. The dress didn’t just ride up this time; it slid all the way up to my hips, completely exposing my ass in my thin white panties. I gasped, but before I could react, I felt a wave of warmth. His hands were on me. Not groping, but steadying. Two large, warm palms cupped the curves of my buttocks, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh near the crease of my thighs. He held me for a solid three-second count—I could feel every ridge of his fingerprints through the lace-then his grip slid to my hips and he lifted me effortlessly an inch off the stool. “Got it,” I squeaked, snatching the shoe. He set me down gently. My dress fell back into place. My heart was hammering against my ribs. I turned, shoe in hand, and met his eyes. They were a deep, stormy blue, and they held mine with an intensity that stripped the air from my lungs. There was no apology in them. Just a quiet, knowing heat. “Thank you, Chloe,” he said, his voice a low rumble. He took the shoe, his fingers brushing mine. “You can go back to the boys. I’ll be leaving in a minute.” I stumbled out of the room, my legs shaky.
In the living room, Jason and Leon were now arguing over the PlayStation controller. I barely registered it. All I could feel was the ghost of his hands on my ass, the shocking intimacy of it. A slow, deep pulse began between my legs, a wet warmth that was entirely inappropriate. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to calm my breathing. He emerged a few minutes later, looking impeccable. He ruffled the boys’ hair, gave them instructions to listen to me, then walked to the door. He paused, turning back to me. “Forgot my goodbye hug,” he said simply. The boys ran over for theirs. Then it was my turn. He pulled me into a firm, full-body hug. It lasted a beat too long. One hand was high on my back, the other… the other was low, splayed possessively at the base of my waist. As he squeezed, I felt it-the blunt pressure of a single finger, pushing firmly against the seam of my dress, right over the dampening lace of my panties. It pressed into my slit, a deliberate, undeniable point of contact. My entire body jolted. A sharp, electric thrill shot straight to my core. My nipples hardened into aching points against the cotton of my dress. I made a small, choked sound.
HE MAKES ME FEEL SO MUCH BETTER He released me just as quickly, his expression unchanged. “Be good,” he said to the room, and then he was gone, the door closing with a soft click. I stood frozen, my pussy throbbing in time with my heartbeat. I was soaked. I could feel the slickness. What the hell was that? My mind screamed it was wrong, an accident, he couldn’t have meant… but the look in his eyes, the deliberate pressure of that finger… He’d known exactly what he was doing. The day passed in a surreal haze. I made the boys lunch, we played games, I put on a movie. The strange, restless tingling between my legs never fully faded. By 3 PM, the boys were crashed out, Leon snoring softly on the recliner, Jason asleep on a pile of cushions on the floor. The house was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator. The silence was oppressive. My skin felt too tight. The memory of his touch played on a loop in my head, each replay stoking the heat low in my belly. I needed relief. I ached for it. This was my second mistake. I checked on the boys, they were out cold-then sank into the corner of the large sectional couch, turning my body towards the wall for a sliver of privacy.
I pulled out my phone, my hands trembling slightly. I opened a private browser and found a porn site, scrolling until I found a video that looked right: a man taking charge, his hands all over a woman. I turned the volume down to a faint whisper and pressed play. I hiked up my dress, pulling my damp panties to the side. The first touch of my own fingers to my swollen clit made me gasp. I was so sensitive. I circled the hard little nub, my hips lifting off the couch cushion. I bit my lip, watching the screen, imagining it was Mark’s hands, Mark’s voice. I rubbed faster, my breathing turning shallow and ragged. I was so close, lost in the building pressure, the images on the screen, the filthy fantasy in my head… The floorboard in the hallway creaked. I froze, my eyes flying open. Mark stood in the entrance to the living room, his briefcase on the floor beside him, his shoes in his hand. He’d been watching. For how long? Panic, cold and sharp, doused me. I fumbled with my phone, shutting it off, yanking my dress down. I scrambled to my feet, my face burning with a mortifying blush. “Mr. Evans! I… I’m so sorry! The boys are asleep, I didn’t know you’d be home so early, please don’t fire me, I need this job!” The words tumbled out in a desperate rush.
He didn’t look angry. He looked… amused. A slow, predatory smirk spread across his face as he set his things down and walked towards me. He stopped just a foot away, his gaze dropping to my chest, where my hard nipples were visibly poking against my dress, then back to my eyes. “Do you always do that while they nap, Chloe?” he asked, his voice a soft, velvety taunt. “You naughty, naughty girl!” He took another step, invading my space. The scent of him, rain and sandalwood, wrapped around me. “Do you need help?” I stared, paralyzed. My pussy gave a traitorous, desperate throb. “I… I can do it on my own,” I stammered, the lie pathetic even to my own ears. “I know you can,” he murmured, his eyes drinking in my disheveled state. “But I can make it feel so much better.” “How?” The word was a breathless whisper. Instead of answering, he took my hand. His grip was firm, warm. He led me, unresisting, back to his bedroom. He closed the door, and the click of the lock echoed in the silent room. I stood frozen by the dresser, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. He went to the top drawer, rummaged for a moment, and pulled out a sleek, white-and-violet silicone vibrator.
He tossed it onto the bed. “You can use that,” he said, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt with deliberate slowness. “If I can watch.” My mouth went dry. I wanted to run. I wanted to fall to my knees. The wetness between my legs was a blatant, shameful truth. I nodded, a tiny, jerky movement. He took off his suit jacket, draped it over a chair, then began unbuttoning his shirt. I watched, mesmerized, as more of his chest was revealed-smooth skin, defined pectorals, a light dusting of dark hair that trailed down his stomach and disappeared into his waistband. My breathing turned shallow. I sat on the edge of the bed, panic rising again in a cold wave. He saw it. “Have you ever used one before?” he asked, his tone almost clinical. “No,” I whispered. “I’m… I’m a virgin.” A slow, dark smile touched his lips. “Then this is perfect for practice'” He picked up the vibrator, sat facing me on the bed, and thumbed the base. A low, steady hum filled the room. My nipples tightened to painful points. The sound alone sent a fresh rush of wetness between my legs. I felt dizzy with need. He held it out. I took it, the silicone cool and smooth in my hand. He spread my legs apart with his hands on my knees.
His touch was electric. He guided the humming head of the vibrator to the outside of my panties, right over my clit. The instant the vibration connected, a jolt of pure, white-hot pleasure shot through me. “Fuck!” I cried out, my hand flying to cover my mouth. I’d never sworn like that in front of an adult. He gently peeled my hand away from my lips. “That just means it’s exactly what you needed,” he said softly, and then he leaned in and kissed my cheek. The scratch of his stubble, the warmth of his lips—it was devastating. I slid down the bed a little, spreading my legs wider in invitation. I gathered the hem of my dress and pulled it up to my waist, exposing my white panties, the dark patch of dampness at the center clearly visible. He let out a slow breath, his eyes darkening. He reached out and touched the inside of my thigh, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin there. My gaze dropped to his lap. A formidable erection was straining against the fine wool of his trousers. I blushed, a helpless giggle escaping me. He noticed my stare. “Like what you see?” he asked, lying back on his elbows. He undid his belt buckle with a sharp click, then the button of his pants. “You can set it free, if you want.” My throat was tight.
I nodded. I set the still humming vibrator aside and knelt on the floor between his legs. My fingers shook as I hooked them into the waistband of his briefs— black, expensive cotton-and pulled them down. His cock sprang free, thick and long, the head flushed a deep, ruddy purple. It was bigger than anything l’d seen in my limited, online explorations. A bead of clear pre-cum welled at the tip. Tentatively, I reached for it. My fingertips brushed the hot, silky skin of the shaft and I yelped, jerking my hand back as if burned. He chuckled, a low, rich sound. “It won’t bite.” He wrapped his own hand around it, giving it a few slow, firm strokes. “Now, back to you.”