🍬 Ashley — my neighbour loves young blondes 🍬
Title: Sunlit Invitation The midday sun glinted off the pool’s surface, but Ashley didn’t flinch as she lounged on her chaise, one hand shading her eyes, the other idly tracing the rim of her glass. At 19, with sun-kissed skin and hair that cascaded like liquid gold, she knew the effect she had. Her white bikini, barely there, clung to curves that seemed to defy gravity. She didn’t mind the glances—especially not from the tall, dark-haired man who lived in the villa across the courtyard. She’d caught him watching before, his gaze lingering as she tanned or splashed in the shallows. Today, though, he didn’t look away. He stood at his terrace railing, palms gripping the iron bars, his expression unreadable. Then, he smiled—a slow, deliberate thing. Ashley tilted her head, a challenge in her smirk. She raised her glass in a mock toast before slipping beneath the pool’s surface. When she emerged, towel draped low over her shoulders, he was still there. Moments later, a knock echoed at her gate. “Hi,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. His voice was smooth, warmed by the summer air. “I’m Mark. We’ve waved before.” “Yeah,” she purred, leaning against the door, towel clutched to her chest. “You’re the one who stares.” A chuckle. “Guilty. Mind if I join you? Or should I invite you somewhere?” Her pulse flickered. “You’re bold.” “And you’re brave, wearing that in the sun,” he retorted, nodding at her bikini. “I’d offer you a drink, but… why not come over? My terrace has a better view.” Ashley hesitated, then looped her towel over her shoulder. “Teasing much?” “Never,” he whispered, stepping closer. His hand brushed hers as he gestured toward his villa. “Just… curious. You’re the first blonde bombshell who’s dared to mock me back.” She crossed the courtyard, every step a calculation, every glance a spark. On his terrace, the air was cooler, scented with citrus and something muskier—his cologne. He poured drinks, fingers brushing hers as he handed her a glass. “To bold girls,” he said. “To bold girls,” she echoed, her voice softer now. The clink of glass was lost beneath the hum of the afternoon, the tension thick as the sweet scent of the cocktails. Mark’s hand found hers, steady, sure. Ashley didn’t pull away. Outside, the pool glimmered, but the real current pulled them closer—silent, inevitable, and deep.